#and i still wear them until they fall apart because shopping is just a miserable experience

[pbandjesse]

I felt really bad today. I did not sleep much at all. It was not a fun night. But the coughing seems to have lessened throughout the day. Let's hope it continues to become less violent and let's me rest.

When I woke up this morning I was pretty upset. I tried to go back to sleep. I could hear James downstairs after they got back from their bike ride. And when they finally came upstairs I was just so happy to see them. Despite how bad I felt I just wanted to look at them and be with them.

They would wait until I got cleaned and dressed before they used the shower, which was very kind of them. They brought me some cereal. I was pretty miserable but I was trying to be positive.

I wanted to add something to our front windows so I don't feel like we're in a fish bowl. So James helped me take tracing paper on the lower half of the windows and it worked great. Still get the light but I don't feel like people are looking at me. I hope someday to get half shutters or something but for now this works.

The big goal of the day was to go to the Fulwilers to get one of the shelves they offered us from their garage and then go do another run to the apartment. The Fulwilers weren't answering their phones so James just decided we would go over there.

I was very very quick to dizzy and winded today. It took basically nothing for me to feel so out of sorts that I needed to sit down. It has not been fun. But when we got to the house I was determined to get something done. I suggested we put the clothes that were still on the table from that yard sale we had literally like two years ago. I thought that was already done and they had been donated but apparently not. It was honestly kind of nice to go through them and I even found a few things I had been thinking about lately. Specifically a blue plaid jumpsuit I was literally going to rebuy on eBay. We would pack up everything in three trash bags and we'll take those to the thrift shop. I did not have the energy to do that today.

James would pick a few bobble heads to keep and I found a bear clock that I liked a lot. We could only fit one of the shelves in the car, they were just to long. But the one worked out and that was good.

After going inside to check on Tucker, who also wasn't feeling great today, we would head to the apartment. We got a few more of the bags of books. And the rest of our medicine cabinet stuff. I also had a package and I was excited to open that. But my energy was gone. I needed to go home.

When we got back here I immediately went to put Sweetp on our room so James could carry things inside. I sat on the floor in the living room and opened my packages. My desk mat came which is great. And the edging for the floor tiles. And the foam wall tiles I got for the bathroom. Some pretty low impact project were good for me.

James would make us lunch while I worked on the foam tiles. It did not go amazing honestly. I messed up in a few spots and if you try to pull them off the wall they basically fall apart. But I think it looks really good. I want to get some beading to finish the top edge but I think it looks really good.

I sat downstairs with James and ate lunch. They would do the edging around the tile and it looks so finished now I'm super pleased. And I measured almost exactly correctly. It was just so nice seeing our space come together.

I would move the shelf we picked up to the basement for my roller skates and we put away the other stuff we brought back over here. It was a good day.

I had a little ice cream to try and make my throat feel better. I had been coughing pretty hard but the frequency was less at least. But I needed to sleep.

James would go make another run to the apartment and get the rest of the books we bagged us. And I would sleep. I woke up off the pillows and completely flat. I wonder if that helped me breathe. I am really glad I got some amount of sleep because the last few days have really started to wear on me and I'm just so tired. I feel super emotionally fragile. The sleep helped.

When I woke up James was there. I was a little weepy. They let me know what they had brought over and I said I could come down around 5. And I did.

We would get some stuff done. Put the rest of the things away. I wanted us to move some stuff around for the kitchen. Pantry stuff where the pantry shelf will eventually go. James hung a shelf for the spices. I felt so listless and had to just lay there on the chair. But eventually I needed to be vertical. Once we have a sofa downstairs again it'll be easier but for now I just want to be in bed.

James would make me a Caeser salad for dinner. Everything tastes to sweet or to salty. But it was good still. Made me feel just a little better.

Eventually I went and took a shower. The water did get slightly warmer. I had fun the sink to hot first so maybe that helped? No idea but it was a more pleasant shower. I was happy to be clean.

Now I am in bed. I am trying a breath right strip to try and help my breathing. But I really am just praying I don't start coughing violently again.

I am really hoping to go to work tomorrow. I hope that it is a really good day. I hope I am all better.

Sleep well everyone. Wash your hands.

[julek]

for @greyduckgreygoose, my beloved <3 | read on ao3

! explicit

Jaskier was oddly quiet.

It was an unforgiving summer afternoon, the sun burning bright in the sky as they walked together on the dry roads. Roach followed close behind them — mindful of the heat, Geralt had dismounted as soon as he was able — and stomped her feet in displeasure every time they had to abandon the cool shadow of the trees, following the forks in the road that lead to Cleves. 

They had spent the night in Maribor, after Jaskier had sung his voice out in the marketplace’s small summer festival. They’d drunk cool beer and eaten sweet pastries, tumbling into bed at an ungodly hour and rising with the sun. Geralt, for once, had actually enjoyed himself — being able to accompany Jaskier on his many outings had long since become routine, but seeing him in his element, lute in hand and winning smile on his face, was still enough to make Geralt’s chest swell with pride, knowing he was the only one who would hold his hand at the end of the night, and take him home. 

Now, as they moved on through the deserted road, Geralt became suddenly too aware of how quiet it all was — apart from the fresh air running through the trees, there was no humming, no half-lines being sung. It was… suspicious. He looked to his left and found Jaskier fidgeting with the strap of his lute, mindlessly watching the thick foliage of the trees they passed by.

Against all demands of decency and decorum, Jaskier’s chemise was unbuttoned to the navel, tucked into his breeches in a half-hearted attempt to keep it from sliding off his back. He’d pushed his hair back in the early morning — as he was wont to do when the heat became unbearable — but by now a few wayward strands were falling on his face, matted with sweat. His chest was an inviting sight, one that always seemed to take Geralt by surprise, the swell of his muscles and the thick hair that covered it making his breath catch in his throat. He was walking a bit slower than usual, adjusting the waistband of his breeches from time to time — Geralt had simply shrugged it off as still being exhausted from the night before. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

“Jask.”

He turned around. “Hmm?”

“You’re being quiet,” Geralt observed. “Last time you were being this quiet it was a curse.”

“Not cursed,” Jaskier replied, biting his lower lip. “Though it is sweet to know you care.” 

Geralt hummed. “Then?”

Looking at Geralt, his head tilted, he smiled, snapping his lute strap into place. “Just thinking.”

There was a row of low-hanging trees on the edge of the path, and they passed underneath them to enjoy the cool shadow, if only for a few moments. Geralt was about to speak when a soft breeze wafted through the air, and made him stop dead in his tracks. 

That scent. Sweet like ripe fruit and sharp like the spices at the marketstalls — lust and desire and need, all in one. Not covered in scented oils, not masked by perfumes and rosewater — just pure Jaskier, sweaty and unwashed and wanton.

Geralt looked at Jaskier again, and the bard must have seen the way his nostrils flared because suddenly his cheeks were pink and his lips were swollen, bitten and cherry red. Geralt stepped closer, Roach’s reins slipping from his fingers, and just breathed in. He could feel himself giving into it, desire pooling low on his belly, just by thinking about taking Jaskier like that, sheltered by the trees and surrounded by nothing but their own skin.

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathed, his voice rough. “Here?”

Jaskier licked his lips, and his voice was already a wreck as he whispered, “Yeah.”

His back hit a tree as their lips crashed with an unbidden sense of urgency, Geralt’s hands reaching for as much skin as he could touch. Jaskier gave as good as he got, sucking bruises he knew would fade soon on Geralt’s jaw, his neck, his ear. 

“What’s got you so worked up?” Geralt panted against Jaskier’s collarbone when they parted, fingers stroking the soft skin of his belly, just above his waistband. “Could swear you were pretty dead to the world this morning.” 

Jaskier scoffed a laugh, pressing kisses to Geralt’s face, uncaring of the heat. “I may have a surprise for you.” 

Geralt pulled back to look at him, a small frown knitting his brows. His thumb was dangerously close to the pretty knot that tied Jaskier’s breeches together. “And what would that be?”

“Can’t tell you.” Jaskier’s grin was wicked. “Guess you’ll have to find it.” 

Groaning, Geralt stole a quick kiss, making Jaskier laugh. He linked their hands together and walked deeper into the forest — they’d had too many a close call, pleasuring each other on the side of the road — and whistled for Roach to follow. 

“Tell her to stay back!” Jaskier whisper-shouted, looking at Roach walking toward them. “I don’t want her—”

“Seeing us?” 

“Yes, Witcher, seeing us. She’ll be scarred for life.” 

Geralt snorted, but motioned for Roach to move along a line of trees. “There.” 

“Good,” Jaskier purred. “Now, where were we?” 

Almost tearing the fabric, Geralt took Jaskier’s chemise off his back. He needed to feel his skin, have no layers between them — with quick movements, Jaskier divested him of his armor, deft fingers making fast work of the buckles holding the plates together. Their lips met again and again, a vicious hunger running through their veins, demanding to be sated.

Pinned between Geralt and the trunk of a sturdy tree, Jaskier arched under the bruising kisses being sucked into his skin. Geralt caught his hands just before they moved to the laces of his breeches and placed them above his head, taking control. Jaskier shuddered. 

“If you’re gonna tease me,” he rasped, “at least take your clothes off. Put on a proper show.”

Geralt hummed. “You’d enjoy that too much.” 

“That is correct, which is why I’m—”

Jaskier’s words dissolved into a groan as Geralt finally, finally pushed his breeches down — but, too soon, his hands stilled. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice was low, almost too low to be heard. 

Jaskier huffed a laugh. “You like that?”

The bard wasn’t wearing any underclothes — just his breeches, all day long, under the offending sun — and it made some animalistic instinct in Geralt burn, something primal and raw melt his senses into nothing but Jaskier, Jaskier, Jaskier. 

He bit down on Jaskier’s neck as an answer, and his moan went straight to Geralt’s cock, already hard and aching for release. He wrapped his free hand around Jaskier, stroking hard and slow, the way he knew set the bard on edge — but then he remembered.

“Where’s my surprise?” He asked, smiling when Jaskier rocked into his hand, tiny whines escaping his lips. “I do recall being promised one, of sorts.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to answer, but then, right then, Geralt twisted his wrist and sped up his movements, wringing punched-out ah, ah, ahs from him. “Jaskier.”

“Y-yes,” he managed, his forehead pressed against Geralt’s shoulder. “There’s— ah, fuck—”

“It would be rude of you to come now,” Geralt whispered in his ear, his voice rough with want, though his movements didn’t falter, his thumb gliding along the slit messily, “before I got to unwrap my gift.”

“I— I won’t last,” Jaskier confessed, his eyes shut and his brows knitted in a frown borne of ecstasy, clearly reaching his peak. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Geralt smirked. “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier let out a broken moan as Geralt withdrew his hand entirely, leaving him unsatisfied and aching, panting against his chest. Geralt pressed small kisses to his hair, his face, his hands. “You okay?”

Though he seemed miserable, Jaskier gave him a soft smile before burying his face where Geralt’s neck met his shoulder. “Always.”

Geralt took him in his arms, relieved. He knew what Jaskier liked, was sure of what he wanted — making sure was part of it, all the same. 

He waited for Jaskier’s breathing to even out, let him rest against his body even though he kept subconsciously rocking against Geralt’s cock, which strained against the leather of his breeches with unfaltering desire. After a few moments, Jaskier rose from his chest with a knowing smile on his lips.

“Well, then,” he said, turning around and leaning his front against the tree, arms lifted above his head in surrender. He looked at Geralt over his shoulder, “won’t you come get it?”

Every bit of restraint and patience Geralt had been holding onto vanished, disappeared as he moved forward and pressed himself close to Jaskier, shoulder to knee. “I’ve fucked you in the woods before,” he observed, reaching for his own pants to unfasten them, “what’s special about this one?”

Jaskier chuckled. “Ah,” he said, clicking his tongue. “But you’re mistaken.”

Geralt watched as his hand traveled down his back, slow and teasing, until it reached his tailbone. Jaskier slid his fingers down his crack and pulled, spreading himself open just the slightest bit, enough for Geralt to see—

“Fuck, Jaskier.”

