#And she interrupts me to go “Yeah I see. I think it’s been open the whole time I think” and walks off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magicshopaholic · 1 day

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Drowning (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: You give Namjoon a piece of your mind and you both discover your feelings have gone nowhere.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Angst, hint of fluff

Word count: 9.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, insinuations of sex

A/N: As requested, including appearances by Taehyung and Dilara. Takes place two weeks after A Day in the Life.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "cold/mess" by prateek kuhad

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

All it takes is a fifteen second phone call from the concierge to the penthouse suites for Kaya to be escorted upstairs.

She tries not to let her impatience show; the concierge is walking at a normal pace, all straight-backed and poised, and Kaya simply wants to tell him to hurry up.

“I can take it from here,” she says abruptly when they reach the door of the suite. “Thank you.” The concierge looks vaguely surprised at being ushered away, but nods and leaves.

Swallowing, she stares at the door. Now that she’s actually here, she doesn’t know what to do next, besides the obvious. She doesn’t know what to expect or even whom to expect - all she has is Seokjin’s text telling her to hurry over because -

Buzz.

Kaya rings the bell and waits for less than five seconds before the door swings open.

“You came!” Seokjin sounds more surprised than relieved, stepping aside to let her in.

“Where is he?” Kaya asks, striding into the suite to see only Yoongi sitting on the sofa with a laptop on his knees. She looks around the living room, possibly bigger than her entire apartment, and towards the bedrooms - but there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here. She turns to Seokjin. “Well?”

“You actually called her?” Yoongi asks, sounding just the slightest bit wary.

Kaya frowns. “Wait, you didn’t know?” she asks, but Seokjin interrupts her to answer Yoongi.

“Yeah, I - I had to. I didn’t tell him, though.” He turns to Kaya. “He’s in the other suite. His suite.”

“Well -” Something is off. “Then… let’s go. Why are we - wait, what did you mean you didn’t tell him? Is he… awake?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “He’s on a conference call with management so I hope he is,” he answers dryly.

“Okay, hold on.” Kaya bites her lip, a small part of her brain telling her she’s been tricked somehow. She fixes Seokjin with a look and is somewhat glad to see him look nervous. “You told me he collapsed. You said I should hurry and when I asked to talk to him, you said he wasn’t in a position to talk.”

Seokjin nods slowly. “Um, okay, so… he did collapse during the group interview we were doing because we’ve been travelling and he hasn’t been getting a lot of sleep - and is London going through some kind of heat wave? Because I don’t remember it being this bad -”

“No. Focus.” Kaya is sure now she’s been lied to, or at the very least manipulated. “You said he couldn’t talk. I thought he was unconscious or - or on a drip -”

“No, he couldn’t talk because he was on the phone with his mum - but, wait, Kaya -” Seokjin says hurriedly. “I didn’t lie. I just - I couldn’t think of any other way to get you here unless I… shit, what’s the word?”

“Exaggerated? Embellished? Aggrandized?”

“Lied,” supplies Yoongi, barely looking up from his laptop.

“Shut up, Yoongi,” mutters Seokjin through his teeth. “Look, Kaya… I’m sorry. But he honestly hasn’t been doing great, okay? He hasn’t been eating all that well and the travel back and forth is crazy and he’s constantly up at all hours writing, so it’s not even a surprise that he finally cracked under the pressure -”

“But he’s fine!” she exclaims. “If he’s taking work calls and bossing people around then all he probably needed was some Gatorade and a cookie! God, I can’t believe you lied to me,” she mutters, shaking her head and pulling out her phone. “You just cost me eighteen pounds to get here, Seokjin.”

“Look, he’s not a good place right now -”

“That’s not my problem anymore! He doesn’t need a babysitter and he definitely doesn’t need me hovering over him because he got light-headed for a second. This was really low of you, you know,” she snaps, turning around and heading towards the door but he stops her at the last second, sliding in front of her and blocking the door.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I did not want to lie to you and I understand why you’re angry, but…” He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “You actually came here,” he blurts out. “You thought he was sick and you dropped everything and you came to him, even though you two aren’t on good terms right now. Kaya -“ He makes a motion as though about to grab her shoulders, but stops himself at the last moment.

“Seokjin -“

“Timing is everything,” he interrupts her, and his eyes look completely serious, almost manic. “You don’t know when you’re going to run out of it or - or when all of a sudden, you’re strangers.”

“What?” Kaya frowns incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s a mess,” he repeats, and his voice cracks a bit. “And I know you are, too, so while it’s not really any of my business, just please… please talk to him.”

Kaya has the distinct impression that this topic has run away from him entirely, but his audacity makes her hands shake. She turns briefly to look at Yoongi, who’s staring at Seokjin with his eyebrows raised, clearly as much in the dark as her.

She turns back around. “Seokjin,” she says in a low voice, “with all due respect, you don’t know the half of what happened between Namjoon and I. Okay? He ended our relationship. He did that. And we have nothing between us anymore. Now - please move so I can leave.”

Seokjin swallows and he looks hurt - but Kaya neither knows nor cares what that’s about. He lowers his head and shuffles to the side; Kaya opens the door and storms out, feeling sad and cheated and relieved all at once - only to be faced with Namjoon exiting the room on the opposite side of the corridor.

Kaya’s heart stops for a moment. Namjoon looks more surprised than ever, almost as if he’s seen a ghost.

“What - what are you doing here?” he asks, sounding a bit breathless.

She doesn’t know where to start. It’s just occurred to her how long it’s been since she last saw him, but she doesn’t want to stare. Her eyes fall slightly to his hands by his side, one of them holding a brand new phone.

“Ask Seokjin,” she says shortly, turning to leave.

“What? Wait -“

Kaya shakes her head to herself as she continues walking away, even as she hears his footsteps on the carpet behind her. She’s so annoyed at Seokjin - it’s hard to be outright angry at him, especially when he looks so pitiful - but whatever he’s working through is not her problem.

Without realising it, her feet slow down. Sighing, she turns around.

“Are you really not eating? Seriously?” she asks, not meaning to sound so exasperated. But now that she actually looks at him, plain white t-shirt and faded blue jeans, his hair a silvery-purple and brushing the collar of his t-shirt, she can see it. He’s getting thinner and his face is pale and while his frame is still broad, there’s no muscle left near his shoulders and chest.

Namjoon’s eyes shutter over slightly. “I’m eating just fine,” he mutters, looking away. Even the veins in his neck look more prominent. “Is that why you came here?”

“I heard you fainted. Or something.”

“I didn’t faint,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes. “I got a little dizzy and fell, kind of. I’m fine. Wait, is that why you’re here?” He frowns, but there’s a flash of hope in his eyes.

Kaya feels her cheeks grow warm. He’s looking at her like he’s just registered she’s here in the flesh and he looks relieved. Or disbelieving - either way, she feels the need to look away.

“Seokjin made it sound a lot worse. And I was already in London, so…”

“Work?”

“Kind of. Class off-site.”

Namjoon nods and takes a step forward. “It’s really good to see you,” he says, voice softer than before.

An old, familiar flutter passes through her stomach. Hooking her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans, she hunches her shoulders slightly. “The purple suits you,” she replies, feeling the corner of her mouth lift up slightly. Namjoon smiles, too: a small half-smile but enough to make his dimple pop.

They hold each other’s gaze for a few moments before Kaya feels her smile fade. Heart hurting, she turns around and resumes walking away.

“You’re still mad at me,” he says from behind her. “Even now?”

She doesn’t stop, but slows down. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.” His answer is instant. His voice is closer now and even after all this time, Kaya’s entire body tingles when she thinks about their proximity.

“Why? It’s not going to change anything, right?” she asks, shrugging and finally turning.

Namjoon bites his lip. “I -” He stares at her, as though really studying her, before dropping his gaze to the floor. “It’s been six months,” he murmurs. “It might be too late to change anything, anyway.”

“What does that mean? Wait, no - you know what?” she adds quickly, her heart jerking. “I need you to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Reeling me back in. Constantly. Saying these things and - and coming over and -” She sniffs without meaning to. “Your friends luring me to your hotel to - what? Talk? You’re just making it worse. This is what you wanted.”

He scoffs. “No, I didn’t. Believe me, this -” He gestures to the space between them “- is definitely not what I wanted. I made one decision which was -”

“And it was a dumb decision!” she exclaims. “And I wasn’t even a part of it. But you made that call - so live with it. You don’t get to keep acting like you care about whether I’m angry -”

“Act? What the hell, Kaya? I’m miserable,” he argues, “and I hate myself for how this turned out but I had to do something. This wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me and I can’t go back in time but I can try not to make it worse! Being miserable is worth that.”

Kaya scoffs and folds her arms across her chest. “So that’s what this is about. You’re punishing yourself,” she states. “And it doesn’t matter that you hurt me in the process, too.”

Namjoon shakes his head, looking drained. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, it is.” Something about how defeated he looks is only making her angrier. “It’s about your self-inflicted sense of responsibility where everything is your problem, anything that goes wrong is your fault, and the only person that can fix it is you.”

“Fucking hell - do you think I like being wired this way?” he demands and his mouth trembles a bit. “Do you think I like not being able to sleep because I have people depending on me, or - or constantly worrying if I’m doing the right thing for everyone? The onus is on me and so is the blame. I hate it but I don’t… I don’t know how else to function,” he finishes, his voice cracking. “And I’m sorry you’re mad and I’ll let you hate me for however long you -”

“I don’t hate you. Jesus Christ,” she mutters, but she can feel her throat beginning to hurt. “And I never blamed you. Not once. What would I blame you for? I didn’t even get hurt last time - I was just freaked out. And then you bailed on me - some might call that cowardice.”

He flinches, like she’s slapped him. “Call it what you want, Kaya. And, yeah, maybe that wasn’t bad enough for you to blame me,” he admits. “But what about when it gets bad enough that you do blame me? Because you’ll be right. And I’ll have nothing - I’ll have no way to fight for us because you will be right to blame me and I will lose you, knowing that I did nothing to try and stop it. At least this way, I know I tried to do the right thing by letting you go.”

Kaya stares as he turns away, looking up at the ceiling and sniffing. It’s been three years but it’s still shocking to see him break down in front of her, her tall, strong boyfriend with the world on his shoulders. It takes her another moment to remember he’s not her boyfriend anymore.

“Okay,” she murmurs, hearing her own voice shake. “I’m going to say this for the last time, because… I’m so tired, Namjoon.” Walking towards him until she’s right in front of him, she hesitates before reaching for his face. Up close, the bags under his eyes are more prominent but she forces herself to meet his eyes, which look both confused and longing at the same time.

“I love you,” she says, waiting for the words to sink in. “I love you… and I want to be with you. And I want to marry you and I want to have your children and I want to grow old with you and die together, eighty years from now. But I’m so tired, Joon,” she repeats in a small voice, searching his eyes for something familiar. “If you ask me to leave right now, then… I’ll go. I’ll go and we’ll lead our separate lives and everything we were can just stay a nice memory. But -” She swallows, feeling her voice break again. “But if you ask me to stay… I promise, I will never leave you. It’s okay to be the one taken care of, Joonie,” she whispers.

Namjoon closes his eyes and touches his forehead to hers before opening them again. His hands are big and warm on her shoulders, long fingers curling around her arms like he’s still convincing himself, even now that she’s really here.

“I love you,” he whispers, but his eyes fall to the floor. “And I will always love you, but… Kaya, can we -”

Kaya shakes her head, not wanting to hear anymore. Ignoring the tear that escapes her eye and clenching her jaw to stop herself from sobbing, she lowers her hands, her heart breaking because now they’re really done.

“Goodbye, Namjoon,” she murmurs, reaching up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

It’s closure, or maybe it isn’t. Either way, it feels like the end.

—

It’s too warm for London; Kaya doesn’t remember ever feeling this hot in her two years living in this city while she was getting her Masters, but maybe global warming really is catching up with them. The air conditioner in Dilara’s apartment is extremely effective, though, so despite the fact that she’s been in shorts and a thin off-shoulder all day, she cradles a cup of steaming green tea in her hands, barely feeling the heat.

A knock sounds on her door and jerks her out of her numbness.

“Hey,” says Dilara softly, poking her head in. When Kaya nods in acknowledgement, she steps inside. “You alright?”

Kaya considers this. “No,” she answers honestly. “But I wasn’t really expecting anything different.”

While Dilara doesn’t know the details of what transpired earlier this evening, it seems as though she’s guessed the general gist of it. “Well… we’re going to get drinks in a bit. Do you want to join? Get your mind off it?”

We, meaning Taehyung and her friends Lexie and Chris. “I’m good, thanks,” mutters Kaya, privately thinking it’s the last thing she wants to do right now. “I think I need to just be alone and… process. Or forget.” She takes a sip of the tea but it’s tasteless. “I want to get it over with before I leave tomorrow. By the way,” she adds, setting the tea on the bedside table, “thank you for letting me stay while I’m here.”

“Of course,” says Dilara, like it’s obvious. “Whenever you’re in London, just give me a ring. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us, though?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” She nods, looking slightly doubtful but thankfully not pushing. “Well, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Liquor is in the cabinet by the dining table. Food… not much of it. Booze - a lot of it.”

Kaya nods, giving her a small smile as she moves to leave.

“Oh, um.” Dilara stops. “By the way, I just want to let you know that while I really like Namjoon… if it comes down to choosing sides, I’m on yours.” She shrugs sort of sheepishly as she says it.

“Oh.” Kaya pauses, not expecting this. “That’s… not necessary.”

“Maybe,” she admits.”It’s just… I know that Tae and I are disgustingly into each other right now, but not too long ago, we were broken up, too. And as much as I love the guys…” She sighs and purses her lips. “They’re one team and they will stick up for each other, no matter what. And it can be a little intimidating,” she adds. “So, just to clarify, I’m on your team.”

Kaya doesn’t quite know how to respond to this. “That’s really nice,” she says at last. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

She sighs and runs her hands over her face. “In any case, I don’t think it’ll ever go there. We’re pretty over. And believe me, the last thing I want to do is be the cause of any conflict between you and Taehyung.”

Dilara shakes her head. “Are you kidding? We fight over everything. It’s kind of become a thing now. Besides,” she continues, “being on opposite sides, opposing teams… can you imagine how much hotter the sex would be?”

“Okay,” mutters Kaya quickly, chuckling despite herself. “Glad to help.” But she’s grateful for the momentary lightness.

Dilara grins. “You have a really pretty smile.”

Disney princess eyes. “Thanks, Komyshan.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies in a sing-songy voice, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her. Not a moment passes before it opens again. “Oh, also?”

Kaya tries not to sigh; she’s very fond of Dilara, but she really needs to be alone right now. “Yeah?”

“Um…” Dilara cranes her neck to look at something outside the room before stepping inside and closing the door again. “Don’t be angry, but… Chris let me in on a little secret.”

Kaya freezes. “He did?”

“Yeah…” she says slowly. “Don’t be angry with him. I’m one of his closest friends and… this is the kind of thing he’d need to tell someone.”

“Jesus.” Her heart is still racing from this unexpected turn in conversation, but she’s too tired to care much about it now. “You know what, it’s fine. Just… don’t tell Namjoon.”

Dilara shrugs. “Of course. It’s none of my business.” She pauses. “I just hope you’re being careful. And like I said, I’m on your side, so if you need anything -”

“I know.”

She nods and opens her mouth to respond when the doorbell rings. “Hang on,” she mutters, disappearing out of the room.

Kaya closes her eyes and drops her face into her hands, sad and exhausted and empty. She appreciates Dilara’s concern but right now, she just needs to be alone. She hears the door open and Dilara’s voice say something, before she calls out her name.

“Kaya?” Dilara appears in the doorway again and the delicate look on her face is telling enough. “It’s for you.”

It’s almost an out of body experience, hearing her own footsteps on the hardwood floors and stepping out of the guest bedroom to see Namjoon at the end of the hallway. Part of her gets it now, why when she’d arrived at the hotel, he’d looked like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. It seems surreal that he’s here now, and her chest feels like it’s being crushed with sadness and fury.

She barely registers Dilara muttering something and leaving them alone, disappearing into her bedroom, no doubt to give Taehyung an update. For a few moments, there is silence. Kaya doesn’t want to look at him anymore; the rejection is fresh and cuts like a knife, and no part of how broken he looks means anything to her anymore.

When a few more seconds pass and nothing happens, Kaya folds her arms across her chest and scoffs, looking away. “Are you here to break up with me some more? Because believe me, I get the message, alright?”

Namjoon seemingly ignores this. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t get hurt last time?” He takes a step forward. “The break-in - that was the only time, right?”

Kaya frowns, momentarily unsure of what he’s talking about. But his gaze is unwavering and even when she remembers her own words, she doesn’t answer. “You are unbelievable,” she mutters.

“Kaya, I’m serious.”

“I don’t care,” she snaps. “I don’t owe you any answers, about anything. Not after you expressly asked me to leave.”

“I didn’t, actually,” he points out. “I couldn’t. And I know you don’t owe me anything, but -” He breaks off and looks around, presumably for the words, but eventually just hangs his head. “Please. Did something else happen?”

“How is it - why do you - what are you even going to do with this information?” she asks incredulously. “How does it matter? And why did you come all the way here -”

“Why did you come all the way to my hotel when you thought something happened to me?” he interrupts.

Kaya falls silent. Her heart hammers; she thinks of his words an hour ago, of the last time he’d come to Amsterdam, of Chris Park and feels moments away from crumbling.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she whispers. “I don’t know what you want anymore.”

“I want you to be safe,” he answers immediately. “And I don’t know if this is the way to go about it but I had to do something. How inadequate of a boyfriend would I be if I did nothing?”

Kaya shakes her head. There are too many things she can say in response to that but it’s hurting too much to argue. “You bought a new phone?” she asks instead.

“What? Yeah.”

“What happened to your old one?”

“It broke.”

She raises her eyebrows, albeit not very surprised. “How?”

Namjoon hesitates. “I threw it at a wall.”

It’s enough to give pause. She wants to ask if it was on purpose; something in his expression tells her it was and if it was out of anger, she can’t think what would have set him off that badly.

She decides she doesn’t want to know. Fishing her own three year old iPhone out of her back pocket, she taps on the screen. “If I toss my phone to you, will you catch it? Because a new phone is not something I can afford right now.”

Amidst everything, a shadow of doubt passes across his face. “I mean, I can - I can try.” He bends his knees slightly and holds his hands in front of him, like a wicketkeeper, looking tense. For a brief moment, Kaya almost smiles.

“Okay.” She glances at her phone screen and bites her lip. If she shows him this, there’s no going back. Then she shakes her head. “Here goes,” she mutters, carefully tossing her phone in a clean arc and aiming as closely as she can for his hands.

Namjoon winces and still fumbles it, but thankfully manages to avoid it hitting the ground. Sighing in relief, he straightens up and turns the screen towards him, and she can see him type her security code with his thumb. Kaya watches him carefully, her heart sinking when she sees his expression drop and all the colour leave his face.

“What - what the hell is this?” he asks, his voice hoarse, and looking nauseous.

“Read it,” she says quietly. The characters on the piece of paper are foreign to her but aren’t to him, and the moment she’d seen it, even through the shock, the first thing she’d done was snap a picture of it. “Out loud.”

“No, I’m not going to read it out loud.” He shakes his head, looking paler than ever. “Kaya, what is -” His voice cracks.

