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andromeda-galaxy2877 · 27 days

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RAN HERE FULL SPEED okok so could you do 8, 14, and 21 all in one story?? If possible. Totally didn’t pick those for maximum angst or anything nooooo /s

Omg hi Ferr!! First writing I'm posting in awhile not beta read by you /pf

Ahem. Maximum angst, you say?

(WARNING! This is going to contain blood, death, and descriptions of corpses. Please be warned!)

Link to original post with the prompts!

https://www.tumblr.com/promptsbytaurie/737257254775111680/if-anyone-wants-to-send-specific-prompts-in-my-ask?source=share

8: “Okay. Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do—fuck.”

14: "You just watched them die."

21: “Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay—”

The moment the clock hit 10pm April knew something was wrong.

It was Friday night, the rain pattering gently against the glass of her window. April watched the trickles of water slowly make their way down, collecting at the bottom. Jupiter Jim: Back to the Moon?! Again?! Sitting in her DVD player, the 18-year-old curled under a blanket as she stared down at her phone.

No texts.

No calls.

No word.

Absolutely nothing from her little brothers.

Sure, they were only supposed to be there thirty minutes ago. Yeah, it certainly wasn’t the first time they were late— the four of them once Busted through her window two hours late, sporting a few pizza boxes and a story about some pigeon holding pizza in its beak— apparently the second time that had happened to them, so it was a big deal.

But they knew better. They knew better, after what had happened to all of them six months ago. After the invasion, after she almost lost all of her little brothers in one fell swoop.

They had been planning this all week. For them to not arrive…

“Damn it.” April muttered, throwing her phone to the side and watching it bounce right off of her couch, her youngest brother’s voicemail still playing out. She stood up abruptly, not even bothering to change out of her pajamas as she grabbed a coat and her baseball bat. “You boys better be okay so I can kick your ass, I swear…”

Her door slammed shut behind her, and the moment it clicked shut she took off running. Booting up the tracker app she had on her phone, quickly locking onto Donnie’s tracker with fumbling fingers. All four of them were together, in some alley. About four blocks away.

‘If these idiots stopped over another goddamn pizza pigeon just to give me a heart attack I’m going to kill them.’

She barely remembered her race to get there. As she turned the corner, she had a maelstrom of thoughts going through her head— violent images of the Krang being back, finding them standing over her brothers’ lifeless bodies— or her turning the corner to find them all safe, alive, okay—

…

But…

Neither option was correct.

April felt the bat slide out of her hand, barely hearing it impact the wet asphalt as her ears began to ring. As she felt the ground be ripped out from under her.

A metallic smell filled the air. April could barely breathe as she beheld the massacre in front of her.

A dozen men in government uniforms, bloodied and ripped apart. Blood coated the walls, dripped and puddled in the rainwater. Streamed from their black coats like rivers. Her gaze wobbled as it rose past them, what was standing in the middle of them.

Donnie.

Her little brother was clutching his bo staff tight, breath heaving and shaking as he silently stared at the scene around him. The look on his face was terrifying.

“Donnie…? Did you—?” April couldn’t finish her choked out words.

Donnie didn’t even react. But the blood on the end of his bo spoke for itself. Going up his arms to his elbows, covering his plastron.

“Okay.” April’s voice wobbled as she slowly walked towards him. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do— fuck.” The air was punched from her as she finally beheld what was at the end of the alley. The clear reason why Donnie had done this.

Their brothers.

Her baby brothers.

Raph, Leo, and Mikey. All laying there, crumpled forms and limbs twisted in ways that they shouldn’t be. Crimson soaking them, the rain barely making a dent in the bloodstains.

“No!” April rushed forward, darting right past Donnie to their sides. She collapsed to her knees, reaching out to grab Raph’s shoulder with a violently trembling hand. “Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay—” Her voice rose multiple octaves in her hysteria.

Raph’s eyes opened, bringing her momentary relief. Her heart broke as he let out a tiny whine, reaching his hand out for her. She immediately took it, forcing a shaky smile onto her face as she mustered up as much determination as she could. “You’re gonna be fine, big guy.” She murmured, rubbing his arm. ‘Where is he hurt how bad is it how bad is it how bad is it—’ “Everything’s okay, your big sister is here now, okay? I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe, okay?”

Raph’s only answer was another short, soft whimper.

And then his eyes went dull. His weak grip went slack, his head hitting the pavement with a sickening, soft thump.

April couldn’t breathe.

Her little brother, her baby brother, gone. Just like that. In an instant, torn away from her and the rest of their family. Their protector, the foundation of their family, the rock that kept them all afloat through the storms—

Gone.

April’s gaze slowly lifted to the brothers curled under his arm. The ones he shielded, even in death. She could immediately tell that Leo was gone already. She had no idea for how long, but necks should not bend like that. His eyes were blank, lifeless. Blood slowly seeping a trail from his mouth down his jaw, dripping.

And then Mikey. Her poor, sweet baby brother. She let out a choked sob as she saw him weakly holding onto his brothers, the agony in his eyes all she could see for a moment…until he went limp. Dead, just like the other two.

Dead.

Her brothers were gone.

April clenched her teeth as she let out an agonized scream, clenching her fists and banging them into the pavement— ignoring the sickening crack, the sharp pain that suddenly flooded her— it was nothing compared to the grief she felt. April shakily reached a hand out, closing Leo’s eyes and then Raph’s.

“What are you doing?”

Donnie’s hoarse, angry voice came from behind her. Immediately catching her attention.

April looked up over her shoulder slowly, staring up at him. She couldn’t say a word, her throat closed up.

“You just watched them die.” Donnie sounded breathless, his eyes filled with pure malice as he stared down at her. Bo trembling in his hand. “You didn’t— why didn’t you DO SOMETHING?!”

April swallowed back the flood of agony that wrought her at being blamed. “I— there was nothing I could’ve done, Dee.”

“You didn’t even TRY!” Donnie exploded, gripping his staff in both hands as an explosion of purple energy flew out of him, slamming into the walls around them— and right into April.

She cried out as she was flung back, slamming into Raph’s motionless shell. Her back hitting the side of his spikes winded her, sending the human crashing to her knees and gasping for breath.

When she finally looked up again, Donnie was staring down at her with wide eyes. His entire body was shaking, a newfound clarity and horror gleaming in his gaze. He opened his mouth, but the only sound that came out was a weak chirp. A call.

She recognized the sound. She knew it well, from years of growing up alongside those turtles. Her boys, her brothers.

He was calling for his brothers.

Donnie shook his head violently, the chirp escaping much more desperately, as if it was torn from his throat. April lunged to her feet as he crashed to his knees, the bo staff rolling away through the bloodied carnage Donnie had caused.

April dropped down in front of him, hauling her little brother into a hug right as those desperate chirps turned to piercing wails. Unable to do anything more than hold the only brother she had left.

#rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise april #rise donnie #angst #whoops I fucking killed them all #anyways~#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

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taestarii · 1 year

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𖧷 airlock - mingi

[marine biologist!mingi x reader]

synopsis - y/n gets left out of her dive, and has to clean the airlock with mingi instead.

genre! thriller, bits of romance

warning! themes and descriptions of drowning, mentions of attempted murder

a/n! - thank you so much to everyone that has given me support on my past stories! i'm thinking of making this a collection, like different idols as marine biologists, let me know if you would like to see that!

link to request page

They left without you.

"Fuck.“ You cursed under your breath. You thought you had finally gotten through to them, it wasn't as bad at it looked and you barely got hurt, one dive in a exploration was like nothing. You slammed your hand on the control panel before speaking into the intercom. "Daniel, you asshole.“ He laughed into the mic before responding. "I see you're not happy about this.“

"Of course I'm not! I should be down there right now. I'm fine.“ You hissed. "Sure you are. You're really okay after your tussle with Lijing?"

"Yes!"

Lijing is your shark. You've trained her and been by her since since she was a cub, but your recent experiment didn't go as planned when rushed you and instead of turning, went for the bite. Luckily, you got out with nothing but scratches, but everyone is convinced you need some sort of special treatment for your injury, like you're going to lose your leg or something.

"Her name means beautiful spirit for a reason, you're too quick to judge her.“ You could practically hear his eye roll. "You really think you've trained a shark? She bit you Y/n. You can't tame an aggressive animal."

"I hope her family swallows you.“ You said, switching off the intercom. "They left without you?" A voice rang out.

You turned around to be met with the face of Mingi, more specifically, your crush Mingi.

You and Mingi have been training together in the institution, learning here, and living here all of your life, ever since your father founded the institution long before your birth. All of the staff lived here alongside them, mostly because it was in the middle of the ocean.

"Uh yeah.. Daniel's still hung up on the incident with Lijing.“ Mingi's eyebrows raised in understanding. "Still can't believe they left without the head diver, but as long as you're hereee..“ He smiled. "You can clean the airlock with me!" You groaned. "Is that what you do when we leave for explorations?" He nodded. "We have to clean it out before you guys get back, which Daniel and his crew should be back in an hour thirty.“

"MY crew.“ You grumbled, walking with him to the airlock. Mingi typed in the code and pressed the button, the big metal door lifting with a hiss. You got to work in comfortable silence, a few minutes passing before Mingi decides the silence isn't comfortable anymore. "So.. what do you usually do on dives?" He asked, looking up at you. "Wear these giant clunky suits, sink to the bottom, walk around for a little and get pulled up at the end of our tanks.“ You summarized. He nodded in completely fake understanding, a small 'oh' leaving his lips. "You know, I've always.. admired you.“ He confessed bashfully, hiding his face. "What?"

He took a deep breath, preparing his next comment before the main door began sliding down with a metal-on-metal screech. "Wait, no!" You exclaimed, running to the door as it shut with a heavy bang. "It's okay, use the panel.“ Mingi pointed out, getting up to punch in the code. You let out a sigh short-lived relief.

"I-Its not clicking." He panicked, frantically pushing the buttons. "What do you mean it's not clicking?" You watched him push in the code, the panel staying the same solid gray color. "It's broken.“ You sank to your knees, defeated. "We can't get out of here and the diving team should be back in like 45 minutes." Mingi sighed, still trying to punch in the code. "Do you.. hear that?"

You both turned around to sight of running water raining down from the top of the room. "Fuck, the airlock is filling!"

Water pooled at bottom of the room filling up agonizingly slow, giving time to really let the panic sink in. "Could it be the dive team coming back?“ You shook your head, pointing to the overhead light. "If they were, it'd be flashing red. This is happening from the outside.“

Water was pouring into the airlock from all four corners now with a deafening volume. "Is someone trying to kill us?" You shrugged your shoulders. “Honestly, it's likely. And there nothing we can do.“ You said, plopping onto the water filled floor and hugging your knees. "Maybe we could get someone's attention by banging on the door, or we could-"

"No, Mingi!" You lifted your head to meet his eyes with your teary ones. "Anything you can think of, we can't do." Your lip quivered as you yelled. “We are 500 meters underwater, the panel is broken, the room is filling, and even if the divers came back right now, the water pressure would fucking kill us.“

You put your head back down and sobbed into your knees. Mingi took a seat next to you, not knowing how to comfort you when he felt just as helpless. "You remember when I said admired you?“ You lifted your head and sniffled. "Yeah?“

He smiled. "I meant it. Ever since we were younger you've always been brave, like the time you jumped into Lijing's tank unprotected when we were 16.“ You laughed, wiping half-dried tears from your cheeks. "I mean, you go out on dives to explore god knows what in the Midnight zone, and I'm just.. here.“ You face turned into a frown. “What are you talking about?"

"Who's the one that jumped into Lijing's tank to get me out? The one who stayed by my side everyday when I was hospitalized? Not to mention you also keep this whole place running.“ He smiled. "You mean it?"

"Yeah.“ You smiled back, turning your head to face your feet, red-hot blood rushing to your cheeks, the realization you're both standing now, the water up to your shoulders and steadily rising cooling you down. "I can't believe this is really where we die.“ You whispered, her tears mixing with the water. A pair of arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him. "Listen, It's okay." He whispered, himself crying as well as the water lifted them off their feet.

The ceiling was approaching, you both clinging to each other, taking your last few breaths before the cold water enveloped you. Your eyes started spotting, black speckles dancing in your vision before you slowly lost your consciousness.

"Y/n, wake up!" Foggy voices clouded your mind. Were you alive? There was a strange weight on your abdomen, a pair of hands switching between shaking you and pressing down on your chest. The world suddenly came back to you as you gained control over your body, sitting up and coughing out water. Mingi had both arms wrapped around your torso, sobbing into your shirt when his head shot up, red puffy eyes meeting yours. "Y/n!“

"Hi, Mingi.“ You smiled weakly. He practically jumped on you as you wrapped your arms around his head. "How did we get out..?" You asked, staring at the now drained airlock in front of you. "I saved your asses.“ You turned to face Wooyoung, who wore a smug grin on his face. "Man I really thought we lost you, I was doing CPR for about 10 minutes.“

"Thanks Woo.“ You groaned, standing up. "How did this even happen?" You coughed out. "Something malfunctioned, an accident I guess.“ He shrugged. Just as he finished talking, loud alarms blared from the upper levels. “Is that.. the control room?“ Your eyes widened. "Daniel!"

The three of you raced up the stairs to the S level, huffing as you reached the top, sirens getting louder. You reached the panel, frantically pulling up stats for Daniel's team. "The radars don't detect them.“ You said, pressing a few more buttons before you spoke into the microphone. "Daniel, can you hear me?"

You turned to face Mingi and Wooyoung.

"This wasn't an accident.“

link to the request page

link to spotify kpop playlist

#ateez fluff #kpop angst #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #mingi #mingi x reader #song mingi #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #ateez #atiny #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #ateez mingi #mingi angst

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boydepartment · 2 years

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I'm Sorry, I'm Late- Hwang Hyunjin: Chapter Four

Description: Y/n is a student teacher in a small town in France. Hwang Hyunjin is an idol who decided to run away after trouble started to arise again. He finds himself in the class where she helps, quickly they peaked each other’s interests. Both of them ran from something and it landed them in this small town in the middle of practically nowhere. One thing they both know is that the past always catches up and it is only a matter of time, so they better make the most of it.

Warnings for Chapter 4: cursing

WC- 5k

tags and links at the bottom of the chapter

Song- Each Time You Fall in Love- Cigarettes After Sex.

~+~

Chapter 4: Broken Trust

After class you waited for Jinnie to stop talking to Mr. W, you picked at your fingernails trying to calm yourself down. Seeing how nervous he was made you feel like throwing up. Taking a deep breath, you leaned your head back against the wall.

“It’ll be okay…” You mumbled to yourself. Your eyes closed and you tried to calm yourself down. Part of you knew Jinnie had to go back at some point, even you had to go back at some point. You just hope that maybe it would be you two together going back and facing what you both left. You should really call your parents soon… Your eyes shot open, and you stood up when the door opened. Jinnie smiled at Mr. W and wished him a good day. Then he turned to you.

“He is totally okay with it.” Jinnie beamed at you and hugged you tightly, “I really want you to come with me.”

Your giggles started when you felt his hair tickle your face, “I will be there.”

~+~

“I want to call my parents.” You said to him a couple days later. He looked up from his plate with wide eyes.

“Are you sure?” Jinnie asked, his mouth full, eyes still wide.

You swallowed hard and nodded, “I’m sure. I think they need to know that I’m okay, all I left them was a note saying I’d be back soon. I feel guilty about it.”

Jinnie nodded, “do you want me to be next to you when you call?”

“Please. I know it’s sort of a lot to ask but- “

He grabbed your hand from across the table, “nothing is too much for you to ask of me.”

Your nerves calmed and you nodded, “thank you Jinnie.”

“You’re most welcome, my intended.”

After dinner you two sat on the floor, your landline phone and your actual cell phone next to each other. The plan was, if the landline didn’t get an answer, then it was a last resort to turn on your old cell phone and call.

“Are you nervous?” Jinnie asked as he sat cross-legged in front of you. Your shoulders shrugged.

“What if they get mad at me? What if they hate me for leaving?”

Hyunjin took a deep breath, “did they know what was going on?”

You nodded softly, “my dad even went to the court room, he stayed outside but he knew what was going on.”

“I don’t think they will be mad.” Hyunjin lightly pushed the phone towards you. You took a deep breath and started to dial. Your hands shook and Hyunjin held your free hand.

Brrrr brrrr brr- click

“Hello?” It was your dad’s voice, you felt that feeling in your throat. You were choked up. You froze. Hyunjin mustve sensed this because he tried to get you back to reality asap.

“Dad?” You said quickly, thankful Hyunjin snapped you out of it.

“If this is some joke, I don’t think this is very fucking funny.” Your father’s voice was stern, just as you remembered it.

“No-No it’s me. Y/n L/n, it’s me, your kid, the one who used to eat the dead flies off the bay window.” You spoke quickly, you saw Jinnie give you a funny look. He was trying to not laugh or make fun of you in this moment.

“Y/N!” Your dad sounded relieved to hear your voice, “I-I’m so glad you’re okay… We didn’t know when you were going to come back, and you never answered any calls.”

“I know… I’m really sorry, I was stupid and thought everything was going to be safer if I left.” You spoke softly.

Your dad let out a sigh, “Kiddo, your heart was in the right place… Home is safe now, we moved, and the door is always open for you.”

Your eyes started to water, “you guys moved?”

“Yeah, a couple months after you left, we figured you left because of the situation, some people were saying that he finally- I don’t even want to get into it.” There was a pain in his voice.

“I’m so sorry. I feel like it was my fault, I still feel like if I didn’t- “

Your dad interrupted you, “Y/n. Nothing was your fault.”

The tears fell and you covered your mouth, choking on a sob, you heard your dad tell you to breathe. Something that when you were a teenager, he had to tell you quite often. You were almost an exact copy of him, he knew how bad it could get. You missed this familiarity.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated.

“It’s okay, I promise. I will give you our new address, visit whenever you want. Please call whenever you want. I know you probably don’t want to disclose where you are and that’s okay. I’m just so happy you aren’t dead.”

Your father gave you the new address and you wrote it down. After catching up a bit, the call ended. Jinnie stayed by your side the entire time, he read his book and held your hand. When the call was finished, he softly set the book down.

“How do you feel?”

You tackled him in a hug on the couch, “I’m so happy Hyunjin!”

~+~

“Okay Y/n is everything packed?” Jinnie asked, you nodded. After you called your dad, Jinnie figured going on a nice weekend trip would help with the heaviness of the past couple weeks. He didn’t tell you where you guys were going, but you trusted him with everything.

“Can you pleaaase tell me?” You asked as you two walked to the town for the millionth time. He started to pack your bags in the rental car.

“No, it’s a surprise.” He evilly giggled. You whined.

“Can you give me a hint?” You leaned against the car.

Jinnie looked at you with his hand on his hip, “no.”

“Have I been there before?”

He rolled his eyes and pecked your lips, “I really hope not.” He closed the trunk and you two started your drive.

“I haven’t been in a car in forever.” You mumbled looking around the interior. Jinnie laughed a little and kept his eyes on the road.

“Don’t get carsick, it’s sort of a long ride.”

You hummed and nodded, “Jinnie?”

“Yes, my intended?”

“Are you excited for the Paris exhibit?”

Your eyes watched as his toothy grin formed, “yes Y/n I’m ecstatic.”

“Good!” You smiled, matching his grin.

As the car ride carried on, you started to doze off. Jinnie said it was okay if you fell asleep, so you let yourself doze off. When you woke, you were still driving, so you fell asleep again.

“I have to get gas; do you have to use the restroom or anything?” He shook you softly awake. You stirred and looked at him sleepily. His smile at you warmed. He looked at you as if you were a warm blanket after a long day outside during the coldest of winters.

“Mmm I’m hungry…” You mumbled and took off your seatbelt.

“Okay let me gas up and I will go in with you.”

You nodded and waited for him, after he fed the car, he parked in the lot and opened your door for you. Your hand found his and you two walked to the little convenience store. When your eyes landed on all the snacks and things they practically sparkled. You hadn’t seen stuff like this for years.

“Jinnie! Look!” You pulled him to the sunglasses. You grabbed a pair and put one on, “do these look nice?”

“Hmmmm, try these ones.” He said and switched them out. You giggled as he put them on your face, after adjusting them and looking into the mirror you nodded. They were circular and red, very old fashioned.

“I like these!”

Jinnie helped you to get some snacks and he paid for them, much to your dismay. Before you knew it, you two were on the road again.

“We are almost there I promise, I know we have been driving for a few hours…” Jinnie mumbled and glanced at you. You sat there munching on some snacks in your new sunglasses.

“Okay Jinnie.” You smiled and took another bite.

He wasn’t wrong, you two were almost there, at some point when the mountain road cleared your eyes met the blue ocean.

“Oh my god!” You practically jumped out of your seat.

“Nice way to kick off the summer?” He asked.

You turned to him, your hair a mess, sunglasses slanted, clothes disheveled, “YES!”

Jinnie smiled and started toward the small home he rented for the weekend. It was a walk from the beach and right when he stopped the car you started running toward the water. You craved the warm sand on your toes and the cold water on your skin. Your feet didn’t stop until you jumped into the water, clothes and all. You saw Jinnie laughing and jogging after you. He always looked like a dream, someone so perfect could only be in your imagination. Yet… Here he was. He wasn’t imaginary, he was just perfect in your eyes.

“This is amazing!” You laughed and waved your new shades back and forth. Jinnie stood by the water letting it hit his feet. You noticed how he was taking it all in as well.

“I know we have to take a trip to Paris next week, but I thought that this would be a nice way to relax before things get busy again.”

You jumped out of the water and hugged him, getting him, all soaked from the ocean.

“Ah!” He jumped and tried to get out of your grip.

“Jiiiiinnnnie!” You whined and looked up at him, his eyes softened, and he kissed you. Perfect, you caught him off guard and you threw both of your bodies into the water. Just like back at home in the lake, where he kissed you the first time. His laughter rang through your ears, you didn’t think you would ever get tired of hearing his laughter. Jinnie’s crazy, loud, stupid laughter. It could make symphonies jealous.

~+~

You two laid in bed with the balcony doors open. The moon shone in, illuminated the room in a pale blue. Almost like the room’s saturation was turned down. The ocean waves could be heard, sometimes the breeze would move the curtains. You laid there playing with his hair, you took in every mole and ever imperfection. To you though, the imperfections is what made him human. It’s what made him your intended, just as you were his.

“I need to get it cut before the exhibit.” He mumbled into your arm.

“My boss at the bookstore used to trim mine.” You whispered. Hyunjin nodded.

He slowly opened his eyes; he was so beautiful inside and out. Yeah, sometimes he was a little odd, memories flashed in your head. Sometimes he would chase the birds on the way home from class, other times you noticed he just wanted to watch movies to cry. Hyunjin was one of a kind in your eyes, he was caring and compassionate. No other person compared to his kindness. No other person compared to his uniqueness in general.

“Do you know why I call you my intended?” He asked and his hand found its way to your cheek. Your mouth curved slightly.

“Why is that?”

“I intend to stay with you. No matter what.” He softly kissed your cheek.

Your breath hitched, “you think I’m worth that?”

“You’re worth more than anything, that’s why I spoil you so. You deserve it, you deserve everything. I want to be the one to give you that happy ending.” Hyunjin pulled away from you, eyes locking, “you have made this the best few months I have had in a while. You gave me hope that my childish fantasies of love were true. I am so glad I found that my hopes are within you.”

“I want a happy ending with you.” You breathed, he smiled at you.

“What kind of ending?”

You leaned on your back now, “I dunno, maybe one where we are all old and sometimes gross,” you heard him laugh before you continued, “maybe have a nicer home somewhere else, one where we own it together.” You turned to him, “maybe even get a dog or cat. No birds though, you’d chase it away.”

You felt his lips on yours, “it sounds perfect.”

“What about...?” You looked at him.

“Hmm?” Hyunjin asked, shuffling under the blankets.

“What about your family?”

Hyunjin’s face fell a bit before going back to a lovestruck look, “I will have to go home at some point, but I will always come back to you. I promise.” He kissed your hand.

“I love you, Hyunjin.”

“I love you most, my intended.”

~+~

On the car ride home, you felt yourself getting really carsick, like REALLY carsick. The previous day you two ate at some seafood place and it was not agreeing with your stomach. In the morning you threw up the fish and Jinnie had to watch over you. He made jokes with made you laugh. It wasn’t all bad. You learned that even if he got grossed out, he would still be there.

You two stopped at the gas station once more and this time he bought a matching pair of sunglasses, just to make you smile. Everything felt too good to be true. When you two got home, it felt right to be home with him. Everything felt so perfect with him. He led you to your room and straight to your bathroom. You had to bathe after that long car ride. Jinnie helped you wash up and it was the most vulnerable you have ever been around another human. It opened your world to what you were missing. After what happened you tended to close your world heavily. You didn’t want to love when you didn’t know what love even was. Now you do.