Down in the forgotten streets of Maribor, there’d been a small shop Jaskier knew very well. It was where they regularly got their oil supply, where Jaskier often complained to Geralt of high prices for feathered hats and embroidered underpants. The night before the festival, Geralt had watched Jaskier come in particularly pink-cheeked, smelling of chamomile and expensive perfume, a small velvet pouch hidden between his hands. He’d thought nothing of it — after all, he was the one who’d asked Jaskier to get their oil this time — and had almost forgotten about it.

Now, Geralt watched as a small, polished plug in a dark shade of blue was pressed inside Jaskier, keeping him open. It’s for you, the animal that lived inside him said, he’s wearing it for you. A low groan escaped him as he reached out and tapped the base once, making Jaskier squirm.

“Do you like it?”

Jaskier’s voice wavered the slightest bit, and immediately Geralt cursed himself for standing there quiet so long. Their eyes met, and that was it — Geralt surged forward and kissed him ferociously despite the awkward angle, just to show him how much he liked it. 

“I do,” Geralt said against Jaskier’s mouth, “I really fucking do.”

“Then show me.”

Geralt turned Jaskier around so he was facing the tree, and felt the wet dirt on his breeches as his knees hit the forest floor. This close, he could see just how far the plug went; the way it stretched Jaskier further and further with every move. He groaned. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

Jaskier couldn’t manage to answer. He let out a broken moan as Geralt licked a stripe down his cleft, briefly sucking on the plug and making Jaskier’s knees almost give out. His scent was so strong, here, so heady and raw, Geralt wanted nothing more than to get drunk on it.

He teased his tongue around the plug, pulling it out with his fingers just a little, only to push it back inside. It drove Jaskier mad, made him let out weak, breathless moans as Geralt licked him relentlessly. “Geralt,” he breathed. “Please.”

Geralt hummed, making Jaskier whine. “Yes?”

“Just,” Jaskier said through gritted teeth, “d-do something.”

Geralt pulled back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “Something?”

Jaskier looked down at him over his shoulder, and Geralt couldn’t suppress a shudder — he looked wrecked, his cheeks red and scratched from pressing them against the tree, his hair pushed back and gleaming with sweat, his eyes shining with unshed tears. An amalgamation of sin and innocence, purity and desire. His voice was rough when he said, “Anything.”

And Geralt gave it to him. He gripped the base of the plug and pulled, taking it out in one fluid motion, hearing Jaskier groan at the stretch. He immediately replaced the plug with two spit-slick fingers, feeling the warmth of Jaskier’s walls clenching around them.

“Geralt, Geralt— Geralt,” Jaskier chanted, his name suddenly a prayer, as Geralt pressed messy kisses to his hole, took playful bites at his cheeks. Jaskier’s cock still was hard and straining against his stomach, and Geralt could see he was holding himself back from rutting against the tree. 

Abruptly, Geralt pulled away and sat back, bringing Jaskier down with him. “C’mere,” he rasped, settling Jaskier on his lap, his fingers still deep inside him. He swallowed each one of Jaskier’s moans, kissing him fiercely as he added a third finger. “Are you gonna come, little bird?”

“Not yet.” Jaskier shook his head. “Want— with you.” 

Geralt groaned against his bard’s shoulder. Of course he’d think of Geralt even on the verge of his orgasm, of course he’d want him to take his pleasure as well. If only he knew what he did to Geralt — that seeing him incoherent and lost in desire was enough to bring him to the edge. Still, Geralt nodded. “With me.”

Jaskier unlaced Geralt’s breeches and pushed them down, just enough so they could rut against each other, skin on skin. Geralt hissed as Jaskier rocked his cock against his own, felt the dribble of precome slick the way as Jaskier’s palm wrapped around them both. He let out a low groan and caught Jaskier’s lips in a kiss that was mostly teeth and tongue, but that felt like diving into a frozen lake on a hot summer day. He felt Jaskier fucking himself on Geralt’s fingers as he stroked them both to completion, his movements faltering. 

“I’m— Geralt,” he choked out. 

Geralt nodded feverishly against his temple. “Yes, yes, yes.” 

Jaskier twisted his wrist once more, and Geralt came over Jaskier’s hand and stomach. Even under the hazy cloud of his orgasm, Geralt presses his fingers inside Jaskier still, brushing his prostate with nearly every stroke. Suddenly, Jaskier stilled, and came with a muffled sob against Geralt’s shoulder, his come hitting Geralt’s chest. 

They sat together, catching their breaths for a moment. Geralt pressed soft kisses against Jaskier’s neck, the side of his face, wherever he could reach. Devotion, he realized. This is what devotion feels like.

Jaskier melted against him, pressing lazy kisses of his own against Geralt’s scarred shoulder. “That was…” 

“Good,” Geralt rumbled.

Jaskier pulled back slowly, with a grin that quickly transformed into a groan. “Fuck, no,” he growled as he watched Geralt run a finger through the mess on his chest and suck it into his mouth. “Fuck.” 

Geralt shrugged. “You taste good,” he said simply.

“You can’t just say—” Jaskier pressed his face against Geralt’s neck, defeated. “You’ve killed me. I’m dead. Please grieve accordingly.” 

Geralt huffed a laugh. “We have to get going soon.”

Jaskier tsked. “Can’t. Dead, remember?” 

Geralt knew there was no competing against Jaskier’s soft afterglow. With a dramatic sigh — damn Jaskier and his endearing theatrics — Geralt laid down, his back on the damp summer grass. Jaskier burrowed into his side, nuzzling his nose against Geralt’s neck, their legs entwined. 

Geralt looked at the sky. Its blue was slowly giving way to the soft oranges and pinks of the late afternoon, sunlight melting against the clouds. He knew they would have to move eventually, saddle Roach and keep going until they reached Cleves. But for now, they could lie close to each other, their breaths and heartbeats as one, and worry for nothing but each other. 

For now, Geralt could look into Jaskier’s eyes and find nothing but a mirror of his own, could whisper sweet nothing against his ear and watch him flush and smile, embarrassed, until the sun set. He could press soft kisses on Jaskier’s skin and find nothing but the scent of sweat, and salt, and love. Find roundabout ways to tell him I love you, and I’m yours, and I never want to be without you, and I would never run.

He would always stay.

#mywriting #geraskier fanfic #geraskier #geraskier smut #hope you all like it <3

[brywrites]

Gifted

Spencer Reid x Reader. Summary: All his life Spencer Reid has been told he’s gifted. And all his life he’s wondered what the point was of those gifts that felt like curses. Until her.

--------

Though he holds so many memories in his mind, Spencer Reid isn’t quite sure who the first person to call him “gifted” was. It was probably his mother, he thinks. Certainly not his father, who thought he was strange. Perhaps a teacher, or maybe even his Aunt Ethel. All he’s certain of is that he’s lost track of the number of times people have praised the so-called gifts he possesses. His eidetic memory, his autodidactism, his absurdly high IQ. His mind, they say, is a gift. But it’s felt more like a curse for most of his life.

Those same things that helped him skip grades and earn the praise of adults brought him years of bullying taunts and miserable adolescent trauma. They isolated him from his peers. His companions were library books and stories and mathematic proofs – nothing with a beating heart. They plagued his nightmares, for his mother had been brilliant too and what had that done for her? And those gifts came with a tremendous burden of pressure, they demanded use in a powerful way. Reid was always terrified he’d fail to live up to that impossible potential, proving himself unworthy of such great and terrible gifts.

By the time he’s thirty-six, he wonders why he was ever given such gifts in the first place. Clearly he’s squandered them, spent them on chasing monsters he thought might be human. They turned out to be hydras – for each one they catch, two more take its place. He’s let his mind waste away on drugs, on grief. In shacks and in prison and in grudges he just can’t let go of. He’s saved lives, he knows, but his team do that same thing without the gifts he’s been cursed with. What’s the point of him? Of any of the talents or tricks he possesses?

And it’s that question on his mind as he walks into a Virginia library to interview a witness to the latest in a string of serial arsons. Her name tag says Y/N. She’s clearly nervous, a little shaken, but she manages a smile when a child runs up to interrupt and ask her how to find The Magic Tree House books. And when she turns back to look at Reid, that smile still lingers – her eyes so bright it catches him off guard. She takes him back to the area of the library that was burned to talk about the crime scene, and she off-handedly asks if he has a favorite.

And when he says, “Oh I could never choose just one favorite. I love books too much for that,” that smile returns, unexpectedly bright.

“A man after my own heart,” she says. “Tell me a few then.” 

So he rattles off a handful, hoping at least one of them will keep that light in her eyes. They do. “Bradbury is one of my favorites, too. I just love Dandelion Wine. Sorry, I probably should focus on the fire. I try to distract myself when I feel stressed, and well, remembering what happened that night doesn’t exactly help with my anxiety.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. Or excited. Really, I think I just talk a lot.” Another smile, one that crinkles the corners of her eyes. Over the course of the investigation, the BAU has to ask her to come to the station twice. By chance, Reid finds himself interviewing her both times, and both times he finds himself rambling a little more than he means to – because he finds himself inexplicably a little nervous and a little excited in her presence. It’s that smile, the one that lingers long in his mind after she leaves each time.

There’s something about her, about the light she seems to carry, that draws him in. That compels him to say yes when he shows up at the library to inform her they’ve caught the unsub and she asks, “Could I buy you a cup of coffee to show my appreciation? If that’s not too much, of course.”

“I think that would be perfect,” he says. And as they sit at the café across the street with lattes in oversized mugs, he’s never been so grateful for his vast knowledge of literature. Each title is a start into a new conversation with her, and they swap stories about stories – the ones they have lived and the ones they have loved. When she disappointedly announces her break is over, she adds, “But maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“Yes,” he says. “Please.”

“How should I get in touch with you if you’re not showing up at the library to interrogate me, Dr. Reid?” she teases.

He hastily withdraws his cell phone from his pocket and offers it to her. She begins to type in her number. “You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he tells her.

She grins at him and something in his chest shifts at the sight. “I’ll definitely call you soon, Spencer.” He’s never liked the sound of his own name more. And he thanks that eidetic memory of his for allowing him to replay it again and again in his mind until he can see her next.

.

They get coffee again the first chance he gets. And then again. When she asks how he has time to read so much and he tells her about how his mind works – about his memory and speed-reading and quantified intelligence, all the things that have been called gifts – she thinks for a moment before saying, “That must be lonely.”

The relief he feels at her understanding is immense. “It is sometimes,” he admits. “But it’s felt less so lately.” They go to a park together. Then out to dinner. By the time he realizes he’s falling, he’s forgotten what it feels like to be on solid ground. Fortunately, he isn’t the only one at the mercy of gravity. She feels it too. And when she laughs at his joke as he walks her home from dinner, he just can’t help himself. He leans in and cups her cheek to pull her to him, pressing his lips to her still-smiling lips. The taste of wine still on her tongue. And though he doesn’t drink anymore, the sensation of her is enough to make him feel utterly intoxicated.

Slowly, his life fills up with her. His sabbatical arrives with the perfect timing to allow him evenings and weekends with her. He picks her up after work. She meets him for breakfast. He takes her to the planetarium. She falls asleep on his couch. He tells her it won’t always be this way and she assures him that’s okay. But it gives him the chance to build the foundation their relationship needs. It’s in that time that he begins to catalogue her smiles in his memory. The dazzling ones she sends his way when she spots him at a coffee shop. The soft, shaky ones she wears after a long kiss. The coy ones that twist the corner of her mouth when she’s teasing him. The nervous one that slowly grows when she meets his team for the first time – not as a witness, but as his girlfriend. A title she declares like a badge of honor. He holds each smile in his mind, picture perfect thanks to that eidetic memory. When a case has been particularly tough or he’s away for longer than he’d like, he flips through them in his mind, trying to remember the cause of each one, trying to hold on to that light until he can hold her in his arms again.

.

He surprises her with flowers on her birthday. “You remembered?” she gasps, her eyes wide. “And these – these are my favorite. How did you know?”

“I could never forget,” he laughs, but she stares down at the bouquet and clutches them to her chest.

“I don’t make a big deal about my birthday, so people don’t usually remember,” she says quietly. “And nobody’s ever gotten me flowers before. Thank you, Spencer.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

He grins from ear to ear. Forget the sound of his name, those three words are the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I love you, too.” It’s a first for both of them. And one week later comes another first – witnessing her panic attacks for the first time. She’s shaking too hard to tell him what she needs, so he tries to do what would help him. He sits down next to her on his living room rug and wraps her in his arms. He rests his head on her shoulder and murmurs the words to her favorite poem. She seems to breathe a little easier and so he recites another one she loves, and another until her breathing finally steadies and she unclenches her fists to wrap her arms around his neck, burying her face in his sweater.