“It was taped to my front door a couple of weeks ago,” she says listlessly. “I tried translating it on Google but nothing made sense, so I asked Dilara’s friend Chris to help me out.” She recalls Chris’s confusion at her pointed question, followed by horror and embarrassment. She’d had to urge him to be honest with her and he’d finally, after a long time and profuse apologies, typed back in English: you’re dead namjoon’s whore.

Namjoon is staring at her phone screen, motionless except for his hands shaking. “I just don’t understand,” he whispers, closing his eyes and lowering the phone, “why you still want to be with me. After all this, after being stalked and now this? After getting actual threats?”

She rolls her eyes even as her stomach twists with the memory of that day. “Who says I still want to be with you?”

He ignores this, exhaling shakily. “Are you okay? Did you - wait, how did this even happen? I put out a statement that I was single.”

“Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t care - I don’t give a shit. But it happened.”

Namjoon swallows. “Fuck. What - what do we do? Tell me what I can -“

“You don’t have to do anything. The person who did it got caught on the building’s security camera. I called the cops and they charged her with harassment and I got a restraining order, too. But I guess my apartment is truly a loose cannon now, so…” She sighs. “I’m moving. I found a new place that’s closer to campus. It’s a little more expensive so I probably won’t be able to afford food for a while,” she adds with a roll of her eyes. “But, yeah. I’ve been staying on campus since then. I officially move in this weekend.”

Her explanation is followed by almost a minute of silence. “You’re staying on campus?” he asks softly.

Kaya notes the change in his voice and knows exactly what he’s referring to. “I don’t have a choice. But… it’s not so bad. I don’t stay out too late unless I’m with someone.” She bites her lip. “It’s only for a couple of more days.”

“Fuck. That’s incredible.”

“Yeah. Hard as it is for you to believe, I can actually take care of myself.”

“I’ve never doubted you or your ability to take care of yourself, Kaya. I only -“

“No, you just doubted me enough to make a decision to end our relationship all on your own.” Kaya scoffs quietly, even as her chest feels lighter. She’d asked Dilara not to tell him but now that he knows… it feels right somehow.

“It took every bit of strength I had in me to leave you, Kaya,” he confessed. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“What are you talking about?” she bursts, her frustration exploding. “You were on tour! You were working but you dropped it in a second for me when I called you! You missed a fan meeting, you took an eight hour flight from a different continent - you did everything! Every single thing I could’ve asked of you! Until you left,” she finishes abruptly, feeling her eyes start to well up again.

Namjoon’s eyes flicker. “But… I didn’t - that’s not what I -“

“I was terrified after the break-in, Namjoon,” she reminds him, “and the only thing that was keeping me going was that you were still there. But after this, I -“ She shakes her head, the debilitating fear reappearing in flashes. “I was terrified all over again but this time I couldn’t call you.”

He steps forward. “Kaya, you can always call me -“

“No, I can’t,” she interrupts him, snapping incredulously. “You’re my ex - I can’t run to you if I’m in trouble anymore. That’s what it means to break up. God, Joon, I didn’t need you to fix it for me - I just needed you to be there. You think you were an inadequate boyfriend because of the break-in?” She scoffs. “You were the perfect boyfriend for the first eighteen hours after that. This was when you let me down, because you weren’t there for me when I needed you!”

Namjoon shakes his head slowly, his lower lip trembling. Through everything, his devastation at her words is clear as day. Placing her phone on the side table in the hallway, he takes a hesitant step forward, then another, and doesn’t stop until he reaches her. Their eyes meet briefly before he wraps his arms around her and for a moment, he takes her breath away.

She can feel his heart pounding through his chest, just under her palm. It’s fast and irregular, but it’s still familiar and for the first time in two weeks, Kaya closes her eyes and feels some of the heaviness in her chest disappear.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice hoarse and trembling against her hair. “Fuck, I fucked up. I’m so sorry, Kaya. I’m so, so sorry…”

She nods silently, not wanting to cry out loud because the relief - even a momentary relief - is so overwhelming that she just wants it to last a little longer. From living on a college campus after years to having to leave her small, cosy haven of an apartment, she exhales shakily into his shoulder and finally relaxes because this… this is safe.

“I love you,” he murmurs, “and I wish I could keep you safe from everything, baby, but I just don’t know how.” His voice cracks on the last word.

“You can’t,” she answers thickly but firmly. “And I don’t expect you to. But… Joon, you broke my heart,” she confesses, sniffling.

“Please don’t say that,” he whispers, holding her tighter. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry…” He takes a deep breath, lips pressed to the side of her head. “Did you really mean what you said at the hotel? Even after all this? Because if you did… I’m yours, baby, if you’ll still have me.”

Kaya’s heart skips a beat. “You’re really fucking skinny,” she murmurs into his neck. “What the hell happened?”

Namjoon scoffs quietly but doesn’t answer. Slowly, as though it’s the biggest struggle in the world, his arms loosen. “Kaya,” he says.

She sighs and steps out of his arms, hating every moment of it. “I did mean it,” she admits. “But I don’t know how to be in a relationship with someone who won’t let me be a part of it.”

He shakes his head. “That was never my intention. I just wanted to help - I know I went about it the wrong way but that’s all I wanted. I swear.”

“No, Joon, I’m not doubting your intentions, okay? But it’s not fair. It can’t just be your decision every time. You’re the leader, the point of contact, the eldest son, big brother - whatever. I don’t care,” she says flatly. “But you are not in charge of this. Of us. You don’t have to be,” she adds after a moment, softer.

Namjoon lowers his head, his gaze on the floor, and nods. “I understand what you’re saying,” he says slowly, “but it’s really hard to see a piece of paper calling you… that -“ he says through his teeth, jaw clenching “and not feel angry about it.”

“You’re just going to have to try.”

“Yeah? Do you remember at your friend Alex’s birthday when you “accidentally” -“ He puts quotation marks around the word “- spilled that guy’s drink onto his phone? The one who thought I didn’t understand English and called me an Asian wannabe who should stick to math instead of playing at rap?”

Kaya feels her face go slack. “That - that was an accident. Not to mention completely different,” she tacks on when he gives her a look indicating he doesn’t believe her. “I was pissed but I didn’t take it out on you.”

“I - I know. You’re right, Kaya. I’m sorry,” he repeats, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “I get it. My guilt, my problem.”

“No,” she disagrees, seeing him look up in surprise. “No guilt at all. Namjoon, if I choose to be with you, knowing what I know, then it’s my decision. And if there is guilt… God, just talk to me about it. Because this whole suffering in silence thing? I’m over it.”

Namjoon nods. “You and Yoongi both,” he mutters dryly. When she simply sighs and looks away, he speaks again. “So, are you? Choosing to be with me?”

Kaya takes a deep breath, finding it hard to meet his eyes now. “I don’t know. God, I am so mad at you,” she mutters, dropping her face in her hands.

He doesn’t argue. She can feel his eyes on her but doesn’t want to get swayed, not by how horrified he looked when she showed him the note, how disappointed he seemed in himself when she unleashed her frustration at him, or now, with so much doubt and vulnerability in his voice.

A sound startles her out of her silence and she turns to see Dilara poke her head out from behind the wall in the direction of the master bedroom.

“Heeeey,” she says slowly, as Taehyung’s head appears similarly above hers. “Didn’t, uh, mean to interrupt… but we kind of have to…” She points to the front door sheepishly.

Kaya nods jerkily, having sort of forgotten that they are in Dilara’s house. Her face heats up when she thinks about how much they might have heard; she takes care not to meet either of their eyes as they traipse out, fully dressed for a night out.

“So… are you sure you guys don’t want to come?” Dilara asks doubtfully. “It might be fun?”

“We’re meeting Chris and Lexie at a bar,” adds Taehyung helpfully, ignoring Dilara when she corrects him with “pub” and tosses his long bangs out of his eyes, “… in case you need a drink.” He raises his eyebrows.

Kaya can’t think of anything she wants less than to be in a crowded pub, but she turns to Namjoon anyway who’s looking back at her with his hands in his pockets.

“I think we’ll sit this one out,” she answers after a moment, watching him for his reaction. “We… kind of need to talk.”

“Okay, then.” Dilara pulls out her phone. “I’ll text Chris that we only need a table for four, then.”

“The same Chris?” Namjoon mutters to Kaya, who nods.

“Yeah. Buy him a drink on me?” She suggests to Dilara. “Kind of owe him.”

Namjoon half-chuckles without humour and Dilara raises her eyebrows. “Oh, you told him?” When Kaya nods, she sighs. “That’s a relief. I was feeling sick keeping it to myself.”

“Wait, you knew?” Namjoon frowns, his jaw sharp.

“Well, yeah - Chris is my friend and he is terrible at keeping secrets so I had -“

“Hang on - how could you not tell me?” he interrupts her, and she falls silent. “Dilara, seriously?”

“I didn’t -“

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that.” Taehyung steps in front of her, frowning handsomely. “Hyung,” he tacks on after a moment.

“Namjoon, come on,” says Kaya, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back a step. “I asked her and Chris not to.”

He opens his mouth to say something but then simply sighs and shakes his head, hands on his hips. Behind Taehyung, Dilara glares at him.

“Now I really need a drink,” she mutters, starting to head towards the door. Taehyung gives Namjoon a knowing look as he follows her out and the front door closes behind them.

Namjoon sighs. “What is wrong with me?” he mutters, running his hands tiredly down his face.

Kaya bites her lip. Under different circumstances, she would be pulling him into a hug right now, ignoring his half-hearted protests until he gave up and hugged her back, his hold getting tighter with every passing second.

But things are different now.

“I have a theory,” she says finally. “Come with me.”

—

Namjoon watches as Kaya examines Dilara’s kitchen cabinets, frowning and humming to herself. She stands on her tiptoes and rummages inside a box and he hesitates before looking away, distinctly feeling as though he hasn’t yet earned the right to check her out without her knowledge.

“Insanely understocked,” she declares, retrieving a box of Pop Tarts and heading towards the toaster. “But we’ll make do with what we’ve got.”

“Sure.”

She glances back at him briefly. “Are you sure you don’t want a beer?” she asks him, gesturing to her newly opened can, the condensation still only just forming. “It’s terribly hot.”

It is and he would love a beer right now. But he shakes his head. “I don’t think I should be drinking Dilara’s booze right now,” he mutters, wincing inwardly.

Kaya’s eyes linger on him for a moment before she turns around and starts placing the Pop Tarts into the toaster. “You can have a sip from mine,” she offers.

Namjoon shakes his head. “That’s okay.”

“Okay.”

They stand there in the kitchen, the six feet of distance between them feeling like a chasm. But it’s the closest he’s been to her in months and he can’t help but take in her presence, drinking it in for as long as he can.

Kaya casually picks up her can and takes a long sip, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. “Oh, that feels good.”

Namjoon suppresses a chuckle. “Alright, then. I’ll have a sip.” His heart skips a beat almost painfully when a smile flashes across her face and she silently hands him the can.

“Oh, God,” he mumbles, swallowing a sip and pressing the cold tin to his cheek. “Oh, man, this is everything.”

Kaya raises an eyebrow but says nothing, moving to pick up the toasted Pop Tarts. Piling them onto a plate, she pushes it towards him. “Eat.”

“What?”

“Eat,” she repeats, dropping another batch into the toaster. “It’s good.”

Namjoon’s gaze falls on the packet, the huge animated chocolate staring back at him. “I - I’m on tour,” he murmurs, a little apologetic.

Kaya looks as though she’s about to insist but then simply shrugs. “Okay, then.” Picking up a Pop Tart, she takes a small bite.

Sighing, Namjoon takes one, finishing it in three bites. It’s better than he’d anticipated; he takes another, and another after that and before he knows it, he’s eaten six.

“Wow,” he says, staring at the crumbs on the plate.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll burn that before the next concert, right?” he asks hopefully.

“I doubt it. I can already see it hitting your thighs.”

He gives her a look that she returns, still finishing her second Pop Tart. She heads to the fridge and retrieves another can of beer, sliding it to him.

“Just drink it,” she tells him before he can decline again. “Dilara has a whole carton in here. And I have her express permission.”

Pausing for a moment, he cracks open the can and holds it up. She clinks hers with it and they drink together in silence. They don’t speak again until they’re out of the kitchen and in the softly lit dining room.

Kaya takes a seat at the head of the table, lifting her feet up on the edge of the chair and hugging her knees. Namjoon sits on the adjacent chair, wishing he could pull her chair closer to him.

“How’s tour going?” she asks softly.

Small talk. She’s trying, and Namjoon’s heart fills with cautious hope. “Tiring,” he answers. “I can barely keep track of which city we’re in. But I’m writing a lot,” he adds.

She tilts her head. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

“Jetlag?”

“Sure.”

He waits to see a flicker of knowing on her face before smiling back at her. Before the break-in, they had discussed Kaya joining him on tour for some of their European concerts. He wonders if she still remembers, and how different the tour would be right now.

“I heard you got published,” he says, adoring how she smiles involuntarily at it, part shy and part proud. “I can’t believe it. Or, I can. Just - congratulations,” he says sheepishly. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks. It was a lot of work and a lot of iterations -” She shakes her head and takes a drink. “But career-wise, it’s a pretty decent step. And I get royalties on it, so that makes two of us now.” She raises his eyebrows in satisfaction. “It was worth the late nights.”

Late nights. Namjoon wants to ask and he has a feeling she wants to talk about it, but he doesn’t want to presume. Hesitating, he places his arm on the table towards her, his palm facing up. Kaya doesn’t move, though, and for a moment he can feel his throat close up.

But then she gingerly lifts her hand, pauses, and eventually places it in his. It’s unsure and guarded, but it’s more than he could hope for. His thumb runs over her knuckles, soft and delicate, and he’s more grateful than ever that she doesn’t move away.

“Do you still stay late in the library?” he asks.

Kaya’s eyes stay on their hands as she shakes her head. “I prefer working out of the dorm room. It faces the river so the breeze is much cooler. And my roommate plays a lot of old school rock so that’s nice, too.” She nods to herself, her gaze unmoving. “I don’t like being there,” she whispers.

Namjoon says nothing and simply squeezes her hand. Ordinarily, this would again be one of those moments when he would have stood up and pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms and silently letting her vent.

“I can’t sleep either,” she confesses after a moment. “So I guess that makes two of us, too.”

He tilts his head, hoping she’ll look up at him. “I get why you couldn’t call me before. But you can now. You know that, right?” he asks gently. “For the next few weeks, we’ll actually be in similar timezones for once.”

She cracks a smile but still doesn’t look up. “I might just take you up on that. I’ll start moving my stuff into the apartment the moment I get back, anyway, so when I actually get possession, I’m done.”

“That’s a good idea. Actually, if you want,” he ventures hopefully, “I could help.”

“Help me move in?”

“Yeah. If you want,” he repeats, trying not to sound nonchalant. “Our concert isn’t till Saturday and we’re supposed to have a radio show on Friday but I can take a couple of days off to -”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” she starts to say, but Namjoon shakes his head.

“I don’t think the company will mind,” he offers, thinking privately that even if he does have to argue with them a bit, how completely worth it it would be.

Kaya bites her fingernail, observing him. Then she shrugs. “Alright. If you want.”

He nods slowly, continuing his attempt at the nonchalance. “And, uh… I’ll book a hotel. If you want,” he says again, “you can - you can… stay. Over.” He bites his lip. “If you don’t want to stay on campus.”

Some of her casual facade breaks. “Really?”

“Yeah. And - and don’t worry, it’ll be big enough so you don’t - I mean, we don’t -” He breaks off and cringes inwardly.

Kaya raises her eyebrows. “Separate beds?”

A half-chuckle passes his lips, for it sounds ridiculous. “Yeah. Separate beds.”

“You don’t think we can control ourselves in the same bed?”

“I think it’ll take everything we have in us to do it,” he admits boldly. “But I think we can.”

She doesn’t answer but tries to suppress a smile. On the table, her hand feels looser in his. He’s just about to say something when her phone buzzes next to her and she automatically reaches for it, letting go of his hand.

“Everything okay?” he asks when she clicks her tongue.

“Yeah,” she sighs, scrolling through a message presumably. “Got a quiz to grade by the weekend. And it’s a finance elective so I’m going to need the prep material from - from the professor.” She sets the phone down but doesn’t look up at him again.

Namjoon lowers his hand as well, something like a dark cloud feeling like it’s just appeared above them. “Are you sure you’ll be okay staying with me?” he asks in a low voice, looking at his knees as the incongruity of the question creeps into his chest. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t feel any pressure.”

He nods. “It’s just… I know we were - are technically apart for a while. It wouldn’t be strange if you… you know.”

Kaya takes a few moments before answering. “Well, I’m not,” she clarifies. “And also… Namjoon, I didn’t have sex with Adam.”

Namjoon feels his gaze freeze on the leg of her chair. “What?”

She sighs hugely, turning away when he slowly looks up to face her. “I didn’t sleep with him. I just said that to piss you off,” she confesses. “It was stupid and petty and childish, but… yeah. I lied.”

There’s a roaring in Namjoon’s ears, like a sugar rush in his veins after months of dieting. He feels like he could sing, and the restraint to not jump to his feet and yell in relief almost causes him to have a hernia. Clenching his fists in gratitude at his sides, he nods with difficulty.

“Oh. That’s - that’s… interesting.”

Kaya narrows her eyes and gives him a look, clearly not fooled by his forced nonchalance. But Namjoon doesn’t care. The sleepless nights and never-finding flights where his own brain continued to punish him by generating the most traumatic images feel like nightmares from a different lifetime.

“We did kiss,” she admits after a moment, and Namjoon’s heart sinks a little. “After a few drinks. But we agreed it was a mistake. And I’m not saying you were right,” she adds quickly, as when he rests his chin on his palm and places his fingers over his mouth, “because he didn’t push or get weird about it, but there’s a chance you may have been… kind of… on the right track.”

Namjoon could kick him - but then again, by her own admission, it sounds like the least troubling thing to happen to Kaya over the last few months.

“Okay,” he manages.

She pauses, then looks at her hands. “What about you? Have you…”

“No.”

“Not even…”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” She takes another sip of her beer, a big one, and doesn’t speak for a few seconds. “Are you hungry?” she asks suddenly. “There’s, like, a crazy amount of ramen in this house.”

Namjoon doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t been around ramen in a long while, or if it’s because it’s Kaya who’s asking, but for the first time in a long time, his stomach rumbles.

—

It’s nearing one am when Dilara returns home.

Namjoon is jerked out of the small, comfortable, familiar bubble with Kaya on the sofa where they moved after consuming two steaming bowls of soupy ramen. A glass of rosé each, they’re sitting face to face with their sides against the back of the sofa, only their knees touching ever so slightly to maintain the distance.

“Wait, no… it’s this part -” Kaya pauses and concentrates on the song playing at a low volume from the neighbouring apartment. “... can’t help… falling in love with you… and that’s the trumpet,” she finishes, the UB40 cover coming to a peppy end. “This was dad’s favourite song - I know it inside out.”

“Fine, you were right,” he admits. “Whoever this is probably has the most varied music taste I’ve ever seen, though. Eminem, Guns N Roses, Camilla Cabello and then Elvis?”

“And Nsync before that,” she adds. “Maybe it’s multiple people. Oh, wait - I know this song.” She wrinkles her nose as the guitar picks up, apparently having mistaken it for something else, when the front door opens. “Shit,” she mutters, startled.

“Hey, we’re back,” calls Dilara, sounding slightly wary. Multiple footsteps follow her in, followed by a mixture of conversing and laughing.

“Komyshan, is yesterday’s pizza still in the fridge?” Chris Park asks, shuffling in and taking off his jacket.