“My intended, I am going to grab some clean clothes from my house. Lay down here, do you need anything while I am away?” He set you down by the bed, your wet hair soaking the pillow.

“I’m okay.” You smiled up at him, he looked down at you, eyes full of adoration. Jinnie nodded and headed out of the door. You started to fade in and out of consciousness. The drive and the food poisoning were really hitting you. You were tired, exhausted even.

At some point, you faded awake and you felt Hyunjin lay next to you, he held you tighter than usual. Your neck felt wet, but you just assumed that he showered or something. Your body just turned more into him, you let him hold you. His breathing was staggered and you would have asked if he was okay, if your own body wasn’t on shut down.

“I love you so much, please know that.”

~*~

The next morning you woke up feeling so much better. The sickness was out of your system, you could hear the birds in the morning. The light shown in your curtains, it felt perfect. You got up thinking Jinnie was making breakfast, skipping in the kitchen you noticed that there was a plate of food. But no Jinnie. Your brows furrowed and you looked at the scene in front of you. The plate of seasoned potatoes and eggs, his sketchbook, and a note.

Y/n, I don’t even know how to start this, I guess I should just explain when I got back to my house to pick up my clothes one of my old friends was there, he started bawling and hugging me when he finally saw me again he started saying how they looked for me everywhere, even though they weren’t technically allowed to, he said that Mr. W ratted me out to JYP. That is the company I am signed to. He ratted me out Y/n, and they came to pick me up. Apparently, I am allowed to work again. They paid Mr. W handsomely to give them My location, and he did.

Your eyes started to well up, you knew he was too good to be true. You took a deep breath and continued to read.

I didn’t want to leave; I told my friend I didn’t. But when I was about to walk out toward your house, the rest of my friends were there too. Some of the strongest people I know were crying when they saw me. People who usually don’t hug me, hugged me. I wanted to wake you up. Take you with me, I wanted you to always be in my world. But I was vetoed quickly. I am so sorry that I have to leave like this. When things settle down I promise I will come back for you. I always will. I am leaving you with my sketchbook. I promise Y/n, I promise you my Intended. I will be back. I am so very much in love with you.

-Your Intended forever, Jinnie.

Originally, you felt sad. Now a wave of anger washed over you. You put on your shoes and ran out, it was Monday, you were supposed to leave for France with Jinnie today. That wasn’t going to happen because of someone whom you looked up to. And for what? Money.

Your feet led you to the school, anger was an understatement. You slammed open the school door and stormed into the classroom. Mr. W stood there, looking at you with a shocked expression. He clearly wasn’t expecting you so early.

“What is wrong with you!?” You yelled.

“His friends were looking for him Y/n.” Your mentor said simply, “I did the right thing.”

“You did the right thing for MONEY!” Your voice still raised, “I am going to the exhibit fucking alone, I am taking his work WITH me.” You started grabbing all of Hyunjin’s canvases.

“Hyunjin was going to go back eventually when he HEALED, you sold him out because of your own selfish wants and needs.” You spoke with a lace of venom in your tone.

Mr. W scoffed, “again Y/n he was going to go back eventually, they needed to know where he was, I just delivered. And how on Earth are you going to do this without me? I taught you everything you know. You are supposed to take my position here.” You did not like when men talked to you like this.

“I went to the exhibit last year, and I think if I explained how you sold out the artist picked this year, they will fucking understand why you aren’t there to join me. Find another apprentice, I am leaving.”

And that you did, you meant what you said. The driver that was going to take you to Paris showed up, Mr. W didn’t meet you at your home like he was supposed to. He was a rat, a selfish waste of space. The driver helped you with Hyunjin’s work and your own work. You might as well try and turn this situation positive. The whole drive there was awkward.

The whole exhibit felt wrong.

It felt like something was missing.

He was missing.

~*~

Only one good thing came out of it, people liked yours and his work, many people asked to sell his work to them. You declined but sold all your own work. You sold all your possessions through the bookstore manager back at that small French town. You erased your existence there. You settled down in a small abode in the city. In the heart of Paris, you resided. Mr. W got a bad reputation at that school, the poetry teacher told you. She hunted you down after you left. She would give you updates on what was happening. Until eventually she would stop calling. That was the last connection cut from that little French town.

Slowly, your own art got more recognition. A year had passed, and you got popular in the art scene. You could afford more, as much praise as you were getting, you still felt so very empty. Most nights you found yourself looking up above the mantle, your favorite piece. It was priceless to you, your favorite landscape.

You sat on the couch mentally preparing for your next meeting, it was going to discuss the next exhibit location. Taking a deep breath, you leaned back. You finally made a name for yourself but at what cost. It wasn’t even your fault. The world you learned was littered with selfish people. The more meetings, the more people, the more people, the more your optimistic mindset declined. There was never a day that went by where you didn’t miss Hyunjin immensely. You researched him behind the scenes, you kept an eye on him. When he posted on their Instagram that he purchased one of your works, you bawled for days.

Taking another breath you stood up, he knew where to find you, yet he hasn’t. That isn’t on you. Grabbing your things you headed down to the lobby of your apartment. You sat in a boring meeting until someone rushed in, it wasn’t so mindless anymore.

“I am so sorry I am late, someone literally stole my bike and I had to rush here.” The man was very tall, hair a mess now. His clothing was impeccable. He had a warm drink in his hand, his glasses almost falling off his nose. He quickly walked to his seat, which was next to you.

When the meeting went on you started to get curious of the man next to you. He was attractive, no lie. Your stubborn heart wasn’t going to pine after him though. When the meeting ended and the location of your exhibit was chosen you quickly walked out.

“Wait!”

You flipped around and saw the man goofily run up to you, “yes…?”

“I wanted to introduce myself, I absolutely love your work and it took a lot of digging to even get into that meeting.” He fixed his glasses.

“Oh.” You said simply. The grown man nodded and stuck his hand out.

“I am Kim Namjoon.”

You smiled and shook his hand, “Y/n.”

You two started to walk together, “so that’s your real name?” He sparked conversation with your closed off demeaner so easily.

“Yes, you didn’t think my name was actually ‘intended’ did you?” You asked, adjusting your coat. It was cold in the spring, although summer was coming quickly. You could just tell.

Namjoon let out a laugh, another unique laugh. You felt yourself smile softly to yourself.

“Well, I wasn’t sure. Sometimes people have distinctive names.” He spoke with a tone that was so interesting to you. This Namjoon was an interesting individual.

“I think your name is nice, I’ve never heard it before.” You spoke. Your bag swung a bit, you looked up at him. Namjoon’s brows furrowed.

“You haven’t?” He asked.

“I mean, it could be familiar, but I don’t know. Should I know it?” Your voice was teasing. The banter made Namjoon smile.

“Well, I was just. I was just in a music industry so it threw me off slightly.” He said quieting his voice.

“Oh?” You asked.

“Yeah, I was in a k-pop group. Sometimes I still make music, but the group is only sometimes now. I don’t mind, the space from all of that lets me enjoy other forms of art.”

Your heart got reminded of what it was stolen of.

“That’s good that you are growing every day.” You said, your tone was cold. A total 180, Namjoon didn’t seem to notice though. As he walked you to your apartment he asked about your work, about you, he made sure you were comfortable.

You ended up letting him in your apartment.

“So, you were in a k-pop group?” You were curious, “was the company bad in any way?”

Namjoon’s brows furrowed, confused by your question. Also confused by your sudden interest in that part of his life.

“Well, when I first started yeah it was rough. But then we just started controlling our own little section of the company. So, I am now in charge of what I do.” He spoke, sipping the tea you made for him.

“Ah…” You sat down at the table with him, you looked out the window at the city. This window of the house barely showed the Eiffel Tower.

“You are different then how I expected you to be.” Namjoon spoke. You perked up.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He let out a laugh, “its not a bad thing, with how dark your work is, part of me expected a very tortured very damaged person. However, looking at you now, I can still see you have a little spark in your eyes.”

Your eyes softened, you really thought that spark was gone from your soul. But if a complete stranger saw it, maybe the spark wasn’t died out completely.

“You can?” Your voice softened, you didn’t want to cave so easily. However, you felt your walls starting to crumble. When you moved to Paris and started to get popular you were telling men and women left and right to fuck off if they wanted to court you. It was even worse if they TRIED to court you. But Namjoon, he seemed sincere. Your heart dropped when you saw your piece above the mantle. You caved in on yourself. Namjoon picked up on this.

“Was that too much? I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized, you rapidly shook your head no.

“it’s just been a while since I have sat down with someone like this.” You took a sip of your own tea, “it isn’t bad. Its just something different for me.”

Namjoon nodded, “I am in Paris for about a week, I was actually planning on going to your exhibit because either way I wanted to meet you, but I am ranting, anyways, if you would like to do this more, like sit down and talk.”

You looked up at him and smiled, “I would like that.”

He was a little awkward, but maybe he was charming you slightly.

~*~

You two ended up exchanging numbers after he had tea with you that one day, a couple days passed and you two decided to go to a local restaurant down the road. He was going to meet you at your apartment, and you would buzz him up. You put on your makeup and got dressed, back in the small town your clothing was lighter colors. Now you noticed it was all black and navy blue. Dark maroons sometimes littered your wardrobe as well. As you got changed you didn’t see the text reading that Namjoon couldn’t make it today. When your door buzzed you let whoever was here, up. When there was a knock at the door you rushed over, your long black dress flowing as much as it could with your long cardigan over it. You slipped your heels on and opened the door.

“Jinnie- “

~+~

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taglist: @alyszaenen @hwgyunun @forevrgloww

comment or send in an ask to be added to the taglist <3 it's open!

if i ever forget any tags please remind me, i have goldfish memory.

~+~

Authors note: Hi my loves, I know it has been awhile and I sincerely apologize. My childhood dog passed away and it very much crushed me. Not to be dramatic but a part of me truly died with me that day, it has been hard recovering past it. I know sometimes people say “its just a dog.” But they aren’t. I grew up an only child so he was my best friend. He was always there. As gross at this may seem, I feel a lot better now that I wear a locket with his bone in it. That may seem weird but when we lose someone who was very dear, it’s the little things like that, that can help us heal.

Past the depressing stuff though, I wrote half this chapter in a café and it helped being in public. Getting out when you are struggling is so important.

As usual, my dms are always open. I love you and please eat today.

#hwang hyunjin x reader #straykids #stray kids #kpop #straykids x reader #skz #stray kids x reader #skzxreader #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin imagines

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

The Eyes Are Lined

Summary: whilst on the last days of set of filming the show where he plays Tommy Lee, Sebastian is greeted with a surprise guest in his trailer, and he is certainly not going to be one to complain whence he’s gets a treat as sweet as you

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of phone sex, oral sex (male + female receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, p in v, degradation, spanking, daddy kink, teasing, fingering, pet names

Word Count: 4133

Masterlist Link

It fell from his lips as a relieved sigh, it had felt like forever since he had last seen you, and as he took in your form coiled in a baggy sweatshirt of his and hopefully nothing more, he was fast to close and lock the door behind himself. His tongue darted out to swipe the upon the underbite of his lip as he stepped slowly forwards in his adjourned flip flops, the wide shorts hanging off his legs. For this role he had very much diversified his appearance; lost weight, changed his hair, worn temporary tattoos - yet from the prowess that resonated through your eyes, nothing in the way of your attraction had changed.

“Sebba.” You greeted him with a wide smile, dismissing your phone that had been in your hand to the side of the couch, and crawling off the seat that you had taken up residence in. Instantly, your arms wrapped around his sleek torso, taking in the aroma of his deodorant that obliterated the senses through your nostrils. He pulled your face up with the grip of his heavy palm against your courteous cheek, as his breath fanned against the platter of your forehead.

“You’re here early, shooting doesn’t finish for another three days.” He stated, the grin that was tugging at his features clearly showing that he was anything but disappointed by your unspoken arrival. Tucking your arms to land around his waist like a belt that was enclosing him against you, you happily sighed, stroking your nose against the expanse of his bare chest that was beholden before you through the open curtains of his plain black hoodie. For a moment your eyes flickered down to the fake piercings that were strung like light fixtures from his nipples, watching as the silver metal beamed in contrast to the bulb that was fixed into the ceiling.

“I wanted to surprise you, it feels like forever since we were that close.” Was your confessing admission, as you pressed a warm kiss upon his revealed flesh, causing him to hum in acknowledgement of the amorous act. “Though I’m happy that god awful shadow is gone from your chin, if you want hair there then I suggest that you grow your beard back out.” You stroked your thumb over the crescent of his chin, running the pad through the indent as he inwardly cocked his brow, stiffening his jaw at your straight opinion.

“What’d you think of everything else? Be honest now darling.” He clicked his tongue, staring down at you with his smokily framed eyes, as you coiled back into your shoulders so that you could get a better overall viewpoint of him, as your hands descended to cupping the inward joints of his elbows. You balanced your weight on both of your feet, juggling between them to remain sturdy as you felt the mood in the trailer punctually shift, as though you were crossing through the mysterious channel that inhabited the Bermuda Triangle.

“Hmmm, well I’m rocking for the eyeliner, it really makes your eyes stand out more than they already do. And you know I’ve always been an absolute sucker for the longer hair, but I’m a sucker for you in general.” At that suggestive statement, you casted a sultry wink at him, hoping that he caught onto the act rather than thinking you had something entrapped in the perimeter of your eye. It was not dust that had clogged upon your pupil, instead it were lust, gripping onto the very image of him. It had been months, long ones at that since the pair of you had seen each other.

All the intimacy that your relationship confined in its long distance was dealt with over the phone, never once did the space that his work divulged the two of you apart make you feel lonely, he tried his utmost to ensure that you were comfortable even with miles for what seemed like an eternity separating you. The cellular contact that immersed your spare time furloughed for both late night calls that brought an innocent lovesick smile to resort upon the spectating image of your face that was reflected through the front camera of your phone, and sexual conducts that travelled across the countries that you were both in to bring you closer and alternatively higher together, in a blissful reunion that swamped your head with hyperactive hormones that followed after your mutual orgasms.

“Naughty.” He condoned you for your filthy innuendo, his hand cascading down the artwork of your body, and moving behind you, so that his fingertips were dancing upon the crown of your exempt ass cheek. “Guess all that time away has gotten you desperate for me, huh? Do you want to some sucking up to me? I’ve had a pretty hard day, and it would help me relieve a bunch of the stress that depends on these last few days. Not to mention I am so pent up from not seeing you all this time, it was practically torture honey bee, I’m not even sure how I survived.”

Dragging his head down to meet with your own, you pressed luscious and. Extended pecks onto his thin lips,having missed them covering every inch o your skin with the love that swelled in his chest and other places for you. “I don’t even know if you’ll last that long Bas, its been a certain while of you solely using your hand.” A giggle reaped from your throat as your hearing absorbed the gasp that slithered out of his mouth; he playfully pushed down upon the line of your shoulders, only enhancing your amusement by doing so. “So pushy.”

“That is right, and I will only get rougher with you the longer that it takes you to get down on your knees for me, so I would think logically. After all, after I completely wrap on this show, I’m going to have all the spare one in the world to put you in your little place and stop you from being a disobedient little brat.” It was a promise, he was threatening you in the most sexual way possible, and you’d be lying if you were to say that some aroused nectar hadn’t gathered in the passage that divided your highs down the middle. You gulped, intimacy written in every speck of your irises as you lowered yourself to be poised on your thighs, your face near the tent forming at his crotch.

The material of his shorts gathered with creases as his cock grew beneath the baggy subject that defined his legs that much more. A hand ravelled through your locks as you found yourself darting your tongue out to caress his legs, moving your muscle upwards as your hands teased the waistband of the barrier that prevented you from seeing all of him. “How much have you missed me baby, let daddy know.” Lightly, he begs to roll his hips forwards, pressing his erection teasingly against your face, and you were loving every second of it. His balls were pressing against your chin on every mimic forwards, and as you tried to speak, your voice was a tiny bit muffled by them.

“So much Sebby, I hated being apart from you.” You thought that would be a good enough answer, but as his fingers threaded further through your hair, a quiet yelp ejected from your throat as he strayed you head to be leant upwards so that you were gazing into his domineering eyes. That was when you realised that you must have made a mistake, but no matter what it was, it was much too late to take it back. Sexual fear paved through your gaze as you poured, wanting nothing to get back to your journey of duty which was to suck his cock, however, you could not continue if Sebastian had other things, such as whatever you had done so wrongly plaguing his mind.

“Bitch no cause why did you pronounce my name wrong? It begins with your favourite letter; a D, remember? And now I’m not even sure that you deserve my D. Right now I am not your Sebastian, what am I little girl?” He growled down at you, his toes rigidly curling in the open toed shoes that he were sporting, his hand remaining tangled in your hair.

“Daddy.” You tried not to sob out of dismissal, and instead expedited for apologising to refrain from angering him any further. “I’m so sorry daddy, I’ll do anything. Anything to make it up to you, please, I’ll never make that mistake again.” Unless it was not in this scenario of course, the pebbles of your tears brought a vivid richness and innocence upon your face, as though you were pooling diamonds out of the windows of your explicit soul. And I’m return, you were met with the gift of Seb shoving his shorts to be draped over his feet, his cock playing the curve of a sail as it stiffened more so at the air that hit it.

“Are you wearing anything underneath that sweatshirt baby?” He enquired as his right hand held his length in hand, enclosing his fist around the warm flesh that was beading with visible emotion at the tip. It was as though a pearl was balancing on the sector of his slit, teasing you as you dryly licked your lips, wanting nothing more than to ingest that into your body. To answer his question, your hands toyed with the bottom of his clothing article, pulling it up so that he could see your bare abdomen, of which was dressed in nothing more than your flawless skin.

“No daddy, I’m not. Am I in more trouble for that?” You worried that you were, all that you had wanted to do was surprise him, and you felt yourself grow a little giddy as he slowly shook his head, and pull back the coat of his foreskin to flash off as much of his cock as possible. He was teasing you to the slyest of his abilities, he wanted to subject you into doing something against your better judgement, and you remained strong, no matter how much you wanted to coil your lips around the head of his member and take him as far as the hollow of your throat would naturally allow.

“No baby, imma let you off the hook for that because I haven’t seen you in so long and I know that pretty little cunt has missed me probably more than the rest of you, but don’t test me again angel, or on the plane home you’re gonna have to sit on a bag of ice.” A part of you wanted to smirk, to coyly piss him off to see if that perseverance were to be true, however if you knew Sebastian, and you knew him more than well, you wouldn’t put anything past him nor his motives. “Go on, I can see you practically drooling to take me in your mouth. Don’t tease or I’ll fuck your face; be a good girl would ya.”

You weren’t going to waste anymore time, for all that you aware, any one of the set assistants could take him away from you, and that possibility only fuelled your instincts further as you hovered your head away from his hand, that was now patting and gently playing with your locks instead of using them as a leash, and flickered your tongue out to swipe that sample of precum and swallow it without hesitation. Before your mind could comprehend it, your body had already taken the next steps forwards and started to swallow down his member, your lashes fluttering closed as you hummed, sending a rhythm through Sebastian’s body of which made him cuss.

He was looking through half lidded eyes, almost shutting them, though stopping from doing so when he noticed your hand creep down the smooth skin of your thigh, and pry at your own folds. He was going to reprimand you for being so confident that you weren’t going to get caught doing something that was so ludicrous, but he decided that he were to allow you to continue for a moment. If he made a scene after revelling in his own pleasure, then you would be more compliant with whichever punishment that he nailed you down with. The tips of your digits quivered around your lips, before sinking within your walls and the rest of your palm cupped your pussy.

It made more sense now you were moaning against him, for not only the taste of him that hung heavily on your tongue, but from the slip of power that you thought you had over him, even if it be cloaked in secrecy. As he thought more of that, he found himself starting to fume with an underlining of rage, his fists stiffened at his sides as he exhaled through a combination of the sensations rippling beneath his skin. It was a combination of brewing disappointment and foreseen arousal; his veins burned with both, turning his blood warm and drumming his brain with one thing - it were his birthright to make you submit before him.

And though you were positioned in front of him, cast to your knees as you worked on his hard cock with your heavenly mouth, your mind had slithered away from the laws that you were supposed to obey as you fingered yourself against and without his jurisdiction. To retain from speaking out just yet Seb put the pressure of his front teeth down upon his bottom lip, as he tuned his ears on the sounds of your mouth i taking his cock and slathering it with the natural lubricant of your saliva, and if he paid enough attention, the sound of your nimble fingers darting in and out of your entrance was echoed through the slick that was provided from your hormonal body, that coated your fingers and glistened underneath the lighting.

As he felt a spark approaching through the intermissions of his pleasured body, he found it to be best to direct you away, and exhibit distance despite having forgone with that flow for the time space that you hadn’t seen each other in. And thus he gently stepped back, allowing his cock to fall past your lips and a string of spit to be the only thing connecting you to it. It was an instinct for you to whine as you watched him take his cock back into his hand, giving himself a couple of easing tugs to cool himself down from his ruined orgasm.

And that was when all prevailed in realisation for you, that he continued to ogle at you from above as your index and middle fingers on your right hand remained inside of your cunt, and as your mind sparked some sense back into it, you instantly removed them despite the emptiness that attained within that area. Your eyes remained wide as you watched with caution as Seb took it upon himself to take a seat on the sofa that was below the blind strung window of his trailer, his hand temptingly patting his thick thighs as a means to convince you to move closer.

“Get up here you deviant minx.” It was not a sweet gesture that he were offering you, no, instead you were getting punished despite evading such a fate earlier on. Pushing yourself up from your knees, you went to lay yourself against him homely lap, however as you went to do so, he tugged at the sweatshirt that compiled a flush of heat against your addictive body, pulling it up a few inches to send you the message. Once you had completely removed the appeared and were dressed to the eye in nothing more than your naked flesh, that was when Sebastian allowed you to continue laying your stomach across his legs, as your own legs and breasts were draped either side of them.

His rough fingertips caressed the muscles of your back, making them twitch from rugged anticipation. They descended lower as he dug his knee into your ribs, enjoying the way that your breath hitched. “You know the rules angel, you don’t touch without permission, and yet you did. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I bruise this beautiful ass red and blue?” The worst thing was you could imagine how your cheeks would look all bruised up from the harsh strokes from his commanding hands; it had happened before and each and every time you’d tell yourself that it’d never happen again, that you’d avoid such intimate brutality because you’d behave.

But you both knew better than to trust those empty promises that wailed from your desperate throat as you were subjected to a pain that made your mind hazy and your throat parched. “No daddy, just that I’m sorry.” A yelp quickly followed after as he collided his hand down upon the fat of your behind, your entire body jolting as you shakily inhaled, knowing that in a few minutes that you’d get used to the pain and find it less surprising. The first strike was always the worst, and as another clapped down, followed by more and more, tears reigned the paving of your face as they spilt down your cheeks.

Your apology was simply a waver in the air, it did nothing other than tell him something that he’d heard a million times by this point. And when nothing added to the soreness of your bosom, you swore that you were in heaven, it continued to sting though as relief washed over your aura, and your lashes flickered through the fallen tears, slowly drying from the sobbing that they had commenced. “You took that well, okay.” Seb breathed, beginning to softly stroke your ass which made you whimper from the feather light pressure that digressed against the impact he had prohibited you to dwindle in. “I’m gonna reward you, think you can turn over baby?”

He slipped out from beneath you, allowing you to remain on your stomach for the moment until you had finally came up with your decision. You wriggled a little, stretching your toes as you hummed in reply and switched, despite the searing conundrum that resorted favour over your backside, onto the polar of your position, only to find your lover of whom was in control crawling towards you, the rings around his eyes looking sinful as he stared at your naked body as though you were his prey. His hands began to reel up your legs, coercing you into squirming against the cushioning that was managing to keep you at the same physical level as him, though the same couldn’t be said for the mental premise that rendered in interference of your relationship.

Hot air brushed upon your mound as he pressed a kiss to the hill that lead to the lake that was fawning at his close proximity, waves crashing and glistening to appeal to his ocean eyes. “Daddy, can you please do something?” A grunt differed from his throat as he inhaled the sea salt that subordinated his nose to the all natural scent, all before he nipped at the inside of your thigh before delving his face between the tightened proximity, sealing his mouth around your sensitive bud as he mumbled moans against your reactive flesh, earning himself a deeper invasion as you rutted your hips up to his face.

Sebastian Stan was a man of many talents; he could clearly mimic anyone that a script needed him to, but the one thing that he was truly magical at was using his mouth. It was a skill set that made you mercilessly comply to him, it was his superpower, which was indeed ironic considering that he played a hero in one of the world’s biggest franchises known to cinema. He raised his hands to grasp at your own as he trailed them into his strongly pigmented hair, giving you permission to ravel your hands through his straight hair, and feel the smooth sheen against the judge of your skin. You liked it, as you knew that you would.