Suddenly it doesn’t feel like such a curse to remember everything he reads when it means he can give her the words she loves when she needs them most.

The first time they sleep together is only the second time he’s been intimate with someone and he feels more awkward than he wishes he was. But he commits himself to studying, to remembering what she likes and what she doesn’t, and the next time he proves to be the quickest of learners when he succeeds at making her come within a matter of minutes. He discovers a new smile of hers, one of dreamy bliss and kiss-swollen lips. He loves it. He loves her, adores every single part of her she’s shared with him and every piece yet to be found. And to his continued surprise and delight, she loves him just as much.

He tries every day to be worthy of that love. He makes time for her. He goes to meet her friends and he shakes their hands even though he hates touching people, even though she insists, “You don’t have to. They won’t mind.” He does it because she’s the only person in the world whose touch he actually craves.

When she swoons over a dress Penelope has shown her on Instagram, he makes a note of it. She’s utterly enamored by it by her smile falls upon checking the price tag. It’s far out of her budget. So the next week when he’s out on a case in Atlantic City, he swings by one of the few casinos that doesn’t have his picture framed on the wall of their security office. He wins more than the cost of the dress in an hour and leaves before anyone can get suspicious. The dress arrives at his apartment the same day he gets home, and he invites her over to surprise her with it. When she opens the box, her eyes go wide.

“Spencer, this is… this can’t be. It’s… do you know how expensive this is?” Y/N asks.

Bashfully, he replies, “Now might be a good time to mention I’m banned from casinos in almost every state for my card counting abilities.” It’s well worth the little effort he expended to see the way her face lights up at the sight of it. And though he’s never been a gambling man, when he sees her wearing it for the first time he considers trying his luck a little more often.

At times he worries he’s doing too much, but how could it ever be when the way she loves him has been so much more than enough? For the first time in his life, he feels like maybe he’s enough. When she says, “I love you,” he believes it. When she says, “I’ll be back,” he trusts her. He’s given another person more of his heart than he ever has before, and for once he’s not afraid of it breaking. She doesn’t mind the strange hours he works or heaviness he sometimes carries with him. When he wakes up from a nightmare, she holds him close and keeps him grounded. He sends postcards from each city he visits and she makes his favorite food when he comes home and home is suddenly a place they share. She moves into his apartment and it feels like it was never complete without her there.

.

Not long after, there is a case in Boston. Their terrifyingly intelligent unsub taunts Reid as he leaves the interrogation room. “Judge me all you want, Dr. Reid. But I’ve used my mind to change the world. You’ve done nothing with yours.” The words haunt him on the flight home. He sits on the back of the plane lost in thought. What has he done? Sure he’s saved lives, but could he have done more? Could someone else have used those gifts he’s been burdened with in a way that was better? Why does he have any of these talents? Why has he acquired any of these skills?

His phone chimes. A text from her. Brought home a new book from the library I think you’ll love! Can’t wait to see you, dearest. And it hits him.

It’s her. All along it’s been her.

The answer echoes in his head as he races home to her. Everything in his life has led him to her, has let him be the person she needs. He can memorize all her favorite songs and poems to recite for her when her anxiety gets the best of her. He can remember every date that matters to her and everything she adores. He can read her favorite books overnight to talk about them with her in the morning. He can profile from her body language and her microexpressions when she’s having a bad day and needs him to be there for her, even when she’s too afraid to ask for what she needs. When she asks absurd questions out of the blue, he can give her actual answers with the useless encyclopedia of knowledge he’s obtained over the years. When she needs a distraction his rambling finally proves useful. It’s all for her.

She’s the reason his mind doesn’t feel like a curse anymore. How could he ever think of it with disdain when it’s the reason he can picture every smile she’s ever let him see? When he can catalogue every wonderful word from her lips, every inch of her skin, every action that drives her wild.

Reid can’t seem to open the door to their apartment fast enough. When he finally steps inside, she’s sitting on the couch. She turns away from the book in her lap to smile at him. “Welcome back,” she says. Then, tilting her head, “Is everything okay?”

An unshakeable grin spreads across his face and he knows he must look like a madman right now as he crosses the living to sit beside her. “Everything’s perfect. I just… I had this epiphany. All the things I hate about myself, you love. And all the things I can do let me love you better. It just feels like everything – everything has led me to you. Even the bad things, I mean, being in prison forced me to take sabbaticals and if I hadn’t we wouldn’t have had that time together early on and maybe we wouldn’t have worked and I don’t believe in fate,” he says, taking a breath. “But I can’t help but feel like for the first time, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. With you. Like that’s where I was meant to be all along. And I… I just thought you should know.”

His long-winded rambling is rewarded with one of his favorite smiles from her – one that makes her eyes soft and puts sunsets to shame. The kind she wears when she is incandescently happy. Her fingers lace through his and they are a perfect fit in his big hands. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be,” she says, leaning in to kiss him.

All his life, Spencer Reid has been told he is gifted. But this time, he thinks it might actually be true. He holds the greatest gift the universe has ever granted him in his arms and knows that no part of him is a curse if he is loved by her.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #fanfiction #gifted #brywrites #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Pacemaker

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: Let me be clear: this is a very dark narrative. I have lots of warnings for my readers, including explicit smut, vulgar language, toxic relationships, voyeurism, choking, sadism, smoking, and drinking.

Word Count: 8.2K

Genre: Sugar Daddy AU; Established Relationship

Summary: Y/N had made a lot of bad decisions throughout her life, but signing up for that stupid Sugar Daddy website? The worst of them all.

A/N: The title makes more sense in the end, but I can tell you that pacemaker’s are used to control arrhythmia's - and Seungmin might just function that way for the reader! Also, I’m really sorry for making Chan such an asshole.

Seungmin was a good best friend, even if he was determined to ruin his lungs with expensive cancer sticks. 

I had once tried to help him break the bad habit - stealing the cigarette boxes that he bought from the store and tossing them into the trash. But Seungmin made it rather difficult to break his addiction, and when I found him digging through the trash one evening, trembling fingers bringing the lighter up to his lips, I stopped trying to help him. And it might seem like a shitty thing for a best friend to abandon, but I was really tired of seeing my efforts die in vain when Seungmin made it loud and clear that he wasn’t willing to relent.

However, I was probably the worst person in the world to preach against his vices, especially when mine were far more consequential. Ironically, if I was to compare our biggest slights, then I might find a lot of similarities between our horrible habits. For instance, we were both prisoners to something toxic, and it was hard to push out those dark shadows when they had already snuffed out most of the light.

But at least Seungmin still had some control over his autonomy whereas I had allowed a single man to dictate every aspect of my existence. He decided the clothes that I would wear to his fancy office, and the things that I was allowed to do to my own person. He enacted so many rules that I could barely keep up with them, and he frequently reminded me that I was supposed to comply with whatever he demanded because I signed a foolish contract.

In the end, it was my fault for becoming so involved, but I could always rely on Seungmin for companionship when I felt another bout of existential dread. Because Seungmin was a good listener, and he made an effort to understand my problems even when he didn’t agree with my decisions. It was one of the things that I liked most about him, and I watched him with indifferent eyes as he stomped out his cigarette against the sidewalk.

Thereafter, his breath vaporized against the frigid air, and it was the only reminder that it was cold because my body had already grown numb to the sensation. “What happened this time?” Seungmin asked, raising a brow in question.

It was a deceivingly simple question because there was no straightforward answer that I could offer him in response. Instead, I shrugged while trying to collect my thoughts. Because I still wasn’t really sure how I felt about my latest rendezvous with him, but I knew for certain that it had affected me more than the other times.

“It was different,” I replied, and Seungmin nodded.

“Did he hurt you?” Seungmin asked.

“Yes, but not the kind of hurt that you’re thinking about,” I said. 

“Well, that’s still fucked up,” Seungmin said. “Tell me everything.”

Oh, but there was so much to tell him, and my mind instantly brought me back to the very beginning when I signed my name on a contract that promised so much only to deliver nothing but pain.

Six Months Ago

The worst decision of my life was predicated on my desperation for cash, and I was almost at the point where I would do anything to see another zero on my bank statement.

When I first moved to California, I had a lot of big dreams, and I was so excited to secure a scholarship to a highly-accredited University. It seemed that the world was finally on my side, and I left my home on the east coast to start a new life with more opportunities. Everything was going according to plan, and there was nothing preventing my success.

Except for me, of course. 

And it happened during the events of a single evening when I decided to attend a fraternity party on campus that my roommate recommended. The music was loud, the alcohol was unlimited, and any prior inhibitions had been thrown out the window much to my own detriment. I forgot all about my responsibilities, and I made one careless decision after another until I ended up in bed with a stranger.

I don’t even remember his name, but he was just one of the students who got busted by the police that night. Apparently, someone next door ratted us out, and they discovered a bunch of under-age students drinking alcohol without any supervision, including myself. But when the University found out, my scholarship was taken away, and my parents refused to send me extra money for tuition because they were determined to bring me back home.

But I wasn’t about to let one night ruin everything, and it was my roommate’s idea to suggest the stupid website. “It’s like a Sugar Daddy thing,” my roommate giggled. “All you have to do is sign-up, and then they’ll email you if there’s any interest.”

“Interest?”

“Well, they’ll probably want something from you in exchange for money.”

“How much money?”

“I guess that’s up to you to decide.”

Tragically, I was too desperate to consider the consequences, and I signed up without even thinking about the potential for disaster. And within a week, I got several emails from old misers offering me loads of cash in exchange for services that ranged from a private escort request to more explicit favors. But none of them stood out to me, especially in comparison to the young CEO who claimed to only be 28-years-old, but I could hardly believe his profile.

Still, I decided to entertain him, and I organized a meeting at a neutral location just in case anything funny happened. But I was still shocked to see the same man from the pictures waiting for me inside the coffee shop. And he was just as handsome as he appeared online: long, curly blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and a broad smile that took my breath away.

“Y/N?” he asked when I cautiously approached the table.

“Mr. Bang Chan?” I returned, and he laughed while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal strong, muscular arms.

“That’s me,” he said. “You can sit down if you want.”

“Of course,” I said, feeling rather foolish after standing there for so long. “I’m sorry, but I was really surprised because I honestly thought you might by lying about your age.”

“Why would you think that?” he asked, and I easily detected an accent carrying his words.

“Uh, considering the circumstances,” I said with a wince. “I feel like you could have any woman you want.”

“Oh?” Chan asked while raising one brow suggestively. “Maybe I just want you.”

“R-really?” I stuttered while wondering if I had made a good decision when I wore a skirt that afternoon. “You can probably tell that I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s alright,” Chan reassured me. “I don’t have much experience either.”

It seemed too good to be true - like there wasn’t any logical explanation for why this incredibly sexy businessman had signed up for some Sugar Daddy website when all he had to do was blink in my direction and I was already falling for him hard. “So, I guess you expect something from me.”

“I like how you do business,” Chan remarked. “We can skip all the formalities, then?”

“If you want,” I said, still feeling a bit sheepish as I glanced down at the table.

“From you, Y/N,” Chan continued. “I want a partner.”

“In what sense?” I asked. “Are you talking about something...sexual?”

“I’d really like that,” Chan said with a seductive smile. “But only if you’re interested.”

“Definitely,” I quickly agreed, throwing all caution to the wind as I surrendered to his ridiculous charisma.

“In return, you can have whatever you want,” Chan said. “Money isn’t an issue for me.”

“I really just need money for my tuition.”

“Is that all?” Chan scoffed as if he was in disbelief. “There’s got to be something else.”

I hesitated for a moment, wondering why it was so hard to ask him for those extravagances when the entire premise of our meeting rested on the basis of one exchange for another. “My apartment,” I said. “I plan to get a job in the future, but I’m struggling with rent.”

“Fuck the job,” Chan said. “I don’t mind paying your rent.” He smirked as he leaned back against the booth with a sigh. “I used to be a college student, Y/N, and I had problems paying for those things too.”