“Check for yourself, Park,” mutters Lexie, kicking off her shoes. “Hey, guys,” she says to Kaya and Namjoon, who wave back. “Wow, the neighbours aren’t even trying to keep it quiet, are they?”

“Oh, wait, I know this song!” Taehyung exclaims, and he and Dilara look at each other in excitement before breaking out into grins.

“I haven’t heard Tous les garçons et les filles since… wow, since that day?” She beams when he winks at her and starts swaying by himself to the music, shoulders and all.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows as the renewed chatter and chaos in the apartment continues, and he can’t help but feel a little sorry that the rare time he was having with Kaya has been cut short.

“I’d hang out but I’m exhausted,” groans Lexie, downing an entire tall glass of water. “And drunk,” she adds after a moment. “So I’m going to bed but I’ll see you all in the morning. Goodnight.” She glances deliberately at Chris before departing in the direction of her room.

Namjoon frowns as Chris nibbles on the last of a pizza crust, while Dilara raises an eyebrow at him. “Goodnight, everyone,” he mutters abruptly, following Lexie. A moment later, they hear the sound of the door closing.

Dilara rolls her eyes and gently pushes Taehyung in the direction of the kitchen. “You should drink some water, too, babe…”

Taehyung faintly says something in response and floats towards Dilara’s room instead but Namjoon glances at Kaya, who silently cocks her head towards the dining room. Nodding and feeling vaguely anxious, he gets up and goes over to where they were sitting earlier and talking. Dilara is bringing out a bowl of fruit, piled high with apples, bananas and grapes when she catches sight of him and quickly looks away.

“Hey,” he says gingerly, stopping at the dining table where she continues bustling around, twisting her long curly hair into a loose knot. “How was your night?” When all he gets is a shrug in response, he places his drink on the table and rallies. “Thanks for… hosting, I guess. Your apartment’s really nice.”

“Mhm.”

With renewed respect for Taehyung, Namjoon continues. “And, uh… oh, Kaya talked me into a glass of this wine. It’s delicious. Where did you get it from?”

“Harrods.”

“Great. I think we drank about a fourth of it tonight. Can I buy you another one to replace it?”

Without warning, Dilara turns around on her heel and places one hand on her hip. Despite being a foot shorter than him, she startles him into taking an automatic step back.

“Are you bribing me?”

Namjoon swallows and frowns, pressing his tongue to his upper lip. “Is it working?” When she narrows her eyes at him, he sighs. “I’m sorry I snapped. That wasn’t right of me.”

“You’re not the only one who cares about her, you know? Why do you think I invited her to stay here?”

“I know. You’re right. It’s just…” He runs his hands through his hair. “It’s been an emotional night.”

Her features soften slightly. “Been apologising a lot tonight, have you?” But she doesn’t sound sarcastic - more curious.

He glances at Kaya who’s still in the living room, leaning against the arm of the sofa and watching them, her glass of wine now empty and resting on her thighs.

“Kind of.” He lowers his head. “Guess I had it coming, though. But it’s been a lot better than I expected,” he adds, realising as he says it that it’s true, that even the distant, cautious dynamic was miles ahead of what he could have hoped for.

Dilara raises her eyebrows. “Are you back together?” she asks in a hushed voice.

“Not yet,” he admits, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But soon, maybe. I hope.”

She purses her lips. “Well, she’s angry, I suppose. But she’s missed you, too,” she adds after a moment. “And she knows why you did what you did… even if it was a shit idea.” She smiles innocently when he gives her a look. “Her words, not mine.”

“Alright.” He exhales, reaching over and affectionately grabbing her head. “Are we cool, though?”

“I guess.” She pauses, then rolls her eyes dramatically and accepts his hug, the top of her head just about reaching his shoulder. “But only if you do the robot at least once on stage at your next concert,” she decides as they separate.

“What’s that now?”

“You heard me. Oh, and it has to be during a sad song, not a dancey one.”

“I - fine,” he agrees, rolling his eyes and privately dreading the next performance already, grateful for Kaya as she joins them.

“Everything okay over here?” she asks delicately. “Because it kind of looked like you were going to get your ass kicked for a second there,” she tells Namjoon.

“Oh, no,” says Namjoon. “It’s much worse. I have to do the robot on stage on Saturday and possibly go viral for looking like an idiot,” he guesses, fixing Dilara with a pleading look, who simply shakes her head.

“Forgiveness has its price,” she says wisely.

“It’s like placating a kid,” points out Kaya. “Which kind of adds up, probably - you used to say you were kind of like a babysitter to these guys.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes again and, without thinking, places an arm around Kaya’s shoulder. There’s a moment of awkwardness when he remembers where they are and he’s about to drop it, but then she seemingly leans into it out of habit, and he lets it stay.

“Hey, what are we talking about?” Taehyung appears from behind them and accidentally brushes Namjoon’s arm. As he makes way for his group member, Namjoon has no choice but to drop his arm to his side. “We’re out of toothpaste, by the way,” he says, nudging Dilara’s shoulder.

“We’re talking about what it’s like to have kids,” offers Kaya. “And the lengths you have to go to for them.”

“Kids?” Taehyung frowns slightly as he pops a grape into his mouth before looking straight at his girlfriend. “I’d like to have kids with you.”

All traces of the smirk on Dilara’s face drop at his words. “That - that isn’t even close to what we were talking about.”

“I always used to think three, but I think four is a nice, round number.”

“Taehyung,” she interrupts him, while Namjoon snorts and Kaya watches in amusement, “shut up. We were only saying that -”

“We’ll need a minivan to fit four, though. With three we still have a chance to have at least one boy and one girl, no?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course. Three, minimum,” he decides seriously. “And I think we should name the oldest one Princess. Even if it’s a boy.”

Dilara glares at him before rolling her eyes. “That’s my cue to leave. Goodnight,” she states.

She turns around and leaves, Taehyung casually following her. As they disappear around the corner, Namjoon can hear him go, “But, jagiya, think how gorgeous you’ll be pregnant…”

“Shut up, Tae, I’m serious…”

There’s a fading sound of rustling and groaning and giggling before the sound of a door closing shut. Finally alone again after a fifteen minute fever dream of some truly unexpected chaos, Namjoon glances at Kaya.

“You must be tired,” he murmurs.

She shrugs. “I guess.” She starts to walk towards the guest room, the only one in the main area of the apartment, and stops a few feet away from the door. “My flight’s tomorrow evening,” she says.

He nods, reasonably sure of why she’s telling him this. “I’ll be there on Wednesday morning. If, you know, you’re still okay with…”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Cool. I’ll have to be back Friday for rehearsal, though,” he says, slightly apologetic.

“That’s okay. I appreciate the help.”

There’s a silence, an expectant one. They spent hours talking today, with topics ranging from their relationship to the most minor, unimportant things. But there’s no avoiding it now - whatever happens next feels foundational.

Namjoon’s brain is working in overdrive, trying to decide the right thing to say, when the sounds begin. Kaya’s jaw drops and she turns her head halfway before shaking it, her eyes wide.

“Is that -”

“Unfortunately,” he mutters tightly. “In a happy coincidence, Taehyung’s room is right next to mine at the dorm, so this is… not the first time,” he informs her, squeezing his eyes shut.

When the muffled sounds only get louder, Kaya covers her mouth in shock. “Okay, I’m going to bed,” she says quickly. “Um, goodnight.”

Namjoon’s heart skips a beat. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Kaya.” There’s a painful pause after which he takes a hesitant step forward, raising his arms slightly.

Kaya exhales and meets him halfway, reaching up and hugging him. It’s comforting and hopeful and Namjoon holds her tight, trying to block out the sounds but instead becoming more aware than ever of the shape of her body against him, the coconut and vanilla scent of her hair and her bare legs under her shorts.

They separate slowly, and she takes a step back. Giving him a small, silent wave, she backs up and opens her bedroom door. Namjoon watches as she steps inside and moves to close the door when she pauses, and a moment later, leaves it open.

He frowns. It takes him a beat. Then two. The sounds from Dilara’s room seem to be in no position to stop anytime soon and in a split second, Namjoon makes the decision to follow Kaya inside, closing the door behind him.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#namjoon x oc #namjoon fanfic #taehyung fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon angst

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caterpillarinacave · 3 months

Text

customer service is wild

#I was supposed to go on break at 7:30 and it turned 7:30 while I was halfway through one customer with on more in line with just a few thing #So I figured okay I’ll flip off my light and get through these two then go on break. Well naturally a third lady joins the line #The night is pretty dead so I just go “oh ma’am if you would mind popping down to lane three they can get you all taken care of :D”#And she with peak exasperation she goes “NO there’s a long line at three. There’s a long lane everywhere actually”#I just shrug and go about finishing the person Im ringing up intending to just dip the moment im done and let her go wait in the line #Then I notice one of the lanes down there is open and literally empty so I go “Hey ma’-am lane four is just opening up now if you want to-“#And she interrupts me to go “Yeah I see. I think it’s been open the whole time I think” and walks off #And I…. I’m not sure what to say to that #Did she know the whole time? Did she just not bother to look and noticed while waiting?#I presume she was already frustrated and just snapped at me without really looking so go off I guess? Go off I guess lol #Tonight has been a weird night #Little children have been weird #Adults have been weird

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gyuzgrl · 2 months

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off the market ||csc||

summary- You have a crush on your favourite customer. He's big and kind and pretty and god the things you wanted to do to him were unholy. Little do you know, he feels the exact same way.

"welcome!"

That's all you said. All you could say. All it took for Seungcheol to fall hopelessly in love.

He was a regular at your pet daycare center. Him and his puppy Kkuma were there virtually every day, either to pick up a treat or to drop her off in your care for the day.

It was safe to say they were you favourite customers. Sure the dog was cute, but lord, Seungcheol had you acting like a schoolgirl whenever he came around. With his deep voice, his charming smile and god those arms- how could you resist?

You were almost certain however, that he wasn't interested. Sure, you'd caught him staring at you a couple times, sure it was a little odd how he'd tip you a small fortune every now and then, sure his hand lingered on yours for longer than necessary when paying, but there was no way, you were sure. No way a man like him was still on the market.

So you loved him from afar.

Well, as far as he'd let you go, at least.

"Kkuma!" you beamed, reaching out to take the eager fluff ball from Seuncheol's arms.

She snuggled into you, tongue lolling out as you scratched behind her ears.

"spoilt little princess, this one"

You look up to find Seungcheol's gaze fixed onto you.

"y-yeah, she's a little diva, aren't you baby?" you coo, "dropping her off again, Mr Choi?"

He hums, reaching closer to ruffle her fur, "work's gotten a bit much these days- timings are crazy y'know"

Your breath hitches at the sudden proximity. His hand was aimed at the dog, sure, but it was so close- ghosting over the plush skin of your upper chest.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you steady yourself.

"I can uh, I can imagine, sir. I'll keep her safe, don't you worry"

You say it out of duty, but something about that title has Seungcheol fighting demons in his head. Sir. Sir, you call him, like it's the simplest, sweetest thing in the world. Little do you know, behind the crescents of those pretty doe eyes, his thoughts are nothing but pure filth.

Hesitantly, he pulls away, clearing his throat.

"I'll be back in a couple hours, shouldn't be too long... thanks for keeping her"

"it's my job" you laugh, "you're paying me aren't you, sir?"

He coughs, eyes darting all over. Sir. There you go again.

"I'll um- I'll get going. Bye, y/n"

He turns around too quickly to see the crimson hue diffusing across your cheeks. God you loved the way he said your name. It rolled off his tongue so easily.

"bye-bye!" you call after him.

All your interractions had been similar to this. He'd stop by, make polite conversation and leave. But still, still your heart thudded in your chest at the thought of him. He was just so perfect.

A couple of hours later, you hear the door open. It's late at night, so your first instinct is to grab something sharp before you make your way to the cash register out front.

Meekly, you tiptoe outside, clutching a pair of kuromi scissors in your fist.

"y/n?" a familiar voice calls.

It's just Seungcheol. Good.

You breathe a sigh of relief, walking out right away as you greet him with that million dollar smile of yours.

"welcome!"

"hope Kkuma wasn't too much of a mena-" he pauses, glancing down at your hand, "what's up with the scissors?"

"oh- uh, nothing nothing, just as a safety measure- I didn't know it was you so..."

He tenses, unsure of how to feel. On one hand, you insinuated that you felt safe around him, while on the other, you think you're unsafe in the store.

"can I walk you home?"

You're stunned. Your legs feel like jelly and you can barely process his words.

"can you what"

"walk you home. If you feel uncomfortable walking alone this late, that is. I live a minute away, and it really wouldn't be a hassle to step out for a seco-"

"I couldn't ask that of you sir," you interrupt, "it's not that big of a deal either way"

"you aren't asking. I'm offering. and it is a big deal, y/n. I want you to be safe, to feel safe."

Oh that one went straight to your cunt.

"I-" you hesitate.

"look, I'm here almost every day anyways- if that makes you feel any better. if you're gonna refuse, don't do it 'cause you think I'd be inconvenienced. I won't." he says, now gently prying the scissors out of your grasp, "but if you honestly just don't want me to walk you home, I'll back off"

"no it's not that-" you add, urgently.

"how 'bout we try it out today, and you tell me if you wanna continue, that okay?"

You nod, lowering your head in a lame attempt to hide the furious red glow of your cheeks. Seungcheol seems to have noticed already, though. He places the scissors onto the register beside you, and turns to look into your eyes.

When he finds you staring up at him already, he's pleasantly surprised. There's a long silence- a pause in time- and the air around you stills. It's just you and him, gazing into each other's eyes, gauging what the other feels.

He must not know how intimidating his stare is, considering how he refuses to look away. That is until, of course, he spies movement in his vision.

Your hands are shaking. You didn't know they were, until Seungcheol's gaze leaves your own, dropping to your trembling hands.

He steps closer.

"your hands are all jittery today" his voice is low and gentle, "why're you so nervous?"

The space between you lessens as he moves closer, his hand reaching over to hold your trembling one, interlacing his fingers with yours.

You suck in a sharp breath, letting it go in a staccato shudder.

"do I make you nervous?"

Your eyes, wide and round, dart across the room, opting to look anywhere but at him.

"do I?" he pushes, squeezing your hand.

"I-" you start, "I just um- it's a bi-"

Your words are cut off by a shrill bark.

Fuck. Kkuma. You forgot about Kkuma.

"Kku-Kkuma," you stutter, ripping your hand out of his grasp, "I gotta get her out"

He groans, his arm chasing after you as you whip your head around and scurry into the play room. He was so close- he almost got through to you.

His frustrations subside instantly, however, when you return, carrying a sleepy Kkuma in your arms. How the little puppy nuzzled into you, so safe and comfortable, made Seungcheol's heart ache. Kkuma's instincts were never wrong.

"c'mere princess," he coos, and you look up at him with wide eyes. Did he just-

His eyes are on you, knowingly. "missed me, didn't you Kkuma?"

Oh. Right. The dog.

Seungcheol's gaze remains fixed on you, a teasing smirk playing at his lips as you draw closer.

"you're all red" he grins, "here lemme take her" Before you manage to protest, his hands graze the skin of your forearm as he scoops Kkuma out of your embrace and into his.

It was brief, the contact, but you felt something akin to electricity when his fingertips touched your skin. The glow on your cheeks only brightened in response and he bit back a laugh.

"I'll- I should lock up"

"mm you go do that,"

Even with your back turned, you can feel his eyes burning into you, an attentive stare watching all your actions- how you locked up the register, switched off the lights, reached up to pull your shutters closed.

It was endearing to him. You worked so hard everyday, did so much all alone. All he wanted was to help, really.

So he does.

As you nod towards the door, signalling that you're ready to head out, Seungcheol follows.

You pull the main entrance closed, reaching up on tiptoes to yank the outer shutters down, struggling to hook your fingers into the handle. He notices. Of course he does.

Silently, he brushes up against you, his chest dangerously close to your back. His arm extends above your own and he pulls the handle down with ease.

Your brain short circuits.

"what are y-" you gasp, turning around to face him. The air he breathes out fans across your face and his eyes are set on you. This was dangerous. The proximity between your bodies, the warmth of his breath, the way his eyes darted down to your lips- it was too much.

"y/n,"

"yes?"

There's a pause. Seungcheol's brows scrunch up as if he's trying to find the right words to say.

"you don't have to think so hard, Mr Choi," you offer, staring up him with wide eyes.

"Seungcheol." he states, "call me Seungcheol"

You're so taken aback you miss the desperate "please" he adds in at the end of his sentence.

"Seungcheol,"

"sounds so pretty when you say it"

There's a pull between your bodies. It's gradual and painfully slow, but you both feel it. He leans in, eyes darting to your lips, and your eyes flutter closed.

Hot breaths fan your face as you wait for him to kiss you, each exhale burning against your skin.

"is this okay?" he murmurs.

You try to say yes, to say something, but all that comes out is a shaky exhale. Lips parted, lashes fluttering, you looked so pretty. He couldn't resist the way you drew him in.

Slowly inching closer, Seungcheol presses his lips to yours in a soft kiss. It's tentative, hesitant, almost, like he doesn't want to scare you away. His plump lips cradle yours so gently, it's like he's barely even there.

You draw back, breathing hard. "we shouldn'-" you start, turning your head away, before he cups your jaw and pulls you in once again.

This time he works urgently against you, sucking at your lower lip so fervently, it leaves you breathless. Any semblance of doubt leaves your mind, and you pull him closer, fisting his shirt.

It takes everything in you to hold yourself together when his tongue licks at the seam of your mouth, demanding entrance. While he explores the hollow of your mouth, your hands roam the expanse of his broad shoulders, feeling each hard-earned muscle tense under your touch.

Your lungs burn for air, pleading for sustenance, even for a second, but his grip on you stays firm, holding you in place. Feeling woozy from the lack of oxygen, you have to push him away, almost, fisting his hair with one hand and tugging him back.

Finally, you breathe.

"woah, there-" he grins, when your knees buckle, causing you to faceplant into his chest.

You groan, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"c'mon, let's get you home, hm? we should probably sit down and uh, talk." he mutters, motioning between you and him, "about this, I mean"

"yeah let's- let's go home"

The walk is surprisingly pleasant. Any expected awkwardness, any uncomfortable tension, seems to have vanished.

You chat as you walk side by side, Seungcheol holding Kkuma's leash while you hold onto his free arm. It's painfully domestic, honestly. Your heart thuds violently in your chest with every step you take with him.

"...and then she told Hansol to call her his cutie sexy baby- you should've seen the look on all our faces, I wanted to quit my job then and there-" he shivers as he narrates an incident to you, and you giggle away like a schoolgirl. The way Seungcheol made you smile so effortlessly was commendable. No matter when he showed up, what he said, where he was going, he always made you smile.

"poor him," you offer, sympathetically, grinning from ear to ear as you neared your apartment. "this is me,"

"if you're tired from today, we can talk sometime else, oka-"

You interrupt him with a tiny peck on his lips, earning a look of disbelief in response.

"god help me"

Which is how you've found yourself here- stumbling out of the elevator with his lips pressed on yours, hands grabbing feverishly at the flesh of your hips.

"wai- Seungcheol hold on-" you giggle, fumbling to thumb in your house code.

He backs away, pouting and looks down at Kkuma apologetically.

"come in"

There's a hint of tension in the air now, with everything becoming far more tangible than before. This is happening. This is real.

You beckon him over to the couch, letting Kkuma settle on a rug somewhere in the kitchen, slowly drifting to sleep.