Using his tongue, he pried at your entrance, sinking it within you as he began to shake his unruly head, extracting small screams from your throat as you became victim to his plentiful evidence of love. Your chest raised out in the air as your eyes rolled back, and a tweak pulled at your clit once more, and looking down, it revealed that it were your beloved tugging at the button with his teeth, as he gouged your reaction. When you reached your orgasm, he dived head first back into your emptying cavern, cleansing all that he had subdued from your body via his amazingly versed and performed sentiment.

“Taste so fucking good baby.” To prove his point, he clambered above you, slipping his lips against your own as he swabbed your tongue with his own, sharing your own juices so that you could feel them balance on your taste buds. His hand ran down your body as he pinched your hardened nipples, earning himself a withered and high pitched sigh from your mouth as he pulled away from the kiss. “Think you for another one in you angel? Daddy wants to fuck this sweet pussy, you okay with that?” A dazed nod gave him permission, though he grasped your jaw with his strong hand as he ensured that you stared back at him. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, want your cock in me daddy. Always do.” A content smile used your mouth as it’s efficient puppet as he held onto his cock, and teased it around your folds, wetting his foreskin and other areas to make it more pleasurable for the both of you when he went to push in. And when he did, you felt like you had died and gone to heaven, it made you wonder how you ever survived going months without his touch, in any which way. Your hands held onto his hips as you steadied his weight, silently giving him the okay to start moving, and he did, he sunk within your cavernous walls, only to pull back and repeat the action. “Seb.” You breathed the shortened version of his name, the hot air leaving your mouth hitting his shoulder as he panted beside your face, his nose dragging up your cheek as you ran your hand down, cupping his balls and stroking them with the tender contact of your thumb.

For once under these circumstances, he did not shun you for saying his true name, instead he was too busy with the maddening rush that flew through his body as he fornicated with you. His pace increased, provoking the sound of flesh slapping upon flesh in the air as your thighs and hips clashed, amongst other parts. “Fuck sugar, ya close?” He asked you hurriedly, his forehead scrunching up as he felt immense pleasure as your cunt clenched around him, using his leverage to play with your clit once more. You ravenously nodded your head, dragging your nails over his body as you tried to jut your body up against his, chasing the approaching high which ultimately had you slumping against the cushions as he continued to pummel your body with his delivering thrusts.

“Shit.” He almost shouted, a soothing buzz ongoing in his body as he released his seed within you, you being able to feel every drop even after he pulled out and rolled to lay beside you, tugging you to be laying on his chest, neither of you caring for the cum that was escaping from your entrance that also happened to be the exit. “Why you laughing at me angel face?” Sebastian queried as he heard your cheeky sounds of amusement, a grin ruining the formation of his rocker disguise.

“You’re eyeliner’s all smudged.” You laughed, running the pad of your thumb beneath his eye and in the crows feet that dipped below, blending it further into his skin and giving it a grey hue to its ebony gradient. “You still look hot though.” You shrugged, nestling your head deeper into his chest, finally relieved that you and Sebastian were in the same place at the same time again.

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gyllenhaalstories · 3 years

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INSATIABLE — SUGAR DADDY!ZEMO

summary: zemo likes to believe evil masterminds are just like magicians, they don’t reveal their secrets. and his secret happens to be you: the more you beg and the more you distract him, the more it motivates him.to do what? well, it depends on his mood. luckily for you, he’s feeling pretty generous.

warnings: tfatws spoilers (kind of), established sugar baby x sugar daddy relationship, smut (daddy kink, established dum/sub dynamics, fingering, praising, orgasm control, overstimulation, squirting). 18 + MINORS DON’T INTERACT.

word count: 888

gifs credits: forcebros

notes: this is just a short little something that did not make it in my sugar daddy zemo x sugar baby series. the link to the first part is on my pinned post if you want to check it out! revenge bedtime? more like revenge horny time

“What is it, Princess?” He turned around, so he could catch a glance of you.

You were standing by the doorframe of the bathroom, your thighs pressed together and your teeth marking your bottom lip. It took all the self-control you possessed to not join him in the shower. You did not regret it too much, he looked even better without the steam as he put on a pair of briefs alongside his favourite bathrobe.

“You know the rules. The more you disturb me, the longer you will wait.”

“But I’ve waited long enough already!” You pouted and crossed your arms against your chest.

Your reaction made him chuckle. He rarely laughed, and you took pride in the fact that you seemed to be the only person able to pull this emotion out of him. Except now was not the time to feel proud and to melt at just how adorable he sounded. Now was the time to get what you wanted.

His fingers gestured you to come closer.

You could no longer hide your excitement as you practically ran over him. You lowered yourself, preparing to go down on your knees but a firm grip around your throat stopped you. You stared at him in surprise, taking in the small smirk on his lips.

“If I give it to you, will you be my patient little girl for the evening?” You nodded once, it was not satisfying enough. “You’re going to be nice and quiet for me until I’m done?” You nodded again, this time more frantically. “Good.”

You followed the lead of his hand as he lifted your leg up, helping you rest your foot on the edge of the bathtub. Instinctively, you wrapped your other arm around him for stability.

He did the same, wrapping one arm around your waist and his free hand pulled your nightgown up to reveal your bare core. He licked his fingers, but he quickly realized you were already so wet for him. A groan left his open mouth, and a moan yours, when he brushed over your demanding clit. He took his hand away, caressing your thigh gently. “You’re going to be good for Daddy?”

“Please! Please, just fuck me!”

Zemo clicked his tongue mockingly. Instead, he started to rub your clit with his pointer and middle fingers. He was moving fast, and harshly. He looked up to you, waiting for a sign to stop but instead he only found your face twisted in pure pleasure.

He alternated between fingering your tight entrance and rubbing your clit until you realized what he was doing. He was building you up, making sure you were so close that your orgasm would snap at any moment.

“Daddy!” You cried out when you felt his fingers curling up inside of you. He was hitting that sweet spot that never failed to make you...

“That’s it, let it all out for me.” He encouraged you when you squirted all over his hand.

You squealed when a wave of warmth washed over you, your legs started to get shaky but you felt Zemo tightened his grip around you.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he went at him again, slamming his fingers inside of you until your juices exploded again, some even ran down your inner thighs.

“It’s too much, Daddy!” You complained, but all it took was one rough kiss on your plump lips to convince you to continue.

He brushed his thumb over your clit when he made you squirt for the third time, grunting at the focus it took for him to constantly hit your g-spot.

You were panting, giggling, squealing and screaming out his name all at once. You sounded pathetic, but to him, it was nothing but music to his ears.

"You’ve still got more in there.” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“How?” You let out along with a sigh when your body finally relaxed. Ever since he learned you could do that, he just loved to push your limits. And although you seemed to protest, you loved it just as much.

“One more, I know you can do it.” Your lips locked in another kiss. “Just relax and give it to me, make daddy happy will you?”

You threw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut while he fingered you again.

“Good girl, such a good girl.”

The praise sent you over the edge and you squirted on him again. Your face was covered in tears from the intensity of your orgasm and you could see in the way he looked at you that he never witnessed anything more beautiful.

He pressed a tender kiss to your flushed cheeks, presenting his soaked fingers to your mouth so you could suck them clean, which you did hungrily. Then, he turned towards the cabinets, throwing you a few towels. “Feel better now, Princess? Or are you too insatiable to leave me alone for an hour or two?”

You stared down at the ground, where there was a noticeable puddle of your own pleasure on the ceramic. Before you could protest, blame that he was the one who caused the mess, Zemo was walking out of the bathroom and disappeared somewhere else in the condo.

He left you wondering which was one of you was the most insatiable.

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo smut #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #series: sugar daddy!zemo

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shanitani · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Love your writing it’s super cute!!

I’m not sure about requests as when I clicked the link it said page not found?

So if anything in the ask is not allowed please just disregard the whole thing

So could I please get maybe a comfort fic with Kirishima

For a reader who’s father was either not in the picture or just comes and goes as he pleases?

If you’re not comfortable I understand

Tysm! <3

includes: kirishima x gn! reader

contains: small angst -> major comfort

a: hi lovely, thank you for telling me I’ve fixed it but no everything you put is fine! Also thank you it means alot to me:)

When you first talked about your family life with Kiri, it wasn’t like he was determined to find out about your dad. But you had glossed over him very quickly and then went on to the rest of your family - he didn’t think it was a big deal.

the convo would’ve went, “ this is my father, [D/N] - anyways this is...” and the convo just went on from there

He knew fathers day was coming up so he brought up the question of finally meeting your dad for dinner. He was content about meeting your mom and siblings but he also wanted to create a good atmosphere with your dad!

“Hey babe?” you hummed still scrolling on your phone while he laid in the middle of your legs with his head on your lap. “Father’s day is coming up, do you think I could meet your dad this year?” you froze, unable to speak or know how to continue the conversation.

You didn’t care for your dad much, he was never in the picture and left before you were born. He would come around sometimes in your childhood but it was very vague and you still couldn’t give a description of the modern him. What started as coming for a few times a month started to become once a month and finally never, leaving small emails to you once ever blue moon when he felt guilty - but that was rare.

“No. Don’t ask again.” you bluntly stated to the boy and began to scroll on your phone again to distract yourself, Kirishima was silent - he didn’t want to make you feel bad at all, and he didn’t know how to go about the situation. He slowly got up from the middle of your lap giving you space, making sure to kiss your forehead as a way to say he’s not mad at you; and left, hearing the door close and lock behind him.

Little did he know that you wanted his touch to be there, you wanted him to stay because whenever you talked about your dad in the slightest, you fell vulnerable. You watched him slowly leave - but you couldn’t blame him by how your demeanor changed on him with no warning after asking such a genuine question. Guilt started to eat you away, saying you felt terrible was an understatement...

You sighed putting your hands on your eyes rubbing your slightly damp eyes from overthinking. ‘Maybe sleep will help’ you spoke out loud to no one in particular. You tossed and turned, keeping the memory of Kirishima kissing your head and leaving on repeat - remembering the look on his face when you had hurt him. He left.

Your heart stung immensely, feeling a lump in your throat that just wouldn’t surpass. You stuffed your face into your boyfriends pillow - choking out a cry as tears stained his pillow, regret filled you more and more by the minute. Wondering why it was so hard to tell your boyfriend about your past, why you couldn’t express the emotions you were feeling with him and why you couldn’t just let yourself be in vulnerable state with you in his arms.

The click on the door was so faint, you couldn’t hear it with you gasping for air. “Hey dude, yeah I’m back home. I’ll call you later.” Bakugo hummed in the phone ending the call as Kiri put his key’s on the table wondering if you had calmed down. He placed the food on the table hesitant to walk back into your shared bedroom, scrolling on his phone to save him a couple of minutes before having to walk back in. He heard faint sobs from the bedroom and minimal sniffling before pausing

He quickly set down his phone shuffling toward the door and opening it, seeing you lay there with his pillow hugged tightly to your chest - and your eyes swollen red. He couldn’t form any words, thinking about how awful he was that he left you alone. He ran to your side hugging your scrunched form letting you cry into his chest, he had never seen you so distraught and emotional like this.

He rubbed slow circles on the side of your back hoping for you to finally come down from this breakdown. After minutes, the sobs turned into small tears rolling down your puffed cheeks and you tightly grabbing around his chest to feel his heartbeat and warmth. “Baby, i’m so sorry I left you. But I’d never ever leave you - you know that don’t you?” he put emphasis on the leave reminding you he’d never break up with you, he planned on putting a ring on your finger.

You silently nodded, closing your eyes to calm the sting in your pupils. Finally looking up at him, you slightly smiled - running your hand over his crimson hair that fell flat and kissed the bottom of his neck, “I’m sorry I lashed on you. I just don’t know how to express my emotions when it comes to my dad, he was never the greatest dad.” you looked off to the side, embarrassed that you never had the “perfect” family.

He kissed your cheek once more, laying your head on his chest holding you tightly. “You don’t have to tell me right now, or next month, or even next year. But, just know I’m here with open ears when you’re ready.” you looked up at him as he flashed a signature toothy grin showing his sharp shaped teeth making you smile at him, he really is perfect isn’t he?

Thank you Kiri, for everything.

masterlist

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wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Group Project (Shino x Reader x Kisame x Temari)

Request:

Word Count: 2,282

Tags/Warnings: Language, Alcohol Mention, Gender Neutral Reader @brokennerdalert @narahanabi

Notes: I have never written for Temari before. I think I got her spot on tho. This was actually too fun to write. Enjoy, y’all.

The only time that worked for everyone was 10 o’clock. Which, by the way, sucked ass. At least, that was what Kisame said in the groupchat just ten minutes before you dragged yourself out of your dorm and into the rain. You trudged through the puddles, holding your jacket closed over your body to protect your backpack-encased laptop. Shino had a night lab. The earlier he finished his work the earlier he could leave. Temari had been insistent about that. She had some sort of circle and you remembered Kisame asking her why she couldn’t just skip for the week only to be met with a passive aggressive response. And Kisame himself had hockey practice. Even the sports houses were off campus, only impeding your scheduling efforts.

When you got to the longue, Temari had already set up all of her belongings. She sat herself in a cluster of four shallow armchairs and spread out a flurry of papers on the long coffee table. With the packed schedule that she threw into the chat, you wondered how she got there so quickly. Temari looked up at you with one long, slender brow raised.

“Oh good, at least you’re here.” Unsure, really, of what to make of her backhanded compliment, you sat down in the chair across from her and wordlessly unpacked your laptop.

You never liked general classes. At the end of the day, you worked on a few big, group projects, ultimately learned nothing, and your grade depended on the work ethic of others. You glanced over at Temari. She likely didn’t even have the same major as you. Granted, that was probably the point of the class, but nonetheless, it weighed on your already drooping eyes knowing that you’d have to pour so many late night hours into a project that would amount to nothing.

You pulled up your school account and sifted through your notifications.

“I signed us up for a research question. I thought that censorship in the classroom was an easy and relevant one. I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to get into the intricacies of drones at this time of day.” You couldn’t help but nod. Temari sure pounced on top of things quickly and for that, you were thankful to have received an easy prompt.

“Sounds great,” you mused and the heavy door from the outside to the longue slammed shut. You glanced over your shoulder to find Kisame, still in athletic clothes grinning as he approached.

“Well this is bullshit, isn’t it?” Those were the first words to come out of his mouth and you could practically hear Temari groan in exasperation. Kisame plopped down in the armchair beside you, offering you a wink as he did. “What kinda professor assigns a project on Tuesday only for it to be due Thursday? Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

You averted your eyes back to your screen, pretending to sort through your notifications. You hummed in response, too easily flustered and too tired to process. Temari’s fingers flexed over her own keyboard.

“It’s the beginning of the semester. It’s to test out organizational skills and teamwork,” she managed through half-gritted teeth. You looked between your two teammates, wondering what exactly happened between them that made them so hostile to each other. You made a mental note to not get in the way of whatever that was. Kisame scoffed, sitting back in the arm chair and reaching for his own computer.

“I don’t really care what it is and why it is. What I care about is that I’m wasting my Wednesday night…”

“Ah, yes, Wednesday night,” Temari repeated mockingly, “Because I know that I like getting plastered in the middle of the week.” Kisame leaned towards you on his left arm cushion.

“Soy Sauce over there is just sore that her brother picked a fight with one of my boys and lost. Sasori’s a short guy too, you should link with us sometime.” You heard Temari scoff.

“Yeah, like Kankuro would lose to any of the thugs you hang around—”

“Who are you calling a thug?” Temari met Kisame’s pointed glare. Even so, he sank farther into his seat, lifting one ankle to rest on his knee. “Though, I think it says something that you knew exactly what I was talking about—” He punctuated every word with a smug swing of his head before Shino walked in.

“Nice to see that things are lively in here.” He made his way across the lounge before plopping down next to Temari. A white piece of cloth hung out from his backpack, something that Temari didn’t miss as Shino prepared his materials.

“That’s a hazard.” She bit the inside of her lip.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s been grumpy since before you came here,” Kisame quickly explained, much to Temari’s disdain.

Looking across from you, you almost wished that you had just been paired up with Shino. You didn’t know him that well, but he seemed smart, capable and overall, quiet. Temari had drive, but her approach felt intense. Meanwhile, Kisame seemed like he couldn’t care less about the project. Or perhaps, it was more that he couldn’t care less about Temari.

“So the paper,” you began out of sheer nervousness. “And the presentation…” The three sets of eyes turned to you. You glanced at the clock. You had already wasted more than a half hour.

“Let’s be real here, a five page research paper is nothing,” Temari said, also crossing her legs. “It’s the presentation that we should worry about.” Kisame let out a breath.

“Well, here I was about to say the opposite.” He turned his neck to the side and you heard a few audible cracks. “What about we split it up if the paper is so easy for you?”

“I’m not just doing the paper by myself. Besides, I’d need to find sources and by the time I’ve found sources and written everything up, I’ll have done most of the work.” Temari wrinkled her nose at your partner next to you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what you were banking on.”

“Here.” Shino’s low voice broke through the room. With one exaggerated click on his keyboard he looked up at the three of you. “I just put a list of sources in the shared doc. There’s ten of them which should be more than enough. I pulled a few articles and a few academic papers which should meet the criteria from the rubric.”

Temari blinked down at her computer, furiously switching tabs. Her lips formed a round ‘o’ shape.

“Nice work, Shino,” you praised only to receive a shy nod. “I think if we take an anti-censorship stance, it’ll make out work easier given the time that we have to finish. Maybe Temari, you can start the paper and I can start the slides.”

“I can help you with that,” Kisame offered and you typed his email into the share box.

“I’ll help Temari with the paper,” Shino said with another nod.

“Start with the counterarguments. I’ll work from the top, you work from the bottom.” Temari gestured widely to Shino’s screen and you let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you’ll be able to get all of this done after all.

Time flew during the late hours of the night. You didn’t know what it was about the nighttime that made time feel quicker than usual. Soon enough, the clock struck one. Temari plucked ferociously at her laptop and it surprised you that Kisame hadn’t asked her what she was punishing her keyboard for. Shino, on the other hand, liked to stand. About an hour ago, he had stood up from his seat, and with one foot on the low level of the coffee table, kept at writing his part of the paper. Temari and Shino didn’t speak much. Rather, their side of the table mostly sounded of clicking.

Meanwhile, you and Kisame were having a great time. He made you laugh much to Temari’s annoyance, but knowing that you were getting your parts done, she didn’t comment. Despite his outward physique, Kisame had a sense of style when it came to design and organization. You flew through fonts and images quickly and by the time you had cleared the first few slides, even you were impressed by how professional it looked. The clock read two o’clock.

“This was your conclusion, right?” You turned your screen in your hands to face Temari. She squinted over and her eyes lit up.

“Actually, that’s a way better wording. Imma just steal that…” She clicked some more. “That’s some great work.”

“It was actually all Kisame.” And to your surprise, he didn’t gloat. Instead, he remained eerily focused. Temari glanced at him before glancing away.

“Like I said, great work…” she muttered.

“We’re almost done with the slides,” you announced, “Do you guys need help with the paper?” Shino shook his head. You found that he preferred non-verbal answers.

“We’re wrapping up over here, too,” Temari answered.

“Good, because I’m fuckin’ starving.”

And with the one mention of food, you all looked up at each other.

***

There was only one place open this late at night and it was one block away from campus. Fast Food, of course, but no one in your group complained. The dining halls were closed and most of you didn’t keep your rolling pantries stocked with anything worth eating at two in the morning, so you packed up your things.

It felt odd walking down the road with this group of people. You chattered amongst yourselves about anything other than your assignment.

“Me? I’m a biology major. I want to study beetles but I have to get my undergrad before I can do anything really specific.” By far, Shino had to be the most interesting of you all. You made your way off of campus, the restaurant in your sight. And as the walk continued, so did your conversation.

“I’ve wanted to try the new place that they opened up by admissions but they’re always closed when I try to go.” Temari pouted and you crossed the street together. You wondered if spending four straight hours having to communicate with any three people could make talking to them this easy.

“Marine biology?” You stared up at Kisame. “I don’t think I would have guessed.” He let out a hearty laugh that sent a few birds flying.

“Oh yeah, they have us go out of labs for the whole day. And when I say the whole day, I mean the whole day. I’ve always loved the ocean, but I think I’d have to transfer if I had to wake up at seven and come back at eight for more than one day a week.” Kisame reached for the handle, only for it not to budge in his grip. He tried again.

“Are they closed?” you asked, getting slightly agitated at the prospect.

“No.” Shino cupped his hands around his eyes as he stared through the window. “Wet floor signs are out. This must be the time that they clean the dining room.” Shino hardly had to finish his sentence before Kisame was already on his way to the drive thru.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Temari yelled after him as she jogged to catch up. “You can’t just walk through the drive thru.”

“Sure you can.” Kisame stood directly in front of the speaker with his hands in his pockets. “There are no cars around and even if there were, they’d have to take our order to get us out of the way… Hello?” The speaker crackled and Kisame shot a pointed look at the rest of you before moting for you to come closer to order.

“What can I get you?” the apathetic worker droned.

“Can I get a number nine?” Kisame started.

“Oh me too,” you whispered to him, not entirely sure why you spoke with such a hushed tone. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“Make that two number nines? One large—” He stepped back to let Temari come up to the speaker.

“May I please get a number six with extra sauce, please? And, uh, a number seven too, please.” Like Kisame before her, Temari stepped to allow Shino to talk.

“Two number forty-fives, one with cheese and a large soda.”

With nowhere else to sit, you claimed a spot in the empty parking lot. Temari ended up paying. You put up a fight, but she insisted. You were secretly convinced that she was loaded anyway.

“You two got a lot of food.” Kisame handed you your fillet burger. Temari hummed, taking one of her backs and folded it behind her.

“One’s for my boyfriend,” she said, and before Kisame could get out a snarky comment about how Temari could ever land a boyfriend, Shino answered,

“I just usually eat all at once. Can’t usually grab dinner while doing night labs.” You all grimaced to yourselves. You knew the feeling of skipping meals because of your schedules.

You looked out at the city. Your school sat on a hill just outside of the twinkling lights. You found comfort in the blinking that came from below and your surroundings made the atmosphere feel completely still.

“You know, if we have a choice, we should just stick together for the rest of the semester.” Shino’s monotone voice cut through the air. You turned to the rest of them. Temari shrugged.

“It’s less of a gamble since we know each other, I suppose. I know that most of you won’t mess up our assignments…” You and Kisame nodded along, both stuffing your faces with french fries.

The decision was unanimous.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes:

Shino’s lab coat was in with his regular supplies which is technically a hazard when working in chem and bio labs since lab coats should be sealed.

Not all fast-food places well take your order without a car, but if you block the line they’ll give in (that’s what I did). Don’t blame me if you get arrested for doing that though.

"I'll have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda."– Melvin "Big Smoke" Harris

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wienerbarnes · 3 years

Text

When It’s Over

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,762

Warnings: canon level violence

A/N: back w cheek to cheek😌 there's some heavy inso from the fight scene from fatws w walker so peep that👀 as well as some linked references to past pieces!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

The near-silent sound of the door clicking shut wakes you up. While you know if there was some kind of actual threat there’d be alarms and lights going off because of F.R.I.D.A.Y. 's security measures, your body still tenses at the unnatural sound.

Why is someone in your room in the middle of the night? Unless -

A sweaty and musky smell floods your nostrils as the intruder hunches over your body, burying their face into your neck and breathing in deeply before pressing a soft kiss. Bucky’s home.

You turn over and place your hands on either side of his face to kiss him properly but you pause when his face feels unnaturally wet.

“Is that sweat? Why are you all wet?” You whisper into the darkness, reaching over to turn on the lamp on your bedside table.

You gasp when the light reveals Bucky’s face, neck, and hair drenched in blood. You eyes roam the rest of his body to see his tactical gear in the same condition.

“Jesus, Bucky, who were you fighting?”

He smirks, fatigue clouding his features, “You should see the other guys.” Your eyebrows scrunch at the sound of more than one person as he reaches into one of his pant pockets, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper.

He hands it to you and turns away to begin stripping off his dirty clothes. You unfold it carefully so as to not rip it or mangle it up further to reveal your list, with all of the names crossed off harshly and a new one added at the bottom, a name not in your handwriting nor in your memory.

“Is this what you were doing? Who is the last name? I didn’t write that.” While you're upset he lied to you, you feel an indescribable sense of relief wash over you, a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. No more HYDRA after you. No more handlers. No more guards after your blood, your powers.