His attitude was nothing but nonchalant, and our terms were settled without a single complaint. Eventually, the deal was finalized when I met him later that evening at his lavish penthouse apartment, signing my name at the bottom of an exclusive contract that I hadn’t even taken the time to read. 

“It’s done,” Chan declared, and I watched his forearms bulge as he applied pressure to the official stamp. “We can have some fun together,” he added, and the look he gave me was nothing short of predatory. “Tell me, Y/N. Are you a virgin?”

“No, sir,” I said, watching him throw the contract aside onto the coffee table. 

“Good,” he purred while slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you take birth control? I hate fucking with condoms.”

“Yes,” I whispered, and there wasn’t an ounce of shame in my entire being when I studied the hard planes of his upper torso once his chest was exposed to the room. 

Did I really just a sign a deal with a real-life Adonis?

“I’m gonna have a taste of that sweet cunt tonight,” Chan said, and one hand palmed himself over the front of his pants. “Bend over the couch for me, and keep your legs spread.”

“O-okay,” I agreed, hesitating because I wasn’t expecting him to move so fast, but I also knew that it was a foolish thought. What else should I have anticipated? There’s only one thing he wanted from me, and it’s not like it proceeded a romantic dinner or a long walk on the beach.

But it was still jarring to feel someone else’s hands on my hips - someone older and far more experienced. And his hands were proof of that confidence, perfectly assured in their motions as they drug my panties down my legs, fingers prodding against the folds of my labia. “You’re not wet enough,” Chan remarked, and I blushed because I was afraid that I had been doing something wrong. “We’ll just use lube.”

I flinched when I heard a loud POP! echo throughout the room when he opened a bottle from behind me. Then, I startled when something cold penetrated between my thighs because I wasn’t used to the overbearing sensation, and the flex of his fingers were incredibly thorough as they explored the private walls stretched around his intrusion. It felt nice, though, feeling him moving around, brushing against sensitive zones that had me moaning against the cushions.

“What a good slut,” Chan said, and I found myself whimpering at the derogatory term. “Let me use my cock instead.”

I gasped when his fingers disappeared in the middle of my approaching orgasm, leaving me clenching desperately for something to fill up the places that had left empty. But the sound of Chan shuffling out of his pants was reassuring, and he was nothing but teasing when he slid the head of his cock up and down my entrance. Spreading his pre-cum while prodding against me with the tip of his erection. 

If I hadn’t been wet before, then I was positively drenching from the surprisingly playful foreplay. “Please,” I whined, and he must’ve been feeling merciful since it was our first meeting because he pushed himself the rest of the way inside between my walls with a grunt. Satisfying that persistent ache which demanded some sort of satisfaction from the fat cock splitting me with every aggressive plunge against my g-spot.

“There we go,” Chan hissed, and his fingernails dug into my skin while he rolled my hips back onto his cock - repeating the motion with a sensual rhythm that was slow but fulfilling. Deep and full. Pounding into my hips with every thrust and chanting obscenities into the air while the smell of sex hit me with as much force as his thighs knocking against mine. “Feels so good around me.”

I moaned at his husky tone, and slid further down the armrest of the couch because my clit was rubbing deliciously against the furniture that he had bent me over, and I focused on the addicting friction and the impression of his cock drilling inside my pussy until I came with a loud moan. 

“Shit,” Chan cursed when I clenched even tighter around him, and the pleasure was like a dramatic rise - a climactic high - and I fell back into the moment with my heart pounding against my chest while Chan continued to plummet his cock into the stimulated entrance of my cunt before I felt his cum trickle down the inside of my legs. 

“Good girl,” Chan said, and he landed a sharp slap to my ass before he was walking out of the room, stuffing his cock back into his pants while I looked down at my hands and wondered what I was supposed to do next.

And several long minutes passed before I realized that Chan wasn’t coming back, and I tried to ignore the sensation of his cum drying on my skin as I pulled my skirt back on over my sore hips. 

Is this how it would be every time? 

I grimaced at the thought, but I knew it was still a better alternative than returning home to my disappointed parents. Because Chan would at least help me stay in school, and he wasn’t really asking for that much in return. 

Right?

But my heart was aching when I left his penthouse around midnight, returning to the shared apartment with my roommate and slinking into the shower while doing my best to remain quiet. Unfortunately, my thoughts were starting to become more rampant - louder than the prevailing silence - and I couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter with Chan. Because it was the second time that a random stranger had fucked me without consideration, and I would never forget how I felt in that moment, scalding my skin under hot water while scrubbing insistently with my fingernails scratching across my arms.

And I went to sleep that night thinking about the future for the first time since I lost my scholarship. For instance, how long would I have to keep doing this? Can it really end after my graduation?

Needless to say, I was unable to reacquaint myself with the familiar comforts of sleep, and I woke-up the next morning feeling like a much weaker version of myself. It was both a literal and metaphorical description for my current state of mind and physical being, and I forced myself to endure my regular routine so that I could leave for class on time.

But even as I was starting to feel better again, savoring the cool air of the morning as I walked through campus, everything was ruined when I received an unanticipated phone call from Chan around lunchtime:

“Can you come into my office today?” Chan asked, and I checked my watch.

“I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Perfect,” Chan said, and I hung up the phone before jogging to the bus stop.

The Voyeur

Chan’s office building was extravagant, and I had trouble finding his company because it seemed like there was no end to the numerous corridors. Thankfully, a polite worker was willing to steer me in the right direction, and I greeted Chan’s secretary with a nervous exhale of my name.

“He’s waiting for you inside,” she said with a bright smile. “But make sure to lock the door behind you.”

“Oh, sure,” I said, puzzled by the strange request, but I entered the room with a dismissive shrug, glancing back to turn the lock before stumbling in my steps when I realized that someone who was not Chan stood in the middle of the room.

He was a younger associate, and his hair was slicked back with some kind of product as he observed me with the faintest hint of a smirk. “You must be Chan’s newest plaything.”

I gasped at the stranger’s words. “Chan-” I attempted to call for him, but cold fingers wrapped themselves around my throat in warning.

“Shhh,” Chan whispered into my ear, and I trembled when one of his hands went down to the waistband of my skirt. “You’re right on time, Y/N.”

“Sir,” I said, trembling when he found my clit through the fabric, applying rough circles with a growl.

“Go sit on top of the desk for me,” Chan said. “Take off your skit and panties.”

“But there’s someone else-”

“Did you not hear me?” Chan interrupted, and there was an intimidating warning in his eyes that I found myself unable to ignore.

“Yes, sir,” I said in compliance, and I tried not to think about the situation unfolding in front of me. Instead, I carefully walked around the unfamiliar man without making eye contact, even though his gaze was focused on me the entire time. “Is this what you wanted me to see?” the newcomer asked, and I startled at the sound of his voice as I slipped out of my clothes.

“I think she’s your type,” Chan said, and he nonchalantly strolled through the room with his hands tucked into his pockets. “This is what you like, Jisung? Sit back and relax.”

Jisung pursed his lips as he found a comfortable position on one of the futons, and I gasped when I realized that he had unzipped his pants, fishing out his cock while casually stroking the full length of his erection, gaze fixed on the place where Chan was standing in front of me.

“Bend over, whore,” Chan growled, and I turned around in an instant, shivering when he forced my legs to spread even further apart, applying pressure to my lower back as I arched even higher for him. “Have you ever seen a prettier cunt?”

“Finger her for me,” Jisung requested, and I closed my eyes when Chan penetrated three fingers inside at once. Because it was a distant shout from his treatment the previous night, and I found myself enduring the pain from being aggressively handled. 

“Is this to your satisfaction?” Chan asked, and he was moving lightning fast, thrusting his fingers so fast that my body wasn’t sure how to process the rapidly growing pressure building with every curl of his wrist.

“Fuck her then,” Jisung said, and I could hear the slick sound of his hand moving on his cock to match the pace of Chan’s motions inside of me.

“No problem,” Chan said, and his cock replaced his fingers with one harsh plunge, forcing my hips to collide with the side of his desk as he started an unrelenting pace, hands holding tight to my waist as he treated me as nothing more than his personal cock-sleeve.

My pleasure wasn’t a concern, and I could tell because he never once asked me if I was feeling good. Instead, he panted like a dog into my ears, groping along my chest while rolling his hips up into mine - grinding his cock as deep as he could manage. 

“Chan...” I trailed off at one point because there would surely be bruises once he was done with me.

“Is there a problem, Y/N?” he asked, and I quickly shook my head even as he started thrusting even harder, forcing his cock even deeper inside my gaping core - brushing against previously untouched places that awakened something almost feral.

“No, sir,” I managed, choking around a moan when his fingers tightened around my throat again.

“He likes to watch,” Chan whispered, slowing down to a sensual grind while he spoke to me. “It gets him off every time.”

“I didn’t know,” I said in return, even though no response was really warranted.

Especially when Chan leaned back once again, picking up from where he had left off from before, and there was a stuttered hiccup to the way he moved - like he was nearing his own breaking point. His fingers curled themselves into my hair, forcing my head to the side to meet Jisung’s unwavering gaze.

“Jisung,” Chan said, and the voyeur himself looked up at the two of us with lust reflecting in his eyes. “Is it everything you wanted?”

“Keep going,” Jisung simply said in return, and Chan was laughing in the moments preceding his orgasm, spilling his seed between my convulsing walls before pulling out with a groan.

“You did good, Y/N,” Chan said, and he reached down for my discarded skirt.

Meanwhile, I glanced around Chan to see Jisung reaching for the tissue box on the table. “Thank you for the show, Mr. Bang.” Jisung said, and he cleaned off his cock before tucking himself back into his jeans.

The Sadist

That unexpected situation should’ve been the first and only sign required for me to break off the engagement with Bang Chan, but I was starting to grow addicted to the ostentatious gifts that he sent me.

Because on that same afternoon, I returned to my apartment to find a brand new SUV waiting for me outside my complex. It was the newest model, and my roommate was hysterical with excitement as she jumped around the front lawn and told me all about how a random man had brought the car to our apartment asking for me. 

“I don’t know who you’re seeing,” my roommate remarked. “But if he keeps doing this kind of thing...”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a faint smile, and there was still an active part of me that thought I could put up with Chan if it meant receiving things like this in return.

Plus, I somehow deluded myself into thinking that everything was fine, and I guess my lectures on argumentative writing must’ve worked too well because I convinced my stubborn brain to endure the arrangement for a little while longer. 

It also helped that Chan hadn’t spoken to me much in the week following our little date in his office, and I was able to forget about the encounter with Jisung. Plus, my tuition was paid, my bank account was full, and there were always expensive things allowing me to take advantage of a lavish lifestyle.

It was hard to argue against the current trajectory of my situation, but there was still a painful reminder of its price when Chan eventually called me the following Friday with another request:

“I’m having a guest over tonight,” Chan said. “And you’re the entertainment.”

I swallowed hard at his brusque tone. “Entertainment?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Chan reassured me, and I could only process his words while the dial tone played in the background.

But maybe I could handle the addition of a guest, especially if it was just Jisung or someone watching again. That hadn’t been so bad, and the worst part was the initial shock of seeing another man in the same room. 

Maybe I was just overreacting, and this would be a regular night where Chan would fuck me in his bed and I would limp home and sleep on the brand new satin comforter he had bought for me.

Unfortunately, my initial enthusiasm was dulled when I knocked on the door to Chan’s penthouse, and he answered my summons with another man lingering in the background. But the other man wasn’t Jisung, and a single chill rolled down my spine when Chan’s guest turned around to look at me for the very first time. “You’re early,” Chan said with a pleasant smile. “We were just pouring ourselves some drinks.”

“That sounds nice,” I said, allowing Chan to take my coat before he led me into the living room.

“This is my associate, Lee Minho,” Chan said, nodding in the direction of the freshly identified man who was unreasonably handsome as he sat down across the room.

“The pleasure is mine,” Minho said with a smirk, and I had no words to match his arrogance, but Chan pulled me into his lap and I took some strange comfort from his embrace.

“Minho and I have been friends for years.”

“What a tragedy,” Minho remarked, and the simple jest was met with a chuckle from Chan who wrapped an arm around my waist.

“He was really excited to meet you as well.”