He sits beside you, leaving respectful distance.

"I uh, I don't want this to seem like I'm just fucking around- I don't usually do this,"

"do what?"

"this" he motions between your bodies. "I've been wanting this, wanting you, for so long you have no idea"

"oh-" You feel the breath knocked out of your lungs. Seungcheol felt the same way you did? He's wanted you for all this time, just like you've wanted him?

"I'd like to take you out on a date. Properly. I really like you, y/n-"

It's a miracle you don't melt into a puddle of mush then and there.

Choi Seungcheol. Hot customer. Has feelings for you.

"and it's okay if you don't feel the same way- really- I just uh, didn't wanna kiss you and leave things unspecified"

"I-" you start, staring up at him as you searched for the right words to say, "I like you too"

His face softens, a soft smile taking over his lips. You feel an all too-familiar heat growing between your legs.

"I'm glad"

The distance between your bodies is bridged by his hand- a galiant soldier crossing borders into foreign territory. It slides over yours, interlacing your fingers in a firm knot.

A sharp breath puffs out your lips, and all you can do is say his name. You aren't sure why, you aren't sure what you're asking for, but you call him- your voice airy and desperate.

"Seungcheol,"

"hm?"

Words escape you. There's nothing you can find in yourself to say. You stare into his eyes, watching the way the brown of his irises hold your picture within them.

"oh, sweetheart..."

And his lips are on yours.

Seungcheol guides your hand to his shoulder, sliding his own to your waist as he draws you closer. The way your lips mold against each other is nothing short of perfect, like you were made for eachother.

He nips at your lower lip, dragging it as he pulls back ever so slightly, and you can't help but moan. He grins. Your face grows beet red and you pull away, panting, embarrassed.

"you're adorable, y'know that?"

"shut up"

"you've got a lotta attitude for someone who can't handle more than a little teasing"

"I- I can handle more" you argue, brows furrowing as you shuffle closer to him.

"oh?"

Your eyes widen.

"n-no I didn't mean it like tha-"

"like what?" he smirks. "how'd you mean it then?"

You lower your gaze, opting to stare instead at the fabric of his trousers. Seungcheol hooks a digit under your chin and tilts your head right back up, forcing you to look at him, cheeks burning.

"who're you hiding from, hm?"

"m'sorry," you breathe, looking at him through your lashes.

"I wanna make you feel good," he mumbles as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. "may I?"

It's a simple thing- asking for permission- but it has your heart fluttering. He asks you 'may I?' like he's at your mercy. Like you have him bewitched. He'd do anything and everything you ask of him, now more than ever.

You nod, leaning in to kiss him yet again, before he lifts you off the couch and into the bedroom. His strong arms hold you steady, and all your worries fade away. All the questions in your head dissipate, until all that's left is him.

Only him.

"this okay?" he murmurs, placing you on the bed.

"more than okay"

"I'm gonna take this off now, hm?" Deft hands slide up your torso, lifing your shirt off to reveal the lacy bra underneath. He has to pause for a moment to compose himself at the sight.

"so pretty,"

"Seungcheool" you whine, tugging his hands to your breasts, "touch me"

Any resolve he'd built up, to control himself for you, comes crumbling down.

Like a man starved, Seungcheol devours you, placing hungry, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he trails his lips to the cup of your bra.

He kisses the swell of your breasts, while his hand slides under your back, unclipping the garment with ungodly precision. You gasp when your nipples brush against the loosened fabric, sensitive and hard.

"fuck," he drawls when he tosses your bra aside to reveal your bare chest. Seungcheol kisses the tender skin, taking one of your nipples into his mouth while his hand caresses the other, pinching at the sensitive bud.

His actions elicit a whine on your part, back arching into him with every swivel of his tongue, every pinch of his fingers. There's a dark grin painted across his handsome face when he pulls away, looking down at you.

"look so pretty under me, sweetheart"

You turn away, bashfully, feeling small under the weight of his stare. It's hot, how Seungcheol's self-assurance radiates off of him. He's confident but not pushy, not arrogant like the other boys you've been with. The prolonged eye contact feels more intimate than anything you've ever experienced- just you and him, gazing at each other like the world outside is a problem for another day. Right now, nothing exists but the two of you.

A hand travels down the valley of your breasts to the hem of your pants, teasing the skin right under the waistband. He wants to savor this, to savor you. But god you're so desperate he can't bear the thought of dragging this out any longer.

"gonna make you feel good, yeah sweetheart? would you like that?"

"please" you whimper, rubbing your thighs together.

Anticipation swells in your belly as Seungcheol crawls down to face your cunt, keeping his eyes fixed on yours with each sultry motion. He grasps the button of your pants with his teeth, tugging it open before his hands slide them down your legs, fingers ghosting over the smooth flesh of your thighs.

"pretty, pretty girl"

Shamelessly, he spreads you open, rubbing along your slit through your soaked panties.

"fuck baby- you're dripping" he groans, pressing the fabric into your folds. Your body jerks at the touch, and you let out a pathetic whimper.

"all of this 'cause of me? such a good girl" he coos.

"all 'cause of you Cheol- fuck- only you"

That was it. Seungcheol considered himself a patient man, usually, but tonight? God, he wanted to rip those flimsy panties off of you and have you cum on his tongue again and again until you were crying.

In one swift motion, he leaves you bare, shoving your panties in his back pocket like some kind of trophy. His tongue finds your hole, dipping in just a little to collect your arousal before dragging it up to your clit.

"oh-"

You feel him grin against you, lapping at your clit slightly faster now. Your hands fly down to hold him in place, back arching as loud moans flood the room. You can't recall the last time a man has made you feel this good. Heck, you can't recall if they ever have.

"please- fuck don't stop don't stop," you whine, hips rolling up to match the rhythm of his tongue.

He groans when he realizes how you're using him for your pleasure, sending tingles across your skin.

"that's it, sweetheart- fuck that's my good girl" he mumbles against your cunt.

You feel your high approaching with the expert flick of Seungcheol's tongue, and you pull him closer in a desperate attempt to reach your orgasm. He senses you're close with the way your thighs begin to tense and quiver under his hold, so he slyly slips a finger into you, without warning, sending you straight over the edge in seconds.

Your voice breaks as you moan, head tipping back into the pillows as he pumps his finger in and out of your heat, working you through your orgasm.

"there we go, pretty- just like that, shit"

Seungcheol licks you clean, sending sparks shooting up your spine, before drawing back up to your lips to pull you into a messy, sticky kiss.

You taste yourself on his tongue, moaning as he licks into your mouth like he'd die if he didn't. The friction against your bare skin draws you back to reality, and you realize he's still clothed

"w-wait-" you pant, planting your hands on his chest.

He pulls away, eyes fluttering back open in confusion.

"what's wrong? d'you wanna sto-"

"no!" you interrupt, eyes widening. "not at all- I just..." you trail off, tugging at his shirt.

He chuckles.

"you just?"

"y'know" you reply, coy as ever, grasping his shirt once again.

"words, sweetheart, gotta tell me what you want" His voice is teasing, playful.

"your- your shirt..." you pout.

"mhm what about it?"

You glare up at him, brows setting into a deep frown. "don't be mean c'mon,"

"say it and I'll stop, promise"

"t-take your shirt off," you mutter, blushing wildly, "wanna see you"

He cocks a brow at you and you hastily add in a desperate "please", leaving him satisfied. Without wasting any more time, he settles back on his knees for a moment, yanking his shirt off to reveal his sculpted form.

Your mouth hangs open.

Sure, you figured he was fit- those arms were a dead giveaway- but this took the cake. Hard, chiseled muscles greeted you, sculpted by the gods themselves, and you felt your mouth water.

"oh wow" you breathe, reaching up to touch him and feel those muscles for yourself.

He grins, hovering back over you.

"perv"

"have I told you how much I like you?"

There's a pause, before you break out into a fit of giggles, grinning at each other like two lovesick teenagers.

Seungcheol shimmies his pants off too, kicking them away, leaving only his boxers on.

"are you gonna-"

"eat you out again? yes. yes I am."

You smack his chest, rolling your eyes.

"you can do that tomorrow- I wanna... wanna feel you," you whisper, "wanna feel you in me"

He mutters a quick "fuck" under his breath, hastily shoving his boxers down as he balances his weight on one arm.

"are you sure, sweetheart?"

"mhm"

"anytime you wanna stop jus-"

"just tell you, yes sir" you quip, rolling your eyes yet again, only this time, you take notice of the way his gaze darkens at your words.

Oh this is going to be fun.

"sir," you whine, rolling you hips up into his, "please- please fuck me I've been good, haven't I?"

You're unsure of where this sudden boost of confidence has come from, but Seungcheol's blown pupils and parted lips spur you on.

"I'll be so good for you, sir- promise," you pout.

"do you even- fuck do you even know what you're doing to me right now?"

"mhm"

"brat-" he snarls, dragging his cock against your folds. You moan, losing whatever semblance of power you managed to build.

"that's better,"

You're about to bite back, say something mean, but he interrupts, pushing his dick inside you, slow but firm.

"you're- fuck you're so big" you whimper, eyes welding themselves shut at the stretch of your walls. "it won't f-fit"

"I'll make it fit, I promise baby I won't hurt you, hm?"

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes when he pushes further. He was huge. Your toys had nothing on him. Nothing.

"shh sweetheart you're doing so well for me," he coos, pressing in until he bottoms out.

Your eyes brim over and you sniffle, trying to accomodate his size. It takes a minute, with him kissing your tears away and mumbling into your hair, but you finally give him the green light.

Automatically, his hips draw back and snap into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. His size was overwhelming, almost. He hit your g-spot effortlessly with each inward motion, and your brain fuzzed over with pleasure.

All you could think, all you could say, was him.

seungcheol, seungcheol, seungcheol- you chanted his name like a prayer, any notions of god, of a higher being, leaving your mind with him taking their place.

He held your life in the palm of his hand, commanding metaphorical deaths with his body. You'd be happy to die in his arms every night, and rise like phoenixes with the sun- souls unified after the previous night's escapades.

The steady but firm edge to his thrusts have you sobbing, crying on his dick, begging for something even you aren't sure of. Your cries echo through the room, followed by the sound of skin on skin. Your neighbours won't like this one bit, you'll definitely be in trouble tomorrow, but you can't bring yourself to stop.

He just feels so good.

"s-seungcheol I- please m'so close please please ple-" you sob, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer.

He leans into your lips, capturing them between his own. It isn't a kiss. Your mouths hang open, moaning and sighing into each other with breaths so hot you feel like you're on fire. Like you're alive.

Distracted by the heat generated by your enmeshed breaths, you fail to notice how his hand creeps down to your clit. You cry out when his fingers make contact with the sensitive flesh, rubbing tight circles into you as his thrusts increase in speed.

"m'gonna- sir m'gonna cu-" you moan, cutting yourself off when you feel your body slip into pleasure. Your throat has gone bone-dry, like the last time you touched water was when you were in the womb.

"shit-" he curses, using you to finish himself off, before quickly following suit and finishing on your thighs.

"you're so beautiful- you're so goddamn beautiful" he rambles, collapsing on top of you.

Your throat hurts, and all you can do is wheeze as you try to soothe your burning lungs.

He notices, and grins to himself, ripping his body off of yours- "wait here, I'll be back".

He's gone for a minute, before returning with a towel and some water. "here" he says, holding the glass to your lips as you shuffle to sit up, "drink."

While you do that, he crawls back between your legs and gently wipes away the mess he made on your thighs.

It's basic decency, you know it is, but you can't help the way your heart flutters at how caring Seungcheol is.

"thank you" you murmur, cringing at the sting in your throat.

He looks confused for a moment.

"f-for cleaning me up"

God you were so cute. He couldn't bear it any longer.

"I always will, you don't need to say anything, sweetheart"

You blush, for the nth time that night, grinning from ear to ear as you're hit with realisation.

Choi Seungcheol is officially off the market.

#seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #smut #choi seungcheol #seungcheol smut #scoups #scoups smut #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #shameless smut #PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK I'M DYING OVER HERE

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burts-baked-bees · 9 months

Text

Okay?

OPLA Sanji x Fem!Reader

{masterlist for OPLA Sanji ongoing story}

Tags: Slight angst to fluff, slight pining, Sanji and reader are close friends and have truama bonded, Sanji has no clue he's in love with reader the poor sap

CW: Launguage, mentions of abuse, slight WCI spoliers, mentions of drinking

“I swear I’m one shift away from throwing myself in the godforsaken ocean.” Sanji huffed angrily as he threw himself down in a nearby booth. The Baratie had cleared out for the night leaving the cooks to clean the line and the waiters to clean the dining room, but halfway through the dreaded cleanup Sanji had both metaphorically and physically thrown in the towel. The dish cloth he had been holding went flying across the room as he put his feet up on the booth he was in and groaned indignantly.

“That old shitbag won’t so much as let me breathe on the line! I’m a cook! Not a fucking waiter!” He yelled, turning his head back towards the kitchen, as if Zeff could hear his complaints.

“You think maybe it has something to do with the fact that you call him an ‘old shitbag’?” A voice came from the other side of his booth. A small smile curled his lips as he sat up some and peeked over the rounded edge of the red leather seat.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt your nap time madame?” Sanji laughed as he took in the sight of Y/n laying on her back with her eyes closed in the opposite booth. “So sorry for the inconvenience, but aren’t you meant to be cleaning tables?” He teased as Y/n cracked an eye open and glared at him.

“Aren’t you?” She asked with a sly grin, earning an eye roll and angry huff from the blonde.

“Seems the only thing I’m meant to do is slowly die from boredom in this trash heap of a restaurant.” Sanji sighed as he fell back into his seat, pulling out his lighter and messing with the lid. Y/n laughed softly before sitting up and resting her arms on the dividing seat. She placed her head atop her arms and looked at him with a mock pout.

“Awww is the best chef in the East Blue all bummed that his dad doesn't like his cooking? Again?”

Sanji snapped his lighter closed and raised a finger at Y/n, pointing aggressively at her with a snarl.

“I am the greatest chef in the East Blue. Even if that geezer can’t see it.” He stated, earning a chuckle from Y/n as she sat up and raised her hands in surrender.

“Easy now, no need to shout at a lady.” She cooed as Sanji chuckled and gave her an angry smile, hanging his head.

“How dare you throw my own principles back in my face.” He chuckled as he began fidgeting with the silver ring on his finger. Y/n sighed and rested her chin on her folded arms again, smiling softly at the mop of blonde hair in front of her. She reached over the divider and brushed some of his hair from his face, earning a soft hum from Sanji as he closed his eyes.

“I think we both know he’s only doing and saying these things because he wants the best for you. Though I’ll be the first to admit, his way of going about it is absolute shit.” She laughed as she watched his lips curl into a smile. He looked up at her, her fingers brushing against his cheek as he moved.

“Yeah, I know…” He sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall. She pulled her hand back and looked at him with sympathetic eyes. “But you're a stowaway as much as me.” Sanji joked, “And yet I’m the one being treated like a sniveling child every fucking time I step foot in that kitchen.” He huffed as he looked over at her through his bangs. She chuckled as she hung her arms over the back of his booth and cocked her head to the side.

“My dumbass thought I could be a pirate and got stuck here paying off a debt cuz’ my ship damaged the hull of this ‘trash heap of a restaurant’.” She fired back, using his own words. He opened his mouth to speak but soon closed it again as he shook his head.

“Yeah that was pretty dumb.” Sanji joked as he pulled his jacket off and tossed it to the seat beside him. Y/n gawked at him before laughing and reaching forward to hit him softly on the shoulder. He leaned away from her and shouted

“Oi! Don’t damage the goods!”

She looked at him with mocking wide eyes and barked a laugh,

“Both Patty and I would have to disagree with you on that one, lover boy.” She snarked as Sanji rolled his eyes. A calm silence filled the space as Y/n sat up on her knees and looked at Sanji. She could see something was going on inside his head, and she knew him well enough to infer that he wasn’t going to say a damn thing. She studied the way his brow furrowed and noted how his eyes seemed more gray then blue in moments like these.

There was a profound sadness in him that she had only caught glimpses of in her three years aboard this ship. A profound sadness that he had more or less shared with her one drunken night in the bar when they should have been sleeping. A profound sadness that she wished every single day she could lift from him. The two sat in silence as the ship rocked softly under them; Y/n felt compelled to speak, to do anything that might help ease his overactive mind.

“Still, knowing what I know, having Zeff treating you like this can’t be good for the ole’ psyche…”

Sanji tensed up slightly at her words and Y/n mentally kicked herself for making that insinuation. She wanted to help him, but after the words left her mouth she felt a heavy guilt fill her bones. She watched as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath before smiling ever so slightly.

“Trust me, love. I may complain like this from time to time-”

“Almost ninety-five percent of the time."

“Ooookay. Almost ninety-five percent of the time, but nothing is worse than… what I came from.” He gave her a somber smile and pulled out his lighter again, flipping the lid open and closed in an almost rhythmic pattern. She returned his sad smile and pushed her baby hairs from her forehead.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned that.” She spoke softly as she looked out at the empty dining room; the tables were cast in an eerie candle light and the china adorning the tables glimmered like stars. Sanji looked at her, as her attention was placed elsewhere, and smiled fondly. He felt a warmth rise in his chest as he took in the curve of her profile. The slope of her nose, the length of her eyelashes, the round of her cheeks. The candle light of the empty room cast dancing shadows on her face that made her look otherworldly; he felt his smile, and eyes soften as he looked at her.

“Y/n I wouldn’t have told you about my shitty past if I didn’t trust you to check in on me like this every now and again.” Sanji spoke softly as Y/n turned her gaze back to him. She was almost stunned to see the expression on his face. The look in his eyes was, most of the time, reserved for the elegant ladies that entered the restaurant day in and day out. And yet here he was looking at her like that. She brushed the fond gaze off and swayed her head back and forth while giving him an apologetic look.

“I know, but it’s still not my place to dredge up old memories of abuse when I don’t even know the full story.” She responded, playing with the ends of her uniform shirt.

Sanji smiled at her and leaned forward in his seat, one hand braced himself on the seat top while the other reached forward and pulled her towards him. Y/n closed her eyes as she felt his lips press against her forehead.

“I appreciate you checking on me. It shows that you care.” He said softly, his words muffled seeing that his lips were still connected with her forehead. She smiled softly as he placed a loud exaggerated kiss to the skin there before pulling away and holding her face in his hand. “Okay?” He asked with a huge smile. She laughed at his theatrics and moved to stand up, leaving Sanji sitting alone in his booth as he looked up at her standing form.

“Whatever you say-” She began as she reached out a hand to help him up. He took it with a laugh and allowed Y/n to pull him to his feet. “-My favorite Baratie waiter.” She finished as she dropped his hand and started walking away from him, stifling her laughter. Sanji stood there with his jaw dropped as she walked away from him, his shock soon turning into a smile as he watched her shoulders shake from holding in her laughter. He let a chuckle slip out as he pushed up his sleeves and made a beeline for her.

“How DARE!” He yelled as he grabbed her from behind and lifted her off the ground slightly laughing as she yelped and then dissolved into laughter when she broke free. She began running to a nearby table to put distance between herself and him as she pointed at him,

“Not fair!” She yelled, watching as Sanji pointed back at her.

“Don’t you dare get me started on ‘fair’!” He responded as he laughed.

____

Zeff stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching as Sanji ran around tables with that wannabe pirate waitress. He observed in silence as the pair laughed and threw dish towels at each other instead of cleaning tables.