“The soldier who shot you. With the metal arms. I destroyed everything that even looked a little bit like a serum in every building I went to, so I think he’s the last super soldier. Or at least for now. I hope.” He tells you, finally down to his underwear. He’s still breathing kind of heavily, probably from pure exhaustion. He’s only been gone for six days and he took out all the names on your list. Did he even sleep?

You’re still holding the list in your hands when he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered. He uses his towel to scrunch out as much water from his hair as he can and tosses it in the pile of dirty clothes. He pulls on a pair of underwear and doesn’t even bother putting on actual pajamas, approaching the bed.

“I promise we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. He’s supposed to be in Minsk. I’m so fucking tired…” He sighs, trailing off, taking the list from your hands and placing it on the nightstand, turning off the lamp.

“Where is that?”

“Belarus. Above Ukraine.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up. And for not telling you, I didn’t want to -”

“Shh, don’t apologize. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m just glad you’re home.”

The thought of technically being free hasn’t hit you, it hasn’t even begun being processed by your brain yet. It probably won’t for a while, a few days, maybe weeks. No more HYDRA.

Bucky slumps into the mattress next to you, not even getting under the covers, too tired to adjust his position. You get out from under the covers as well, pushing yourself up against his back, spooning him like a backpack, trying to pull him as close to you as possible.

In less than a week, he got rid of everything and everyone you’ve been afraid of for years. People you had nightmares about, that hounded your every thought every single hour of every single day. He got rid of them for you.

He grabs your hand that rests on his chest and brings it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on it.

No more fear.

...

Bucky sleeps for fourteen hours, into the following evening. He wakes up to the smell of toasted bread, the crust around his eyes pinching at his skin until he brings up his right hand to rub it away. He sees your back at the counter and after another deep inhale, smells acidic tomato and smoky bacon.

Sandwiches for lunch. He glances at the clock to see the time as 5:18. Sandwiches for dinner.

He lets out a long yawn as he sits up, left arm reaching up to scratch at his head, hair feeling knotted due to the fact that he fell asleep with it wet. I need another haircut soon.

He gets up and walks around the kitchen island to greet you, despite missing most of the day. You turn to face him as you hear his footsteps approach and reach up to plant a long kiss on his mouth.

“I have mornin’ breath,” Bucky mumbles against your lips, hands resting gently on the tops of your shoulders as he feels your hand wrap around his naked waist.

“I don’t care. I love you.” You kiss him again and again, harder and harder each time.

“Babe,”

“You freed me.” More kisses.

“Huh,” He giggles against your lips, finding your affection amusing, but unknowingly needed.

“I love you. Thank you. You freed me, you saved me.” You repeat, kisses smacking in between your words.

He thinks back to the mangled list he tossed in your direction last night, how he came home covered in blood in an exhausted haze. You freed me, you tell him. From HYDRA, he understands.

“You don’t thank me for nothing,” He pulls away, hands cupping your face in order to temporarily stop your kisses, “I love you. I’ll do anything for you. It’s the bare minimum.” He tells you.

All you do is stare up at his blue eyes. As though he’s Atlas, holding up the world underneath your feet. The bare minimum. How he’s ruined you for any man or person at all with the way he treats you, the way he loves you. You don’t look away from him with your loving stare as he steals a piece of bacon off the pan on the stove before turning and going into the bathroom.

...

You, Bucky, Sam, and Joaquin occupy the small jet on the way to Belarus.

“Who are we fighting again?” Sam asks, half-serious, as he adjusts the shield on his back.

“His name is Jean-Baptiste Allaire. But I don’t think he knows that.”

“...Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“A bad guy.” Bucky answers this time.

I suppose that is all he really needs to know.

Soon enough the plane lands and the three of you go off, leaving Torres in the jet to monitor and wait in case there’s a need for backup, eventually ending up in a dilapidated building. You assume it’s a facility used to house the soldier, if Bucky was able to trace him back to here. They probably keep him away from the major facilities with most of the guards to limit the risk of him dying during raids or other compromises, you think.

“Be careful around this guy.” Bucky warns Sam as you get closer, approaching the building, slowly walking down a long hallway in order to find anything that would signify him being here.

Bucky slows down, causing everyone else to slow down as they approach the end of the hallway, allowing the only option to turn to the left, revealing a large cell, the soldier sitting in the corner.

A flash of confusion flashes across his face before it disappears, an emotionless expression replacing it as he stands, the whirring of his metal arms being the only sound as he approaches the three of you, ready to fight.

The three of you back up down the hallway to allow more space, but it doesn’t last long as he begins to attack, launching himself at Sam to start mindlessly fighting.

The soldier and Sam throw punches at each other and you run over to help, but as you come up to them, he whips around, grabbing you by the collar of your tactical vest, and throws you across the room with one swing.

“Woah!” Your body smashes into a wall, a loud creaking sound coming from the metal of his arms as your body makes impact and slams to the ground.

“Shit!” You groan, getting ignored as the three men fight each other. He’s strong as fuck.

Your vision stops spinning and you stand, a shield whizzing past your head, nearly decapitating you, and lodging itself into the wall behind you.

Bucky’s already got blood all over his face from fighting him, and you take a wild guess that the soldier has some sort of serum that’s the same or stronger than Bucky’s in his body.

He grabs Bucky and flings him to the side, his body crashing into the cell he was originally in. A metal pole with wires wrapped around it stands in the middle of the small cell, which Bucky’s body slams into, electrocuting him and knocking him unconscious.

You remember Bucky explaining to you one time that he was always going to be a lot more sensitive to electrocution and shock therapy after what HYDRA would do to him, regardless of how super he is.

You look to Sam to see the soldier straddled on top of him, throwing punch after punch into his face, then moving to tear off one of Sam’s wings with his bare hands, sparks flying around them.

Suddenly something flows through you. Not something; anger. Pure rage. You realize that this guy is out to kill and it’s like a switch has been flipped. You're reaching over towards the wall and ripping out the shield, throwing it as hard as you can and hitting the soldier in the side of the face.

You march over while he’s distracted and disoriented by the blood pouring out of his head and kick the side of his face, knocking him over and off of Sam. You use the same leg to kick at the shield that’s now on the ground, flipping it up into your hands, and slam the flattest part down onto his head, using it to block the punch he throws.

You toss it to the side and straddle him yourself when you get a split second of a chance, him hitting you with a gnarly punch - a Bucky-level, super-soldier punch - but you hit him back, ignoring the fiery hot pain that explodes in your face. Though not as strong, you feel your fists break his nose and crack his cheek bone, his blood making your hands stickier and stickier as you punch and punch and punch.

“Don’t! Touch! My! Friends!” You yell in between punches, using both your hands to slam down at the same time, blood dripping from your own face from his singular punch.

You slam both hands onto either side of his face, and in a second, you realize you’ve tapped into his brain. His arms drop to the ground beside his body and you’re in complete control.

Never have you ever tapped into someone’s mind so quickly. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the fiery anger of seeing your friends getting hurt that made it so easy.

You smile wickedly, laughing in his face, “Now, you’re mine.” You pant through your teeth.

“51, don’t.” Bucky groans. You glance up to see him on his hands and knees now, still feeling the after effects of the electricity, small sparks jumping from creases in his arm. You look over to the side to see Sam also leaned over on the ground, looking at you. Waiting.

They’re not scared of you, but they’re… wary. Everytime you’ve controlled someone’s mind, they’ve died. The man from prison. The scientist from the HYDRA video. Dead in a second because of your powers.

Bucky looks at you and he sees the same girl from that video years ago, one of few survivors of a HYDRA facility, smiling with blood caked in between the cracks of your teeth, pure powerful energy running through your veins.

The soldier lays underneath you, unmoving. You look down at him again and his eyes are pooling with fear. An understandable feeling for someone who’s aware of what’s happening, who’s present in the moment, but has zero control of their body. A feeling he probably knows very well being under the control of HYDRA.

He probably came into the picture after Bucky’s escape and the initial fall of HYDRA, a sad soul that was captured and forced to comply. A job that used to be yours. Tortured, arms torn away, and mind blended until he didn’t know anything other than to fight.

“I wasn’t gonna do nothing,” You reassure, “Maybe just… have him jog around the block in his underwear a few times. For fucking up my shoulder and all.”

You release his face from in between your palms, forcing his head to slam back onto the concrete floor.

“Don’t. Move.” You point at him with a bloody finger.

You take one final look at him before standing up off of him and turning to walk back in the direction of the jet.

“I’m not waiting around for the feds,” You mumble, exhausted. Your face is pounding less and less and just going numb altogether, which you don’t think is a good sign.

“Go after her,” Sam tells Bucky, “I’ll call Torres to come over and help me. And reach out to Shuri, see if there’s anything she can do to help him.” The soldier remains unmoving on the ground, eyes shooting around the room wildly, but body stiff as a board.

Bucky gets himself up, grabbing the vibranium shield and handing it back to Sam, who’s still groaning on the ground. It’s not easy fighting super soldiers, Bucky imagines. It’s not like Sam has mind powers.

He walks out of the building to try and catch up with you.

“Hey,” He says, gently reaching for your arm to pull you back towards him.

The blood from your shattered nose has now pooled down your chin and neck, soaking your tac gear. Bucky tilts your face up with barely any pressure. A thumb brushes across your face and you wince, but try not to move so he can assess you.

“I think your cheekbone is broken.”

“My fingers,” You all but whimper, bringing them up from your sides.

“Also broken. At least six of ‘em,” He presses and pulls along each of them, ignoring your wincing and pulls on your right middle finger, a pop sounding and a loud groan coming from your mouth, teeth clenching so hard you think you’ll crack them, “Five. That one was just dislocated.”

“You guys will help him, right?” You confirm, Bucky still gently roaming his hands along your body to check for major injuries.

“He didn’t do anything,” You whimper, and Bucky looks up to see tears in your eyes.

“Babe -”

“He’s not evil, he didn’t mean to do anything,” You cry, and begin to sob, your emotions overwhelming you.

“He didn’t, baby, we’ll help him as much as we can. Right now, we need to get you to the jet so we can go home and get you to the MedBay, can we do that? Can you walk, want me to carry you?” He coos, hating the sight of his girlfriend in both physical and emotional pain.

You sniffle and close your eyes, ducking your head, and Bucky takes your silence as a plea to be carried, gently scoping you up bridal style and carefully walking back in the direction of the jet. He hears a few more sniffles as you curl into his body, nuzzling into his jaw, as you close your eyes and try to ignore the pain in your face as much as you can.

“Can we go out tonight? To that little Italian place we went to that one time?”

“If you’re not too tired or in too much pain, sure, baby.”

“And a movie?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll wine and dine you real good.”

“Red wine or white?”

“We can have that pink raspberry one you like. The one that tastes nothing like wine.”

“Ugh, don’t make me smile, it hurts.”

“Sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #o she powerful #and overprotective of her frens

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falcqns · 3 years

Text

partner in crime lll

pairing: dad!august walker x daughter!ofc

summary: Maeve joins August at work, and he find out a little more about his daughter, which in turn reveals her mothers fate.

warnings: Angst!!! graphic depictions of death, violence towards and infant mentioned but no detail, mentions of sexual assault. 18+ ONLY.

a/n: if I missed anything in the warnings, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! I hope you enjoy!

August was awoken a few hours later by his daughter screaming like someone was hurting her.

August shot up, and immediately sprung into action, looking around the room for the source of his daughter's distress, but found nothing. The only thing he saw was the little baby in her crib, wailing. Her chubby little hand was reaching out towards August, and she was screaming ‘mama.’

August took a deep breath, and scooped her up. He held her against his chest, and rocked her back and forth like he had seen Sloane do once with a little boy they had found at a crime scene.

“What happened?” He asked in the softest voice he could muster, but she only cried harder. Her hands became fists in his sleep shirt, and her tears soaked the cotton material as well. He rubbed her back, and offered her her pacifier. She took it, and her cries quieted, but didn’t cease. He tried to lay her back down, but decided against it, when she screamed again.

He sighed, and laid down with her in the bed. She settled on his chest, and he found himself enamoured by the pools of blue that were her eyes. He was able to see little specks of brown floating near her pupil. She lifted a hand, and placed it on his mouth, her middle two fingers burying themselves into his mustache hairs. August was unsure what to do, so he tried something. He kissed her hand.

Maeve smiled so big that her pacifier fell from her lips, and then she lifted her head.

“Mama?” She asked tentatively, and August paled. How do you tell a 7 month old that they can't have their Mama because she’s dead? August opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unsure what to say.

He saw her bottom lip wobble, and tears well up in her eyes. August noticed a flash of recognition behind her eyes, and she began to wail again, screaming as if she had a gun pointed to her.

Actually, as he thought about it, he realized that's the exact reaction that little boy had, the one that Sloane had held, when he had a gun pointed to his head by his parents' attacker. His heart dropped into his stomach, and made a mental note to check how exactly Maeve’s mother had died.

He pulled Maeve close to his body, and ran his hand up and down her back, occasionally traveling up to play with her soft curls.

Not long after, she settled down, and fell back asleep. August however didn’t.

Sure, it could have been a coincidence that she had the same reaction, but August didn't think it was. He grabbed his phone from where it laid atop the charger, and googled ‘PTSD symptoms in babies’.

Hypervigilance, separation anxiety, clinginess, emotional trauma when reminded of original trauma, fear or avoidance of places that remind them of event, troubles sleeping, nightmares and repetitive play were a few of the symptoms. Maeve didn’t have all of them, but he could only assume she had a nightmare, and the flash of recognition must be her remembering what happened. Was her mother killed in front of her?

The thought made August sick to his stomach, and decided to put his phone away, in favour of keeping the sleeping baby in his arms, 1) asleep, and 2), safe.

August's eyes opened, and instead of dead silence, he was greeted by his daughter babbling, and his phone ringing.

He glanced at his daughter, who was playing with one of his hands, and used his free hand to grab his phone. He saw it was Sloane calling, and swore mentally when he saw that it was 9 am, meaning he was over two hours late for work.

He answered the phone, and Sloane immediately asked where he was, and why he was late.

“I apologize. I got Maeve yesterday and she had a rough night. I overslept, but i’ll be there in less than an hour.” He assured her, and hung up.

He watched as Maeve weaved her fingers with his, and held his hand. He smiled slightly, and curled his fingers in the same way, grasping her tiny hand in his. She squealed in happiness, and August could have cried at the sweet sound.

He pushed the thought away, and pressed a kiss to her curly head before removing his hand from her grasp, and stood up.

“I have to go to work, and you’ll have to come with me. We’ll stop at the store on the way there, and get you a new outfit for you to wear. You need some new clothes.” August said, as he grabbed a diaper from the box that he had delivered yesterday. He changed her diaper, and pulled her pyjama pants back up before scooping her and her stuffy up, and placing her in the crib.

Or, tried to at least. The second he tried to set her in there, she screamed again, like she had last night.

He knew, in that moment, that whatever caused her mother to die, happened right in front of her.

He felt anger boiling up in his body, but not at Maeve. Never at Maeve. He felt a surge of love and protection over her, and he knew his first task of being her dad was to find out what happened to her mom and figure out how to help his little girl.

August had made it out of the apartment, to Walmart, and to his office, all under an hour. He had no idea how, but he had managed it. He swore he saw a smile on Sloane’s face when he walked past her office with Maeve on his hip, but couldn't be sure.

He entered his office, and had no idea where to put her. He had weapons hid all over, and didn't want her getting hurt. He couldn't put her in a crib or a playpen, she obviously had a trauma response to that. His only options were his lap, where he knew she wouldn't stay put, and underneath the desk, which seemed like the best option until he could figure something out.

He placed her under his desk, and handed her the toys he brought with him. She gurgled as she was handed her stuffy. August smiled, and got to work.

He pulled Maeve’s file out of his briefcase, and consulted it for her mothers name.

Adriana Amiens.

He barely remembered her. He glanced down at Maeve, and felt regret course through his veins as he realized if he hadn’t been so down on himself and selfish after the mission, he could have experienced everything, and could have stopped what happened to Adriana.

He went onto the CIA database, and typed in her name. Only one result came up, and he clicked on it.

August could have vomited at what appeared.

There were several pictures of the crime scene, and the actual crime. Adriana had been tied up, and the initials MA had been carved into her stomach, just above a small scar where her uterus was located. His eyebrows furrowed, and glanced at her file. His eyes found the word cesarean section, and all his questions were answered about that.

He moved the mouse over the picture, and a link popped up, attached to the scar. A link attached to the picture wasn't unusual, the database automatically linked relevant information to the pictures, so he clicked on it.

A wiki page popped up. There wasn't a lot of information, but he did note the last name. Amiens, first name Charles.

August read further. This man, named Charles Amiens, nicknamed Master, was apparently Adriana’s father. He belonged to a gang aptly named ‘The Amiens Family’. August had heard of them before. They specialized in arms dealing and murder for hire. Charles himself seemed to be responsible for over 1500 deaths in the Los Angeles area over the last 50 years, something that scared August.

August scrolled further, and found that Adriana was listed as his daughter, although there was the word ‘emancipated’ in parenthesis. August took note of the reason for emancipation being listed as ‘family differences’. August guessed that meant that Adriana wanted no part in the family business. Anais had mentioned in the original phone call that she and her family were very different, and to be wary of him, but he had no idea why, until he received the file later that day.

August clicked through the rest of the photos, his stomach churning as he looked at what the murderers had done to the poor girls body. She had bruises all over her body. She had two black eyes, a broken nose, and there was evidence of sexual assault and severe trauma to her privates.

However, the last photo is what made August throw up.

The murderers had placed Maeve, who didn't look any younger than she did now, in a crib. More specifically, they restrained her to it. There were chains attached to her wrists, bringing them straight out from her body, and attached to the crib.

The next few photos were screenshots from the security footage, and he had to shut off his computer immediately.

They had indeed pointed a gun in his daughters face.

He wanted to throw up, but also murder someone just for hurting his child like that. He felt a tear slip down his cheek, and immediately reached down for the little girl under the desk. He lifted her onto his desk, and took a good look at her arms.

He noticed that she had faint scars around her wrists, that he knew was from restraints. He stood up and took her to the bathroom. He stripped her from her outfit, except her diaper. He checked her entire body, and was thankful when he saw no other evidence of any harm on his daughters smooth skin.

He hugged her to his chest, and pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you. I promise.” She yawned in response, and August knew she was getting tired. He carried her back to his office, and by the time he had settled in his chair, she was asleep on his chest. He held her there, protecting her. He knew she wouldn’t sleep well unless she was in his arms, safe.

By the time August made it home that night, Maeve was miserable. She was exhausted, hungry, and in desperate need of a bath. He had no idea what to do with the crib situation, as it was very clear she wouldn't be able to sleep in there, and August wasn't going to force her.

He’d done some research on his lunch break, and found an alternative to the bed situation, but it wouldn’t arrive for another few days, so it looked like he’d be bed sharing until then. He wanted to get the crib out of his room, but that would entail either waiting until Maeve was asleep, or risk her seeing it and being thrown into a PTSD induced meltdown. She hadn't been diagnosed, but he recognized the symptoms. Not all missions went to plan.

Besides, he planned on getting her into a child psychiatrist as soon as possible to get her diagnosed and help her heal. He didn't want her childhood affected by this, and it was highly unlikely he’d ever tell her what truly happened to her mother.

He placed the diaper bag, his briefcase, and their dinner down on the counter before rocking her back and forth in his arms to soothe her to sleep. It didn't help that she kept crying out for her mama, the one thing August couldn't provide.

“I promise you, my sweet angel, that i will find out what happened to your mama and make sure that you never have to feel the pain you're feeling right now EVER again.” August said, tears flowing freely as his daughter wailed for her dead mother. Her dead mother that was killed in front of her.

A few minutes later, Maeve’s cries melted into whimpers, which bled into soft breaths escaping her lips. August smiled at her, and laid her down on the bed as he had done yesterday, before taking the crib out of the bedroom. He decided to hide it in the laundry room until he could sell it, because she wasn’t allowed in there.

He had managed to wheel it out into the kitchen area, and he took pictures of it. He posted them on facebook, with a price tag of $50. It was originally $270, but he wanted it gone as soon as possible. Maeve had been through enough already.

He’d gotten an offer from a lady less than an hour later, offering $100 for it, so he took that opportunity. An hour after that, the crib was gone, he was $100 richer, and Maeve was still sound asleep.

Next, he put an offer in for an apartment, and got it. He was just signing the contract as he heard Maeve waking up. He quickly finished signing his name and sending it in before going to find his baby girl.

She smiled and clapped as August walked into the room, and he gave her a smile back. “Good nap?” he asked, and she nodded and giggled. August gave her some Cheerios after she was placed in the highchair.

He warmed up the food, before giving her her plate, which she ate enthusiastically. He ate his food, and listened to Maeve babble and point to the front door. He looked out the door and saw another father walking with his son. “You wanna go for a walk?” He asked, and Maeve nodded.

August chuckled, and cleaned up. He wiped her down, and minutes later she was in the stroller and they were on their way out the door.

They made a few laps around the block, Maeve laughing and pointing at everything she saw, almost as if she was rarely outside. He made a mental note to check her file once more. Maybe there was something more to that.

They made one more lap around the block, and headed back to the apartment. He made a short pitstop at the leasing office to give his move out notice, and Maeve was asleep again by the time he made it back up to his unit.

Over the next week, August and Maeve prepared to move. August finally got Maeve on a relatively good schedule, and had the majority of her triggers figured out. Cribs, playpens, handcuffs (an unfortunate incident happened when she had gotten into his bedside drawer and found some fluffy handcuffs for some rather adult activites, and screamed bloody murder while August was prepping her bath. He also had to learn to hide his gun when he was in the office, and remind his coworkers to keep them out of sight when she was around because the sight of those also sent her into a melt down, further angering August, and making him more determined to find the people who did this to her.

Today was moving day, and August was nervous. He didn’t know how well Maeve would take the transition, but he reminded himself that she had been having a lot of abrupt transitions over the past few weeks, so whatever happened, he would deal with.

August woke her up, and carried her into the almost empty kitchen, where he sat her down into the highchair, and gave her her morning bottle and some oatmeal. August ate a protein bar, and looked around at his old apartment to see what still had to be taken to the moving truck that was still downstairs, and found it was only his mattress, and her highchair. sohosebHe had taken all of the furniture yesterday, including his bed frame.

Maeve finished up a few minutes later, and he strapped her into the baby carrier he got when he began to pack, as it was the only way he’d get any work done.

Once she was strapped in and her stuffy was secure in her hand, August rolled the highchair out of the apartment. Once it was secure in the moving truck, he went back to the apartment for the mattress. Maeve was having a fun time of smacking her hands on it while August looked around the apartment for the last time. He’d never thought he’d leave this place, but when he met Maeve, he knew his life was changing for the better.

He never thought that he’d make a good father, but here he was. He had a wonderful little girl, and even though he was raising her on his own, he knew he could do it. As long as she grew up better than he did, he knew he was doing something right.

“Take a look around, Maeve. This was yours and Dada’s first home together.” He said, a smile forming on his face as he called himself Dada for the first time.

taglist:

@kpopgirlbtssvt @nerdypinupcrystal @sohoseb @bieberhoodforever

#august walker #henry cavill x you #august walker x you #august walker x ofc #august walker x reader #august walker x y/n #august walker x female reader #august walker fluff #august walker angst #daddy!august walker

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wonderlustlucas · 4 years

Text

jack pot ; part 3 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 6.4k ⇢ genre fluff & angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way) ⇢ warnings (18+) drug use, a suggestive make out & the mention of a boner twice maybe ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n AAAAAAAA omg im so excited to post this, this by far is my fav part of jack pot & i cant wait to hear what u all think!!! sorry its a bit shorter than the other parts, & technically this is the *last* part, but there will be an epilogue where you will see how everything comes to be!!!! have fun reading!!! <3

⇠ part 2

five.

“Oh, fuck, he’s good,” Yeji gasps, shoving her phone into Maddie’s hands before faceplanting into the table.

“Are you H-T-T-P because I’m colon-slash-slash without you,” Maddie reads with a chuckle, thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. “Quick, YN, look up some pick-up lines.”

Closing the tab on the article you should be reading but has been long forgotten, you promptly do as you are told and open the first link from your search, Minho and Jisung leaning in to help. “There,” Jisung stops you, pointing to one, “’Are you a parking ticket? Because you have fine written all over you.’”

The table can’t help but burst into laughter at such a sentence. It’s stupid, but ever since Yeji and Kim Sunwoo began texting, their conversations have been full of tacky puns and emoji-filled compliments.

“Damn,” Maddie whistles, setting the phone back into Yeji’s limp hand, “he’s already typing back.”

“Gross,” Ryujin teases, busy typing away on her laptop. How she manages to multitask so well is a skill you certainly lack. “Why don’t you just like, I don’t know, ask him out?” Jisung asks and when you glance up, he’s looking at you. “Because that’s the guy’s job,” Maddie quickly saves the day, winking to you when you send her a grateful smile.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin scoffs. Everyone, even Ryujin, stops to look at him.