“Especially after listening to Jisung run his mouth,” Minho said, and I froze at the mention of the other man because that was the moment when everything started to plummet, and I could see the change in Minho’s gaze as he lowered his eyes to my chest.

“Can I see her tits?” Minho asked, holding his glass of scotch in one hand while the other disappeared down the front of his pants.

“Of course,” Chan said, and he didn’t seem to care at all about his friend’s vulgar request, pulling me back against his chest as his fingers worked apart the buttons on my blouse. “She doesn’t mind. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

I shook my head, paralyzed by Minho’s impenetrable gaze as he inhaled sharply when Chan removed the shirt from my arms. “Those are nice.”

“Aren’t they?” Chan agreed, and his fingers tweaked my nipples. But I shivered at the pressure, nearly jumping in his lap from the sudden stimulation as his thumbs rolled across the hardening buds.

“You ever fucked them before?” Minho asked, parting his lips around the rim of his glass.

“No,” Chan said, and his tone reflected his disappointment. “I guess I’ll have to try that in the future.”

“They’re a good size,” Minho remarked, and I couldn’t help but feel humiliated because they were talking about me in such a vulgar manner - like I was just a piece of meat on display for them.

“I like her tits,” Chan agreed. “But I think her ass is my favorite.”

Minho scoffed at that. “Isn’t that always your preference?”

“Why do you think I like fucking her from behind?” Chan laughed, and Minho smiled before draining the rest of his alcohol.

“Where did you get her?” Minho asked, and I watched as he removed his expensive suit jacket.

“Do you remember that website Jisung showed me?” Chan smirked. “It’s probably the best idea that he’s ever had.”

“Mhmm,” Minho agreed, and his lecherous eyes continued to openly stare at my breasts. “Has Changbin seen her yet?”

“No,” Chan said, and then he sighed. “I’m afraid to introduce them.”

“She’s exactly his type,” Minho remarked. “He’ll want to fuck her for sure, and I doubt you’ll tell him no.”

“He’s convincing,” Chan said, and he smirked while his lips pressed wet kisses against my neck and his hands massaged my breasts. “What would you want to do with her?”

“Me?” Minho chuckled, and his dark eyes were appraising. “I’d probably fuck her mouth, and then maybe cum on her tits.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Chan said, and then he was shoving against me from behind. “Get on your knees,” Chan growled into my ear, and I shivered at the guttural sound before falling from his lap and into the floor.

Meanwhile, Minho continued to watch me while stroking his cock, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “Is this an invitation?”

“Take her mouth,” Chan said, and he reached out for his discarded glass of brandy. “I don’t think she’ll mind.”

Minho smirked in response, and he pulled the occupied hand from his pants long enough to stand up from the couch, taking another step forward until his crotch was level with my face. “Is that true, little girl?” Minho asked, and I held my tongue when his fingers traced across my lips. “Do you want to suck my cock?”

I could feel Chan’s eyes on me, and I knew better than to disobey. “Yes,” I whispered, and Minho closed his eyes around a groan.

“Channie picked a good little cocksucker,” he said, and he quickly undid his pants, pulling them down his thighs along with his boxers. I inhaled when his cock was freed from the confines of his underwear, slapping against his stomach with a bead of pre-cum waiting on the tip. “Go ahead,” Minho said. “Let’s see what you can do for me.”

I swallowed hard, and I decided to start with a few strokes of his hardening erection - feeling the length of him under my hand because I knew that it would be painful to fit him inside my mouth. “Don’t tease,” Chan said, and I shivered at his harsh tone.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I decided not to waste another moment before I was parting my lips around the head of Minho’s cock, tasting the gathered pre-cum on his tip. It was bitter because it was overwhelming, and my jaw was already aching as I hollowed my cheeks and tried to prevent my teeth from scraping across the sensitive underside of his erection.

“Harder,” Minho growled, and he reached down to grab fistfuls of my hair while forcing the remainder of his cock down my throat - triggering my gag reflex with the sudden motion. 

“I guess she’s not used to it,” Chan remarked - like it wasn’t a big deal that I could barely breathe around the intrusion, and spit was dripping from my lips as he proceeded to use me like I was nothing more than a warm space to fill with his cock.

“I’ll teach her for you,” Minho said, but it wasn’t a kindness to feel the tip of his cock hit the soft palate of my mouth, dragging between my lips as he ground his hips while moaning around a curse. 

But I still tried my best, sucking at the skin and using my tongue to trace against the ridges. I also kept my hands firmly behind my back, trying my best not to reach out for his thighs because I was afraid that he wouldn’t appreciate the feeling of my nails digging into my skin. Not that he seemed to be extending the same courtesy - fucking my mouth with loud grunts and tugging on my hair with enough force that my scalp was screaming for me to intervene.

“Does it feel good?” Chan asked.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Minho said, and his eyes were glossy from the alcohol settling into his system and the approaching orgasm which I could taste as I tried my best to swallow around him.

And it was almost disorienting when he pulled himself free, keeping one hand in my hair while the other stared to stroke the length of his erection with rapid jerks. “Look at me,” Minho growled, and I forced my gaze to meet his own. “I’m gonna cum on your tits,” Minho snarled, twisting my hair as I did my best to nod around the impossible hold.

“Shit, that’s hot,” Chan whispered, and I closed my eyes when Minho finally came, spraying his hot cum across my chest as his thighs trembled from the effort.

“Damn,” Minho said, and he took a strategic step back to survey me from afar. “She looks better this way.”

“I definitely agree,” Chan said, but I only felt disgusting as I sat there on my knees with their eyes observing my wilted figure. 

The Participant

For an entire week after my encounter with Minho, every time I spoke, or did something as simple as drink or eat with my friends, I was reminded of him. 

It wasn’t necessarily the worst thing that had ever happened to me, and I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that had been aroused at the idea of Minho’s rough treatment. But the problem emerged from the lack of disclosure from Chan because he seemed to take impressive liberties with the contract. And I didn’t mind having sex with the older man since I gave him my full consent, but these surprises that he sprung on me when I wasn’t expecting them? I wasn’t entirely happy about those.

In fact, the more that I thought about the incident with both Minho and Jisung, the more infuriated I became, and I couldn’t help the brusque tone that I used to greet Chan over the phone when he randomly contacted me the following weekend.

“Someone’s having a bad day,” Chan said, and I didn’t appreciate his accompanying laughter. 

“It’s just my classes,” I offered as a response, pinching the bridge of my nose to try and prevent an oncoming headache.

“I hope it’s not too bad because I’d like for you to meet me in the office,” Chan said, and I agreed without really thinking about the consequences. Because the last time I went to Chan’s office, I found myself being fucked on top of his desk with an executive watching in the background.

But I guess this was what I had literally signed up for, and Chan couldn’t possibly know that I hated our most recent encounters because I still wasn’t able to find the confidence to tell him. And maybe it was better this way since our arrangement was nothing but a superficial agreement between two consenting adults - we were both getting something out of it, and I didn’t want to risk losing the invaluable funding that he sent to my stunningly healthy bank account.

Instead, I put on my best smile for him when I walked into his office, greeting him at his Secretary’s desk as she offered me a courteous welcome. Does she know what’s going on? I wondered to myself when Chan took my hand and led me to the giant executive desk where he worked.

He chuckled when he patted his lap, and I dropped my bag onto the floor before dropping myself down between his strong thighs. “There you are,” Chan said with a smirk, tracing the pout of my lips with his thumb. “You look sexy today.”

“Thank you,” I said, and I hated to sound so timid in front of him, but he was still beyond intimidating, and I never knew what to expect from someone who continued to surprise me.

“I’ve missed you,” Chan said, and I hesitated when his hands found the hem of my t-shirt, crawling along the skin of my torso to hold me in place. “Last time was really fun.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, but it wasn’t very convincing. Thankfully, Chan didn’t seem to notice, and he brought me in for a sloppy kiss so that I could taste the mouth wash on his tongue.

“Let’s take a walk around the office,” Chan said, and I agreed because it seemed relatively normal in comparison to what he usually asked from me.

It was also startling domestic to hold his hand as he walked me through the maze of cubicles, talking about taxes and the stock market and whatever else he found interesting. In response to most of his conversation, I found myself nodding because I couldn’t comprehend his big text jargon or the complicated explanation when it involved his return on investment numbers.

“How about some lunch?” Chan suggested, and I agreed even though my stomach had twisted itself into knots during the ride over here.

However, when Chan reached out to hit the button to call for the elevator, he paused when he made eye-contact with someone walking out of the conference room. He sighed as he turned me around. “This is awkward,” Chan said, and I noticed that the tips of his ears were bright red. “I may have shown Changbin some pictures of you and....” Chan trailed off with a smile. “He really liked what I showed him.”

“Changbin?” I questioned, and Chan jerked his head to the side to indicate the exceedingly handsome gentleman who was lingering outside of the conference room with his eyes glued in our direction.

“Changbin really likes you,” Chan whispered, smiling as he allowed one hand to fall down and palm my ass.

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and I felt my entire face flush when I realized that it had come from Changbin. He was brazenly eye-fucking me from where he was standing, and I couldn’t even imagine the dirty thoughts running through his mind.

“He wants to fuck you,” Chan continued as if we were having a conversation about something as casual as the weather. “And I kinda want to see him pound this little pussy.”

He then audaciously cupped the heat between my legs and I squirmed around in his arms because we were in public. “What are you doing?” I asked, and there was every reason to panic when anyone could see us like this - when Changbin was already looking at us like we were incredibly interesting.

“He’s got a really big cock,” Chan added like that was supposed to convince me. “But I know that you’ll do it for me, right?”

I hesitated at his request, glancing back over my shoulder at Changbin who was still watching the two of us with a predatory gaze. “When?”

“Tonight,” Chan said before pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to my lips. “I’ll have something nice sent to your apartment. Wear it for us, won’t you?”

“Of course,” I agreed, and the response sounded robotic even to my own ears.

True to his word, Chan had sent over a rather scandalous pair of lingerie to my apartment - a matching set of underwear that included a red thong and delicate bralette with lace elegantly lining the comfortable padding. There was also a very short black shirt in the package and a thin camisole which wasn’t meant to cover much of me. And I grimaced at my reflection in the mirror when I realized that I looked like someone out of Chan’s wet dream.

But instead of walking through campus with such an appearance, I had wrapped my scantily-clad form in a long coat when I greeted Chan that night outside of his apartment, hoping that he wouldn’t question my desire to ride the bus in something more appropriate for public viewing. But maybe he was too turned on to scold me, dragging me inside his apartment and closing the door before opening the front of my coat.

“Fuck,” he growled when he saw me in my outfit. “You look so good in this.”

“Thank you,” I whispered in return, and Chan tossed aside my coat while reaching down for my hand.

“There’s no reason to delay tonight’s fun,” he commented. “Changbin’s already waiting in the bedroom,” he said.

I swallowed hard the mention of the other man, trying to piece together my disorganized thoughts when Chan invited me inside the lavish bedroom that was the exact same size as my entire apartment. But I also wasn’t surprised by the ostentatious reminder of his tremendous wealth, especially when I realized that there was someone waiting inside just as Chan had promised. The same man from earlier at the office was sitting in a chair near the corner of the room, dressed in his work suit and looking at me from beneath a fringe of blonde hair while his fingers tightened around his whisky glass.

“You were so patient, Bin,” Chan remarked as he reached down to remove his shirt. 

“I think she’s worth it,” Changbin replied, and I tried not to squirm too much under his impenetrable gaze.

“What do you think of her outfit?” Chan asked, and he smirked while squeezing my ass through the skit.

“I’d rather see what’s underneath,” Changbin said, and his attitude was so nonchalant that I couldn’t deny that a small part of me was attracted to his eagerness.

“That can be arranged,” Chan agreed, and I held perfectly still as he removed my tank top before jerking my skirt down my thighs. 

He didn’t even need to tell me to step out of the offending piece of fabric, sliding it across the floor as I stood in front of Changbin in nothing more than the skimpy lingerie that Chan had chosen for me. “Damn,” Changbin grumbled, and one hand slid down his chest before settling on top of the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Shall we start?” Chan grinned, and I watched as he walked over to the bed to make himself more comfortable on top of the mattress before holding out his arms for me. “Come here, Y/N.”