The small boy he once knew, terrified of making connections with those around him due to some dark past he kept to himself, was smling and laughing as he chased around what could only be discribed as a friend.

A small smile curled his weathered lips as he shook his head and walked away, the sounds of youth fading into nothing.

“Not bad, little eggplant… Not bad…”

#sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji imagine #black leg sanji #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #live action one piece #taz skylar #opla #no spoliers for the show but slight anime/manga spoliers for new fans

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luveline · 3 months

Note

hi honey!! i have a request of sad spencer comforted by bombshell reader. maybe hes the one on the brink of tears and really shes just there for him please

thanks for your request!!! fem, 1k

Spencer Reid can't stop frowning.

“You know what I've been reading lately?” you ask him.

“Cosmopolitan?”

“That's just sexist.”

Spencer points at the copy of Cosmopolitan hidden between papers and an open book where it lies on the desk in front of you, a smile interrupting his frown momentarily. “Sorry,” he says.

“Oh, don't be sorry.” You squint at him ever so slightly as you cross one leg over the other and sink back into your borrowed seat. “That's on me. But, you know… this isn't my desk. That could be anybody's magazine.”

He laughs politely and turns back to his work.

“You don't wanna know what I'm actually reading?” you ask.

He stares at his keyboard. “Mm.”

He's not listening. That's alright. You don't really want to tell him about what you've been reading; it's just a book.

You slide your chair closer to his and peek at the computer. He's on a page for American Airlines, flights to Las Vegas, but he hasn't clicked anything. Spencer grew up in Las Vegas, and his mom still lives there alone in a sanitorium for the mentally ill. She can get really sick at a moment's notice. You know he’s been thinking about that more lately.

“Is everything okay, Spencer?” you ask quietly.

You incline your head to his. He looks up, at first surprised by your attention, and then abashed. “Yeah.”

“You don't seem yourself,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. You feel up to the crook of his elbow, waiting for him to shrug you off. He doesn't move. You stroke his skin with your thumb. “You can talk to me, you know? I hope you know that, anyways.”

“Yeah, I know, it's…” His voice wobbles. You lean in closer. “It's nothing.”

The first time you saw Spencer cry, he was in a hospital room being weaned off of a terrible thing, and it was sudden but expected all the same. He was suffering, recovering but in pain, and you would've cried if the roles were reversed. That was a long time ago. Seeing him upset doesn't get easier.

“Spencer,” you murmur, “What's wrong? You look like you could burst into tears. Do you need me to get you a glass of water?”

He shakes his head. You stay right there by his side waiting for the inevitable, the tears gathering in his eyes that he blinks away, and his painful swallowing. You have two hands —the one that isn't squeezing his arm jumps to his back to hold his stiff shoulder.

“Do you want me to get Morgan?” you ask, unsure.

It's a busy office, and you and Spencer sit on the outskirts closest to the offices upstairs and furthest from the hubbub. Nobody notices your closeness. You speak too quietly to be overheard.

“Spencer,” you implore.

He ducks his head, putting his hand to his brow.

“I'm okay,” he says, his voice stronger now, “it's just my mom doesn't sound right in her letters lately, and I'm tired, and I wasn't expecting you to ask me.”

“No?” you ask, giving his arm another tender rub. “Sorry if I'm upsetting you, Spencer. I was worried. You don't have to talk about it.” He winces. “But if you do want to, I'm right here.”

He needs a hug, you decide (unsurely). You stand and he immediately lifts his head with worry in his eyes, but you're not going anywhere, the opposite. You cover up his head and shoulders as your chin rests gently atop his soft hair, a gravel to your tone as you say, “It's okay.”

Spencer is silent. Slowly, tentatively, he wraps his arms around you in turn, and then he's squeezing you tight enough to feel it in your spine.

“It's okay, Spencer. We can talk about it, huh? We can work something out. It wouldn't be terrible for you to take a vacation every once in a while, maybe that's what you need.”

He breathes out against your sleeve. “Sorry,” he says.

“It's okay.” You kiss his head. He likely doesn't feel it. “I promise, it's fine.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to ask.”

“I know, you said that already.” You don’t tell him with any malice, just reaffirmation. “But I’ll always ask. I care about you, I need you to be okay, Dr. Reid. You’re my pillar of strength.” He laughs with self-deprecation, but you mean it. “You are. You’re always there for me. You’re always looking after me.”

“Since when do you need looking after?”

“That’s one of the best and worst things about you. You don’t realise what you are to people.”

Spencer screws his hands into your blouse and grows still in your arms. You consider scolding him about wrinkles to lighten the mood, but he’ll take you too seriously, and stop hugging you, and that’s not what you want. You try to be subtle about the comfort you’re giving him as you wrap your arms behind his head to close him in, hiding him from any prying eyes, but the longer you stay holding him the more attention you recieve, until even your stoic unit chief can't pretend this is appropriate for the workplace.

“L/N,” Hotch says in concern. “Reid. Is everything okay?”

Spencer seizes up and tries to push you away.

You lift your chin above his head and give Hotch your stickiest smile, arms moving to a more amicable position behind his shoulders. “No, everything is not okay, Hotch. You realise I only joined the unit to be with Spencer, right? And you punish me by sitting me halfway across the office!”

Everyone watching either laughs or rolls their eyes, used to your dramatic favouritism. Even Hotch seems tired of it.

“I’d be sorry if I thought that were true. Can you go back to suffocating Reid on your own time? We have some consults to look over.”

You widen the gap between you and Spencer, allowing him the space to collect himself. “If you insist,” you say, grinning brightly.

You stand in front of Spencer, heart aching as he sniffs quietly. He stands, and for a moment you think he won’t be alright after all, that your comfort was useless and he’ll need to excuse himself, but he draws a ghost of a line into your side with his knuckle and squares his expression. “Let’s get back to work,” he says to you with a small smile. You’ll talk more later.

“Wanna hold hands?” you ask.

“Maybe when everyone’s stopped looking at me?” he says under his breath, starting toward the steps to the conference room.

“Wait, really?”

He hurries up the stairs. You follow.

#spencer and bombshell!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 4 months

Text

Steve was looking around for his wallet to pay the pizza man but he couldn't find it. It was Eddie who found it wedged between the couch cushions.

"Thanks, Daddy," Steve said and went to pay the pizza man.

Eddie's eyes widened, and he whipped his head around to face Robin, whose eyes were just as wide.

"You heard that, right?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, buddy, I did," Robin said. "He does that, though, calls people names that are similar to their own. He called me Bobin the other day. Although, I kind of like it. And Daddy is awfully close to Eddie."

"Oh," Eddie said softly.

"You sound disappointed. Did you want him to call you that?" Robin asked.

"What? No. I like girls," Eddie squeaked.

"Eddie, you know about me. You know I wouldn't care if you were also like me," Robin said softly.

"I like girls, Robin," Eddie said.

"Well, I'm just going to put this information out there, for anyone who's interested. . . You can like more than one gender," Robin said.

"Pardon?" Eddie asked.

Before Robin could even open her mouth, Steve came back into the room.

"You'll never believe who's delivering pizzas now," Steve said, only to find Robin and Eddie staring at him. "What?"

"My name is Eddie," he said.

"Thanks, I had no clue," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "Of course, I know your name is Eddie."

"You called me Daddy," Eddie said.

"No, I did not," Steve said and rolled his eyes. "This is just like when Robin thought I called her Bobin. Is it possible that you're just hearing what you want to hear?"

"You think I want to be called Bobin?" She asked.

"You did say you kind of liked it," Eddie pointed out.

"Okay, the pizzas are getting cold," Steve said and headed into the kitchen.

Eddie leaned forward as he stared blankly ahead. He pressed his hands together.

"Do I want him to call me Daddy?" Eddie asked, and then his eyes went wide. "Oh my God, Bobin, I think I want him to call me Daddy, and while he's in my lap, and he's. . . "

"Woah, you can stop there!" Robin exclaimed.

Eddie jumped up and started pacing. He was muttering under his breath as he did calculations in the air. Robin jumped in front of him and grabbed his shoulders.

"Eddie, this a good thing," she said softly.

"I know, it's just surprising, or maybe I'm surprised about the fact that I'm not really surprised at all," Eddie said. "Everyone's been calling me queer for years, I just - "

"Didn't want them to be right because they're a bunch of assholes," Robin said and grinned. "Well, that's understandable."

Eddie was about to open his mouth to say something else when Steve walked back into the room.

"Did I order pizza for nothing?" Steve asked and Eddie stared at him. "What?"

"Steve," Robin started to say before Eddie started crossing the room.

He didn't even go around the coffee table. He just walked directly over it.

"Eddie! What did I say about walking on the furn - Mmmm!" Steve was interrupted.

Eddie grabbed him, dipped him, and looked at him questioningly with his lips close to Steve’s. Steve nodded, and Eddie crashed his lips to his. Steve immediately gasped into his mouth before kissing him back and gripping his shoulders. Eddie quickly broke the kiss and brought Steve back up.

"Wooo! Yeah, definitely not straight!" Eddie exclaimed and slapped Steve’s ass. "You can call me whatever you want, big boy. Hell, you can even call me Big Daddy if you want to."

Eddie swaggered into the kitchen, leaving Steve dazed.

"I told you accidentally calling him daddy would work," Robin said and then winced. "I didn't know he wasn't awake yet. My bad. The hanky threw me off. Well, it all worked out. Steve? Jesus, where did that kiss send you? It couldn't have been that good."

"Leave me alone, Robin. I'm literally seeing through space and time right now," Steve said, closing his eyes.

"Hey! There's pizza in here! In case you forgot," Eddie called out.

Robin rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen.

"You Vecna'd him with that kiss, asshole!" Robin exclaimed.

"Hmm," Eddie said, his mouth full of pizza. "Maybe another kiss will wake the prince."

He skipped back into the living room.

"I'm eating all the fucking pizza!" Robin yelled.

"That's fine! I found something good to eat in here!" Eddie hollered back.

"Swallow that pizza before you kiss me, Eddie!" She heard Steve exclaim. "I'm not a baby bird!"

Meanwhile, Robin was smiling as they squabbled until it fell into silence. She was glad they both finally figured things out. Her clueless boys. She wouldn't trade them for the world. Hmm, maybe for the recipe for this pizza. Holy shit, they've never been this good before.

"Hey, who'd you say was delivering the pizzas?" Robin asked.

"Not only did they deliver the pizzas, but they also made them!" Steve hollered back.

"Name, Dingus!"

"Argyle!" Steve yelled. "I asked him to stay, but he had other deliveries to make. He said he needed to spread the love."

"Aw. I love that guy," Robin muttered.

As she chewed down on the pizza, she decided that she definitely needed to add a new best friend to her collective. Yeah, Argyle was definitely her new best friend.

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uluvjay · 5 months

Text

Christmas Realizations-D. Ricciardo

Daniel Ricciardo x wife! Reader

Christmas morning with your small family makes Daniel realize he wouldn’t mind another kid…as soon as possible

Warnings?; SMUT; breeding kink, unprotected sex, p in v, light fingering, slight cum play?, cursing, kissing, pregnancy, basically porn with a plot.

Day 5 of my ficmas celebration!

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open along with the soft struggles of his daughter climbing onto the bed is what woke Daniel up.

Opening his eyes he was met with the large toothless smile of his four year old, Gracie. The little girl was all Daniel on the inside but her hair and everything else was all you.

“Daddy, Get up it’s Christmas!” she beamed, face right in front of his.

“I am up baby, calm down” he laughed at her enthusiasm before continuing, “We gotta get mommy and Ollie up first.”

The small girl went to issue another complaint but was quickly interrupted by giggles as her father pulled her into his arms and blew raspberry’s into her cheek.

“Daddy! That tickles.” The girl laughed at the feeling of his beard against her skin.

The beautiful sound of their shared giggles is what woke you up to, turning to face the giggling pair you were met with large smiles as they realized you had woken up as well.

“Mommy! It’s Christmas, we have to get Ollie so we can go see if Santa came” the four year old beamed.

“Okay why don’t you go wake him up, me and daddy will be right behind you.” You replied softly, running a hand through her soft hair.

“Okay!” She cheered, sliding off the bed she took off down the hall to do her favorite part of the day, waking up her little brother.

“Morning Mama” Daniel smirked as he pulled you into him, his ringed hand taking place on the curve of your butt.

Your lips pulled up in a smirk that mirrored his as you leaned in and locked your lips, it was slow but hot and Daniel found himself releasing a groan as your tongue slipped into his mouth.

Pulling away from him you placed one more peck to his lips, “Morning daddy.”

And with that you were rolling away from him and pulling on your slippers to make your way towards your son’s room.

“Wait! Honey that’s not fair.” He grumbled, standing up to adjust the not-so-subtle erection in his pajama pants.

“Dad come on! You’re taking foreverrrr” your lovely daughter dramatically spoke once her father met the three of you at the top of the stairs.

“Oh hush the presents aren’t going anywhere.” He laughed as her little body took off down the stairs.

“Good morning my little man” Daniel smiled towards his son as he took him from your arms once you all made it to the living room.

“Hi dada.” The little boy smiled at his father.

Oliver Ricciardo was a spitting image of his father, he had everything from the eyes, to the smile, to the curls. You had felt as if it were Daniel who carried him for nine months.

“Ready to open some gifts?.”

“Yeah!” And with that Daniel sat his son down and watched him run over to you and his big sister on the carpet and begin to rip open the gifts that had taken you countless hours to wrap.

A few hours later after the excitement of new gifts had died down and the kids were finally laying down for a nap Daniel found you at the sink washing the dishes from breakfast.

“Hi mama.” He spoke as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Hi Danny.” You smiled

“So, I was thinking..”

“Oh god, that’s never good.” You laughed at the pinch his fingers left on your waist.

“First off rude, secondly I’m being serious.” He spoke softly.

At the sound of that you turned the running water off and turned to face him, you were met with warm but serious eyes.

“What’s been going through that head of yours?” You asked, hands moving up to wrap around his neck.

“Have you thought about having another one?” He asked.

“Another what?”

“Another kid, I mean Gracie started pre-k this year and watching her and Oliver this morning made me realize just how fast the time is going. Plus My contract is up in two years and I already told Christian I was done after that.

You stayed silent as you took in his words, kids had always been something you wanted and while your two held your heart in their small hands you knew you wanted another, but it was hard with Daniel being gone so much.

Noticing your hesitation Daniel spoke up again, “I won’t pressure you into another one, but think about it, we have the room and the process is pretty fun.” He smirked

He knew he got you at that, he didn’t buy a five bedroom house for no reason and the baby making sex was always some of the best sex you’d ever had.

“I guess a third one wouldn’t hurt.” You blushed.

“Yeah?” He asked, hands that had been contently resting on your waist moving down to your ass.

“Mhm”

“What d’you say we start right now?” He smirked down at you with darkening eyes.

“Daniel the kids are upstairs.” You giggled as his beard tickled the sensitive skin of your neck as he began to place kisses on the skin.

A surprised gasp escaped from you as your body was spun around and bent over the sink.

“Gotta be quiet then.” Daniel spoke in your ear as his body bent over your back.

He kissed down your cotton covered back until he reached the waistband of your pants, hands quickly pulling them down to reveal your cotton panties.

“So wet for me baby” he cooed, running a thick finger through your folds.

A shudder ran through your body at the feeling of his fingers coming into contact with your dripping folds, a shaky breath coming from you at the feeling the coldness of his wedding band as he pushed his ring finger into you.

“Danny, please.” You begged.

“Please what baby? What do you need.”

“Need you to fuck me, wanna be full of you.” You pleaded, turning your head to try and get a a glimpse of him.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up? Want me to fuck you nice and full?” He growls.

“Yes, please Danny, please” you beg, smirking when you hear a breathless “fuck” behind you and the sound of his pants hitting the floor.

A small groan escapes Daniel as he pumps himself slowly, his free hand coming to rest on the back of your neck for leverage as he slides in slowly.

A choked gasp comes from your throat at how thick he is, it didn’t matter how many times Daniel fucked you it always felt like the first time.

However he doesn’t thrust up at first, teasingly grinding his hips allowing you to feel every ridge and vein on his cock.

“Daniel please go faster, wanna make you a daddy again.”

That was all it took for Daniel to lose his remaining self control, his hips snapping against yours at a fast pace while his hand remained on your neck to keep you in place.

Bringing a hand up to quite the lewd sounds escaping you wasn’t worth much because soon Daniel had a fist of your hair and used it to pull your back against his chest.

“Can’t wait to put another baby inside you, watch your stomach grow. Fuck your so hot when your pregnant.” He groaned into your ear, lips moving down to kiss along your neck.

Something carnal takes place in you when his hand comes to rub your stomach, hand going right over where your bump would start to form once you were pregnant.

“Dan-fuck, so good” you cried at the feeling of his tip nudging your most sensitive spot.

He turns your head to lock your lips, his mouth swallowing your cries as he continues to fuck into you at an ungodly pace.

His hand leaves your hair and a deep cry leaves your mouth as both of his large hands cup your breasts under your bra, fingertips pulling and pitching at the skin.

“Can’t wait to watch these grow, watch them get all swollen for me.” He growled.

His hands return to your waist as he begins fucking you harder and harder, his hips moving at a pace you’ve never experienced before. His movements never falter even as you reach a hand back in attempt to slow him down, he knows you can take it, and he knows you want this as bad as him.

“D-fuck, Daniel!, to much.” You cry as the pleasure completely takes over your body, the fire in your lower stomach getting hotter and hotter.

“Squeezing me so tight honey, fuck-can’t wait to fill you up.”

Daniel is met with loud cry as a he watches your body shake below his, hands gripping onto the edge of the sink for dear life.

“Danny, ca-can’t take anymore.” You cry as he continues to fuck you through your high, hips moving wildly as he chases a high of his very own.

“Almost there honey, just hang in there for me.” He groans, hands holding your waist so tight, he knows there will be bruises tomorrow, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

You feel his thrusts become sloppy as a loud groan of his own escapes his throat, warmth spreading inside you as he paints your walls with his release.

“Fuck” he groans, chest heaving as he finally caught his breath.

“You good honey?”

His laugh fills the air as you give him a thumbs up, still a bit dazed from your orgasm. Gasps released from the both of you as Daniel pulled out.

You move to stand straight up but a hand on your back stops your movements, throwing your husband a confused look over your shoulder you move to speak but the feeling of his fingers running through your folds cut you off.

“Shit!, Daniel what the hell.” You cried.

“It’s dripping out of you sweetheart, gotta keep it in there. Make sure it sticks.”

February 14th, 2024

You smiled brightly at Daniel as you handed him the long box that was sealed with a pretty red bow.

“What? Honey this is unfair, I would’ve got you something. I thought we agreed no gifts.” He spoke once finished his bite of steak.

“Be quiet and open it.” You laughed.

With a taunting mock he opened the box, eyes growing wide as he looked at what sat inside.

“Shut up, are you serious?” He asked, holding the stick in his hand.

“Mhm”

“We did it? We’re gonna have another baby!?” He beamed brightly.

You nodded, breath getting stuck in your throat as the tears began to fall and within seconds Daniel was up and pulling you from your chair into his arms.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried, pressing kisses all over your face before his lips finally found yours.

It was breathtaking and full of pure love, his hands tangled in your hair to keep you as close as possible.

“I love you more.” You smiled once the two of you parted.

“Do you know how far along you are?” He questioned.

“No, I took the test after I realized I had missed my period, probably no more than six weeks.” You spoke.