Did he just curse?

“I mean, like,” he stammers, cheeks turning rosy at all the attention, “it’s 2020. Guys have insecurities, too.”

“I agree,” Minho hums, looking to Maddie with hearts in his eyes, “that kind of confidence is enough to make any boy fall in love.”

“Yeah, but—”

Lia rebuts, but your attention quickly falls elsewhere when a text message first appears on your laptop, then your phone.

hwang hyunjin🦔🕺🏻💞🧻 [now] Where r u rn?

Unable to fight your smile, you quickly type back.

[3:39 PM] YN: outside hollin st café [3:39 PM] YN: why? :)

“Have you seen their new house, YN?” Minho asks, prompting you to click your phone off and set it back on the table. “Whose house?”

“Changbin’s parents.”

“Oh,” shaking your head, you distantly curse Chan for keeping your friend busy today. Unlike Jisung, Changbin likes to write lyrics and do whatever other music stuff during the day at a normal time instead of the middle of the fucking night while stoned and trying to finish his computer science assignments at the same time. “No, he forgot to send me pictures.”

“Dude,” Jisung sighs dreamily, “it’s huge. So nice. I think the front door alone could cover tuition.”

“Is it really that nice?” Maddie asks in awe.

“He started to show me pics the other day but couldn’t finish but the kitchen… unnecessary,” Ryujin quips, pausing her work to check her phone. “Yeah, it’s insane. The whole place is unnecessary but the kitchen is like, a house in itself,” Jeongin hums, head shaking in disbelief.

“Damn, now I really want to see it,” you sigh, making a mental note to hunt Changbin down so he can show you. “It’s like Hyunjin and his rings,” Minho snickers, “he has so many. Whenever we’re out, if he sees a ring, boom. It’s his.”

Well, he’s not wrong but… You bite your tongue no matter how badly you wish to defend Hyunjin and his affinity for rings and jewelry in general. The boy has taste, what can you say? You certainly are not complaining about Hyunjin’s long fingers and the way he chooses to decorate them.

“I never thought I’d hear Changbin’s parent’s kitchen be analogous to Hyunjin’s jewelry collection, yet here we are,” Maddie chuckles, leaning over Yeji to peek at her conversation with Sunwoo.

“Wow, speak of the devil,” Jisung pipes up of course as soon as you have reopened the tab to your assignment. Changbin or Hyunjin, you don’t know, head whipping up to find out and a peculiar mix of relief and panic settling over you once you spot the latter. “Uh oh, YN’s gonna go into cardiac arrest.”

As subtly as you can, you elbow Jisung in the stomach and smile at Hyunjin as he nears. “Hey,” keeping his eyes on you, Hyunjin approaches your table and stops behind Maddie opposite from you, “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you were busy.” His cheeks, already flushed, burn pinker once he looks away to smile weakly at everyone else.

“I’m not busy!” You squeak, scrambling to close your laptop and shove it in your bag. “Are you sure? I can come back later?” He offers, tilting his head and this is when you realize he is holding a bubble tea in each hand. And from the looks of it, one seems to be your usual order. “No, she’s not,” Jeongin answers for you, recognizing your stupefied expression.

“I was just – yeah. No,” rushing to stand and swing your legs out around the bench, you nearly fall flat on your face, “I wasn’t doing anything, actually.” Steadying yourself with a hand on Minho’s shoulder, you heave a labored breath before carefully walking to meet Hyunjin.

“Okay,” he beams, either oblivious to how flustered you are or simply choosing to ignore it. Turning to wave to your friends, he hands you one of the cups and you realize it is, in fact, your favorite boba. Oh boy. “See ya later,” you wave to them as well, nose wrinkling when both Jisung and Maddie wink in return.

Following after Hyunjin, you finally allow yourself to take notice of his attire and can’t help but feel confused. He looks good. And not in the good attractive way—he always looks good. But good as in formal. It’s four o’clock on a Tuesday in October and he’s out here looking as if he just got out of a business meeting. White button-down tucked into fitted black slacks, dress shoes, black tie, and he even has a black suit jacket draped over his arm. His hair is styled, too; ever since he dyed it back to black, he’s been growing it out long enough for his bangs to cover his eyes. Now, however, it’s parted down the middle and seems as if he’s ever so slightly curled it away from his face.

Suddenly, you feel ridiculous walking beside him in mom jeans and a baggy sweatshirt from high school.

“Thanks for the boba,” you mumble around your straw, brain still preoccupied trying to get over how utterly handsome he is. “Why do you look so fancy?”

The side of his mouth twitches up at your words, but his eyes stay glued to the sidewalk as you continue to your unknown destination. “I had an audition,” Hyunjin admits, voice devoid of emotion as if it’s not important at all. “An audition?” You echo. “Why do you sound so not super mega excited? How did it go? What was it for?”

“Well—”

“Wait!” You interrupt, stopping your walk once you realize he had an audition and you didn’t know. “You had an audition? What – why didn’t you tell me?”

Hyunjin frowns, avoiding your gaze and dragging his bottom teeth over his top lip. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he finally says before reaching for your hand and tugging you away from the walkway and into your campus’ main courtyard. “Why? Is it some sort of secret or something, Hyunjin?” You scoff, sounding way more annoyed than you intended. But you are annoyed; why didn’t he want to tell anyone?

“No,” he sighs, finding an empty area in the grass and lowering himself to sit, “I just… didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, visibly softening for him and settling down next to him, crisscrossing your legs, “it is a big deal. I don’t know what it’s for, but if it’s important enough for you to audition, then it’s important to us, too. You don’t need to be humble twenty-four-seven, you know. I’m sure you could have used our support.”

“I didn’t get it, though,” Hyunjin whispers, “they just – I didn’t get in. I wasn’t good enough.” Sensing the sadness in his voice, you find a lump forming in your throat when you notice the way his bottom lip trembles. “Hey,” panicking, you set your boba down and sit up on your knees to wrap your arms around him, cradling his head into your chest once tears start falling, “no. Don’t ever say you’re not good enough, Hyunjin.”

“But if I did better, practiced more, than I would—"

“Stop,” you hush, combing your fingers through his hair and brushing strands away from his eyes, “I’ve never met someone who works as hard as you do. You can’t beat yourself up over this. Everything happens for a reason. You don’t know what could have happened if you got in. You could have hurt yourself eventually, or maybe met someone who’s a real asshole.”

“Yeah,” is all he says, quiet and muffled when he turns to press his forehead into your sternum, body still trembling as he lets out all his tears. You stay like that for a while, holding him against you and soothing a hand up and down his back until his sniffling falls quiet. “Listen,” you finally sigh, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back. Your heart sinks once you take in the wet trails down his cheeks and the puffiness of his eyes. “Forget about it. Was it something for dance?”

When he nods subtly, you cup his face in your hands and swipe his cheeks with your thumbs. “You are an amazing dancer, Hyunjin. You can’t let this get to your head. And I don’t want you working your ass off more than you do already. Practice makes perfect, sure, but you need to rest. What about the idea Changbin came up with?”

“The YouTube thing?”

“Yes! Filming dance tutorials or just posting your routines is a really good idea,” you remind him, wiping your hands on your jeans once he falls back onto the grass with a gentle thud, hair flaying around him like a halo. Your limbs twitch with the urge to lie beside him, maybe throw an arm around him and rest your cheek on his chest, fingers tracing the soft features of his face, stroking through his hair and reminding him just how innately perfect he is, inside and out. You, of course, resist such a temptation, flopping down beside him and staring up at the clouds with a heavy heart.

“I could do that. Maybe,” Hyunjin huffs. Tilting your head to look at him, you find yourself knee-deep in that familiar longing feeling, pausing simply to appreciate how pretty he is in the evening sun, cheeks rosy from crying and hair begging to be touched. Shaking your head to rid such daydreams, you remind yourself how fragile his emotions are right now. Now is no time to get caught up on a fantasy. Reaching for your tea, you lean up on an elbow and redirect your gaze to the trees, the promise of winter having turned what was green burnt sienna and butterscotch, leaving trees barren and branches swaying gently in the crisp breeze that leaves you curling into yourself. “You should,” you hum, distant, mind clawing to come up with the words you want to say.

“Come here,” Hyunjin says now, voice stronger than before and when his hand wraps gently around your wrist, you can’t find it in yourself to resist. Allowing him to pull you back down beside him, you curl into his side, resting your head a safe distance away from his own and onto the curve of his arm. “Thank you for being so good to me,” he expresses. You squeeze your eyes shut when the arm you lie on wraps around your shoulders and pulls you substantially closer. “I need to tell you something.”

A long stretch of silence falls upon you and for a moment, you are unsure the words even left your mouth. What are you thinking?

“Wait! I have something first,” Hyunjin sighs, missing the way your breath hitches. “Okay,” you whisper, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt and focusing all your attention there.

“I just – I think… I owe you an apology,” he finally says, “I need to apologize for something that I did a while ago that I know probably hurt.” Your chest tightens. There’s a lot that has hurt you when it comes to Hyunjin, but none that he’s done purposely. None that are his fault. None that he should be apologizing for.

“I feel like we came to some mutual understanding to not mention what happened when we were freshmen, but it kills me to know that – that something happened, and we never talked about it,” Hyunjin starts, grip tightening on your shoulder and suddenly, you think you are dreaming. This cannot possibly be real. “I know it was awkward but, I also know me and Yiren dating was… ah. I don’t know.”

When he falls silent, you are unsure of what to say or do. You have no idea what the end goal of this conversation is. Hardly a minute ago, your heart and your brain decided it was time to tell him. Now, you’re not so sure you can do that until he finishes, and you are not about to give him your two cents if his reasoning for bringing it up is not the same as yours.

“I just want to apologize for not being brave enough to talk to you about it. I know I was confused, but I’m sure it was worse for you when they told you about her,” Hyunjin continues, sensing your rendered silence, “and it’s been so long since that happened, and now, you’re one of my closest friends.” Ouch.

“But I’ve been thinking,” when he picks up again, your eyes fly open in a panic. He’s been thinking. Hyunjinhas been thinking. You think you are going to pass out. “And I just feel like we… me and you, I mean—"

The standard iPhone alarm blares from beside you, promptly cutting him off and you think it is the biggest cockblock known to man. “Shit,” he hisses, leaning up to tug his phone from his pocket and in the process nudging you from your comfortable position. Sitting back up, nerves aflame and heart racing, your brows shoot up in confusion when all he does is stare at the number calling him. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the studio I was just at,” he scoffs in disbelief, barely glancing at you before looking back to his phone. You have never wanted to shrivel up and die as much as you want to right now. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer?”

Hyunjin makes a noise of acknowledgement before tapping the green icon and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Sitting quietly beside him, you watch with a forced smile as his hummed responses and subtle nods morph into enthusiastic laughs and wide, beaming smiles. Hyunjin notices your confusion when you tilt your head, mouthing a ‘What?’ to him.

“They made a mistake,” he whispers, covering the speaker of his phone, “read off the wrong Hwang. I’m in.” When he grins excitedly at you, your response isn’t as cheerful as it could be. As it should be. “Yay!” You whisper, clapping gently but quickly turning to your boba when the other line begins speaking again. Looking away, you take a hefty sip, nearly choke on a tapioca ball, and build the walls around your heart up all over again in a matter of seconds.

“I’ve gotta go,” whispering, you manage one more pained smile before getting to your feet and wiping your butt of any possible grass stains, “good luck!” When he shines you one more breathtaking smile and waves excitedly, you hastily head in the other direction, wrapping your arms around yourself and swallowing past the lump that threatens to form the farther you walk.

It must be nice, you think, frantically wiping at your waterline. Must be nice to put yourself out there and have things work out the way you want them to. Must be nice being told you’re ‘in,’ you’re wanted, you’re desired.

It must be nice.

six.

Pick up food, you said. Ask Jisung, you said.

Your conscience is a big fat oompa loompa ass bitch. You would have never called Jisung to ask him if he wanted anything from Taco Bell if you knew he was with Changbin. And not just Changbin, you realized four minutes into your call; Seungmin and Hyunjin, too. Apparently he went over their place to record, or something, and didn’t care to let you know. Not that you’re his mom and he has too—but it would have been nice, and would have saved you from spending almost fifty dollars at Taco Bell.

“I tried calling Jisung but he didn’t answer,” you snap once Seungmin answers your call with a muffled hello. “Can one of you please come out and help me carry this in?” You glance at the five large sodas and two bags full of food in your passenger seat with a grimace. “Sure,” he agrees and you make a mental note for the umpteenth time just how much you love Seungmin, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

True to his word, you spot him making his way out of their apartment and across the small courtyard to meet you by your car not even a minute later, hauling each bag under his arms. “Thank you,” left only with the cupholder, you hurriedly lock your car and follow after him. “No problem. Thanks for being our Uber Eats,” then, pursing his lips, “how much was this?”

“Forty-seven something,” you grumble unhappily, knowing this was a big hit to your debit. “We’ll pay you back, don’t worry,” Seungmin smiles, leading you up the final flight of stairs and kicking open the ajar door.

Immediately, you’re hit with the smell.

“Dear, fucking hell,” making a face, you rub your nose to keep from sneezing, “it reeks in here. How have you guys not been kicked out yet?”

The stench of weed generally does not bother you anymore, but still—they could light a candle, or something. Seungmin shrugs, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. “Luck, I guess.”

“IS THAT YN?” From another room, you hear Changbin shout, followed by an excited shriek from Jisung. “They’re high. Very high. You’ve been warned,” Seungmin whispers just as tweedle dee and tweedle dum themselves come flying around the corner. “YN!” Jisung grins, engulfing you in a dramatic hug. “Watch,” you hiss, regarding the blunt held between his fingers that comes dangerously close to your hair.

“Sorry,” he smiles, then, without warning, sticks the thing right between your lips. “I didn’t even offer.” Well, when life gives you lemons…

You hesitantly take the hit and blow the smoke away from him. You weren’t planning on getting high today, but here you are. “Thanks,” shaking your head as if that will clear it, you turn to Changbin and snugly wrap your arms around him. Every day you thank the heavens that he is a chill, calm high, unlike your maniac of a roommate.

“Thanks for the food,” fishing into his pockets and pulling out a crumpled ten-dollar bill, he slaps it into your palm. You only hum in reply, shoving it into your own pocket and praying you don’t lose it before you remember to put it in your wallet. “Where’s Hyunjin?” You ask, no longer caring about being slick.

“In his room,” Seungmin answers, rummaging through the bags to find what he ordered. Then, “HYUNJIN!” You jump, reaching for your soda and standing away from the other three until they have claimed whatever belongs to them. No sooner than Seungmin calls for him, you hear a door being cracked open and out comes Hyunjin.

He looks extremely disheveled. Like, just woke up from a two-month hibernation, disheveled. In the blink of an eye, however, he rakes a hand through long blonde hair and promptly sets a baseball cap backwards to keep the strands away and suddenly, he doesn’t look so disheveled anymore. You force yourself to look away, cursing the way your gut twists.

“Gimme my crunchwrap,” you say around your straw, snatching the blunt from Jisung’s fingers and moving around him to fetch your dinner. He doesn’t even protest.

He knows you need it more than he does.

“That’s a lot of food,” Hyunjin says once he has finally entered the kitchen, voice groggy and eyes puffy from sleep. Or from being high, you can’t tell. Pressing his chest to your back, he wraps one arm around you to keep you against him while the other reaches into a bag to take what’s his. Swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, you manage a thick inhale from the blunt before tilting your head to look at him and mentally thanking the other three for taking it as their cue to head out.

“Not my fault you guys eat like animals,” you chuckle shakily, trying to ignore the firmness of his body against yours, veins prominent on the arm that holds you against him and the ripple of muscle along his abdomen noticeable even through his shirt and yours. Dear god, it is too early for this. Not even seven o’clock and you are already drooling in more places than one.

Hyunjin pouts as if it is not true. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, finally moving away to grab his drink and you can’t help your disappointment, quickly finishing the blunt before tapping it out into one of the many ashtrays. “Don’t worry about it,” you wave off, digging through their drawers for a paper plate.

“YN,” Hyunjin deadpans, regarding you with a raised brow once you come up and begin unwrapping your food. You refuse to look him in the eye. “What do I owe you?” He repeats, firmer this time and it sends a chill down your spine when it most certainly should not. Sighing, you retrieve the receipt from your pocket and count everything he got. “Thirteen.”

Humming in content, Hyunjin reaches for his wallet on the counter and pulls a ten and five out. “There,” he beams, tucking the bills into your pocket himself. Rolling your eyes, you pray he does not notice how you flush and hurry out of the kitchen to join Seungmin on the sofa.

“House Hunters?” You ask with a laugh, looking at the TV once you have settled next to him. “I told you HGTV is the best.”

Seungmin hums in agreement. “I thought it was stupid at first, but Hyunjin was watching Fixer Upper and I got addicted,” he says, nodding to the older boy doing a little dance in the kitchen as he eats one of his tacos. Your heart does somersaults at the sight. “They’re all so good,” you agree after taking a few bites of your own food, eyes trained on the television, “House Hunters is a classic, though.”

“I like the international one,” Hyunjin adds on his way over, crashing unceremoniously next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Seungmin wrinkle his nose when Hyunjin sets his free hand casually on your thigh. “Shh,” he grumbles, vaguely gesturing to the screen and chewing a mouthful of food, “I wanna hear what the house has.”

One episode turns to two, which turns to three, which turns to four, and suddenly you have been watching House Hunters with Seungmin and Hyunjin for almost three hours. It definitely is the weed, always making time perpetually slower, and it did not help when Jisung and Changbin reappeared sometime during your binge with one of Felix’s bongs. Not necessarily how you intended to spend your precious Friday night, but there is no sense in complaining when you are with your buddies and Hyunjin, of course.

Taco Bell long gone, you watch with blurry eyes when Hyunjin gets up from his slumped position against you to head into the kitchen and open the freezer. This, as well as the realization that House Hunters has ended and gone to some other, not-as-cool show, brings both you and Seungmin somewhat back to reality.

“It’s almost ten,” Seungmin announces, staring dazedly at the time on his phone. You hum in acknowledgment, certainly sober enough to reply but simply too lazy to. “I think I’m going to bed. Or play something. Don’t wreck the place,” he sighs, dragging a hand down his face before standing up. “G’night, Minnie,” you smile, watching with a furrowed brow as he continues down the hall and into his room. It isn’t until you hear his door click shut does the weight of being alone with Hyunjin settle on your chest.

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone with Hyunjin before. In fact, that usually is the way it’s been in the past three years; whether the two of you decided to do your own thing or the rest of your friends eventually left or went to bed, you are used to this feeling. Used to ignoring the butterflies in your gut when he does something particularly cute and used to tampering down the mental images you conjure up knowing it’s just you and him.

But that doesn’t make things any easier. No matter how hard you try, you simply can’t help but feel this way around Hyunjin, especially when you’re alone. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

“Whatcha wanna watch?” Hyunjin asks around one last spoonful of ice cream before setting the pint back into the freezer. “Uhh…” You drone, blinking heavily at the TV and back to him as he makes his way back over. “I dunno, I’m sure you’ve been watching some drama. You can put that on.”

“You sure?” He asks with a raised brow, collapsing next to you and slumping dramatically halfway down the cushions. “Yes,” laughing, you find yourself reaching out to tuck messy strands of hair back behind his ear without hesitation, “also, why are you wearing a hat inside?”

Hyunjin pauses, straining to look up as if he will be able to see the back of his cap against his forehead. “I’m wearing a hat?”

“Yes, you idiot,” in comes the endless weed giggles and you find yourself unable to stop laughing, watching with teary eyes as he sits up and takes his hat off. “I don’t remember putting this on,” he chuckles airily, flipping the cap back and forth in his hands before tossing it onto the coffee table. “Should I cut it?”

“No!” You shout a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Shrinking against the arm of the couch, you ignore his amused smile and look to his long hair, freshly bleached strands falling down to his neck and shorter pieces brushing against his cheeks. Fuck, it should be illegal to look this good. “I like it long. It really suits you.”

“It’s annoying,” Hyunjin grins despite his complaint, lifting his legs onto the couch and flopping onto his side, head now resting on your lap. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

Now that he’s offered playing with his hair on a silver platter, you don’t hesitate combing your fingers through it, tugging out pieces stuck under his head and brushing it out completely. “You could pull the sides back,” you hum distantly, separating a section of hair near his temple to pull back, “or make a bun with what you can. You just have to play around with it.”

Humming in agreement, Hyunjin resituates himself after reaching for the remote and switching to Netflix. When you go back to simply raking your fingers from root to tip in irregular directions, you don’t miss the way his eyelids flutter at the motion and make sure to pay extra attention to his scalp. When this turned into a head massage, you’re not entirely sure.

The drama Hyunjin puts on is unbearable. You stopped paying attention a while ago, focusing more on him and how he seems to enjoy it, fingers busy braiding random sections of hair, taking them out, and then braiding them again. With two finally done the way you want them to, you are midway through the third when your fingers begin to cramp up.

“Why’d you stop?” Hyunjin asks seconds after you drop the braid and stretch your fingers out. “Fingers are cramping,” chuckling at the disappointed pout of his lips, you crack what knuckles you can before going back and undoing the unfinished braid. “Oh,” he mutters, cheek still pressed against your leg, “feels good.”

Humming in response, you ignore the way his words make your heart swell and begin gathering all his hair into a ponytail, pressing the braids to lay flat and finally tying it with a hair tie once you have combed up all that you can. Immediately, his bangs and hairs closer to the nape of his neck fall out, leaving the ponytail spikey and messy. At least the braids look good. You can’t help but giggle.

“What?” Hyunjin asks, pausing his show and leaning up. “What’d you do?”

“Go see for yourself,” pointing to the bathroom, you comb out a looped piece of hair before he stands to do just that. His ponytail bobs the entire walk there.

When he reaches the door and flips the light on, you watch from your position as he checks himself out, brushing away his bangs and flicking the pony. You frown when he accidentally yanks at a braid.

“Come here,” you say, sitting up, “you messed up the braid.”

“Honestly,” Hyunjin considers his reflection one last time before skipping his way over, “it doesn’t look half bad.” Expecting him to sit back next to you, your pulse quickens when he anchors a hand to the armrest and leans in front you, only inches away from your face. “No, definitely,” you say once you have gotten over the shock of him being so close so suddenly, “I like it in the ponytail. You’d really impress the girls if you braided your hair yourself.” Reaching up to tuck hair back into the braid and press it down flat once more, you don’t miss the way his brows draw together and lips twitch down. “What?”

Time ceases to exist as Hyunjin begins to come closer. In reality, you know it simply is a matter of seconds, but all of space and time seems to still once he leans forward. It feels as if an eternity goes by, allowing you to count each individual eyelash, memorize the details of his skin, take note of the smoothed lines on his plump lips. The way time slows is cruel; it allows panic to set in, the realization that he most certainly is looming over you with his eyes on your lips sending a spark of excitement and anxiety through your veins.

And then, just as this realization and this panic has set your nerves aflame, a gentle hand comes to cradle your jaw before Hyunjin’s lips press against yours.

It is so easy to surrender to the taste and touch of him. Instantly, an eruption of emotions and thoughts spiraling out of control fills you, yet your brain focuses only on Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. This is not the first time you have kissed him, nor the first time simply having him so close, but the feeling that radiates from your heart outward is unlike anything you have felt before. This is uncalled for. This is not like two years ago. You were not expecting this.

Hyunjin sighs into the kiss when you lean up to loop your arms around his neck. No sooner have you done this, he breaks away to sit beside you once more, hands reaching for your waist and guiding you to sit over his lap.

You could kiss him all day, you think, palms lying flat by his collarbones before fisting the material of his shirt when his tongue prods at the seam of your lips. Blood seemingly coming to a boil and nerves sparking dangerously, you find yourself quickly sobering up as the minutes tick by, completely and utterly addicted to him and this feeling, this feeling you have craved but never crossed the line for. And now, it’s yours to keep.

Forgetting the braids, you seize the opportunity to rake your fingers through his hair. Different, than how you did earlier. Desperate. Combing it away from his face once, twice, swallowing his groans when you tug at the roots, you realize with a whine that his hands have left your face in favor of dragging down your sides, circling back to squeeze at your breasts, rubbing at your thighs and finally sliding back to your ass, situating you more comfortably on his thighs.

When Hyunjin finally breaks the kiss to journey elsewhere, littering chaste kisses across your jaw, below your ear, down your neck, the weight of your actions finally hits you. It is overwhelming, the way you come spiraling back to reality, and you are not sure if the quiet moan that leaves you is due to the press of something else against your thigh or simply the realization that you are making out with Hyunjin.