I nodded, crawling over the silken sheets while Chan whispered compliments into the silent bedroom. “She’s so fucking hot,” Changbin remarked, and I held my breath when Chan used his raw strength to turn me around - bringing my back flush against his chest as one arm wrapped itself across my chest. I shivered in response to his impressive muscles, pressing myself even closer to him while his other hand crept down to remove my panties

“Look at this,” Chan whispered, ripping the fabric and exposing my bottom half for Changbin’s eyes. “Such a pretty cunt.”

Changbin inhaled sharply at the exposed skin, and he stood from the chair to walk over the edge of the bed. I closed my eyes because he was shameless, palming his erection over his pants while his eyes glued themselves between my thighs. “Spread her legs for me.”

Chan nodded, and I could feel the way his fingers parted the wet folds of my labia before he drug his thumb along my sensitive clitoris. 

“Oh, fuck,” Changbin growled, and his eyes were bright with lust as Chan continued to tease my throbbing sex while mouthing kisses against my throat.

“Do you see something you like?” Chan asked his friend as if the question was even necessary.

“Let me fuck her, Chan,” Changbin snarled, and I watched as he unzipped his suit pants before dropping them to the floor along with his boxer shorts, fisting his cock in one hand while the other worked at the buttons on his shirt. 

“I don’t know...” Chan trailed off with a teasing tone. “I’m not really in the mood to share.”

“We both know that's a lie,” Changbin said with a humorless laugh. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

I bit my tongue to hold back a moan when one of Chan’s fingers penetrated my tight walls, putting on a show for Changbin as he maintained eye contact with his business partner. It was like they were engaged in some sort of competition over me, and I was melting from Chan’s ministrations, feeling him move around with his fingers curling against all the right spots. He also started to scissor his fingers to stretch me out in preparation for whatever else might happen, and Changbin whimpered as he continued to stroke his hand up and down the impressive length of his throbbing cock. 

“I guess you can have it,” Chan said, and I yelped when he shoved me off his lap, tossing his legs over the side of the bed. “Hands and knees,” Chan barked, slapping my ass for good measure before he walked over to the same chair in the corner of the room. “You’ll be a good slut for Changbin.”

I whimpered at the rough treatment, and I tried to avoid Changbin’s gaze as I positioned myself on the center of the bed, dropping down onto my forearms while I raised my ass high in the air. I was breathing hard against the sheets, feeling my pulse skyrocket when the bed dipped beneath Changbin’s weight as he mounted me from behind. 

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, and I shook my head when he started to grope my ass, pulling apart my cheeks as his fingers prodded against the dripping entrance to my cunt. “Say my name, slut!”

I nearly screamed from the force of the slap he landed on my ass, and I took a deep breath to manage the pain. “Please, Changbin,” I sniffled, and there was nothing but blinding hot pleasure when he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down my slit.

However, he wasn’t nearly as patient as Chan, and I was shaking around the abrupt intrusion of his cock. He also wasn’t gentle, holding my hips with a bruising grip before he fucked his cock inside my wet heat, leaving me no room to breathe before he was driving his hips against mine like there wasn’t enough time in the world to split me open for him. “Shit,” Changbin hissed, and I was powerless when he shoved my face down into the pillows, forcing me back into an even deeper arch. 

“Play nice, Bin,” Chan said, and I could barely spot him from the corner of my eye. “You know I don’t like it when you break my toys.”

“Can’t help it,” Changbin grunted, and I could feel the fat head of his cock brushing against my cervix. 

“She feels good right?” Chan asked, and I finally located him, following his voice to see that he was rubbing his erection through the tented fabric of his pants.

“Her cunt is tight,” Changbin agreed, and he wasn’t even thrusting anymore; instead, he was manhandling me up and down his cock, slamming his hips against mine and filling the room with the sounds of wet slaps and crude moans as he chased his own pleasure.

He was fucking me like a madman, breath hot on the back of my neck. Everything was fast and hard, and the sound of the headboard hitting the wall was especially loud. “Fuck,” Changbin muttered, and I thought he might be slowing down, but he just adjusted his grip and set a brutal pace and fucked me even harder.

It was all too much, and I wasn’t expecting to come, but when he lifted one of my legs for a better angle, I felt a sudden wave of arousal drip around Changbin’s thick erection because he was scraping across my G-spot with every stroke. I moaned at the direct stimulation, and it felt like there was an impossible pressure building at the center of my abdomen, stretching and stretching until my vision nearly blacked out from the intensity of my orgasm.

“Yes!” Changbin groaned when I inadvertently squeezed around his cock even tighter, providing enough pressure to trigger his own orgasm. And I could feel his warm cum as it decorated the cavern of my pussy, escaping the place where we were connected with a squelching sound when he eventually pulled out.

“What a mess,” Chan groaned.

“Such a good little whore,” Changbin purred, reaching down to stuff his cum back inside where it belonged. I whined at the over-stimulation, but Changbin growled in response and slapped my ass hard. “I want one more round,” Changbin declared, leaving me lying on the bed as he rolled over to the side. 

“Sure,” Chan agreed, and I felt his hand soothing along the side of my face as he wiped away my tears. “How long do you need to get it back up, old man?”

“Shut up,” Changbin muttered. “Give me ten minutes.”

‘Well, that’s all I need,” Chan remarked, and I whimpered when he took his turn to mount me from behind, twisting his fingers into my hair as he slid his cock inside with one hard thrust, grinding his hips in long, sensual circles while whispering the filthiest words into my ears.

Present

It wasn’t very much like me to reveal all those intimate secrets, but something about Seungmin’s presence was safe and comforting. “What an asshole,” Seungmin remarked, discarding a fresh cigarette that he hadn’t even bothered lighting before returning his attention to me. “You deserve so much better than him.”

“He pays for everything,” I said. “He pays for my tuition, and he sends checks for the rent...”

“So?” Seungmin scoffed. “I can help you get a job at the diner where I work. You can make enough money to pay for those things without him.”

“It’s just so hard...” I broke off with a sudden exclamation, and my emotions were spilling out despite my attempts to suppress them, holding Seungmin even closer by the collar of his jacket as I sobbed into his shoulder. “He owns me.”

“No, he doesn’t, Y/N,” Seungmin said with a firm tone. “Do you understand me?”

I shook my head. “I signed a contract!”

“Every contract has a loophole,” Seungmin said. “And I’m sure it expires at some point, or you can negotiate your way out of the terms!”

“He’s a businessman,” I argued. “There’s no way I can win.”

“Not with that attitude,” Seungmin said with a fierce look. “You’re not alone, Y/N. I’ll even help you figure out how to leave him, but that’s what you need to do because this relationship is not good for you!”

“I kept telling myself that I didn’t care,” I whispered, sighing when Seungmin carded his fingers through my hair. “I guess I cared too much.”

“It’s alright,” Seungmin said, holding me close as he spoke reassurances into my stubborn ears.

“I’m scared, Seungmin,” I told him, and he nodded.

“I’ll give you all my strength,” he promised, and the sincerity of his words triggered a fresh wave of tears, and I cried while thinking about the difficult situation that I found myself in. 

The idea of Chan’s arrangement had once been enchanting because everything he promised seemed like a dream come true. But the reality was nothing short of a nightmare. And I was suddenly desperate to escape.

#stayracha #skzwriternet #skzsmutnetwork #chan smut #chan fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #stray kids chan #stray kids chan fanfic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #mostlycompetent #requested

[toastedkiwi]

Returning The Favor

Summary: after realizing you’ve been taken advantage of your friendship with Sebastian, you’ve decided to spoil him like he does with you.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Rich!Reader

You knocked on Sebastian’s door. No answer. You knock again. Still no answer. You pouted and grabbed the door knob. You turn it and head into the apartment. You close the door and lock it.

“Sebastian?” You called out looking around his open floor plan.

You head to his bedroom and opened up the door. And then you hear the puking. You frowned and head into the bathroom. Sebastian’s hugging the porcelain as he throws up his guts. You immediately think of what he does for you when you’re sick and you spring into action. You start rubbing his back which makes him question who’s in his apartment.

“The fuck you doing here?” Sebastian grunted seeing your high heels and he flushes the toilet.

“Well clearly taking care of you,” you said brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

He’s shaking in his skin. Truly, you wanted to take him out to his favorite restaurant for lunch and treat him since you saw that terrible article a reporter did on him but your favorite man is sick. It was about time for you to return the favor because who knows how many times you’ve called him over something and he comes over quickly to comfort you or help fix the problem. He’s called you and you wouldn’t show up claiming to be too busy for him.

“I didn’t call you,” he said.

“I know. I tried calling you but you didn’t pick up,” you said.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay,” you said grabbing his bicep. “Let’s get you into the shower.”

He groaned as you helped the 200 lbs man onto his feet but he’s a bit confused at your behavior. You leaned him against the bathroom counter and opened the glass door of the shower. You turned on the shower and found the right temp. You spin around to a butt ass naked Sebastian and he isn’t bothering covering anything. He’s definitely gifted.

“Fuck modesty,” he said giggling and making his way into the shower as you keep your eyes to the ceiling.

You closed the shower door behind and said, “please never do that to me again.”

You leave him in the shower and head into his bedroom. You take the bedsheets, sheets, blankets, and pillowcases off the bed shoving them into the laundry basket knowing it’ll be better for him to have clean ones on his bed instead of dirty ones. You try to make quick work even though it’s a struggle.

“Y/N!” Sebastian called out whining. “HELP!”

You come into the bathroom and he’s peaking his head out of the shower. The poor man looks absolutely miserable and exhausted. He holds the shampoo bottle to you. You take it and he lowers his head. His greasy wet hair falls forward dripping onto the rug. You opened the shampoo bottle. You squeeze more than enough in the palm of your hand. You put the shampoo bottle on the floor and then run your fingers through his hair. You make sure you’re gentle and lather every strand on his scalp. He nearly moans.

“There. Now rinse,” you said.

He does what you say and you rinse your hands in the sink. You then dry your manicured hands.

“Towel, please?” Sebastian begged after the water turns off.

You grab a towel on the rack and his bathrobe that you sent him because it was too big for you and was not your style. You hand him the towel as he steps out and he covers his dick thankfully since he doesn’t want to flash you this time. You help in his robe and you tie the belt around his waist. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Sebastian sniffled looking at you.

“Yes. Why do you ask? Do I look sick?” You asked frantically. 

You spin around and look in the mirror. Sebastian chuckles before coughing. His arms go around your waist after putting the towel on the counter.

“You look beautiful, Y/n,” he said. “Always do.”

You spin back around placing your hands on his broad shoulders and you look up at your proclaimed BFF. The shower seems to have helped him out a bit.

“Then why did you ask?” you questioned.

“You don’t come over unless you need me,” he said.

You frowned but know he’s right. You’re quite the selfish person. It’s bad. Real bad. But thankfully, you’ve started realizing it and you don’t want to be that way anymore.

“So, what do you need from me?” He asked.

“I need you to get better but for now, you’re gonna camp out on the couch while I make your bed and do your laundry,” you said.

Sebastian laughed before going into a coughing fit. You pat his back and you’re pretty worried about him. 

“I gotta see this,” he said.

You pouted and lead him into his bedroom. He seats himself in the chair that usually houses clothes he throws on it. He sees his sheets and what not on the floor in a pile.

“You’re really gonna make my bed?” he asked shaking a bit in his seat.

“Yes, I am,” you bragged. “You won’t even want to sleep on it since it’ll look so amazing and you won’t want to ruin it.”

Sebastian grins knowing you’re in over your head. You don’t know how to make a bed. You grew up with a rich daddy and mommy who had maids and nannies raise you and clean up after you and your snobby ass sister. Your dad funds your lifestyle with a maid still even though you’re 25. 

“I can’t wait,” he sniffled.

You rush off grinning and giving him your “I got this” look. It’s quite adorable especially with your black long sleeved shirt underneath the dress you’re wearing and the heels. You always wear heels. It’s what you were taught to wear. It’s very old fashioned but a good dress and heels are great for any event.

“I don’t like this!” you whined and pouted as the fitted sheet keeps coming off of the corners.

“Prinţesă-,” Sebastian said. 

“Shh!” you shushed the fool.

He stands up and treads over to you. You crossed your arms over your chest and glare at the poor sick man.

“You’re going diagonally. Start on one side, Prinţesă,” he said.