He gave you once more sweet kiss before he dropped to his knees in front of you, sticking his head under the skirt of your loose dress as he placed light kisses on your stomach.

“Hi baby, it’s dad. I know you probably can’t hear me yet but we love you so much and we’re so excited to watch you grow and eventually meet you. Now watch out because I’m taking momma upstairs to celebrate.” He spoke and with a finale kiss he was back on his feet and picking you up bridal style.

“Come on honey, gotta go celebrate.” He smirked as he took off up the stairs towards your bedroom.

#daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #f1blr #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #jay’sficmas

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ramonathinks · 4 months

Text

Did I Do Good? / Nanami Kento

tags/warnings: (18+), age gap (reader is 22 + nanami is 32), infidelity, smut, blowjob, pet names (little lady, baby) daddy kink, mention of wife, bimbofication, reader used to be stripper/sex worker, black-coded reader

“Kento Nanami, you lucky bastard.” His co-worker slapped a hand on his shoulder much to his surprise. “Please tell me she’s got a sister…” He couldn’t remember the guy’s name but he knew he was hating the way he was eyeing you. The guy was swaying and slurring his words, licking his lips.

He wasn’t even this protective of his wife. He internally cringed at the thought.

None of his colleagues brought along anyone, using this business trip as an escape. He brought you. But in a way you were his escape, an escape from it all.

He just brushed off the comment but really it was hard to do especially since your arrival and what you were wearing:

A frilly hot pink skirt that hugged your hips and that was a tad bit short and constantly raising paired with a very tight light pink corset that made your breast look ever larger than they were. Even the high boots you were wearing that made everyone look at how long your legs were was making him uncomfortable. You even decided to get your hair done in a new style: long black pin curls that flowed heavenly down your shoulders. He watched multiple men wave at you and talk to you while you giggled and typed on your phone.

He didn’t want anyone staring at you.

He wanted to lock you up in the room. But he knew that was too much, this trip was all you’d been talking about for the past month since he causally mentioned it in passing.

“Kenny baby are you serious? We’re going to New York?” Your voice was so high pitched and happy even though he wasn’t planning on bringing you at first.

It was a business trip. With you around he barely got any work done. He’d find a way to have you milking his cock with that pretty pussy even if you’d only just woke up instead of scheduling his meetings, attending his meetings or anything.

“Yeah baby,” He watched your eyes light up in such delight and with a squeal you wrapped your arms around his neck. “But this is an important business trip for me, so I might not be around as much as you like… but I’ll give you your favorite card of mine to have fun with, you’d like that yeah?”

You pouted a bit, “I mean sure but I’ll be so sad without you,”

“I’ll try to get out of all my meetings a bit early so that I can at least make it to one of your fashion shows after your shopping spree, yeah?”

You pulled back to smile at him and nodded before kissing him all over. “Okay Ken.”

It was warm and he knew you dressed appropriately but fuck he didn’t like how everyone was looking at you like a piece of meat. Even he was.

You skipped slightly back towards him with the keycard in hand. “Penthouse suite…ooh, you’re spoiling me, Ken.” You told him, biting your lip. He knew what that meant. He smirked and wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him.

“Well, I’m going now.” He quickly told his coworkers and dragged you to the elevator.

“Ken! You’re so rude!” You playfully glared at him. You turned back to his coworkers and waved, “Bye, see you boys soon.”

He could practically hear them swooning and didn’t bother to look back as he heard them saying your name and “goodbye”.

When the elevator door finally opened, he hurried to step inside interrupting your waving.

“You like making me jealous?” His eyes were intense as he stared down at you. He quirked a brow, “You think it’s cute? Funny?”

“Kento, you’re being too serious.” You whine a bit, trying to look away from his narrowed and intense eyes.

“Of course I’m being serious, you’re being flirty with everyone here, how do you think that makes me feel?”

A deep sigh is released from you and it’s the most frustrated he’s ever seen you. “You know they think I’m your wife…”

“Is that so wrong? You know what you mean to me. You know how important you are.” He cups your face and makes you look at him.

“When am I gonna be your wife?” Your eyes bore into his. You had only been dating a year and some months but you already saw a future with him and you wanted nothing more than to be with him forever.

His eyes softened but the elevator doors opened up before he could answer and you slipped out of his grasp. “You know how complicated that is. But I promised you remember? I have always kept my promises with you, little lady.”

He had always kept them. He took care of you, moved you into his place, even turned his office into your own personal walk in closet. He gave you things that you could only dream of.

But that wasn’t all. He gave you much support in anything, helping you with any assignments even when he had work bright and early. He was always there, he was a big comfort to you and it was easy to fall in love with him.

You almost wanted to kill his bitch wife. When you met him he was nothing but depression in human form. It’s only now that his eyes aren’t so clouded and that his smiles are real.

You inhaled deeply and shook off all your bad mood. “You’re right. You’re mines as I am yours, that’s all that matters.”

He did a small grin before he took you into his arms and hugged you tightly like he hadn’t seen you all day. “You’re too good for me you know that?”

It was something he almost always told you. But really it was the opposite. He made your world so much brighter than it had ever been. You truly felt at peace with him and didn’t have to worry about anything at all.

You wanted to him.

“I wanna suck your dick.”

His expression fell almost too quickly. “No, baby.” He chuckled. “But we can make love for the rest of the day and then maybe my coworkers will finally realize that I’m being nice enough to let them meet you but even nicer to hear those pretty little moans of yours all night.”

You did a shy small but rolled your eyes. He never let you give him a blowjob and with a dick like his it was criminal. Your mouth was watering just thinking about having his cum in your mouth but it probably would never happen.

It was the one thing you hated about him. He never came in your mouth, on your face or really anywhere. He didn’t want to defile you. He liked how pure you looked. Even though he seen you in your absolute filthiest.

“Please, daddy.” You touched him through his pants and he twitched. You didn’t call him daddy often but whenever you did, it was even harder for him to say no to you. “I just wanna a taste of your cum on my tongue.”

Maybe this was how you ended up with the bruised knees from being on the floor as you wrapped your sweet lips on him.

His cock was very pretty. A bit dark with a slight pink tip, very thick and long. His hair trimmed and clean, you were throbbing just from looking. You placed small kisses to his head before you did small licks all over him. With a moan you took him deep in your mouth.

His toes curled and he did his best not to grab your hair. There was some much slurping coming from your very wet mouth that he couldn’t bear himself to look at you. But when he finally decided to look, he couldn’t look away.

“You look so good on your knees.” His voice was completely wrecked and his eyes were burning inside of yours. His eyes narrowed when your hands squeezed at his balls before taking more of his hard weeping cock into your mouth.

He could feel your tongue tracing every vein and it was getting harder to stay quiet. Hollowing your cheeks, you swallowed around him, feeling hot all over your body.

Swirling your eager tongue over his slit, “Just… just like that, you’re doing so good.” He was whimpering but still managed to give you enough praises to last a lifetime.

He jumped when you touched his hand and put it in your hair. “I-I can’t…” He could barely contain himself now. He didn’t want to hurt you.

You sucked harder, bobbing your head before he finally took over. He was harsh. Very rough. Between his hips thrusting into your mouth, his tight grip on your hair forced you to stay in place.

He was using you and you couldn’t help but to enjoy it. Saliva dropped from your mouth and down your chin but you didn’t mind. You took him out of your mouth for a second.

“I want to be covered in you Ken, please? Cum all over me.” You knew he was close, could feel him throbbing and pulsing in your mouth. He muttered a small fuck when he heard you say that. He couldn’t believe just how nasty you were, wanting him to come all over you.

But he did want to see it. He wanted to see that you belonged to him. To see himself all over you. He stood up, standing over you and with his big hands he rubbed himself in front of your face.

It was erotic, the way he stared at you with such dark lust. Moving his hand up and down, slick coating his hand and wet noises all over the room. He swallowed before he let out a long and loud groan and finally came.

White warmth painted itself all over your tongue and some over your face. You swallowed, letting every bit of him flow down your throat.

“Did I do good, Kento?” His cock was still hard as he stared at you, his face reddened. He didn’t want to let you know just how much he enjoyed that.

“I’m going to make you my wife as soon as fucking possible.”

You smiled, cum still stained on your face. But you couldn’t have been any cuter.

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lxnarphase · 14 days

Text

GOOD MORNING, BABY ๋࣭ ⭑

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...ft. : h. hiromi + k. shiu + r. sukuna + h. kinji + t. aoi

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : somnophilia (pre-agreed on), thigh fucking, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, dirty talk, praise and degradation, breeding kink, sukuna is a dickhead, shiu really loves his girl, hiromi loses his shit, aoi is a great boyfriend, it's just really fucking dirty im not sorry

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : which jjk characters would fuck your thighs while you're sleeping bc they're horny but don't wanna wake you up !!

who does it to tease you ↴

✧ k. shiu ; he's slow, purposefully grinding right against your sex, his cock leaking precum all over your thighs when he pushes through them. shiu thinks it’s so fucking cute how you try to grind against nothing in your sleep, he can’t help but tease you a little bit, a little smirk on his face at all your reactions

“always makin' me do all the work, aren't ya? hm, got a pretty lil' pillow princess on my hands...” “your man had such a tough day, and your here all comfy and sweet, waiting for me t' touch you. tsk, should've come home sooner, didn't mean to leave my girl waiting." “god, always loved how damn soft you are, angel. mm, so so soft and warm, jus' for me. don't worry, i'll wake you up with my cock cummin' all over your pretty skin.”

✧ h. kinji ; to be fair, you caused this. you teased the poor man all day, and kinji knows he's getting you back when you telling him you're gonna take a nap, rubbing your hands against his chest while wearing nothing but his t-shirt. since you're soooo eager to tease, he had no issues with teasing you back.

“hm? going to pretend you sleep? c'mon, sweetheart, don’t you want to be fucked? you're so fuckin' cute when y'wanna try and be stubborn, hun." "i know you’re awake, i see your pretty eyes trying not to open. all you have to do is open them and i’ll stop fucking your thighs and fuck you instead.” “thaaat’s it, baby, tha's my girl. rubbing up against me while looking so pretty. let’s give you a reward, hm? gonna pop the tip in an' see how fast we can get ya to cry for the rest of it.”

who does it because they are desperate ↴

✧ h. hiromi ; there’s no knowing what caused him to snap, but hiromi comes home practically feral. it's hot, so hot as he quickly takes off all his clothes, uncaring about his expensive suit jacket on the floor. he’s been thinking about you ever since he left his office, thinking about every curve of your body, every sweet noise you’d make, and how delicious you sound saying his name.

“honey, wake up, please. ’m not fucking you until you wake up and look at me. you're not getting my cock til you look at me.” “beg? oh, no, no, no, pretty thing, no teasing and no playing around. the only one that’s going to beg is you, baby. now stop being a little brat and be good for me, yeah? don't wanna punish you, not when you look so cute right now." "how about i just fuck your thighs and, cum all on them? you want my cum to go to waste? or do you want to be fucked full of my cum like a good girl? make your fucking choice.”

who wakes you up ↴

✧ r. sukuna ; sukuna doesn’t even go to thigh fucking, he skips that. no, he’s grumpy his sleep was interrupted by the annoying rush of blood to his dick. so now, he's biting your thighs, sucking on them before going down on you, using his tongue and fingers to prep you lazily shoving his stupidly big cock inside you, humming when you moan yourself awake.

“look who's awake. took you long enough, I put so much effort into making you feel good before I shoved my dick inside ya. hey, don't smack my tits, brat, i'll bite your damn hand off.” “hm? you want me to move? mm. why should i? ...because i woke you up? tch...you're lucky you're s' fucking pretty or i'd just jerk off and cum all over your face.” "fuck, always take me in s' fuckin' good...i trained this cunt right, now she knows how t' handle my cock. 'member when you couldn't even take half of it in? look at you now, turned ya into my nasty little cockslut."

✧ t. aoi ; you fell asleep in aoi's lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you rested your head against his shoulder. the thigh fucking was supposed to happen, yes, but you were tired, opting out for cockwarming him as he watched whatever show he put on. but then you started squirming around, whining so cutely in your sleep. how could he not take care of his girl?

“oh, hiii, bunny...you’re finally awake? hey, shhh, shh, 's okay, i've got ya. feels real good, right? y'just sounded so cute, i couldn' help myself, pretty, you were squeezing me so tight.” “too slow? do you want me to go faster, darling? all you have to do is ask....heh, no, 'm not being mean! i just think you're cute all sleepy, is all.” “it’s hitting deep? yeah? maybe i should lift you higher and slam you down to see how deep i really can go.”

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spencereidluver · 5 months

Text

I is for "I Knew It!"

summary: you and spencer are caught going out by an all-too-familiar face, causing the two of you to have a talk about the logistics of your relationship.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: the fluffiest fluff anyone has ever seen

“Hey hey, put that wallet away,” Spencer says as you pull your wallet out from your purse. He never let you pay for dinner, even though you begged every time. You will admit, it is nice to always have your dinner paid for, however, you felt bad having him spend so much money on you.

“No. I want to pay tonight. You always pay,” you said and opened your wallet.

“My payment is having the world’s prettiest girlfriend. I’m paying for dinner, that's final.” He gently grabs your wrist from across the table, stopping you from making any further moves with the wallet. “Got it?”

“Fine, but I’m buying you a coffee in the morning.” You put the wallet back in your purse and give Spencer a smile. You playfully click your shoes with his underneath the table and take a final sip of your drink. Spencer places a credit card on the small black booklet on the edge of the table.

The waitress comes and collects the booklet, giving the two of you a quick smile and says she’ll be right back.

Spencer hands her a five dollar and two one dollar bills as a tip, and she makes her way to the register.

Spence lets go of your wrist and points his finger at you. “You,” he says, waves his finger at you as he says the words, “should come hang out at my apartment tonight.”

The waitress comes back and hands Spencer his card. “You guys have a good night,” she says as she backs up to let the two of you out of the booth then proceeding to clear off the table.

Spencer laces his hand with yours as the two of you weave through tables to exit the restaurant. “We can watch a movie or something,” he leans into your ear as you walk.

“I would love to, Spence,” you say and open the door to exit.

“Spencer Reid?” a familiar woman's voice says as the two of you walk out hand-in-hand. You feel his grip tighten.

The woman was blonde and pregnant. She was with a thin goateed man.

“Oh, hey JJ,” Spencer says, stopping his step. “How’s it going?”

“Great, I can’t believe you have a girlfriend and didn’t tell me!” JJ looks at you, her mouth immediately becoming agape. “Y/N?”

Yeah, no one knew you and Spencer were seeing each other.

“Hey, JJ…” You say, happy to see her, but in a little bit of an awkward situation.

“How long? How long has this been going on?” She says, looking over at her boyfriend, Will excitedly.

“Um about a month,” you begin to say before being interrupted by Mr. Exact.

“35 days,” Spencer says matter-of-factly.

“That’s crazy! Oh my god I can’t believe this. Does anyone else know?” JJ would probably be jumping for joy right now if she wasn’t 9 months pregnant. Will just looked at her lovingly.

“No, we haven’t told anyone yet, we wanted to wait until our relationship was solid.” Spencer said, letting go of your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Seems pretty solid to me,” you say under your breath and lean into Spencer.

“You have to tell the team! They’d be so excited,” JJ exclaims.

“Yeah, we’re going to, we’re just not sure when.” Spencer says.

“It better be before I come back from maternity leave. If you guys aren’t BAU official by the Christmas party you will be sorry.” JJ playfully threatens before being dragged to the door by Will who waves goodbye.

You and Spencer begin walking to his car. “You know, That felt good. To finally tell someone,” you said and lean further into Spencer as your steps match up.

“Yeah, it did,” Spencer says, “What movie do you want to watch?” “The Red Circle is always good.”

“Yeah, but I think I want to watch more of an immature movie. I need a break.”

“How about WALL-E?”

“WALL-E sounds awesome.”

Spencer let go of your waist when you reached his car. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you in by your hand, then hurried around to get in the car himself.

_____

“I think we should tell the team,” Spencer says. You were sat between his legs on his couch leaned against his shoulder. One of his arms was wrapped around you, the other hand was playing with your hair. He halted his movements once the words came out of his mouth. It was almost as if he didn’t mean to say it outloud.

“What?” You ask, turning to look at him. The lighting from the t.v. hit his face, bringing attention to the rosy blush bleeding through his cheeks.

“I um… I want to tell the team we’re together,” he repeats. Your mouth falls open, unsure of what to say. “I know it’s early, but I just, I don’t want to have to hide you from them. You’re so special to me.”

“Spencer…”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to yet, I know it could put a lot of pressure on a new relationship, but I…”

You need to shut him up. You lean in and plant a kiss on his lips, letting your breath linger on his mouth. “No, if you’re ready to tell everyone, I’ll be there every step of the way.” His eyes light up. He looks so happy.

“I’m so lucky to have you.” He leans his head into your shoulder and gently pecks a kiss on your collarbone. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He looks up at you and smiles, resting his chin against your chest.

You loved when he let you baby him like this. It took him a while to be comfortable enough to let his guard down like this around you, but once he was able to, he basically never stopped. He loved being able to have someone to care for him as it was something he never experienced, even as a child.

WALL-E is playing in the background, the scene where he is showing EVE around his house illuminating the room. Spencer looks up at you, eyes glowing. He nuzzles into your chest, careful not to bump your breasts. He was so respectful; the sweetest boy.

“What, Spencer?” you ask, keeping your voice smooth and calm. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but you had to make sure not to seem annoyed as he was sensitive.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, then buries his head in the crook of your neck.

That’s not what he wants to say, but you comb your fingers through his hair and say, “thank you.” You feel him mumble something into your chest. “What, baby?” you ask him.

“Y/n,” he says, you hum in response, “I think I’m in love with you.”

You can’t help but smile. “I think I’m in love with you, too, Spence,” you say, grabbing his chin and leading his face up to kiss him.

______

next chapter: J is for "Just So You Know"

a/n: hiii :3 i'm currently on break from school and have the next two days off from work, i'm going to try to grind so hard and try my best to get the christmas part out on the 25th, but if that doesn't happen please don't get upset at me... it will 100% be out in december, as the new years part is for sure being posted on the 31st. have an awesome night guys !!

taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @lotus-ignis @sammy-4103 @ktssstuff

@ada--44 @moongirl27 @monfleurr @shycreationdreamland @cultish-corner @ariianelle @iiheartbowie

@spencerreidismybitch @traderjoesmints @ivyflowers13 @hades-disappointment-child @aceofspades190 @taygrls @hookergutss

@random-3455 @nmw-am @bookworm124 @hizzielover @jem08 @cherrybowbabby @theofficialfunk

@hookergutss @skylions-den @smalltownbeautyqueen @spencereidapologist @lunajay33 @novaeatsworld @pleasantwitchgarden

@mellowdreamerbanana @readbydayana

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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charliemwrites · 5 months

Text

Part 4!! (No content warnings)

Fuck these men :)

You roll your neck, trying to loosen muscles tense from keeping your head locked in place. Hard work denying natural instinct to look at whoever is speaking, but the 141 doesn’t deserve any more of your attention than they’ve already stolen. Even if they didn’t know they had it at the time.

You’ll have to ask Nikto if he’ll massage out the knot forming there. He’s handy with anatomy like that.

“Listen, about what happened…” Gaz starts.

“Not relevant,” you snap, crouching behind a barrel.

“I’d say it’s pretty relevant,” he replies. “It’s not right, how we left things.”

You nearly snarl. ‘Not right’ is the understatement of the bloody century.