You have to stop before you get hurt again.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, shuddering when his soft lips brush against your jaw, “wait. We need to talk.”

He pauses at this, fingers digging into your sides and you feel his frown against your neck. “What’s there to talk about?” He murmurs, arms sliding around you and tugging you closer, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him close and pretend like his boner isn’t digging into you.

It’s your turn to frown. “About us,” whispering, you lift one hand to stroke through his hair, “we need to talk about us.”

“I thought my feelings were very clear,” Hyunjin scoffs, all tenderness in his voice gone. Instinctively, you lean back, blinking at him in surprise. “Unless this is just another one of your games? Does this not mean anything to you, YN? I don’t think I could stomach you running off to Changbin or fucking Chan again.”

His words pierce your heart before you have even fully processed them, hurt flashing across your features and your body goes numb. “What?” Is all you can manage, scrambling to get away from him, chest heaving and eyes suddenly burning with the brine of tears. “What are you talking about, Hyunjin?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” He shouts. You flinch, not from the way he raises his voice, but from the genuine sadness in his eyes. “The past three years have been a constant battle with you. We’re best friends, for fucks sake, I figured out a long time ago that you have feelings for me. Feelings more than best friends. Yet every fucking time we started moving in the right direction, you turned your back on me.”

You can do nothing but stand there and let the tears fall. All the words and bottled emotions you wish to say are right there on the tip of your tongue, but you simply cannot bring yourself to voice them. Not when he’s right. Not when you have turned your back on him time and time again.

And then, he hisses more to himself than you, “Is this just sloppy seconds? You never once thought about my feelings in all of this?”

The anger brewing within you suddenly bursts from the dam and hisses through your body like deadly poison. “Sloppy seconds?” You snarl, fists clenching. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Your feelings? You just said you know how I feel about you, so why didn’t you ever do anything about it? How was I supposed to know you felt the same?”

“I thought it was pretty fucking obvious,” Hyunjin spits back, gaze narrowing, “didn’t think I had to spell out the fact that I like you, YN. You’re a smart girl.”

“Do not treat me like a child,” clenching your jaw, you have to look away for a moment, pacing one, two, three steps, hands raking through your hair and wiping away the stream of tears from your cheeks. You have never been filled with such rage. Having finally reached its boiling point, it now consumes you whole, sweeping off in waves and destroying all boundaries. “Confessing is not an easy thing, as you apparentlyknow, so don’t make me seem like the only idiot here. But maybe I was wrong about you if you think of me as just sloppy seconds.”

“I never said that!” Hyunjin barks, standing up to grasp your wrist when you turn away to grab your keys. “Don’t put words in my mouth! I would never, never think of you that way. I just don’t understand why you never spoke up after all this time. I’ve been dying, YN, you have no clue how badly I have been—”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” you snap, yanking your arm away from him, “I told you, Hyunjin. Telling someone you love them isn’t as easy as learning to ride a bike. You’re right, I have turned my back on you. But not intentionally. I’ve been scared, I’m a pussy, whatever.” Biting your top lip as if it will stop the tears that continue to fall freely, you avoid looking at him and glance back to find not only Seungmin, but Jisung and Changbin, too, peeking out from their doors with eyes blown wide with shock. Once you have noticed them, however, they panic and scramble to get out of sight.

Sighing shakily, you look back to Hyunjin and cannot ignore the way your heart sinks at the sight of him. Even upset, he is beautiful. You wonder how much you will see him after this.

“You don’t have to tell me you like me back to make me feel better, Hyunjin,” bouncing on your heels, you suddenly feel exhausted, body and soul heavy with the words you not only spoke, but heard, too. “We can figure this out another day, but for now, I need to go home. I’ll see you.”

Turning away once more, you do not make it very close to the front door before he stops you once more. “Wait, YN,” Hyunjin huffs, smiling softly when he reaches for your hand and you do not pull away. Running his tongue over his lip, he seems to hesitate for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Did you mean it when you said you love me?”

⇢ epilogue

339 notes · View notes

distapata · 3 years

Text

[ID: A dark background in red and orange tones. It is a photograph of a saree and a necklace lying on the saree. In the middle of the photograph, there is a white rectangle, and inside it, the word sacrilegious written in white font. Outside the rectangle, at the bottom right corner of the photograph, there is a thin white flowery symbol, and below it, the words penned by shaon, written in white font. The entire photograph has the falling snow gif overlay from this post]

INFORMATION

category: 3 + 1 things | word count: 6797 according to Docs

fandom: pandob goyenda | set before canon, in a headcanon-based timeline

characters: Brishti & Subinoy

foreword: The purpose of this piece is to write some fluff for a couple I (and the person to request the prompt) love, and not to condone - or encourage - emphasis on any ornamental/superficial details. Physical beauty is a concept, yes, but not a yardstick, nor should it be treated as such. Regardless, if emotions are hurt, then I sincerely apologize for my mistakes. Like all of my other works, this is un-beta-ed, all mistakes are mine, unless autocorrect has messed up

Bengali words present in the fic are: genji, used for innerwear vest (x); dnarao, meaning wait! holo - are you done? charo - let go; anchol - pallu is the only word that comes to mind, please click on the word for the definition; Ei, bor eshe gache, bor eshe gache! - Hey, the groom (bor) has arrived OR Hey, the groom is here! O Didi, Jamai Babu toh puro flat! - Hey Didi, Jamaibabu is bowled over/stumped/stunned (it is difficult to grasp the essence of it) Link to most, if not all of the Bengali Hindu Wedding rituals mentioned in this fic is here, and here is a link to the song present in the last scene <translation> Some of the other cultural references have been linked to, usually on the first instance of the word.

sacrilegious

[ˌsakrɪˈlɪdʒəs] involving or committing sacrilege.

summary: THREE times Subinoy sees Brishti's glamour & ONE time he sees her simplicity (and every time, he is MESMERIZED by the woman he loves most).

"Brishti," eyes squeezed shut, Subinoy pokes his head into the room, and from his position by the door, calls out in the general direction of the dressing table. "It is five past ten," he says, tugging at the collar of his panjabi. In his haste, he has pulled it over his head as fast as possible, and the straps of his genji are twisted around, sitting like a coil of rope against his skin. He wrestles with the strap for three minutes, then sighs when all his efforts go in vain. "Brishti, at least let me come in," he pleads, rapping his knuckles on the doorframe. She had cast him out of the room, issuing an ultimatum - complete with a warning - moments before she had walked into the bathroom, and, when she had come to fetch the towel she had forgotten, she had driven him out, dangling her gold bangles under his nose. He never had any immunity against those, he loved to see her with jewelry, especially bangles and more so with the gold ones he had gifted her. Within minutes, he was standing out in the hall with the sleeves of his panjabi bunched up at his elbow and the watch caught between his teeth. In the twenty minutes that followed, he, like a loyal, dutiful husband, had stood outside, fixing what he could and running a hand through his - still damp from the shower - hair, but the clock is slowly inching towards ten-twenty, nearing their time of departure. "Brishti," he calls again, and leans against the door jamb. "Brishti," he is whining now, channeling the inner kid she keeps mentioning every now and then.

"Subinoy…" he can hear the smile, and in response, it makes one bloom on his face as he waits for the invitation that is surely to come. "Alright, come in," she says, and he, without opening his eyes, slips inside, pads to - what he imagines to be - the dressing table.

"Brishti," he calls out, reaching out blindly. He won't defy her orders, but he won't make it easy for her. Her hands find him, clasp his fingers in her palm and slowly guide him towards her. "Genji," he says, using his other hand to tug at the offending straps.

Her hands, still damp from the shower, are cool against his neck as they twist the straps. He catches the fingers dancing on his skin, holds them in place with a firm hand. "I think you are only making it worse," he announces, then places her hand where he wants them, looped tight around his neck. A noose of his own making, one he had welcomed into his life the year before, one he continues to love. "Better." His lie is open for her to see, all his cards on the table. It is, perhaps, sacrilegious to give in to desire on such an auspicious day, and, as the person who has been rushing her since morning, hypocritical, and either of them might have earned him the annoyed huff she is giving him, but they fail to trespass into the happy, fulfilling vision in his head.

"Subinoy," she says, and even though the word is a barely audible whisper, it anchors him. He takes her hands and pulls them away from himself, caresses her palm in an attempt to steal a wisp of her time, then releases her from his hold. "Later," she promises, lips ghosting over his ear. Her fingers give a gentle tug to the straps of his genji, and it unfurls against him. "There," she tells him, and smooths a hand down his collar, relaxing the creases wrought by their struggles with the strap. "All done." He steps back, nearly stumbles as his foot catches on what he feels is the foot of the dressing table. She steadies him with a hand on his elbow, pulls him close. "Look where you are going," she chides, and at his laugh, swats at his shoulder. "Open your eyes," she snaps, lightly slapping him when, again, her words are met with a laugh.

"That is not what you had said, earlier," he reminds her, raising his palm to block her impending attack. She takes advantage of his inability to see her, and sneaks in through the barrier, peppers his jaw with kisses.

Love blooms in his chest, the bud blossoming into a flower, petals curling and unfurling, the edges tickling the chambers of his heart. This here, is how he wants to be, for the rest of this life, and then some more. "Open," she says, giving him one last kiss and pulling away before he can entrap her in his arms. He reaches for her, blindly, a flower shooting for the sun, then, defeated, opens his eyes.

'A Goddess if I have seen any,' he thinks, and, blasphemous as it is, he cannot wave it away. He can and will worship this woman in front of him, the epitome of beauty and power, the one holding his life in those great, dark, kohl-rimmed eyes. The saree is white, in honor of the occasion, the thick red border complementing the red in her partition. The pleats are weak, messy, whether due to her ministrations or his, he doesn't know, but he bends, all the same, stoops down and gathers the fabric in his hands, unpins the pleats and sifts through them. His eyes are on level with her hands; her wrist, with the golden bangles, his gift to her, flanked by the red and white of shnakha-pola, her fingers, long, dainty, the ring. His gaze travels up, to her face, and the diamond of the wedding ring turns dull against the radiance he sees there. A few errant locks have made it out of the bun resting at her nape, messy waves trailing down her cheeks. She has forgone her glasses, granting him access to the unfathomable depth she holds in her eyes, and as he makes his foray into the ocean, his fingers still, his thoughts scatter at the love he sees there. Love ― for him. The safety pin slips from his grasp, the cold metal on his foot pulls him out of his trance, and he looks away, busies himself with her saree, limiting his exposure to the love she holds for him. Love, intense, fearsome, a live wire pulsating with unimaginable strength.

"How do I look?" She asks, and the fabric slips past his fingers, as does his understanding of words.

It is painful, his inability to transform his admiration into words, and he reaches, blindly, for the pleat he had misplaced, clasps her fingers a little tighter when they join him on his search. 'I know not the words to answer you,' he thinks, stroking the zari work in the border. The golden thread has woven an interesting pattern - on a closer look, it is a story they depict, a royal wedding, flowers, elephants and chariots, and he can't help but think how appropriate it is, a saree fit for a queen. "Beautiful," he tells her, staring into her eyes and channeling all his love into that one word. He need not say all he wants to, she will hear them all the same.

She does.

He sees it in the curve of her lips, in the glimmer of her eyes, hears it in the lilt of her voice as she urges him to complete her pleats, citing the time as she does so. "Thirteen," she shrieks, tugging at his hand. "Ten-thirteen, Subinoy, only seven minutes -"

"And done," he announces, clicking the latch of the safety pin with a flourish. "I won't let you miss this," he assures, brushing his lips over her knuckles. He stands up, unfolds himself, scrutinizes his panjabi, hums when he notes the small number of wrinkles. He steps back, trails his eyes up and down her frame, frowns when he notes the absence of a necklace and earrings. "Nothing else?" She does not dress up often, but when she does, she prefers to accessorize with necklaces, and he knows that there is a gold one that will go perfectly with this ensemble. As for earrings, those are her domain, she has a vast collection, one she holds dear, and without them, something is amiss, her naked ears take away some of the joy he is feeling. 'She is not complete,' he thinks, and then hates himself for putting so much weight on jewelry.

"Oh." She reaches up, bangles clinking together, traces the outer shell of her ear, sighs when the emptiness registers with her. "I forgot," she says, quietly, then moves towards the bed. She shifts the covers, revealing the familiar square of red velvet. "I had plans to do my feet, with aalta, but then I remembered," she stops, opens the box and places the necklace around her neck, struggling with the lock. He moves forward and pulls out the chain underneath the bun, locking it in place and hiding the gold under her hair. She backs into him, grateful, and sighs. "Then I remembered that I know nothing of aalta," she finishes, tracing the embroidered sleeves of his panjabi.

"You have aalta?" He asks, and she peels herself off of him, bends to pick up her earrings from the box. "Where is it?" He adds, walking towards the dressing table. He rummages in the drawer, turns to her with a triumphant smile when he finds what he had been looking for. A box of matches and a roll of cotton. "Aalta," he prompts, and she scurries over, pulls out the bottle from where it was sitting behind his perfume. She holds it out to him, and he pushes the box and cotton into her hand. "We need a tray," he tells her, then leaves to fetch a plate.

When he returns, she is adjusting her bun, trying to pull the errant locks back into the tight hold. "Don't," he says, and she lets her hands fall to the side, hair curling near her earrings. "Come, sit," he instructs as he kneels down beside the bed, placing the plate on the floor and reaching for the bottle of aalta she had put on the bed. She looks sceptical of his demands, but gives in, shrieks and almost knocks out the bottle from his hand when he reaches for her foot. "Aalta," he emphasizes, pouring it into the plate. It falls in a river of red, pooling on the white china. Screwing on the cap, he hands the bottle back to her, rips out a fluff of cotton and twists it around a matchstick.

She places the bottle on the bedside table, and sends a suspicious look towards the plate. "You know how to…" she gestures at the matchstick in his hand, her bangles tinkling wildly as she does so. "How come you know this?" She scrunches her nose in confusion, frowns, then places her hand on his arm. "You don't have to do this," she tells him, squeezing his hand. "I don't have to wear aalta."

"This is our first pujo after marriage, the first time you will participate in sindoor khela…" he trails off, dips the cotton-stick in the aalta, watches as the red seeps into the white. "Here," he touches her foot with the tip of the stick, drawing an elegant line in one perfect stroke. She gasps in surprise, and he laughs, pats the hand on his arm, threads their fingers together and gives her a light squeeze, before he pulls back. "I had had practice with Maa," he explains, focuses on her foot and draws another line. This one is shorter, the cotton dry, and he dips the thirsty stick into the aalta. "I will never live it down if any of your wishes remain unfulfilled," he tells her, and finishes that side of her foot, moves on to outline her toes. "Perfect," he says after a brief inspection of her foot, then pulls the plate towards him. "Onto the right!"

She giggles at his proud assessment, holds her saree to give him free reign over her right foot. He does the aalta, carefully, methodically, painting her with the red, coloring her dreams. "Beautiful," she whispers, grips him tight as he puts the final touch of red on her little toe. "Beautiful," she murmurs even as he is pulling away, and he places the plate in a corner, out of the way, and returns to kneel in front of her.

"Beautiful," he tells her, the awe in her voice making his heart swell with pride. He has been able to do this for her, he is responsible for her delight. "Dnarao," he says, gestures for her to remain seated, then climbs to his feet and moves to the wardrobe. "I bought this on a whim," he comments, pulling out a box from a secret compartment. He withdraws the silver anklet, holds it up to the light. "Perfect for today," he announces as he returns to the bed, and loops them around her ankles, the thick band sitting against the royal wedding on her saree, the tiny bells resting on her feet. "Beautiful," he says, reaches up and captures her lips in a kiss. "Come, see for yourself," he holds her by the hand, and guides her to the dressing table. 'Incomplete,' screams a voice in his head, and he scans their reflection, trying to pinpoint the void. It only results in failure, and he lets his eyes wander the length of the dressing table in search of the token of completion. 'Ah!' He picks up the palette of bindis, pulls off a circle of red, positions it between her brows and presses it to her forehead. 'Perfect.' Content, he envelopes her in his arms, threads their fingers together and rests them on her stomach, nuzzles into her neck.

She leans into the embrace, lets out a content sigh of her own, and he stares into the mirror, drinking in the picture they paint. To him, the two of them, together, embody perfection. He sees Brishti smile, her eyes reflecting the love he feels in his veins, and then her face morphs into an expression of horror. "Subinoy!" She shrieks, fighting his hold. "Ten twenty-two, Subinoy, we are late!"

He tightens the hug, rests his chin on her shoulder. "We will run to the pandal if we have to, but for now, let me look at my beautiful wife, Mmm?" She laughs, the sound nectar of Gods, then asks him how long will he hold her in his arms and stare into their reflection? In response, he kisses her ear. "If possible, forever, but I'll settle for as long as it takes to memorize each and every second of this."

In the end, they do end up running to the pandal, her anklets belting out a merry song, the melody weaving together their laughter and echoing down the streets under the clear, autumn skies. And they return home, hand in hand, her face smeared with sindoor, ears ringing from the beating of the dhaak, and their hearts full of love.

"Brishti, holo?" Subinoy smoothes a hand over the lapel of his coat, checks his reflection in the mirror. The purplish-blue of his blazer mirrors the night sky stretched over the earth, the diamond on his finger glitters like a twinkling star. A quick swoop of his eyes finds that the watch is missing from the dressing table. Odd. "Brishti, did you see my watch?" He calls, raising his voice at the closed bathroom door. "And how much longer? Brishti?" She replies, but her words are muffled by the door, and he changes tracks, abandons his post at the dressing table in favor of the bathroom door. "Brishti, everything alright?" He asks, placing his palms on the door. "You have been there for a while." Twenty minutes, to be exact.

The door swings open, his palms hanging in the air. Brishti steps out, ducking between his outstretched hands, and immediately, he is hit with a sense of wrongness, something is off with her attire. It is a nice saree, gorgeous, even, a dark, inky blue, mirroring his blazer, with silver threads crisscrossing the body of the saree, splitting it into nice little squares of blue. Her hair falls over her shoulders in messy waves, her eyeliner spread out like tiny, black wings. She sighs under his scrutiny, retreats into the harsh white light flooding the bathroom. Her earrings catch the light, sparkle, and he holds her by the palm, pulls her into his chest.

She huffs, lays her head down on his chest, strokes the corner of his lapel. "I don't know how to wear a saree," she mumbles against him, presses her nose to his shirt, and sniffles. "I don't want to go to the party. Can't you go alone, by yourself?"

He loops his arms around her chest, and the saree slips, the fabric slides down. "What even is this material?" He asks, his annoyance eliciting a laugh from Brishti. Satin, she murmurs, her lips moving against his chest. "Yes, satin. An abomination, if I have seen any," he comments, as, again, the saree shifts under his hand. "Do you want to pick another one?" He can and will go to the party without her, if he goes at all, but he can see that her reluctance has more to do with her frustration with the saree and not with the party itself, and he wants to help her with the situation.

She extracts herself from him, but doesn't break his hold. "Does this look that bad?" She questions, picking at a loose thread of the silver design. "I picked it out at the store…the assistant complimented it, even. She said I had a great eye…" She looks at her toes, and he is struck with a bolt of guilt. "I think this is a nice color," she says, then sighs, before tugging at his hands. "Charo, I have to..change out of this, I guess."

He drops his hands from her waist, lightly touches her arm to stop her from leaving, then removes his hand. "I didn't mean that, Brishti. This saree is beautiful, and you, especially, look gorgeous." When she looks unsure, he nods at the mirror on the dressing table. "See it for yourself if you don't trust me, the mirror does not lie. However," he bends down, gathers the loose pleats and tugs at them, adjusting their height. "Maa taught me to do this for her" he explains, then sits back on his haunches, examining her to pin down the oddity. "The material is difficult, I thought you might like to wear a different one. Otherwise," failing to note what is still feeling off, he climbs to his feet, puts a palm to her face and caresses her cheek bone with his thumb. "Otherwise, you, my dear darling wife, are a vision in this saree, channeling the night sky." She leans into the touch, smiles against his thumb when he moves to her lips. "You are not too bad yourself," she tells him, appraising him with her eyes. She holds the palm cradling her face, brushes her lips against his hand, then pulls away. "Now move, I am yet to do my hair."

"Hair?" He runs a hand through the silky waves, letting the strands slip through his fingers. "What do you intend to do with it? It's perfect."

"I need to tie it up, otherwise the mask won't sit right." She frowns at his displeasure, moves to the bed to collect the invitation from where it sits on her pillow. "It is a masquerade," she points out the word, trailing the elegant, lavender script. "We need to wear masks," she adds, pulling out their masks - black with lavender detailing casting webs around the mask. There are silver highlights where the mask is supposed to sit on their nose, and he smiles at the design. Brishti catches his gaze, follows it to the stroke of silver, and mirrors his smile. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

He moves close, presses his mouth to her ear. "Beautiful enough for you to go against me?" He whispers. She slaps his arm, light, flirtatious, and he laughs, steps aside to let her pass. "Your hair looks better this way, the dark tendrils of the night." She smiles, pushing the envelope in his hand, reaches up and kisses the curve of his jaw.

"Wait until you see what I have planned," she teases, before pulling away and running to the dressing table. He drops the invitation on the bed, goes to lie down beside it, stops when he sees her reflection in the mirror.

Suddenly, the chips fall in place. "Wait," he calls, hurries to her side lest she ignores him. "I know what is wrong with this saree," he says, pulling at her anchol. "This," he holds up the end of her saree, "is on the wrong side." She frowns, looks at her reflection, and he sees the exact moment it hits her.

"I wore the saree in front of the mirror," she tells him, taking the anchol from his hands and doing the necessary readjustment of the fabric. "I think this looks fine?"

"Looks perfect, especially with the hair." He can be incessant when he feels like it. He won't push if she grows annoyed, but until she says so, he will make his demands.

She throws the comb on the dressing table, loops her arms around his neck. "Jealous of a party invitation?" She asks, laughs when he bobs his head. "Subinoy..." She shakes her head, a smile blooming on her face, then pats the lapel of his blazer. "Let's come to a compromise, yes? I will put my hair up in a bun, but keep some of it down, like so..." She picks up the comb, attacks her hair. She gathers her hair into a roll, loops it into a tight bun, then brings it down to rest on her shoulder. The hairdo is majestic, and he stands there, mesmerised, because this is his wife, a queen in her own right, draped in six yards of blue and silver. From the mirror, she gives him a curious look, her eyebrows climbing in an elegant arch.

He swallows, tries to jarr his mind. She looks on, taking a break to rummage in the drawer in search of lipstick, all the while he is casting around for a word fit to describe her. The pieces click just as she finishes applying a coat of deep, dark maroon on her lips. "Beautiful," he says, pushing his mouth to form the word. It comes out oddly, choked, so he clears his throat, and tries again. "Beautiful."

She smirks, sways past him and opens the wardrobe. After a moment, she turns, a silver pendant held between her thumb and index finger. "Help me?" She asks, stepping in close and pressing the pendant into his hand.

"Here," he unhooks the clasp, and she turns, pulling her hair to the front. He loops the necklace around her neck, cranes his neck to see if the pendant is in the right position, then clasps it into place.

She turns to look in the mirror, caresses the silver moon, smiles at him through the mirror. "Perfect," she says, and he leans down to kiss her neck, because yes, she is.

They do reach the party right on time, and earn compliments from everyone present, and that's before they move to the dance floor (and remain the last couple standing after two iterations of paper dance).

Ei, bor eshe gache, bor eshe gache! A gaggle of girls flank him from all sides, hang out of the balcony in their sarees, craning their necks to catch one glimpse of him. Inside his head, Subinoy cowers under their scrutiny. Outside, he readjusts his topor with fervent hope that he qualifies as a groom. The chandan is crusty, his nose is slick with sweat and his glasses aren't too keen on staying on his nose. He is wearing a genji over his dhoti, traditional attire for Bengali grooms, and he feels like a misfit among the glamour, the flowers, the lights, the bright red, white and gold fabric surrounding them. Surely, the girls will be of the same opinion? The escalation of his heart does not match the rhythmic tick of the watch strapped to his wrist, and he is grateful for the band of metal grounding him, in this moment, here at the mandap, minutes away from the marriage ceremony. All around him, the women are complaining. He is the serious type, he hears one of them say to her neighbor. The brooding one, jokes a teenager decked in blue. Embarrassed, he smiles, and the women explode in a roll of laughter. Mishti, says a middle aged woman, as she steps forward and inspects his face. Not the best match for our Brishti, but good enough, she says, to the joyous laughter of everyone else and a spark of insecurity for him. He slides a finger over his watch, caressing the glass dial. 'How much longer,' he thinks, then banishes the thought with a flick of his thumb. Tonight is their night, he won't let bitterness creep in through the cracks in the door. The women don't mean it, and even if they do, Brishti doesn't care. Determined, he stands there, amidst the laughter, and waits for the moment to arrive.