You huffed with an adorable pout and start getting to work. You even have your best friend sit on a very stubborn corner as you get the rest.

“I did it!” You exclaimed happily.

Sebastian smiles and you hug him as he’s still seated.

“Congrats, Prinţesă,” he said. “Can you grab me some medicine? It’s in the cabinet by the fridge.”

You nod and head off pretty proud of yourself. It makes him smile briefly before he has to lay down on his unmade bed with a blanket you grabbed. You’ll probably be mad since you didn’t finish but you’ll just have to make the bed with him in it.

“What are you--?” You asked.

“’M tired, baby,” he said.

You sit down on the edge of the bed placing the medicine down on his bedside table along with a glass of water. He sits up a bit so he can take the medicine. You give him some cough syrup and then some cold medicine after reading the labels.

“I feel like shit,” he groaned laying back.

“I know,” you said caressing his cheek. “But you’ll be all better soon.”

“You’ll probably get sick from being near me, darling,” Sebastian said.

“Then we can be sick together and I can call Junie to come take care of us,” you said with a smile.

He shakes his head no and said, “we are both adults. We can take care of ourselves, Y/n.”

“So, does that mean you want me to leave while you wallow away in your misery?” You asked.

“Don’t go,” he whined and weakly grabbed your arm. “I like you taking care of me.”

His words brought the biggest smile on your face. It’s bigger than when you go shopping and make him hold your bags. No shopping trip can get that smile.

“Alright, it’s only because I love you so much,” you said.

It’s his turn to smile wide as he’s feeling quite drowsy with the medicine kicking in.

“I love you too,” Sebastian said. “You should cuddle me. It’ll make me feel better.”

“But you’ll need to eat something,” you said.

“Just until I fall asleep, please?” he begged with a puppy dog look and a pout you can’t say no to. “I’ll eat for ya later.”

You take off your heels and then lay beside him. He tucks you under his arm and wraps both arms around you. You both sigh contently.

“I think I’ve been a shitty friend to you,” you admitted.

He frowns but knows you’re right. He can’t argue on it if he wanted to. He’s adored you for the last four years. Yes, you’re younger than him and maybe he’s got a thing for chicks younger than him but he can’t help it. You’ve got the poor man wrapped around your finger and he’s completely and utterly hooked.

“What made you come to that conclusion?” Sebastian asked and it sounded a bit snippier than he would’ve liked.

“My other friends are pretty shitty and... you aren’t. You treat me like a queen and never expected me to treat you like a king,” you said. “Which I’ve been taking you for granted and you deserve better but I’m quite selfish and instead of letting this friendship go, I’m gonna do better for you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian smiles. It warms his heart. 

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x rich girl!reader #sebastian stan x fem!reader #sebastian stan x rich!reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #snobby!reader #bratty!reader #fluff #angst #naive!reader

[tilions]

A random snippet for the coffee shop au. This is 900-ish words with no plot, written in like 20 minutes. Forgive any errors.

Elros goes over to his cousin to hide give Elrond and Celebrían some privacy.

He never had felt the need to do so. Ever. It isn't something that just crosses his mind and makes him show up on a Wednesday evening around ten in only his pyjamas and socks, wet from the pouring rain outside looking miserable enough to be mistaken for a homeless person.

Now he does feel the need to because his brilliant and foolproof plan backfired on him and he has nowhere else to hide. One more day in the presence of these two lovebirds and he's going to break something and neither he nor his brother would appreciate that to happen.

He also kind of panicked but that is totally reasonable given his situation.

Once he is dry, wearing some spare clothes and has successfully cocooned himself into a pile of blankets on Ereinion's couch perfectly hidden from the outside world, he feels more than ready to spend the weekend there.

Ereinion looks at him with a somewhat amused expression on his face. He tries to cover it up by taking a sip from his iced tea as soon as Elros looks his way.. but they both know that this was just a pitiful attempt.

Elros doesn't mention it.

He is in too much despair to do so. And because he needs someone to show him sympathy. He had hoped Ereinion would be that person but once again he is proven wrong. Lady Fortuna hates him apparently.

He probably should be a bit more frustrated by the lack of sympathy but then again Ereinion has been in a relationship for what felt like the last decade (it was) and probably was immune to the embarrassing behaviour Elros was forced to witness every day. He most likely didn't even notice.

"It was your grand plan to get them together," Ereinion says and puts his glass down.

Very helpful. Not.

Also still no sign of sympathy.

"Yeah because their pining was getting on my nerves." he replies, trying to not sound too pissed. It almost works. Hopefully. He tries to do a good job at it anyways.

"And now their relationship is?"

Ereinion is supposed to do anything to make him feel better, not make him feel like garbage! Not fair, especially after Elros worked so hard on getting his brother to admit his feelings for Celebrian. It wasn't his fault that they had to become even more embarrassing afterwards.

"No! Of course not!" he says without hesitation and sits up straight. The blankets shift around him. His fortress of safety falls apart. "I mean I'm happy for them and everything but do they have to behave like this?"

A little bit of panic rises inside of him and he looks at his cousin in horror. " Is everyone like this?"

Ereinion shrugs. Then:

"My dads are."

He didn't need the mental image of uncle Maitimo and uncle Findekáno looking at each other with heart eyes during breakfast, thank you very much.

God he will never look at his uncles the same way again. Uncle Tyelko is now the cool uncle.

He never thought he would think this. No... wait bad idea he should reconsider this. Uncle Tyelko was awesome but also the kind of person to leave two six year olds behind at the gas station in the middle of nowhere. Not the best choice.

He doesn't have many options left though, most of his dad's brother's are awesome but not in a cool way. Then there is uncle Daeron who is creepy but kinda cool but he's also kind of his dad (in a weird way). Maybe uncle Beren? But he's the normal uncle.. His mom's family live too far away for him to consider any of her brothers to be the cool uncles on a regular basis. Although they might deserve this title the most.

Wait no, he's going off track.

"How long do you think they're going to be like this?" Elros asks after forcing this train of thought out of his mind, locking it up and promising himself to never let it see the light again.

Ereinion bites his lower lip and thinks.

"Dunno? A few months? A few years? If you're (un)lucky they'll be like this for a while."

Elros wants to bury himself somewhere for the next decade and come back once his nieces and nephews are born and his brother has stopped behaving like an idiot.

Ereinion's couch wasn't going to be a permanent solution.

"You could try talking to him?" Aracundo suggests from where he is studying at the kitchen table. Elros turns his head towards his cousin. He wants to hit him but he has to admit that he's kinda right.

Well not even kinda. He is right. Like always.

Elros doesn't need someone who is right right now. He needs someone who smacks some sense back into his brother for him or alternatively provides shelter until the worst is over.

But then again. Aracundo is right and Elros at least has to admit that out loud or that realisation is going to kill him.

He picks his words carefully.

"After I complained about them being completely incapable of having a conversation? Yeah I probably should."

Ereinion makes a noise in agreement and looks over at his boyfriend. Aracundo returns the gaze and blows him a kiss.

Elros looks up to stare at the ceiling.

Maybe he should've gone hiding in his grandparent's attic instead. The bats at least would have been nicer and less lovey-dovey company.

He eventually rebuilds his fortress, buries himself deeper and quietly accepts his suffering.

Tomorrow he should probably have that conversation.

#the coffee shop au #kinda lol #i have no clue what happened #I'm definitely projecting here #also no clue if elros is aroace #i thought about it #it's like a personal headcanon #but I'm not sure how many people would agree with that #tolkien #silmarillion #elros #ereinion gil galad #oc aracundo #elrond #celebrían #my writing

[themandhoelorian]

Dincember - December 2: December (Ariana Grande version)

summary: Your plans for Life Day include getting dressed up, going to the cantina, and doing anything to stop thinking about the Mandalorian that’s been frequenting your repair shop. But when he shows up with a broken heater, your plans quickly go out the window as you work to keep him warm.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn! reader (but they have long hair)

warnings: *spicy* themes (reader throws that ass back ahaha, some shoulder touching, implied smut), mentions of drinking, a little bit of swearing, heels and a minidress probably deserve a warning considering the pain they’re caused me, a lot of Yearning (TM)

word count: 3.8k 

a/n: I had never heard this song before writing this, and let me tell you, it was NOT AT ALL what I was expecting. I never thought a xmas song would inspire so many Thots in me, but here we are I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . Hope you enjoy!

***

Maker knows there’s no good reason for you to be wearing this dress.

You wanted to wear something at least a little bit festive to celebrate Life Day, but the shimmering silver frock you picked is admittedly a bit fancy for going to a party that’ll just be Nevarro’s shadiest figures getting plastered in the cantina.

You’ll probably freeze because of it too, the lacy edges of the skirt barely grazing your mid thighs and the thin straps doing nothing to protect your shoulders from the wind. 

It’s so damn impractical, you’re not even sure there’s an event that this would be an appropriate outfit for, but you haven’t had a reason to get dressed up in so long that your wardrobe has dwindled to the few plain jumpsuits you work in.

And for some reason, this tiny piece of satin.

So without much hope of finding something better to wear in the small market, here you are, tugging down the edges of this too-short dress, trying to make yourself look a little more sensible before you head out the door.

It’s far from ideal, but you figure it’s worth it if it means you’ll finally be able to go out for the first time in Maker knows how long.

It has to have been at least a year, before things started picking up so much at the shop that you barely had time to sleep, never mind going out and doing anything for pleasure. You’d chosen to set up your repair shop on Nevarro knowing you’d have a steady stream of business from the bounty hunters returning with their always damaged quarries and usually damaged ships, and for the first few years, that’s exactly what you had. Enough work to keep yourself fed and the shop running, but not so much that you never stepped outside to see the light of day. It was the perfect work-life balance you’d heard so much about.

But then one day, a certain Mandalorian landed his cruddy ass, pre-Imperial, piece of crap ship on your dock, and you haven’t gone out since.

When he first started coming in, you thought you had lots of time to take on another client, but as you’d quickly come to realize, Mando is no ordinary customer.

For one thing, no one else returns to Nevarro nearly as often as him. Give your average Guild member half a dozen pucks, and he’ll be back for his payment in about three months. 

Mando’s back in a matter of weeks. 

Just the sheer frequency of his visits in addition to your original clientele is enough to keep your hands full, but on top of that, there’s his sad excuse for a ship, always seeming to be on the verge of falling apart, that you have to deal with. 

You’re not sure if it’s because the Razor Crest is a prehistoric relic or if his quarries actively hack away at the frame while he drags them into the carbonite or if Mando is just totally incapable of maintaining even a base level of functionality on his ship, but every time he comes back with his half dozen frozen bodies, his ship has just as many repairs for you to complete.

Honestly, it’s a little ridiculous how often Mando is in your shop, how many times you’ve had to rewire the same parts, but you can’t say you’re ever upset when you see the sputtering thrusters of the Crest dropping onto your dock. He pays you well, always tipping more than you probably deserve, and he keeps you company if you’re still working when he returns from getting his next round of assignments. 

At first, he would just watch silently as you showed him how to perform routine maintenance on the part you were fixing. You didn’t mind, it was nice to have someone there when you were alone in the shop most of the time, but once you’d explained every part twice over with no fewer damages to the Crest, you decided maybe it’d be better to talk about other things instead.

For a while, he kept up the steely mystique, only grunting out a few words if you asked him a question, and you thought he was getting irritated with how often you tried to coax him into conversation, wondering each time he flew off if that would be the last time you did business with him.

But he kept coming back, kept hanging around whenever you patched up his ship, and slowly, you got him to talk. He started with stories of his most recent hunts before working backwards through the memories of his distant past, showing you a dry wit and smoldering tenderness you found yourself growing fond of.

As more and more of his deep, filtered voice replaced the silence you’d come to expect from your job, you found yourself losing more and more of the free time you’d become used to as well, for reasons that had nothing to do with the fragile machinery of the Crest. 

You started taking longer to complete even the simplest tasks when he was there, getting too caught up in thinking of a snappy response to his teasing comments to care about being efficient about snapping the ship’s broken parts back into place. And then, without fail, every time you thought you were finally done, several hours behind schedule, he’d suddenly remember that there was just one more thing he wanted you to look at, keeping you working for an extra hour or two as the sky turned dark outside. 