You twist on him. “You’re being unprofessional. Shut up and take this seriously, Garrick.”

You duck as a sniper shot pings dangerously close to your head. Spot Nikto across the way, hand-signaling to ask if you need back up. You reply with a ‘no’ and turn back to Gaz.

Thankfully, it seems he’s caught the message and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the stupid drill. You resist a snappish comment when it’s over. Up until Gaz starts up again.

“I just think you deserve—”

“I don’t care what you think I deserve,” you interrupt. “I know what I deserve. And it’s a partner that can keep their feelings in their vest.”

Speaking of, Nikto appears at your side like a shadow in shifting light. There’s a disapproving tilt to his head, aimed at Gaz. You shake your head and tap your knuckles against his.

“Need a water break?” You ask, worried about how long he’s been under the helmet.

He shakes his head, then surprises you by bumping his forehead against yours — his version of a kiss. Even in private those are rare. You hum at him.

“Thank you, Nik.”

You have to run the next drill with Soap. Know from the start he’s going to be a stubborn prick about it. Can see it in the set of his jaw and the flicker in his eye.

“Didnae have to be a knob to Gaz,” he says.

You don’t respond, slipping away as the exercise begins. He calls after you and hurries to catch up, nearly blowing your cover.

“He feels bad enough for what happened, ye know.”

You level him a cool, blank stare. “You speak for him now?”

His eyes narrow. “If you won’t give him the chance to, aye.”

You knock his leg out from under him and fire at the “enemy” combatant, Nova. She sportingly goes down, but mutters that you should have let her take the shot. You should have.

“You compromise this drill again,” you tell a toppled Soap, “I’ll tell Laswell direct that you don’t belong on this mission.”

You spin on your heel and continue the exercise, ignoring any and all attempts by Soap to get you to speak again. At the very least, he picks up the slack, earns his callsign.

Nova finds you again when it’s over, arms around your neck and chest plastered to your back.

“Look’it you go, mamas,” she coos. “Shot me through the heart all over again.”

You laugh bending your legs to let her hop up for a piggy back ride. Yeah, you’re tired. But never too tired to carry your girl around. She giggles in your ear as you carry her off back to your captain for her next drill.

“With Price now,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Sure thing, boss,” you answer, doing a good impression of enthusiasm.

You know your place, settle into position just behind Price’s left side. No overtures about the past this time. Whatever iota of lingering respect you have for him grows as you complete the drill flawlessly. When it’s over, the two of you are at the furthest point from the designated “start”. And that’s when he decides to open his stupid mouth.

“It wasn’t personal, you know,” he says.

You smooth out your expression even though you don’t turn to him, already starting back.

“Okay.”

“It was the best call,” he explains, falling into step with you.

You tilt him a sideways look, don’t even bother with your full gaze. Spent far too much time looking up to him, by your estimate.

“Okay.”

“I look out for my soldiers.”

You turn forward again. “I wouldn’t know.”

Your captain happens to intercept, sweeping you up with one arm. You yelp, though can’t help grinning as you hook your fingers in one of his chest straps.

“Shouldn’t sneak up like that, sir,” you scold.

“That’s how I’ll know when I need to retire,” he replies with a crooked grin. “When I can’t sneak up on you anymore.”

You huff, snatching his sunglasses off his face to wear all the way back to the start point. Keegan meets you, looks directly at you as he salutes.

“Captain,” he says.

You laugh, give your CO his glasses back.

“Keeping fuckin’ around, Russ,” the captain rumbles, “I’ll take it out of your ass later.”

You gasp, scandalized, and laugh as the little skin visible through his smearing face paint turns pink.

“Off with you, girl,” your captain says. “We’re done after this, so keep it quick and clean.”

“Yessir,” you reply, jogging off to meet Ghost.

Fucking Ghost.

You don’t spare him a single look as you set up for the exercise. If nothing else, you have every expectation that he won’t say a single goddamn thing to you. No attempted apologies, no reprimands, no justifications. Just radio silence, like always.

What you don’t expect is for him to treat you like nothing’s changed. Like you’re still a fresh transfer that can’t watch their own six. You consider just putting your “gun” away and trailing after him until the exercise is over, but that would be just slightly too immature.

So you suck it up, grit your teeth, and do your job. Up until he gets in the fucking way. You’re about to get a sneaky shot on Keegan — a rare thing indeed — but Ghost moves. Goes out of his way to get the shot you already had and loses you both the element of surprise.

“Fucking oaf,” you snarl, scrambling behind a wall. “Is this your first fucking day or something?”

His eyes flash across the corridor. “What the fuck did you just say?”

You don’t reply, getting low and kicking your boot off, carefully sneaking it towards the corner like you’re trying to peek out. Keegan comes around, aiming too high and in the wrong direction, and Ghost shoots him.

Keegan “goes down” — goes out of his way to land on you, actually. You huff and shove at him.

“It’s not nap time,” you groan.

“Can’t hear you, I’m dead.”

You snort and shimmy out from under him. Not so different from most mornings, actually.

“If you two are done…” Ghost growls.

You suck your teeth and stalk off, giving Keegan one last pat to the back. The rest of the drill is barely civil, Ghost’s eyes more on you than on the training grounds.

When it’s finally, finally over, you sigh and pause, trying to work out that knot again.

“Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Ghost sneers.

It’s meant to hurt. Meant to piss you off. Maybe remind you of the last things he said to you. You don’t look at him, bending to re-lace your boots. Thrilled to realize it’s like poking at an old scar. The skin is deadened, even though a mark remains.

“Fuck you’re so immature,” he growls.

You straighten and just start walking. Keegan finds you almost instantly.

“The hell was that about earlier?” He asks, frown audible.

“Ugh, he got in the way. I would have fuckin’ had you, otherwise.”

His eyes spark with outrage. “He fuckin’ what?” He snarls, turning like he’s about to say something to Ghost. Which… no. Just not worth it.

“Keegs,” you sigh, “c’mon, I told you this would happen. He’s not worth it.”

He scoffs, laces his fingers with yours. “‘Course he’s not. Don’t waste bullets on the dead, right?”

You snort and tug him along. The rest of your team will be waiting.

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #angst #sad fic #former 141 reader #specgru reader #cod nikto #keegan p russ #nova cod #task force 141

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rogueddie · 7 months

Text

Steve wakes up to a beeping noise- a heart monitor. He struggles to open his eyes, turning to squint around the hospital room. Something about it feels off, though he can’t tell what.

A woman stumbles in, almost spilling her coffee. She looks familiar.

“Hey,” Steve tries, only to end up coughing. His throat is painfully dry.

“Steve!” She exclaims. She hurries over, swapping the coffee for a plastic cup of water. She carefully holds it to his mouth for him to drink. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake! I know we can’t talk here but… fuck, man, you really had us scared for a minute. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again!”

“I promise?”

“Oh! Eddie finally woke up too! Just the other week. He keeps asking about you, I should go-”

Steve is only more confused. There’s only one Eddie he knows and that Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead worrying about someone like Steve. Not unless...

“Munson?”

“Duh. Oh! Nancy! I was supposed to- you’re ok, right? I’ll just be a minute!”

“Yeah, sure.”

She throws him a thumbs up, darting out the room, calling for Nancy.

His head throbs. He’s not sure what is going on, what happened… maybe that thing in the Byers house did get him after all? Maybe this is just a dream.

"Ah, Mr Harrington," a nurse greets with a warm smile. "It's good to see you awake. I'm just going to check your vitals and all of that stuff, then we'll need to go over some questions. Does that sound alright?"

"Questions?"

"You've been asleep for a few weeks. We need to make sure that everything up there is ok." She lightly raps her knuckles on the side of her head.

Despite how light she's trying to be, Steve feels a sinking in his stomach.

"Is that possible? What- what could be wrong?"

"Nothing too serious. You're speech is clear and legible, you're conscious and cognitive." She lifts the clipboard off the end of the hospital bed. "You remember your name?"

"Yeah," he says. After a moment, he realizes; "oh! Right, sorry. Steve Harrington."

"Date of birth?"

"April 29th, 1967."

"Do you know what todays date is?"

"Um... how long have I been out? You said a few weeks, right?"

"Almost three weeks, yes."

"Three weeks, so that would make today... December 4th?"

She doesn't respond for a moment. The way she keeps her eyes on the clipboard feels too calculated.

"The year?"

"Uh... 1983?"

She only pauses for a moment, before continuing to ask simple questions about current events, how he's feeling, where he feels any pain or discomfort.

He lies when she asks if he remembers what caused him to be hospitalized. He's not sure what the story Nancy and Byers will give. He can't imagine people... involved, would want the truth out. And he's not willing to risk whatever consequences will come with that.

"I'm going to talk with your doctor," she finally says. "I'll be one minute."

"Wait! What- am I ok?"

"Your doctor will explain everything, don't worry."

Amnesia, his doctor explains.

Three years of his life, gone. They try to reassure him, say that it's still early days and he could completely regain his memory, no problem.

But they don't know. Not really. It's all 'possibly's, and 'maybe's. No guarentee. There's still a chance that he may never remember.

The woman who ran in when he woke up, sat by his bedside and holding his hand in a death grip, doesn't look anymore reassured by their optimism than he is.

"We're... close?" He asks her.

"Yeah," she says, forcing a smile. "Platonic soulmates. It's, um... Robin, by the way. Robin Buckley."

"Do we have that... Mrs Click, you sit behind me, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." She looks stunned, almost dazed. "I didn't think you remembered, or even noticed me."

"How could I not? You're hilarious!"

"What? We never-"

"Oh, uh, you're muttering. Behind me. It wasn't exactly, um... quiet."

"Oh my god," she slaps a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "You heard me talk about you!"

"Yeah, like I said; you're funny."

Luckily, someone else bursts into the room, interrupting whatever epiphany Robin is having.

"Steve!" He yells.

The guy looks like a kid, barely out of middle school. But he rushes to Steve, eyeing him up like he's Steves babysitter.

"Uh, hi?"

"Oh no," is the kids response. He turns to Robin. "How much does he remember?"

"He is right here, you know."

"I think some time in 83?" Robin replies, ignoring him.

"Before or after the whole... uh..." He glances at Steve with suspicion, then pointedly to the door.

"Jesus," Steve mutters, rubbing at the crease between his brows. "Did Nancy and Jonathan tell you, or what?"

"Tell us about... what?"

He rolls his eyes at them, pointing to the kid. "Whatever has short stack paranoid. The thing with the-" he flops one hand around, raised towards the ceiling, "the lights."

"Do you remember anything that happened after that?" The kid quickly asks. "At the hospital, and Will?"

"You mean the Byers kid? Isn't he, like... dead?"

"So you... don't remember me."

"Sorry?"

"It's fine," he lies.

Steve hates how sad the kid sounds. He glances between the two of them, both seemingly wallowing quietly about the situation.

"Which room is Munson in?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"What?" The kid frowns. "Eddie? Why?"

"Which room?"

"He's two doors down to the left," Robin answers. "Why- woah! Don't get up! You're still-"

"I'm fine," Steve gently pushes her away, ignoring both of them trying to plead for him to get back into bed.

Despite the bandages, bruises and sick look to him, Munson somehow looks better than Steve remembers him looking. The longer hair definitely suits him.

"Steve?" He frowns. He tries to sit up but, grimacing, he soon stops. "What the hell are you doing up? You're gonna freak Dustin out."

"Dustin? That the kid?" He asks, grunting as he sits on the edge of his bed.

"What do-" he pauses, expressions slowly twisting with the horror and realization. "Yeah. Yeah, man, Dustin is the kid."

"Right. So... um... we're friends now?"

Eddie winces. "We haven't exactly had time to talk about... that."

"What? It's been years!"

"It's not that simple."

"Are you saying that because it's true or because you don't-"

"Because it's true," Eddie rolls his eyes. "A lot has happened since then, Steve. You fell in love with Wheeler."

"What?" Steve can't hide his confusion. "Nancy?"

"Yes, Nancy. You made sure everyone fucking knew about that."

Steve snorts, having to grab at his side with a wince. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"So you're still easy to rile up?" He asks, smirking.

"Wh- you-" Eddie gasps. He tries to sit up again, grunting when he flops back down. "You were trying to make me jealous?!"

He's looking at Steve with disbelief, but he's also smiling.

"Are we friends now?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, Stevie. We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"I don't... Steve, how bad is your amnesia?"

Steve quickly looks away, wincing. "Not... that bad? I remember that- the first time. This, um... monster shit. Falling out with Tommy. And the doctors are optimistic- they're pretty sure I'm going to remember."

"Alright... maybe it'd be better if we talk then, instead of rushing into it now."

"Jesus," Steve frowns. "I really have missed a lot. When did you get mature?"

"Hey-"

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #steddie fic #ficlet #hurtcomfort

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ptolemaeacles · 8 months

Note

pls write more for hazel omg i loved the cheerleader hcs maybe like a childhood best friends to lovers so lots of pining and smut maybe

♡ you belong with me

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

synopsis: hazel has had a crush on her best friend since they met in the 1st grade. they were freshman in college now and hazel realizes she can’t keep her feelings to herself anymore.

warnings: 18+ minors dni (both reader and hazel are 18), smut, childhood best friends to lovers, switch!hazel, switch!reader, top!reader, bottom!hazel (no pun intended), let me know if i missed anything!!

notes: aw thank you !!! im glad you liked the hcs. also small disclaimer, i'm a horrid smut writer and i rushed the ending because i didn't want to keep you waiting. hope you like !!!

word count: 2.5k

“god, i’m so excited. i mean this is the first time a girl has asked me out. usually it’s guys who approach me and then i get weird comments when i tell them i like women…” you rambled on but hazel could barely focus. she could only feel the empty pit in her stomach.

you were so happy to be going on a date and all she could think about is if you would ever be this excited to go on a date with her. she tried to convince you to not go but there was only so much she could do without giving her feelings away.

hazel thinks she’s loved you since the day she met you. before she knew what ‘love’ meant or what it looked like, she loved you. to her, you were the very definition of that word.

hazel’s hopeless crush started in the 1st grade. it wasn’t some cute interaction where one of you saved the other from a bully or something. it was simple with the both of you. it always has been.

you came up to her during lunch and told her you would give her half of your sandwich if she agreed to be your friend.

“what kind of sandwich is it?” hazel asked, from her seat on the lunch table.

“peanut butter and strawberry jelly.”

“i’m allergic to strawberries.”.

“then don’t eat it and just be my friend.” you sat next to her without another word and the both of you left it like that. simple.

since then, she knew she would never escape you. and she never wanted to. but right now, she felt like if you didn’t stop talking to her about this date, her head would explode.

hazel watched you walk around your room, shuffling through your closet for an outfit to the movies with the girl who asked you out. she never bothered remembering the girl’s name because she thinks it would the whole situation worse for her. she didn’t want to know anything about that girl.

“...and she said we’ll get ice cream later which i hope-” hazel interrupted you.

“hey, i think i should get home. my mom’s probably wondering where i am and shit, so… i’ll see you later.” hazel wanted to get away as soon as possible. not from you but from the giddiness she could practically feel radiating off your body at the thought of your date.

“oh.. i thought you told your mom that you were going to study at my place after classes?” you questioned. hazel’s quiet behavior didn’t go unnoticed by you. she was always quiet but after more than 10 years of friendship, you could tell which silences were good and which weren’t. this definitely wasn’t a good one.

“yeah well, we aren’t studying so. i’d better get going, bye.” she spoke in a flat tone, with her head down, as she grabbed her backpack and made her way out of your room.

you stood still, staring at the open door of your room and wondering if you had done something.

hazel walked into her house, red in the face and a vicious grip on the doorknob. she ran up to her room, and threw her backpack in a random corner, probably knocking her guitar down. but her guitar was the last thing on her mind.

she was pissed at you. mostly herself but you as well. she knew she had no right to be angry at you but how could you never see that hazel was right there. she was right in front of you, waiting for you to even glance in her direction. it’s all she wanted. to be the one who makes you laugh, the one who you’d think of when you saw romantic tiktok slideshows, the one who took you out on rollerblading dates, the one who got to kiss you before dropping you off back to your house, the one who got to slide her hand up your skirt, the one who got to be in between your legs-

she groaned and loudly, flopping onto her bed and stuffing her face in her pillow. she needed to apologize before her stupid feelings ruined your friendship.

hazel had a plan. she was going to go to your house after your date and apologize. apologize for being a dick, apologize for falling in love with you, apologize for every and anything she could apologize for so that you wouldn't hate her. she expected you to yell at her or ask her what was wrong with her. what she didn't expect was you to be calling her phone, right now.

she pressed the green 'accept' button and put the phone up to her ear.

"haze.." she could hear you sniffling through the phone, "i-, uh, can i come over, please? my date- it just- it went horribly and i really want to see you. please." hazel felt her heart drop 10 stories.

"yeah, yeah, i'll come pick you up, angel, where are you?" she questioned.

"outside your house."

hazel ran down the stairs and opened her front door, to be met with your red eyes and puffy face.

you immediately wrapped your arms around hazel, burying your face in her chest. her hands went landed themselves in your hair, stroking it gently in an attempt to comfort.

hazel helped you into her room, setting you down on her bed.

"do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

"she- she, um, she stood me up." you could barely get a sentence out without hiccuping. hazel reached over to her nightstand and pulled out an unopened water bottle, unscrewing the cap and handed it to you.

you whispered a thank you and took a few sips. it was hazel's turn to speak now.

"fuck her," you give her a confused look, "oh no, not fuck her, don't do that, i meant that you should just forget about her. she obviously isn't the one for you if she stood you up, and there are so many other people in the world-"

"hazel."

"yes?"

you didn't waste anymore time. you grabbed hazel's face in your hands and crashed your lips into hers.

hazel was sure this was a dream. there was no way you were kissing her right now. she definitely fell asleep and she's imagining this whole thing.

while hazel was having her loser lesbian crisis, you noticed that the kiss wasn't being reciprocated.

'fuck.' you thought. you just ruined your closest and longest friendship. you pulled away from her.

"shit, haze, i didn't mean to do that, i'm not sure what i was thinking-" you started but were quickly shut up when hazel pulled you back in for another kiss.

relief flooded your body. she wanted this. both of you wanted this.

hazel felt you smile into the kiss and took that as her 'go ahead'. she tilted her head, deepening the kiss. shyly, she moved her hand from her lap to your waist. you moved one of your hands to the side of her neck and the other in her hair. you could practically feel her pulse beating rapidly under your palm.

hazel gained a newfound confidence and pushed you back onto her bed, slotting herself between your legs. her lips hovered over your neck before attacking your neck with sloppy kisses. her lips trailed down your neck, making sure to savor the taste of you. her lips met the fabric of your blouse.

"can i take this off, please?" she asked in a breathy manner, as if she had just ran a marathon. you nodded, at a loss for words.

“need to hear you say it, baby. need to know you want it just as bad as i do.” hazel wasn’t aware how raspy her voice was, as if she hadn’t drank water in days.

“take it off, haze, please. take it all off.” you whispered and caught her lips with yours while she lifted your top off your body. once she had your top thrown in a random corner in her room, she went straight for your pants, not even bothering to take her own clothes off.

“fuck, hazel,” you were breathless, “i want to see you, too.” you swallowed, gripping the beige button up she was wearing, hoping she knew what you meant.