"Maa, don't tease him!" Rii's voice cuts through the din as she slips through the crowd to come stand in the front of the group. "And make some space, Sheetala Aunty is coming with her entourage, it is time for Bor boron." She makes a shooing gesture with her hands, and the women part, separating into two groups with an open space in the middle, but it doesn't stop the stream of comments, or staunch its flow. Oh, look at him, he is flustered, like a blushing bride! He hears someone say, and stares at his shoes to distract himself from the circus around him, and the fact that, even on his special day, he is the clown.

The sound of uludhwani breaks him out of his thoughts, and he raises his head, acknowledges Rii's presence and ignores everyone else in favour of Sheetala Maashi, a familiar face among the crowd of strangers. She smiles at him, a kind, motherly smile, as she waves the borondala in front of him and performs aarati, and he inches closer, just so, to soak in all the warmth she (and the diya) offers. Esho, she calls, holding him by the elbow and guiding him inside. There, she hands him over to his soon-to-be father-in-law, and Subinoy heaves a sigh of relief. For a moment, he had panicked, thinking that he would fall into the hands of the other women. "Baba," he says in a pale attempt to convey his gratitude, and is offered another warm, reassuring smile as he is ushered into the chadnatola. And then he waits, purohitmoshai and his father-in-law conversing in quick whispers, Rii slipping in and out and glaring at any woman opening her mouth to utter - without a doubt - another pointed remark about how undeserving he is to wed Brishti. 'How much longer,' he thinks, wishing he could shed what little he had of his dignity and crane his neck, scanning the perimeter in search of her. Realistically, he knows that her arrival will be announced by everyone present, and, amidst ulu-dhwani and excited murmurs, plus the smiles of the bearers, she will enter the chadnatola. He knows, and yet, he can't stop counting down the seconds until she arrives - until he sees her.

It does not take long.

Soon, four men - two of whom he recognizes as his classmates, and they grin at him, while the other two grunt at the effort - come bearing the pidi. Sheetala Maashi's son, who he only knows from the pictures, is one of the men flanking Brishti and she has her left arm looped around his shoulder, her right hand holding the betel leaf in front of her face.

Brishti, or what little of her he can see - which is nearly all of her but her face, and her face is what he wants to see - is looking gorgeous. A deep red benarasi, the golden needlework and zari adding a regal touch, the bangles and necklace and earrings, the splendor, all gold, under the soft yellow light flooding the chadnatola, the pure white of her mukut; she looks no less than a queen - she is no less than a queen, and his heart soars at the prospect of calling himself her husband, calling himself hers, and calling her to be his.

He ducks his head while they circle around him, ticking off each circle as they finish and restraining himself from sneaking glances. 'Later,' he tells himself. He won't defy tradition for mere scraps, he will see her, complete with the love and laughter dancing in her eyes, the exact moment when she will see him. The rounds pass in a blur, and soon, the crowd is calling, cheering, for them to perform subho drishti.

He raises his eyes, she removes the betel leaf.

And time; stands still.

Chandan dots her forehead, paints paisleys on her cheek. Her brows stand in a proud, regal arch, holding the red sphere between them. Underneath, her eyes are deep, dark currents of love. A smile plays at the corner of her mouth, widens as she throws the betel leaves behind him, all the while he is staring, unblinking, mesmerised, at her. Brishti.

A queen, a Goddess, a Celestial nymph.

O Didi, Jamai Babu toh puro flat! The comment gives birth to another roll of laughter, and he blinks, feeling his face blossom into a full smile. It is her turn to be transfixed, and it is only because of the hoot of laughter bouncing off the walls that she breaks the eye lock and looks away as her cheeks color.

He is still somewhat uncoordinated when he puts the garland on her, more so once he sees how she looks with the white against her red and gold. 'The very definition of beauty,' he thinks, lowering his head to accept the garland. The flowers graze his ear, and she offers him a shy smile, prompting her cousin to fall into a fit of giggles and their classmates to cheer. Someone, probably one of his friends, claps, and a camera goes off in a bright flash of white. Perfect, he hears Rii say, then, One more. They exchange the garlands for a second time, the flowers moving from him to her and then back to him. They laugh, and one of the girls holding the cloth over their head giggles. Another flash of white light, another moment captured for the future. No less than three cameras go off during the final iteration of the malabadal ceremony, yet the light dims in comparison to the smiles they are sporting.

The next ritual shows him another side of her, the determined set of her jaw, lying in perfect contrast with the delicate lines of the chandan and in perfect harmony with the curve of the golden chain of her nath, the intensity in her eyes matching the gravitas of the vedic hymns. He wonders, for a moment, if he looks just as sincere, recalling the welcoming words of the women. Brooding. Serious. They form a bitter haze over his understanding of himself, and he dispels the thought, stares into the holy fire until sweat drips into his eyes. He is sincere. He might not show it, the love, adoration and commitment might not bloom over his skin like a coat of wax, but the emotions, the dedication, the submission, is there. The ritual moves on to the next phase, the priest instructing him to put his hand over a kalash. Her hand is a soft, warm presence when she places her palm over his, the weight sealing the gap between his hand and the pitcher. As the priest continues the ritual, his eyes find their ways to her. She must have felt his wandering gaze, for she turns, meets his eyes and smiles, and everything else fades into the background. 'My savior, my anchor,' he thinks, and with renewed zeal, turns to face the holy fire.

From then onwards, he can't stop stealing glances, every step of the way. Gaantchora, saptopadi, khoi porano - every instance sees him drowning in her, and every time, she gives him a knowing smile.

Rii ties the gaantchora, laughs and says that she has woven their lives, the threads twisting together and becoming one, then steps back and grabs the camera from Sheetala Maashi's son - Kamalesh, Brishti supplies the name in a hurried whisper - and then Rii clicks a thousand pictures as he follows Brishti around the fire. Seven steps, seven promises.

It is during saptopadi that Subinoy notices the aalta, the red peeking out from when she steps forward, before her feet retreat into the folds of her saree. 'Perfect,' he thinks, immediately thinking of his own feet. He sneaks a glance, and is marvelled to see that under the light and against the red of the chadnatola, even his feet look beautiful.

Khoiporano sees his hands supporting the weight of the kulo, and in between making her offering to the Holy fire, she tilts her head and sneaks in a glimpse or two, and he can't help but smile at her. Their wedding rituals, tying them together for a future of togetherness. 'And now, we are one,' he thinks, stares at the fire and watches as the flame climbs up, swallows the offering and then bows in submission.

Sindoor Daan, calls the priest, and he takes one last look at her face, memorizes the curve of her brow and the color of her eyelids, and drinks in the details of her maangtika. The ritual requires him to look away as he marks her with the vermilion, which is a pity, because no bride is complete without her sindoor, and he aches to see how she looks with the red all over her forehead (he trusts his hand to smear sindoor everywhere), but he does not defy the rules laid out in front of him. This is their holy union, he can't risk the wrath of the Gods - or the priest - they need the blessings of Fate, the blessings of Life.

With a heavy heart and every nerve ending buzzing with anticipation, he tightens his hold on the jhnapi, picks up her maangtika and holds it between two fingers, then turns his face to the side and empties the jhnapi in one, smooth stroke, starting from what he hopes to be her forehead and stopping when the jhnapi sits lighter. He drops the maangtika, rather unceremoniously, less elegantly than he had hoped, all his concentration on keeping his fingers steady, lest they tremble with the power of this moment, here, where the ceremony comes to an end. He feels the rustle of a saree drawn over her forehead, hiding the sindoor from the public eye. In response, he closes his own eyes, and summons the image he has of her from earlier in the night, the one where she stares at him, transfixed, with all the love she holds for him blooming onto her face. And he envisions that face, that beauty, with a smattering of sindoor on her nose and partition, a homing beacon of red.

A queen, a nymph, a Goddess, a wife.

His wife.

Later, when he sees her in the basor ghor, he notices, with great delight, the sindoor smeared over her forehead, over her brow and her nose. He put all the sindoor on her, jokes Rii. ”A kilo of it,” he says, eyes flicking back and forth between the streaks of vermilion, and Brishti laughs, leans into him, while the rest of them erupt into peals of laughter.

“I can’t believe that we decided to walk home, in the pouring rain,” Subinoy says, slipping into the apartment and sneezing into his hands. Outside, there is an ear-splitting clap of thunder, and he winces, because this isn’t his stop, it is Brishti’s. When they had set out to the caterers, the sky had been clear, a nice, normal, summer afternoon, the cotton-candy clouds floating through the sky white and harmless, but when they stepped out of the office, there was a swarm of angry clouds on the horizon, and within moments, the entire sky was colored grey, pelting them with raindrops sharp as needles. It had been a stupid, but mutual decision to walk home, and now he is paying the price.

“It was a bad moment for us, I wonder what -” the rest of her words come out muffled, and he strains to hear them, inches forward while one hand is still rubbing at his eyes. He takes two or three steps, before he is hit in the face with something scratchy and smelling of laundry detergent. A towel.

“Just what I needed,” he says in thanks, running the towel over the lower part of his face. He pulls off his glasses, folds them inside his palm, then takes the towel and rubs it over his neck, before moving onto his head. He presses the towel against his hair, and rubs vigorously. “Alipore is becoming less and less trustworthy with each passing day,” he comments, thinking about the weather forecast and how Kolkata had chosen to go in the opposite direction to what the met department had predicted.

“When were they competent, show me a day.” Brishti challenges, and Subinoy huffs. Alipore has always been terrible with their predictions, so much so that it is a running gag among the people.

"Next time they forecast a sunny day, I will bring a raincoat with me," he grumbles, trying to wipe off the excess water from his hair. He is not what one might call prone to catching colds, and he does enjoy the rain, but today, he got drenched, he is dripping water everywhere. "How do I go home, like this, sopping wet."

"Do you want to wear one of Baba's…" Brishti trails off, and he blinks at her, confused, because did she just offer to…give him her father's shirt. "Are you…" he stops, suddenly realizing that he hasn't seen her since they have come in. "Brishti, where are you?"

"Here," she steps into his line of vision, in a simple salwar suit, her hair lying limp over her head, glasses pressed to her nose, one earring dangling from her left ear, the right being empty - bare. Her eyeliner is washed out from the rain, eyelashes wet and sticking to each other in little clumps.

Yet, she is the most beautiful person he has seen.

He stares at her, unblinking, and keeps staring, even as she frowns at his sudden silence and waves her hand in front of his face. “Subinoy?” She calls, her frown melting into a sly grin. “Your hair is still wet,” she says, then reaches up, coaxing the towel out of his hands. She rubs his head, hard enough to make him complain, and slaps his hand when he tries to move out of her reach. “Stay still,” she commands, dragging the towel over his head. “Let me finish this before you start sneezing.”

“It was only one,” he points out, then extends his arm towards her, waving the spectacles dangling from his hand. “Wipe these for me?” There is not a thread on him that is dry, even the handkerchief in his back pocket has been assaulted by the rain. “Or fetch me something dry.” Wordlessly, she presses the end of her dupatta in his hand, and he mutters a “Thanks,” before he starts wiping his glasses. He does not feel comfortable without them. He has seen her give them a miss on the days she dresses up, and it amazes him how she is not bogged down by this...habit. She pulls away, seemingly satisfied with the state of his hair, and he protests, tugging at her dupatta. “Stay.” His glasses are cloudy, deep smudges on the glass, and he wraps the end of the dupatta around them, pressing down with the correct amount of pressure - enough for it to work, but not enough to damage the glasses. "Stay," he says, and she rests her head against his chest, humming the tune of Aji jhoro jhoro mukhoro badolo dine. He can't help but hum along.

Here, now, he doesn't want to do anything, lest it makes him move away from this moment - from her.

If you read this Fic, know that I love you.

If you enjoy this Fic, know that I love you.

If you find this boring, still, I love you.

I have a lot of love to give.

#;;lekhoni | writing tag #;;fandom | pandob goyenda #;;আজও বেঁচে আছে ভালবাসা | brishti and subinoy

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ohpedromypedro · 4 years

Text

Brown Eyes

🛑HALT🛑

if you didn’t reach this fic by clicking on a link, then please click here. This is an alternate end for another fic which you need to check out first. :)

word count: 2.6k+ (or 3.3k+ including the first half of the fic from the other part)

warnings: same as the other as well as a nice big ole breeding kink 😘

Neither you or Pedro have anything on your usual busy schedule for today, so you have the entire day to enjoy yourselves which you’ll mostly be spending at his place. Currently you’re taking a nice hot shower while singing along to the music on your portable shower speaker, your current song of choice being Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks. Unbeknownst to you, Pedro is standing just outside the bathroom door listening to you, the widest of smiles on his face while he listens to that beautiful voice of yours, singing away as if no one were listening.

If you knew Pedro was just outside the door listening, you would not be singing so confidently, but since you don’t know, you continue. After rinsing yourself off and making sure your hair is thoroughly rinsed too, you turn the water off, humming along to the song as it slowly comes to an end. Once the song is over, you turn the shower speaker off and step out of the shower to grab your towel, immediately going red when you hear Pedro softly clearing his throat before quietly speaking.

“Hey, you uh… Wanna go to a karaoke bar or something tonight?”

You bite your lip at his question, blush burning at your cheeks knowing he most likely heard your entire live performance in the shower. Still you smile, wrapping your hair in a towel after drying the rest of your body off and glancing toward the door where he’s standing just behind.

“Are you going to sing something?”

“Only if you do.”

“Deal,” you giggle, grabbing the outfit you’ve been trying to wear for months and quickly putting it on, only wanting to wear it when you and Pedro have time for yourselves, so today is the perfect day.

After towel drying your hair and brushing out the tangles, you hang the towel up to dry before opening the door, grinning up at Pedro who’s still leaning against the wall just across from the bathroom. He opens his mouth to say something but his eyes immediately fall to your chest, not so much your breasts but more so the Fleetwood Mac design on your shirt. He grins, his eyes raising to meet your gaze.

“I love the shirt.”

“Yeah? I was hoping you would.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you smile, walking out of the bathroom to stand a little closer to him, giving your lip a small bite as you look up at him. “I’ve had this outfit planned out for months… Couldn’t wear it til now.”

“No? Why’s that?” He tilts his head, genuinely interested in your answer.

“We finally have a day to ourselves… No plans.” You smile up at him, giving your shoulders a small shrug.

“So you’re wearing it for me, not just to wear in the general public.”

“Yes,” you smile, looking toward your feet. “And now that you’ve mentioned going to karaoke, it does also happen to make a nice karaoke outfit paired with a pair of boots to match.”

“Mmm it does...but you know what?”

“What?” You smile, lifting your head again to meet his gaze, softly gasping at the warmth of his hand against your cheek, leaning into his sudden, but certainly not unwelcome touch.

“I think I’d like to appreciate the outfit myself for a few hours…” He licks his lips, his eyes flicking to your plump bottom one.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” You murmur, your cheeks burning as your heart races in your chest. This is the closest and most intimate you and Pedro have gotten and you are living for it.

“Depends... Do you ever fantasize about me?” He smirks, moving his hand so he can brush his thumb along your bottom lip.

“I always fantasize about you...” You whisper, unashamed by your confession. Your confession is all the confirmation he needs to know you truly want this.

“Tell me.”

“I-I fantasize about you having me bent over the nearest surface...fucking me from behind with your big cock… And I know it’s big because I have seen evidence in pictures,” you again, admit without shame, pressing a kiss to his thumb. He smirks.

“Yeah? I bet you wish you could see with your own eyes how big my cock is, huh?”

“Please,” you gasp, looking at him with doe eyes. “It’s only always been my biggest dream...to see and feel how big your cock really is...stretching my poor unexpecting, tight little pussy.”

“Fuck,” Pedro growls, lifting you up by the back of your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist, quickly carrying you toward his bedroom where he sits you on his long dresser and kisses you deeply, your back pressing against the attached mirror. “I love you. I really truly love you. I never thought I’d find someone to love the way that I love you and I’m happy that a young, beautiful, talented woman such as yourself can love someone like me...”

“Oh, Pedro…” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes. You’ve dreamed of hearing Pedro Pascal admit his love to you for the longest time and now that the words have been said and you know for a fact that this isn’t a dream, you can’t help the flow of emotions rushing through you. It stuns you that Pedro would think you couldn’t love him, so you want nothing more than to prove him wrong. “I love you more than you will ever know, José Pedro Balmecada Pascal. I will do everything to prove it.”

He immediately kisses you again with a wide smile on his face, his hands running up and along the sides of your shirt before dropping back down to slip beneath the fabric, eliciting a sigh of approval from your lips. His hands are fascinatingly warm and you love the way they feel on your freshly moisturized skin. A groan sounds from his throat when his hands find bare breasts, giving them each a squeeze and earning himself a soft moan from you.

“No bra?”

“O-or panties,” you breathe, arching your back into the hand that gives your breast another squeeze while his other drops to slip beneath the fabric of your skirt, seeing for himself that you wear no panties.

“Fuck, your pussy is a waterfall, isn’t it?” He hisses as he gets a good feel of the arousal pooling between your thighs, giving your clit a light rub which elicits a deeper moan from your mouth.. “Should call it Pascal Falls because only I can make it this fucking drenched.”

“Fuck, yes, only you make my pussy into a waterfall…” You bite your lip, rocking yourself against his hand.

“Good...and we’re going to keep it that way too. You’re my girl now, so you and this pussy are off limits… The world will know very soon that Pedro Pascal is in love.”

“I-I’m all yours, Pedro. Please, take me for the first time however you want me...”

Immediately he smirks, lifting you off the dresser and moving to drop you onto what you believe to be the most comfortable bed comforter you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying on. You hum at the way your body is comfortably absorbed into the cushiony blanket, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“You have a comfortable bed…”

“I do have a comfortable bed,” he chuckles, moving to lean down and press his lips to yours for a deep, passionate kiss. “You’re so beautiful…” He murmurs, kissing from your lips toward the shell of your ear, leaving kisses on your jaw and neck along the way. “I’m going to fuck you from behind nice and slow, deep, drown every inch of my cock in that wetness.”

“Mmm please,” you gasp, reaching your hand down to rub at his tented pants. “Please fill and stretch me, Pedro… Claim what’s rightfully yours.”

Pedro groans and pulls away to start stripping himself of the sweatpants he wore to bed, tossing them aside before reaching to yank your skirt off and set it close to the middle of the bed. He tugs his white t-shirt off next and throws it with his sweats, soon bringing his hands over to tug your shirt off and set it with your skirt. You love how he’s delicate with your clothes, but so careless with his own. It almost makes you want to giggle.

When he’s done undressing the two of you, he quickly grabs you by the waist and flips you so you’re bent over the foot of the bed, the head of his cock pressing at your entrance before he slowly pushes his hips forward, letting your tight walls slowly adjust to his deliciously big cock while he envelopes you in an intimate, warm embrace.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you gasp, melting into the warmth of his chest pressed against your back as his arms cradle you at the sides, soft moans leaving your lips when he’s close to bottoming out. “You feel so good inside of me…”

“So fucking wet.”

“All for and because of you,” you breathe, tilting your head sideways when he presses his lips to your neck, your moans increasing the deeper he sends his cock. “I-- fuck, deeper, please...”

“Yeah? You like how deep I can go in this pussy?” He smirks, pulling his hips back a bit before pushing forward again, sending his cock right up toward your cervix.

“Mmm yes, right there!” you moan, slowly pushing yourself back against him to match his movements as best you can, your fingers clutching at the pillowy soft blanket.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby… So warm, wet and tight for me.” He groans, moving your hair to lay it all over one shoulder so he can better press kisses to your neck and shoulder blade.

“Mmmmm yeah, all for you, Pedro.” You murmur, biting your bottom lip when his lips find the pulse point of your throat. “No guy my age could ever compare to this experienced cock of yours…”

Pedro groans at your words and immediately sucks at your throat while picking up the pace of his thrusts a tiny bit, still continuing to thrust as deep as physically possible. He loves the sounds you make for him as he fucks you from behind, your reassuring words only helping to spur him on even more, knowing for sure he has you wrapped right around his finger, just as you have him wrapped around yours.

“I--,” you moan louder. “don’t think I can last much longer…”

“No? Can’t hold on for your nuevo novio?” He teases in your ear, knowing you’d shiver at the sound of him murmuring so low, wanting to get as much reaction out of you that he can. “Is my cock too good for your poor orgasm thirsty little pussy?”

“Yes,” you whine softly, giving your walls a small squeeze around him, making him hiss through his teeth. “Want you to fill me too.”

“Birth control?” He groans softly, kissing at the shell of your ear.

“Nope.” You bite your lip. He pulls back a bit to better look at you.

“Are you sure?” God would Pedro love to fill that pussy of yours right up, but are you willing to take the risk without having that form of protection to back you up?

“Yes,” you pretty much answer that question, biting your lip as you push back against Pedro and squeeze tight around him when he’s buried all the way inside you. “Maybe I want it to take… Maybe I want your children...”

“Fuck, if I could marry you at this very moment, I would.” He moans and immediately starts picking the pace of his thrusts up, one of his hands reaching forward to grab your chin and turn your face in his direction, giving you a quick smile before leaning forward for a hard but passionate kiss. “I’m gonna fill you so full of my cum, your belly will swell for days.”

“Oh God, please…” You cry out into the kiss, reaching down to press and rub at your clit to help add a little to the pressure building in your core. “I-I’m gonna cum, fuck...”

“Cum with me, bebita.” He murmurs, leaning back so he can grip your hips and thrust a little harder, still aiming his cock for your deepest sweet spots. You cry out as he hits just the right place and triggers your orgasm, your walls squeezing the tightest they’ve been around his cock so far and triggering his release, both of you moaning and cumming together as he fucks you through your highs.

“I-I love you so f-fucking much....I can’t wait to make you a Papa.” You whimper, breathing out a content sigh at the way his ropes of warm cum fill your womb.

“I love you so much, bebita. I’m so happy fate brought us together.”

“Me too…” you whisper, softly hissing through your teeth as he slowly starts to pull his still releasing cock out of you, truly having meant it when he said he’s going to fill you.

Your body is practically melted into Pedro’s bed since your high has passed, the comfort almost lulling you toward a light sleep. What prevents that though, is the soft touch of Pedro’s hands gently massaging at your lower back and down to your ass, kneading the supple flesh in his hands. You just love those hands of his, so you groan and enjoy his touch while it lasts. Pedro just watches you, his eyes trained on the one side of your smiling face that he can see, happy that he can pleasure you with more than just his cock.

He really truly is grateful that he decided to start mentoring again. If he hadn’t, you two would not be where you are today. Fate was definitely on your side.

~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂~⁂ ~⁂~⁂

When you got to the karaoke bar, you told Pedro you wanted him to sing first, but only because he caught you singing in the shower earlier and you had something special planned for your song. He happily agreed. So he went up first, sang his heart out to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac, and had everyone in the vicinity cheering and even taking videos, duh it’s Pedro Pascal up there. That’s going viral, which honestly, he won’t mind one bit.

Now it’s your turn to go up and you’re a tad bit nervous, but one look at Pedro reminds you why you’re going up there in the first place, so with a deep breath and a confident smile you go up to sing your surprise song.

“This one goes out to my amazing boyfriend. I love you.” You look right at Pedro, he smiles and blows you a kiss.

The music for Brown Eyes by Fleetwood Mac starts and realization hits him, his face lighting up beautifully and from where you’re standing, you swear you can see tears forming in his eyes.

♪ When you look at me with those brown eyes

What do you want to do

Do you have to have me

The way that i want you

I want you

When you look at me with those brown eyes

What do you want to say

And are you just another liar

Will you take me all the way

All the way ♪

Pedro watches in awe as you sing for him, to him and once the song is over and you’re off the stage, he has you pulled into his embrace for a hug and a deep kiss. You truly are the best thing to ever happen to him.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro x reader #pedro x y/n #pedro pascal #nsft #alternate end fic #writing #my writing #ohpedromypedro

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agentwhiskeysdarlin · 4 years

Text

Confessions

Request: “I know you’re working, but can I come over because I miss seeing your face?” From a fluffy prompt list and requested by the sweet @catfishmorales

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Moreales x Fem!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: cute fluffiness, smut, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, is that it?

Word Count: 2,424 (longest fic to date WHAT)

Author’s Notes: Okay so this is a first with the lovely Catfish. I am super, crazy nervous about this one. I hope I wrote him well. I haven’t watched Triple Frontier since the beginning of quarantine and let’s be real properly never will again unless I am desperate. I hope you all enjoy especially you @catfishmorales. Also ignore the lame ass title. You should all expect the lame titles by now.

ao3 link for story

The room around you was silent all besides the clicking of keys, typing away the words your mind produced. You could feel your eyes crossing behind your reading glasses and you reached up sliding them with your middle finger up the bridge of your nose for the thousandth time in just the last hour. You had to get just a few more pages done before sending them in to your editor. You sat back for a few seconds letting out a frustrated sigh letting your head fall back before reaching your hand to the back of your neck and rubbing. You swore you could see then typing of words on the back of your eyelids. Your phone ringing made you jump. You let out another sigh before collecting yourself and answering without glancing at the caller id.