“you will, princess, don’t worry. i just want to focus on you right now, okay?” you nodded, not fully sure what ‘focusing on you’ meant.

hazel had you in just your bra and underwear, her eyes scanned your body hungrily. if this was a dream, she prayed she remembered every single moment when she woke up. you were better than any fantasy she could conjure up on those lonely nights, when she couldn't think of anything but you.

you felt her strong gaze settle on your body and you felt self conscious thoughts take the forefront of your mind. you raised your hands over your body, starting to think hazel didn’t want you like you wanted her.

“hey,” hazel grabbed your hands and gently pushed them to your sides, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted you like this. how many nights i’ve stayed up thinking about you.” hazel started kissing down your neck, making her way to your chest.

she pulled your bra down, not even bothering to fully unhook it before latching her tongue down onto your right nipple.

the wet feeling of her mouth made you cry aloud, completely forgetting her mom (and jeff, too, probably) were a few feet down the hall.

hazel lifted her mouth of your tit with a pop, moving her hand to squeeze it instead.

“i’d love to hear you, angel, but i need you to be quiet,” she feverishly pecked your lips, “just tonight, hm?” you murmured a response, more concerned with the ache between your thighs than anything else.

you guessed hazel read your mind or something, as she started moving down the bed towards the place on your body that needed the most attention. she looked up to you, as if asking once more, if this was what you really wanted.

“haze, please.” you whined. that was all the confirmation she needed. she slid your panties down slowly, watching a string of wetness connect your pussy and your underwear. hazel felt herself growing wet at the fact that she did this to you. it filled her with a new sense of confidence. she didn’t even wait for your panties to completely slip off your legs before diving in between your thighs.

your back arched off the bed the moment you felt hazel’s tongue make contact with your swollen bud. she slipped her wet muscle throughout your folds, desperate to catch every single drop of wetness she could.

“fuck, haze, feels really fucking good.” you moaned and brought your hand to the back of her head, gripping her hair between your fingers in ecstasy.

she hummed in response to the praise you were giving her, sending vibrations throughout your core that nearly made you choke. hazel continued to suck on your clit, holding your thighs apart with her hands hooked under your knees. she slid her face side to side with her tongue flat against your pussy, moving your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

you felt a pressure building in your lower belly and tried to move hazel’s face closer to your mound to chase your release.

and she stopped.

you lifted your head from the pillow and stared at her kissing your thighs, before going to unbuckle her own pants.

“wait hazel,” you put your hands on top of her jean button, “can i?” you spoke so quietly, hazel barely caught what you were saying. she nodded her head, unsure of what else to do.

you gently unbuttoned her jeans before sliding them and her boxers down and allowing hazel to step out of them. you lifted her button up over her head and unclasped her bra, letting them fall onto the space on the floor next to her. she was in awe of you. you were so gentle to her and she would never believe she deserved it, even if you reminded her of it everyday for the rest of her life.

once she stood completely naked in front of you, you led her to lay down on bed, stomach facing up, before separating her legs and hooking one of your own over hers.

you looked at her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be met with the rapid rise and fall of hazel’s chest and her eyes shut in euphoria.

“hazel,” you caught her attention, she stared right at you, “keep your eyes on me.” you lowered yourself gently, placing your clit right on top of hers. both of you let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of your juices mixing with the others.

placing your hands on her stomach, you moved slowly, rocking your hips back and forth against hers. hazel struggled to keep her eyes open, getting lost in the pleasure you were giving her. she always thought of moments exactly like this and imagined it being a lot different. she imagined that she would be the one on top of you, taking charge and pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. but after feeling the movement of your hips against hers and the way your breasts bounced slightly when you would pick up your pace. hazel fought her hardest to keep her eyelids from drooping. she didn’t want to miss a single move you made.

you quickly found a steady rhythm and went faster, prompting hazel to cry out. you leaned down and caught her moans in a rough kiss.

the familiar coil in your belly seemed to get tighter and tighter. hazel must’ve noticed the way your hips started to rock faster and knew you were about to cum.

“c’mon, cum for me, baby. give it to me, i’m almost there too,” she started rambling as she felt her orgasm approach her as well, “keep going, just a bit faster, angel.” both of you fought to keep your moans from being heard from anyone else in the house.

“fuck hazel, i’m cumming, i-” you were cut off as your orgasm hit you in waves. warmth spread throughout your body, making your limbs weak and causing your legs to nearly give out.

you kept going, over stimulating yourself, trying to get hazel to reach her orgasm. by the looks of it, she was on the edge. her baby hairs stuck to her sweaty forehead, her face scrunched up in pleasure as her back arched into the air.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck-” she rambled as her orgasm washed over her, quickly quieted by your mouth capturing hers.

the both of you gently rode out your releases, breathless and sweaty. you carefully lifted yourself off of hazel and laid next to her on the bed.

“we should talk about this, you know.” hazel started.

“we will. in the morning, i promise. for now, i just want to be with you.” that seemed to be enough for hazel.

you draped your arm over her waist, pulling her closer to you. she tucked her head in the crook of your neck and the both of you drifted off to sleep.

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan imagine #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan smut #♡ ang’s anons

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halemerry · 9 months

Text

I’m doing it. I’m breaking down the Scene. You know the one. I've been tearing it apart for a week straight now in discord and figured I should leave my observations here. So, uh, yeah, this one's a big one so buckle up folks!

I want to start with the build up because I can never leave well enough alone and because I think the framing we have coming into this sequence is important. We start with the camera on Mr. Acts of Service himself. Crowley, after banishing Muriel, starts cleaning up the bookshop. The music playing is the soft slow rendition of the opening theme. He is returning this space to the status quo, resetting back to normal, fully intending to do this for Aziraphale before dragging him out to the Ritz, falling back on their typical pattern of going out together for food and drink.

Now in a moment he's going to get interrupted by Nina and Maggie but before we get there I want to take a second to draw attention to the area of the bookshop that Crowley will be operating in for the bulk of this. This space is one we very frequently see Aziraphale in. It's his desk behind the till - a spot linked intrinsically to him, even down to the fact that it's located on the east side of the shop. The windows are throwing beams of light onto Aziraphale's chair and onto the same spot Crowley will stand during The Scene. This lighting choice will not change from now until our last shots in the bookshop and the way the blocking plays around these sunbeams is very aware (as Good Omens nearly always is) of exactly where they will land.

Nina and Maggie enter the scene to have a chat about boundaries and communication. Maggie, his own mirror, tells him flat out that he can't play with their lives like that. Maggie and Nina then both tell him that he and Aziraphale need to talk. And I don’t think they're wrong, exactly, but I do think that Aziraphale and Crowley are actually a lot better at communicating in general than they are in these following high stakes scenes. But that's some meta for later - for now I want to just focus on the particular way Crowley's been primed for the conversation he and Az are about to have. Nina in particular does something really interesting. She does exactly what we as the audience did when we first saw Nina and Maggie: she mistakenly projects herself onto Crowley. She says he has trust issues because she does and in the process accidentally frames the core of their problem as Crowley needing to allow himself to trust Aziraphale, a thing that he actively already does and has done for quite some time and has been shown to us several times throughout the two seasons.

Now the build up we get for Aziraphale going into this conversation is very small. By which I mean practically non-existent. We start at the end of his conversation with the Metatron who tells him to go tell his friend the good news - which notably does not imply that the news is something that would require Crowley to make a choice - and sends Aziraphale on his way. Now the most crucial thing in this sequence, to me, is the expressions Aziraphale makes when he thinks the Metatron isn't looking at him. While polite and smiley when engaged with him, Az's expression falls as soon as he doesn't have eyes on him. Something is wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale enters the shop. The doorway is dark and shadowy and he hasn't composed himself yet - though he does give Nina and Maggie a little smile as they leave. Then, as soon as they're not looking at him, but before he approaches Crowley, the tension is back.

He hesitates, then smiles and approaches Crowley. Crowley, planted dead center in that beam of light from earlier, takes off his glasses and promptly starts nervously rambling. The music cuts off here entirely, giving us nothing to focus on but the noises coming from our lead actors, the background noise from the street, and the ticking of the clock in the background. Aziraphale puts up his hands like he's going to interrupt then lowers them again as Crowley keeps talking, his face shifting into this helpless sort of smitten look.

Now look at the light and how it hits the bookshelves behind Crowley as he tries to get his confession going. It's in the shape of a wing. Keep an eye on that - when the camera chooses to show us this one wing of light is important.

Aziraphale then interrupts and there are two things I want to draw attention to here as Aziraphale fumbles for words. First of all is the fact that he glances in the direction of the door (and the Metatron) at least three times as he's struggling to speak.

Secondly, I want to draw attention to the words Az actually says here. He first echoes the Metatron's earlier statement about good news. He then does not roll into the news itself and instead glances at the door and says the Metatron. He starts rambling about the Metatron to a very confused looking Crowley and evetually talks his way into that the Metatron said something. He then hits a wall again, scrambling to find words and instead of explaining the context of what the Metatron says he lands on Gabriel. His brain latches onto someone obviously on the forefront of both their minds and something vaguely relevant to the news he's about to share. He rambles more about Gabriel's job, glancing once again at the door in the middle of this, still avoiding getting to the actual point or perhaps even synthesizing said point as he goes.

We then cut to what is framed as a flashback. I think it is very notable we only see this as Az is telling it to us. In other words that this is not us witnessing an event happening but us witnessing what Aziraphale is telling Crowley. This sequence is the single scene where the Metatron calls Crowley by name despite actively avoiding it in any real time continuity sequences. He uses it twice here which I think also is the strongest thread in here that tells us that we are seeing what Crowley is being told not necessarily what actually happened.

The instant the idea of restoring Crowley comes up the wing of light behind Crowley loses visibility. Crowley's speechless for a moment so Aziraphale fills the silence, already looking like he wants to cry as he talks about the old days. (I also can't help but to notice that the lights behind Az in this shot look like eyes.) Crowley finally speaks and circles around the beam of light he's been standing in like an object seeking to re-establish a source of gravity. The music cuts back in here with tense drawn out notes.

Crowley talks about how Hell offered him his place back and he turned them down. Aziraphale in turn presses on ideas that we know he doesn't really believe. It's a echo of the bandstand and uses a lot of the same language of that fight - another fight we know features Aziraphale saying things he knows aren't true. By now, we have seen him multiple times this season express he does not want to go back and make it abundantly clear that the side they have made for themselves is important to him. We see him actively calling angels bad and incompetent, contrary to everything he's telling Crowley here. We see him be the one to repetitively remind Crowley that they are on their side and be the one that always draws attention to that first. Yet here he says Heaven is the side of light to Crowley - who by the way is literally framed in light. The frame is telling us outright that Crowley is already Good as he is, while Az's expressions are telling us he knows Heaven isn't.

Aziraphale can't tell him that he did not turn down the job and Crowley does another orbit. The music cuts again. This time, he stops with his back to Az, tilts his head upward and decides to ruin me by invoking God.

Here he is, hearing these awful things that he was sure they had moved on from, hearing these things he has tried for so long and so hard to help them both unlearn. But these sorts of habits and lessons are insidious and he knows that and he himself is even a victim of that himself. I mean, don't get me wrong, he recognizes this is weird, I think, but between his own self worth issues and the stress of the few days they'd had can't work out what exactly is off here. He's confused and lost and just been told, in his mind, that he is not good enough as he is - a thing he has always on some level also believed. Yet he reaches out to the parent that taught him that lesson in the first place for strength and grounds himself with that. He circles back to stand in the beam of light and, with that wing of light finally backlighting him again, he is brave and tries to be enough anyway. He bows his head downward, fully emerging the line of this body in the light and tries again. Because even now, even after that emotional blow, Crowley is an optimist who can't help but to try.

At first Aziraphale can't figure out quite what is going on here. He squints at Crowley and glances at the door again. Crowley meanwhile keeps continually glancing upward, whether at God or to hold back tears or some combination of both. In most of these shots Crowley bisects the room, creating a dark half to his left and a light half to his right.

Crowley says he relies on Aziraphale. Even here, even now when he's just hurt him. Because it is the truth. Because Aziraphale makes him feel less alone. Because Aziraphale proves to him that no matter how fucked the system is that there is still good in the world, even if he doesn't always agree with it.

It is only once there is no doubt what Crowley is doing that Aziraphale starts shaking his head in very small quick shakes. He looks panicked even as they both physically draw closer to each other. It's huge not here, not like this energy to me. Aziraphale asks Crowley to come with to help him run Heaven. This is the point where Crowley starts tearing up.

Crowley then says you can't leave this bookshop, trying to say you can't leave me. Az, nearly in tears himself, says 'oh Crowley. Nothing lasts forever' as a means to convey that the books aren't what is important here. Crowley, naturally, hears 'including us.'

Crowley looks down again, quietly agrees, and puts on his glasses, covering himself up again. He then wishes Aziraphale good luck and the music starts up again, still tense but sorrowful now. He leaves the light and heads to the door. Az can't help but to call after him. Please wait. And Crowley can't help but to listen. It's worth noting here that even as he rotates toward the north door, the light still gently hits his face. The shots in general are darker though. He's moved away from the light but it still can't help but to touch him.

"Come with me," says Aziraphale and then after a pause adds "To Heaven." Aziraphale, looking heartbroken, starts one of two 'I' statements he will struggle around in the next few moments. He lands on I need. Which. I want to pause there a moment because holy shit. That is not something they say out loud either. Az looks at him a moment, visibly struggling before he says his dialogue about Crowley not understanding his offer. Like he's said something he didn't mean to and needs to cover it up or like he can't handle the silence after such an honest statement. And on some level he's not wrong there. Because Crowley doesn't understand what Aziraphale is trying to say. But Aziraphale doesn't understand the way Crowley is reading it to course correct either.

Crowley says that he does understand and that he understands better than Aziraphale does. And he also isn't wrong either, from his perspective. Because he does understand the implications behind the offer theoretically in play here. Because he does know that the position Aziraphale is presenting him is not going to result in the outcome Aziraphale is presenting him with. There are some things you can't undo just like memories slipping through the cracks.

Az says there's nothing more to say, trying to dismiss Crowley despite having been the one to pull him to a stop moments ago. He puts on a fake polite smile for a beat but then his is jaw sets, mouth working as his eyes drop - unable to look Crowley in the eye.

Crowley tells him to listen as the music fades out and points upward. Aziraphale humors this, glancing up a few times before looking frustrated, saying he can't hear anything. The light from the window shines down in his direction without actually touching him. Crowley tells him "That's the point. No nightingales." The shot he's on here is a dark one without even any of the book shops pillars visible in it to brighten the shot.

Aziraphale looks frozen a moment here and then as Crowley calls him an idiot and says 'we could have been us' his face completely crumbles. He rapidly glances away to hide his face and Crowley moves and reaches to pull him back. They're both distraught. Az is clearly already holding back tears even before Crowley touches him. The angle of this shot frames Aziraphale in the light of the window. For the first time in this whole sequence Aziraphale is in the light, literally being physically pulled into it by Crowley.

The music swells, playing a similar theme to the one that plays as the Pillars of Creation are formed at the start of the season. They shift back and forth, the camera focusing on Aziraphale's face and hands. His hands move uncertainly, trying to reach out even as he's struggling emotionally. He is visibly shaking but he crucially does not pull away, not even a little.

His hands settle on Crowley's back, right where his wings would be, and for a brief moment gets taller, like he's allowing himself to lean into the kiss. They press together tightly, their mutual gravity sending them crashing together before they break apart. When they do Aziraphale looks devastated and his eyes move pretty much instantly to look out the window where the Metatron would be.

Crowley's glasses make him harder to read here, but he looks at Aziraphale like a man awaiting judgement in a trial he knows he's already lost. He's sad too, but as always, is waiting for Aziraphale's reaction. Because he might push continually at he boundaries of them as a unit but he has always let Aziraphale decide where to set them in stone.

Az fumbles over words here. He gets stuck on "I" here and lets it hang in the air. He then visibly thinks his words over, his expression slowly filling with resolve as he comes to some sort of conclusion. Then, like it's difficult to say, he falls back into old coded language. "I forgive you." A thing he has always said in response to things that he agrees with but cannot or should not allow himself to have.

Crowley sighs and tells him not to bother, refusing to fall into the old pattern that Aziraphale has. He is setting a boundary, for once, and even if it is one born from misunderstanding I am proud of him for being able to. He turns away and leaves. And this is where Az seems most in danger of falling apart. His lips move as Crowley goes, forming the start of a 'no' after him. He draws back from the door and turns his body away from it, physically distancing himself from anything that would feel like following Crowley. Except he can't help himself. With shaking hands he reaches up to touch his lips. He presses in, like he's trying to recreate the pressure and then his jaw works a moment and his expression sets as resolved.

The Metatron enters through the front door, which is framed in dark lighting. Aziraphale looks panicked and immediately turns his whole body away from him to hide his face while he collects himself.

He turns around after a beat and the Metatron asks 'how did he take it?' This is an odd question that only sort of half fits the fact that we are meant to believe at this point - that Aziraphale should be obtaining a yes or no from Crowley. It's not asking Crowley's choice at all. It's like the Metatron assumed a different conversation had happened or perhaps that he already knew the answer.

Aziraphale says he took it badly and the Metatron just takes a moment to direct a few casual digs at Crowley. He references him being stubborn and too curious - all the while avoiding the use of this name. At this point Az's eyes are locked out the window in the direction Crowley vanished to. The Metatron asks if he's ready to start despite originally having promised Az time to think over his answer. Aziraphale keeps glancing out the window.

For a moment he cracks, stepping away from the Metatron and back toward the east side of the bookshop. For the only time in this whole sequence he steps right into the sunbeam Crowley started in. It notably never illuminates his face as he mentions the issue of his bookshop (a statement absolutely not about the bookshop).

The Metatron explains Muriel will take care of it. Aziraphale looks back out the window with the start of an objection.

The Metatron interrupts him asking if there's anything he needs to take with him. Az's mouth takes a moment to try and form words. He steps out of the light again, starts to object, and then cuts off, eyes back to the window. Then his expression shifts again, settling in another state of resolve before he puts on his falsely polite face and follows the Metatron out.

As they leave the shop we cut back to Crowley. Crowley, who could've left to go handle his own emotions, did not leave. Instead he planted himself there, nice and noticeable. Like he wanted Aziraphale to see and know that he still has a choice. Like he needs to see Aziraphale make that choice for himself. Like he can't quite bring himself to be the one to close that last door. He stands there, framed by light, and doesn't move until the doors to the elevator to Heaven close behind Aziraphale. He then glances at Nina and Maggie and then gets in the Bentley, which starts playing the song that we now know he knows is supposed to be theirs. He turns off the music and drives away.

So there's a lot in these sequences and most of it probably won't help us figure out exactly what comes next, but there are definite signs that all is not as it's being presented to us. Whether he's actively lying or not, something is wrong that Aziraphale either can't or won't talk about frankly with Crowley. I suspect, whether it's under stress from a literal threat or because he believes that it is the safest option for them, that Aziraphale is doing all of this to protect Crowley.

There are also all sorts of signals here, especially in the lights, that gesture at the fact their togetherness is a net good. Together they are balanced and stronger for it and likely more in alignment with the Ineffable Plan. And, more importantly than that, that said togetherness is so clearly what they both want. They have loved each other longer than anything alive has ever loved anyone and none of this changes that. They both are saying that in their own ways here, even if those ways are not ones the other is particularly good at picking up and I for one cannot wait to get to see the payoff of them learning how to.

#good omens #gos2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #good omens meta #kind of #is it meta if its mostly me pointing and yelling?#come suffer with me #you have no idea how many times i had to watch these sequences for this #crowley #aziraphale #the bookshop

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