“Hello?” You knew you sounded frustrated and agitated.

“I know you’re working, but can I come over because I miss seeing your face?”

Frankie’s voice hit your ear and you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips.

“Yes you can come over Cat. Just be prepared to watch me finish these last few pages and then I’m all yours,” you let out a chuckle.

“I don’t care if I had to sit and watch you type a whole damn book,” you could hear the evidence of a smile in his voice.

“Be safe on your drive over,” you let another chuckle go hearing him grabbing his keys and walking out of his home.

“Always,” he spoke before the line went dead and you hung up with a shake of your head.

Frankie and yourself have been friends for as long as you could remember. You were there before he left to join the Delta Force and there when he returned utterly broken. You dealt with his slightly wild stage where he did anything he could to drown the demons that haunted him to present tense where he was finally trying to clean his life up and settle down. The feelings you had for the man were undeniable and you wanted to think he felt the same way but you were never fully sure.

You glanced at the clock knowing it wouldn’t take him long to get here and you set yourself back to work. You let your fingers glide over the keys seemingly typing out the perfect sentences to finish these pages off. There was a slight knock, never waiting for your response before he was in your house. You looked over your shoulder and giving him a smile as he removed his jacket.

“I think that is a new record Cat. You seriously miss me that much?” You laughed as he came toward you pulling a chair from your small dinning room table with him.

“You have no idea. It’s been weeks.”

He planted himself in the chair next to you and squinted at the bright computer screen that now sat in front of the both of you. You looked him seeing his eyes scanning your words, his lips slightly parted in concentration. You couldn’t help but to let out a laugh but you also felt the nerves build in your stomach as he read over some of your work. He knew what you were working on but refused to read it until it as finished. He finished the last line before looking at you his eyes meeting yours.

“This is incredible. I can’t wait to read the rest of it,” he spoke so seriously.

“You don’t even like to read so I don’t expect you to read this,” you turned your attention back to your work trying so hard to ignore the man next to you.

“Now you know I will read anything you write.”

“I will be done shortly I promise,” you shook your head but let a smirk play across your lips as you typed away.

Cat sat back and watched you at work. He liked moments like this when he could watch you focus on something especially when it came to your writing. The way you would either pull your bottom lip between your teeth or stick your tongue out just slightly. He loved the way the dim lighting seemed to play across your figure that he now noticed was in nothing but shorts and a t-shirt. You were going to drive the man wild. He knew tonight was the night he needed to just finally fess up but he was so damn scared. He had this feeling deep in his gut that you felt the same way he felt about you but his worry settled on if you would want to act on those things like he wanted to. He wondered if you would want to ruin the beautiful and lengthy friendship the two of you shared. His mind always seemed to flash up little moments to assure him that the two of you could make this work and he knew as those little moments played across his memory that he had to do this tonight.

“And…done!” You typed the last word giving the period key a very successful push as your last button for the night.

You quickly closed the document, saving and naming it before sending it in to your editor with a short and sweet little note. You turned in your chair too quickly wincing at the pain of your body being in the same place for far too long. Cat gave you a laugh and you rolled your eyes at him but smiled all the same. You pulled your glasses off and laid them on your desk rubbing at your face before finally looking at Cat. He wore one of his signature t-shirts and that stupid cap he wore all the time. It wasn’t really stupid and you secretly loved it and the way his hair sat messy under it. The two of you sit in a few moments of silence just looking at each other. What was that look he had on his face all about? It was making your nervous and you began to softly play with your shirt and looking anywhere but his brown eyes.

“So what did you want to…”

You never got a chance to finish your sentence before he had leaned forward and captured your lips in his. You never found yourself hesitating before kissing him back. His hand found your cheek and softly moved up to the side of your hair pulling your face closing to deepen the kiss. You had never felt so dizzy in your life. This was what it was like to really kiss him, finally. Your lips moved against each other until you had to unfortunately come up for air.

“Should we…take this to the…the bedroom?” Your voice was so full of nerves.

“Please,” he sounded so desperate as he stood almost knocking his chair over.

He reached out his hand to you and you took it. He pulled you up before quickly picking you up bridal style and you let out a yelp followed by a giggle. He carries you to your bedroom and almost trips before landing you safely on the bed. You pull him down with you and let him fall between your now spread legs and reattach your lips with his. You let your arms fall over his shoulders and around his neck. You let your fingers thread through the strands of hair under his cap before taking it off and throwing it somewhere in the room. His hands began to wonder under t-shirt and you can’t help the shiver at the feeling of his skin against yours in anyway. He quickly parts his lips and pulls your shirt up and over your head revealing that you were not wear a bra. He pauses at the sight and licks his lips before diving down to one breast. He kisses and teases before finally taking your already erect nipple in his mouth, sucking and then biting softly and pulling. You arch your back and let out a moan, your fingers pulling at his hair. His hand takes care of the other one before he switches and pays the other one the same attention. You are already a mess under his hands and the man had not even touched you where you wanted him. He sat up and quickly rid of his shirt before coming chest to chest with you and his lips found yours once again. He let his lips move to continue his discovery of all your sweet spots. You panted and moaned keeping one hand firmly in his soft locks.

“Cat please,” it was your turn to sound desperate.

“What do you need angel?” He speaks between kisses against your neck.

“You please Cat. Touch me,” you whimper and buck your hips up into him.

He smirks down at you and reaches down pulling your shorts down pulling your panties down with them. You are quick to reach up and start to unbutton his pants and start to pull them off before he helps you and kicks them off to the floor. He looks down at you as his fingers find your wet slit and rubs several circles over your clit pulling a gasp from you. He then moves to your entrance and slips one finger inside. His eyes stay glued to your face to watch your ever reaction as he pushes in another finger and you let out a moan. He starts to finger you slowly, his fingers crooking to hit your spot perfectly over and over again. He had you a panting, moaning mess before he suddenly pulls away and you let out a whimper.

“Need to be inside you,” he pants before he lines himself up with you.

In that moment you were sure you were going to wake up from this dream a wet mess because you couldn’t believe this moment was happening. Frankie moved inside you slowly letting you feel the full stretch of him. Your mouth feel open as you watched him before you couldn’t take the pleasure and your head went back and your eyes fluttered shut. A groan escaped past his lips as he finally filled you tot he hilt. He didn’t sit long before he started to move in and out of you slowly. He was gentle and slow, wanting nothing more than to make this moment last for as long as the two of you could stand. He had one hand keeping him propped up and the other feel to your cheek softly. He let his thumb brush along under your eyes and you let them open looking up at him. His face full of pleasure, his plump lips were parted and he let his hand fall next to you before he just slightly picked up his pace.

“Feel…so…good Cat,” you moaned out softly as you let your nails rake softly along his back.

“Fuck you feel so good angel,” he moaned out.

His lips found yours and once again he was making you dizzy with his kiss. He pulled away and picked up his pace faster but still so gentle, taking perfect care of you. He moved his arms under you and slightly picked you up pulling you completely flush against him, his forehead falling against yours. His eyes opened and connected with yours and it was like a push over the edge. You came apart. Your head went back and his lips connected with your neck kissing eagerly. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your body shook as your orgasm took you over. He spoke sweet nothings to you that sounded far away as he kept going working your through it. Then he was moaning out your name and letting go deep inside of you. He stilled letting himself empty before laying you gently down on the bed. You kept your eyes closed and panted for air before slowly opening them. It wasn’t a dream. He was still over you panting and his forehead reconnecting to yours. You both lay there for a few moments before he finally pulls from you and you both let out soft gasp at the loss of each other. He got up and your heart feel. That was it then huh? He didn’t dress and your brows furrowed in confusion watching as he walked to the bathroom. He returned with a wet towel and cleaned the both of you up before discarding it in the floor with your clothes and laying next to you. He didn’t speak as he pulled you to him and you turned to face him. His eyes searched your face and you watched him. You were afraid to ask him what needed to be asked. You didn’t want to ruin the moment that you endlessly wanted to live in. The silence was eating at you and he just kept looking at you like he too didn’t want to ask the question that hung in the air.

“What does this mean Cat?” Your voice was soft and full of nerves.

His fingers brushed at your hair and lingered down your cheek before disappearing around you again. His fingers made endless, random patterns on upon your back trying his best to ease you.

“What do you want it to mean?”

“I think we both know the answer to that question.”

“How long?” He simply asked and the question at first confused you until it hit you what he meant.

“For a long time. The crush was there before you left but when you came back I knew I had to do anything to pick up your pieces and show you that you were loved,” your voice trailed to a whisper.

“It’s been since day one. The day Pope introduced us I knew it was you and it would only ever be you no matter how hard I tried.”

“Can we do this?” You asked the question with so much fear in your voice.

You never wanted to lose the man that had become your best friend but maybe this was what it was meant to be all along. You were so afraid but by the look on his face so was he.

“We can do this,” he finally let a smile spread across his face and you matched it.

“Then let’s do this,” you chuckled, your body relaxing slightly.

“I would want nothing more,” he smiled before he grabbing at your face once again and kissed you deeply.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl @harrytags @arcadianempress @discogrrl @immundusspiritu @someplace-darker @beskars @talesfromtheguild @thisis-theway @on-the-razor-crest @fioccodineveautunnale @spookyold-saintjm

#francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #catfish #catfish morales #catfish x reader #frankie morales #Frankie Morales x reader #Pedro pascal #I honestly don't know what to tag for him oops #Francisco Catfish Moreales x reader #fem!reader

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sierraraeck · 4 years

Text

The Second Case (Pt.2)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

(This is my gif so please give credit if used)

Summary: The second case with the team means revisiting Aundreya’s hometown of Chicago. It quickly becomes personal and requires her to use connections and skills she acquired on the streets. Story two.

Category: Just working a case with the team

Warnings: Normal CM gore. A case involving young teenage girls. Mentions of drugs. Cussing.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Just a reminder that this is all 100% fiction and I don’t actually know how gangs work.

“Ben Brady, 30 years old, with a history of peeping and a restraining order from his ex-girlfriend,” Penelope informed us.

“He fits the description,” Aaron said, as we looked at him from behind the one way glass.

Derek stepped out of the interrogation room, the third to do so. “He’s not gonna talk.”

“We have to keep trying. He knows where they are,” Aaron said.

“I’m telling you, we have got to start looking for other leads, because I even offered him a deal, and he still wouldn’t budge,” Derek said with just an undertone of defeat.

“I could talk to him,” I suggested. If we had already broken the rules by having me out in the field, we might as well just break them all, right?

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Aaron told me.

“Have you even ever interrogated someone before?” Rossi asked.

“Sure.”

“Sure? What does that mean?” Rossi pressed.

“It means that while I might not have FBI regulated training, I have interrogated people before. Plus, I think he might be a bit more accustomed to my methods,” I put out there.

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, come on. I can smell the hood rat from here,” I said, scrunching my nose. Despite the fact that he looked like a middle class man that could have accidentally gotten involved with the wrong person, I could tell that wasn’t the case. Rossi’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Isn’t that what you hired me for?”

“I guess,” he replied.

“Hotch, isn’t this against protocol?” Derek asked.

“Yes, but I’m pretty sure letting a young girl die because the person who could be most useful in a situation like this isn’t allowed to talk to the guy in her field of expertise, is also against protocol,” I answered for him. When I received no protests, I went to my bag and pulled out a notepad and pen and set it on the table right outside the door.

“What’s that for?” Rossi asked me.

“We’ll need it later.” I hope. I continued to shuffle around in my bag until I found what else I was looking for. I put on the 6 chain bracelets and the two rings made up of small beaded links on my left wrist and pinky.

“How about those?” Derek asked.

“A means of persuasion.”

“Wait you’re not going to-”

“Calm down. I’m not going to beat him up or whatever crazy thing you think I’m going to do. These are just a form of identification,” I interrupted.

“Okay, but what are they,” Derek asked.

I turned to look at him and saw Reid approaching the group, and decided to let him explain, “Why don’t you ask Doctor Reid.” I turned and entered the interrogation room before anyone could stop me. I didn’t even have a file or pictures to show him, but I didn’t need them. I sat down across from Ben.

He looked up at me, “You’re a little bit young to be working for the FBI.”

“You’re a little bit old to be hanging out with 14 year old girls,” I retorted. He looked back down. I knew that he was probably part of the Angels before the Cloaks took them over, and that he probably left to either fend for himself, or join a different gang. I was hoping for the latter.

“Gaela,” I said. He shot me a quick glance. Good. He was from the Angels if he recognized the leader’s last name. Now I just had to throw out others to figure out if he was in a new gang or not.

“Dimitrov, Carden, Dominic,” I listed. No reaction.

“Novak.” Still nothing.

“Hoeye,” I said. There it was. The slight eye shift in my direction. “Ooh. I don’t think he’d be very happy if he knew that you and your buddy were going rogue.”

“I’m not going to talk to you,” he stated. I stared him down for a few moments before lifting my left arm so that he could process the jewelry covering it. His eyes went wide.

“Are those-”

“Yep,” I cut him off.

“And you have-”

“Yep.”

“Which makes you-”

“Yep. In the flesh,” I said with a smirk. He immediately shifted in his seat, becoming exponentially more uncomfortable. “Now do you feel like talking?”

“Oh, uh. Um, no. What are you doing helping the FBI?” he said flustered, but trying to regain his ground.

“Does that sound like any of your business?” I hissed.

“No, but-”

“No. It’s not. And from where I’m sitting, you’ve got two options. Give me what I want, or maybe I’ll decide to pay your friend Hoeye a quick visit.”

“You can’t. The FBI’s probably got you under intense surveillance.”

“That could be true. But considering they’re probably going to spit me back out by the end of the week landing me back on the streets gives me all the flexibility I’d need,” I squinted my eyes at him. I could tell his confidence was starting to waver and he was beginning to give in to me. Just to fully sell it, I pushed my hair behind my left ear, turning my head to expose that part of my neck as I did. It revealed the tattoos that indicated I’d been to a supermax prison and that I’d escaped. “Your move.”

He swallowed hard and started shifting his eyes around as I moved my hair back to cover the tattoos. I couldn’t forget that there was a secondary audience. I leaned back in my chair. “So, Ben, if you’ve heard of me, you’ve probably heard of some of my pet-peeves, right? Do you remember what one of them was?” I asked rhetorically. “One of them, is that I absolutely cannot stand people who waste. My. Time. Does that ring a bell?”

He shifted in his chair and started rubbing his hands together. I was close. “Have you ever heard from one of those lucky people about the pleasant things that happen to them? Especially if they were to piss me off enough after, say, elaborately getting a young girl killed?”

Morgan was right, though. He was a tough one to crack. “She’s only 14,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, and you were only 14 when you landed here and you did fine for yourself,” he countered, but his voice was faltering.

“True. But one of us has a chance of getting out. Which one do you think that is?” I pointed out. He just sat there. I got up out of my chair and walked over to him. I placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in so that he could practically feel each word falling from my lips. “Just remember this moment, when you had the choice of self preservation, the number one rule on the streets, and instead you chose blind loyalty. He’d turn you in in a heartbeat, and he’d be smart to do so. He’ll probably move up the ranks, and get the credit he deserves. I mean, that’s what I did. But you? You will just be added to the long list of disposable low-lives who died by my hand.”

I slowly started walking away, giving him the chance to stop me. I reached for the handle of the door when I got what I wanted. “Wait,” he said. I turned around and took my place across the table from him.

“Do you have paper and a pen?” he asked. I smirked at him and lifted my left hand up like I was a waitress at a restaurant. I hoped someone got the memo because it would only add to the power I held over Ben if it looked like I already had the FBI wrapped around my finger. Luckily, I heard the door click open and the pad and pen were placed in my hand. I could tell from the shoes in my peripheral and the scented cologne that it was Rossi who did so. He quickly vacated the room. Without breaking eye contact with Ben, I put the pad down on the table with a satisfying slap. I pushed it over to him with the pen.

“So you really earned all of these?” he asked, suddenly grabbing my wrist and turning it over to admire the number of beads. He was looking at them in wonder and it was disgusting. I yanked my wrist from his grasp.

“Just start writing,” I said, and he did. He wrote down the address and a full list of all the girls they had taken over the last few months. He shoved it toward me and, as expected, ‘Jayana Orion’ was scratched down at the bottom. It made me want to hit the guy in the face right there. I looked over the list but there was one thing he forgot to add.

“Do you think you’re smart or something? Don’t try to bullshit me!” I yelled, as I walked over to his side of the table.

“I honestly forgot-”

“No you didn’t. Not. Smart. Complete the list,” I demanded. He frantically wrote down the name of his accomplice. Accomplices? There were two of them? “There. That’s better.”

“What are you going to do now?” he asked, but the concern was obviously only for himself.

“I guess I’ll consider not telling Hoeye about our little chat. As long as this holds up,” I gestured to his list, quickly raising my eyebrows at him before exiting the room.

Everyone was staring at me. “What in the hell was that?” Derek asked, but he didn’t sound necessarily irritated. I answered by turning the notepad around so that they could all see the list of information scrawled across it. I took a few steps toward Derek and I pressed the pad against his chest, with just a little bit of added force. I looked up at him.

“That was me saving a little girl’s life.” I walked out of the hallway and back into the bullpen to sit down.

Everyone started rushing around me, getting their gear together and leaving to go off and save those girls. Everyone except for Emily.

“Hey,” she said, sitting down across from me.

“What are you still doing here? Don’t they need you in the field?”

“Usually. But they’ve got about a hundred officers and the rest of the team headed out there. I think they’ve got it.”

“Ah. I see. You got put on babysitting duty,” I said. “Do you guys draw names out of a hat or something?”

She gave a single laugh. “No, not this time. I volunteered.”

“Oh, wow. Didn’t realize you had a thing for S and M,” I teased.

She rolled her eyes at me. “Is that what you really think? That you are that unpleasant to be around?”

“Yeah, pretty much. That’s the general consensus.”

Not exactly knowing how to reply and not wanting to push me any farther, she changed the subject.

“So you really got all those links?”

I was confused for a moment until I remembered that I was still wearing my bracelets and rings. “Oh. Yeah. Did the Doctor tell you about them?”

“Yeah. He told us that it’s a way for guards and inmates to track each other kind of like a ranking system. The more you have, the worse you’ve been, and higher ranked you are. You receive one for each time you went to the infirmary, sent someone to the infirmary, and a certain number for each type of crime you’ve committed. He also told us that the most anyone had ever gotten was four bracelets and a ring. You have that beat by a lot,” she recited.

“I do. Lucky me,” I said, removing them and placing them back in my bag.

“How did you know that you were going to need a pen and paper before you even went in to interrogate?”

“It’s almost like an unspoken rule as far as gangs go. People could be wired, so you don’t want to have to say things out loud. If the place has surveillance, you can easily just shield the paper from the cameras and a lot of people can write in code much better than they can speak it. Plus, once he knew I was The Figure, he would know that I always ask for extensive lists.”

“How did you know Rossi would come in and deliver the stuff to you?” she asked, almost in wonder. Almost.

“To be honest, that was a shot in the dark. It would help me scare him if it looked like I had power even over the FBI and I was just hoping one of you back there would pick up on it.” We were silent for a while before she asked me her next question.

“Do I want to know what you whispered to him?”

“Probably not,” I stated matter-of-factly.

“Alright, then would you tell me about your tattoos?”

I looked up at her. No one had ever asked me that question before. I must have seemed so dumbfounded because she showed me a tattoo of her own. It was on her right hip bone and it was of Saturn. Just two simple circles but you could tell it was Saturn.

“When I was young, I was always traveling places with my mom. I never really felt like I had one home and things were changing constantly. Whenever I got nervous before a move or I just couldn’t handle the stress of constant change, she would always tell me wherever I was on planet Earth, no matter how much things were changing for me, all the planets were still orbiting the Sun. Things weren’t changing for them, and I could always count on them to be constant. It helped keep me grounded and I like the reminder every now and then.”

It was a sweet story, and I knew it was my turn. “Pretty much all of mine are just for street-related identification purposes. None that have quite as good of a backstory. This one,” I said, exposing my right collar bone, “is for the Cloaks. This one,” I showed the one on my left hip bone, “is for my underground ring. Then I’ve got these ones on my neck,” I said pulling my hair out of the way for the second time, “which shows that I’ve been to a supermax, and then escaped,” I concluded. I wasn’t willing to tell her about the others.

“What about the one on your pinky knuckle?” I was hoping she wouldn’t ask, having just removed the rings that covered it.

“That one…” I trailed off. I was saved by the bell when she got an incoming call. It was Aaron, letting her know that they’d got the guys and were bringing them in. They’d found Jayana Orion, three other girls, and many more photos of victims-to-be. The four of them were on their way to the hospital.

“Let’s go,” Prentiss said.

I was confused. “Go where?”

“The hospital. We are going to meet them there and give their families an update.” I wasn’t given time to protest as she grabbed my arm, practically yanking me to the car.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

At the hospital, Prentiss and the rest of the team went to the families of the other three girls to tell them what had happened, and were showered with hugs and words of gratitude. I sat in the farthest corner trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, (which wasn’t that hard given my talent for it) dreading when Todd would show up. Prentiss waved me over to where the happy reunited families were, but I shook my head. Clearly that wasn’t the response she was looking for, because soon she was dragging me over to the group. I stood there awkwardly while the rest of them soaked in the glory of four saved girls.

“Just so you know, the FBI isn’t going to spit you back out onto the streets,” she whispered.

“Yeah, sure. I just convinced their best team to break the only rules set in place for me within the first two weeks, and I’m sure I’ll manage to find some other ways to screw things up,” I responded.

“Don’t worry about the rules. You helped save four young girls. Now, just focus on not screwing things up,” she said with a sly smile. I rolled my eyes.

“Easier said than done, but, thanks. Best pep-talk ever,” returning the same sly smile.

That’s when Todd walked in.

“Where is she? Where is my daughter?” he asked no one in particular.

Jayana was unconscious in her hospital bed, JJ explained, but she should be fine and waking up within the next day or so. He thanked her and the rest of the team for finding Jayana when his gaze landed on me. His mood immediately shifted. Anyone with eyes could see the pure hatred radiating off of him. I swallowed and turned away.

“Aundreya,” he spat my name like it physically hurt him to say it. It probably did.

“Todd,” I responded, flicking my eyes over to him. He sauntered toward me until I could feel his hot breath in my face.

“Why are you here? You need to stay away from my daughter, you hear me?”

“Sir, she’s here because-” JJ started.

“I don’t give a damn why she’s here. She’s already done enough damage to my family. I don’t want her anywhere near Jayana. Ever again,” Todd said, enunciating each word carefully. He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards him, so that he could whisper his next words in my ear. “If I ever see you again, or your existence causes any more problems for my family than it already has, I will hunt you down and kill you without hesitation.” He released my neck with force, practically throwing my head away from his. He opened the door leading to Jayana’s room, giving me one last fiery glance before shutting it behind him. I’d almost forgotten the rest of the team’s presence until I felt a hand on my back. I looked up into Emily’s eyes.

“See? I told you that was the general consensus.” I didn’t give her time to respond because I crossed my arms and forced myself to walk past JJ and Morgan and Hotch and Reid and Rossi to get to the exit. “I’ll meet you at the jet.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I waited for about 20 minutes before the rest of the team arrived. I only had one bag of stuff that I kept with me at all times, so it wasn’t like I had to do any quick packing. They all arrived together.

“What the hell was that?” Derek asked as he quickly got out of the driver’s seat. That seemed to be the only thing he knew how to say to me.

“Back off,” Emily said.

“What? You're not the least bit curious as to why that guy hated her?”

“A lot of guys hate me,” I interjected.

Prentiss continued on like I hadn’t said anything. “Look, I just think that-”

“Both of you, stop it,” Rossi interrupted.

“All I’m saying is that I think we should get an answer,” Derek said, stubborn and persistent as always.

“You want an answer?” I offered, switching my focus to Prentiss. “The tattoo on my finger? It’s to symbolize that I’ve killed someone. Not only that, but I’ve killed high ranking, important people, and I’ve killed quite a few of them. I’ve caused plenty of trouble, and you’re profilers. You do the math,” I stated, somehow keeping control over my voice. I was shutting down and pushing them away like I did everyone else. It was easier that way. “So are we going to board the jet, or not?” They all looked at each other, mouths sewn shut, then slowly climbed the steps to the jet, closing the door behind them.

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