If anyone else asked you to stay past your listed hours on such a regular basis, you would slam the door in their face without a second thought, but for Mando, you’re always a little too willing to do the work for him.

After all, if you turned him away, you’d just end up where you always do after a long day in the shop, curled up in bed, thinking of him even long after he’s gone as you work the tension from your body. You’d remember how he looked, what his voice sounded like that day, and inevitably your mind would drift to wondering what his broad chest would look like hovering over you as his gloved hands fist your sheets, what his voice would sound like growling that nickname you don’t understand into your neck.

You know it’s wrong, but what can you say? You need some kind of release from working so damn much and it’s his fault you don’t have time for a more wholesome form of self care. It’s only fair that he be the one to help you, even if it’s just in your head.

Not that you don’t wish he’d help you for real too.

Maker, you don’t know how this happened, but somehow, Mando’s managed to take over your entire life. When he’s here, you spend all day flirting with him while you fix his ship, when he’s not you spend all day wishing he was, and at night, well, you’re definitely still thinking about him then. You’re in desperate need of something to distract you from him, somewhere to go that isn’t this shop and someone to talk to that isn’t covered in beskar.

So when you ran into Karga on your last run to the market and he invited you to a party at the cantina for Life Day, you immediately accepted. You usually don’t like parties, much preferring to stay in for the holidays, but you figured going out for a big celebration was exactly the chaos you needed right now. Talking to strangers mindlessly all night to distract yourself from your thoughts and drinking enough to drown out the rest sounded like the perfect plan for Life Day.

Especially when the alternative is staying here alone, cold and miserable, as you imagine what it’d be like to spend the holiday with Mando.

So you closed the shop early today, giving you lots of time to dig through your closet for the most festive (and apparently shortest) piece of clothing you own and get ready for the party at a leisurely pace. You felt overindulgent spending so much time on your appearance, and you’re almost certain you’re going to show up severely overdressed, but hey. If it makes tonight feel as far from your everyday life as possible, you’re all for it.

You’re just about to head out, checking yourself once over in the mirror as you slip on a pair of strappy heels, when the comm in the control room starts beeping. 

Kriff, you swear you had turned everything off when you locked the landing dock, but even if you hadn’t, you don’t know who the hell is trying to get their ship fixed on Life Day. For the few hours you had the shop open today, not one person showed up, and even yesterday, only one customer had dropped in for a quick oil change. Everything always seems to freeze around the holidays, the galaxy in silent agreement to leave business aside for a couple days, but apparently the dumbass waiting outside your shop didn’t get that memo.

You let the beeping run, figuring whoever’s trying to get through will eventually leave on their own, but it never stops, the blaring persisting as you struggle with the buckle of your heel until it’s just too much to ignore. You storm into the control room, the unsecured sole of your sandal slapping against your foot as you slam the speak button on the console.

“It’s Life Day. We’re closed,” you snap, returning to your heel before you can even check the source of the frequency. You finally fasten the strap and start to back out of the room, but then a smooth, modulated voice comes through the comm that makes you freeze. 

“Even for me, mesh’la?” 

Maker, of course it’s him. Of course he has to show up the one time you’re absolutely not supposed to be thinking about him. 

“Especially for you, Mando. You’re already in my shop too much, you can’t be here on my one day off too.”

You try to sound irritated. You should be irritated, he’s actively messing up your plans right now, but you know you’re not fooling anyone when just the sound of his voice makes your heart flutter.

“It won’t take long, it’s just my heater this time,” he reasons. “Are you really gonna let me freeze, mesh’la?”

You think that maybe you should. Maybe if you left him in the cold he’d be so upset that he’d stop coming to you for repairs. Maybe then you could finally stop thinking about him.

But really, you know that would just make you more miserable.

“I showed you how to fix it last time, you can warm yourself up,” you challenge. “Or did you really forget already?”

“I remember. I just wanted you to do it for me.”

That makes you pause. Why would he come to you for something he already knows how to fix? Mando’s not exactly one to waste credits on things he doesn’t need, and he’s considerate enough that you wouldn’t expect him to bother you on Life Day with something he could take care of himself. 

You’re about to point it out and turn him away, but then he sighs your name, warm and rich even through the comm, and you feel what little resolve you have left evaporate into the temperate air.

“Come on, I’m kriffing cold.”

“Fine,” you mumble as you punch a passcode into the console. The ceiling of the shop whirrs open, revealing the familiar sight of the Razor Crest descending onto your dock. 

You have time, you decide. If it’s really just the heater, it should only take 15 minutes to finish, still leaving you lots of time to get to the party, and you figure it’d be a little cruel to let Mando to spend Life Day cold and alone on that sad hunk of metal, even if he can technically fix those problems by himself. 

Besides, he’s already ruined your plans of not thinking about him today, you might as well let yourself see him too.

By the time you grab your tool kit from the closet and step out of the control room, heels clacking loudly against the worn duracrete, Mando’s halfway down the ramp. He’s about to greet you, but as you approach, his already rigid stature tenses, his visor trailing over the exposed skin of your chest and legs. 

You can’t help but smirk, knowing he’s probably shocked at seeing you like this, in a dress with your hair draping over your shoulders, a drastic contrast to the way you usually only wear plain jumpsuits and keep your hair pulled back in a messy knot.

“I should make you pay extra for making me work when I look like this,” you joke.  

You strut past him into the ship, heading straight for the heating system in the corner of the hull you’d come to know so well.

“Yeah,” he rasps out, following behind you. “Sorry, uh, were you about to go somewhere?”

“No, I just hang around the shop like this when you’re not here.”

He cocks his head to the side when you look back at him, like he’s rolling his eyes at you under the helmet and waiting in annoyance for an actual answer. You give him a playful grin as you hand him the tool bag. 

“I got invited to a Life Day party. Figured I should probably try to dress up a little bit.”

“Oh. It-- well, you look good.”

You scoff as you turn back to inspect the pipes, squatting with your knees pressed together, one hand holding the back of your dress down.

“I’d look good in anything compared to what you usually see me in.”

“No, mesh’la, you always look good. But this…”

You’re not sure if he stops mid sentence or if your brain just isn’t comprehending what he’s saying anymore because hold on-

Did Mando just say you always look good? 

You turn back to him and raise your eyebrows, silently urging him to elaborate, but he just stares at you with that impossibly intense gaze, making your stomach flip and giving you absolutely no indication as to why he just said that.

Well if he’s gonna be like that, you guess you’ll just have to figure out what he meant for yourself.

You walk towards him until you’re mere inches from the tool bag he’s cradling against his chest, holding his gaze as you slowly pull a wrench from the assortment of tools. You linger there for a second, looking up at him through your lashes, before you make your way back to the heater.

But this time, instead of squatting tastefully to reach into the panel, you bend over, sticking your ass out towards Mando as the short skirt of your dress rides up your thighs.

Mando coughs behind you, so you look over your shoulder at him, arching your back more to maintain your position. His grip on the bag tightens while he growls out your name in a warning that goes straight to your core, and it takes all your willpower to keep your composure as you blink innocently at him. 

“What’s wrong, Mando?” you mewl. 

He actually grunts at that, shifting his weight from where he was leaning into one hip so he stands completely upright. He looks even broader like this, so strong and domineering that you know you should be intimidated, but you just feel incredibly hot watching him squirm.

“Just- stars, just fix the kriffing heater already.”

Your lips turn up into a wicked grin as you turn back to finish the repair.

“Okay, Mando. Whatever you say.”

As you make quick work of the damaged pieces, you can’t help but revel in the feeling of Mando’s gaze burning into the expanse of your thighs, relish in the knowledge that the ever stoic Mandalorian is flustered at just the sight of you. 

You can’t lie, this feels good. Really kriffing good. After months of thinking about him every time you laid in bed and trying desperately to forget those sinful images every time he’s near you, to know you have that kind of effect on him too is sending warmth all over your body, along your chest and through your stomach.

With a final twist of the wrench, you flip the switch to turn the heater on, the old pipes creaking and small puffs of vapor shooting out of the system as it hums to life. You admit, it’s not your best work, but in your defense, you’re not usually trying to, well, present yourself to your customers while doing a repair. 

And honestly, you couldn’t give a damn about how well the finicky heater’s working when Mando is right there, so clearly enticed by your show, and you’re as close as you’ve ever been to getting what you’ve been dreaming of.

You stand up, smoothing down the back of your dress as you turn back towards him. He hasn’t moved at all since you went back to work, still standing with his back perfectly straight and gripping your tool bag just as tightly as he was a few minutes ago. 

“Well, that should do it,” you muse, looking into the steely visor.  You’re expecting him to make a move, say something or step towards you or really just do anything, but he just nods, keeping the painstaking tension in the rest of his armored body. 

For a while, neither of you move, frozen as you try to anticipate what the other is thinking. From what Mando has told you, you think this is what hyperspace must feel like, each moment seeming to stretch into infinity as the energy of a million stars spins around you. The two of you look at each other, unmoving for what feels like ages, willing the other to close the gap first and let the galaxy of suspense you’ve created collapse around you. 

You wait and wait, but at some point you remember this is Mando you’re dealing with, the man so stubborn his head is literally made of beskar. Mando, the reason you’ve abandoned the Life Day plans you were determined to follow through on because he wouldn’t take no for an answer when you said you were closed. 

Maybe it’s persistence or maybe he just knows that if he waits long enough, you’ll give him whatever he wants anyway, but regardless, there’s no chance he’s going to be the first to give into this standoff, no matter how bad you both want it.

No, if you want this, you’re going to have to work for it.

But you’ve never minded having to do a little extra work for him.

You stride towards him, returning the wrench to the tool bag before taking it from his arms and placing it on a crate behind you.

“While you have me here,” you say, turning back to him with wide eyes. You take another step towards him, bringing yourself so close that you can hear the soft hitch of his breath come from his modulator.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you stay warm?”

He brings his hand up to brush your hair off your shoulder, exposing the thin strap of your dress. You shudder as the worn leather of his gloves barely glances across your skin, the small touch charged by the way he keeps the rest of his body so static.

“Yeah, mesh’la. There is.”

You gasp when he hooks a finger underneath the strap of your dress, his touch feather light as he traces a line from your collarbone to the top of your shoulder. 

“Yeah?” you whisper. “Tell me, Mando. Whatever you want.”

“Don’t go to the party tonight,” he hums, his voice thick and dripping with desire, making heat pool in your stomach. He fixates on the strap, rubbing the satin between his index finger and thumb. “Stay here instead. Let me take this pretty thing off you. Show you just how grateful I am that you always keep me warm.”

“Okay,” you exhale a little too quickly, but he just keeps studying you, staying completely still besides the hand playing with your dress. You don’t know why he’s still holding back, not sure how much clearer you need to be for him to know you want this, but if he needs another reassurance, you’re more than willing to give it to him.

You’ll give him anything if it means he’ll finally touch you the way you both want.

You bring your hand up to cover his, stopping the rhythmic movement of his fingers as you guide his gloved fist down your arm. The strap of your dress slips off your shoulder, the neckline hanging dangerously low on your chest, and you lick your lips as you stare straight into his visor.

“I said whatever you want, didn’t I?”

And then finally, finally, he gives in, pushing you back against the wall and peeling the dress from your body. His hands run over every inch of you, his grip firm and electric on your skin, and he doesn’t stop until you’re crying his name as you come undone beneath him.

***

Hours later, you end up where you always do after a long day in the shop, curled up in bed, thinking of a certain Mandalorian. 

But today wasn’t just another day in the shop. Today was Life Day. 

Today was supposed to be different.

Maker, you can’t believe you let Mando ruin your Life Day plans, let him take over the one day that you were absolutely not supposed to think about him. You can’t help but feel a little pathetic thinking about how much of a grip he has on you, how you can’t manage to have a life outside of him for even one day. It’s driving you so crazy you think you won’t be able to sleep-

But then he shifts next to you, wraps an arm around your torso and pulls your back to his bare chest. He mumbles something in your ear that you don’t understand- cyar’ika, you think he says- his voice sounding so affectionate even though it’s thick with sleep. 

Your heart swells as he holds you, the even breaths coming from the modulator easing the worries from your mind, and as you drift into the sweet lull of sleep, you think maybe it’s not so bad that you let Mando mess up your Life Day plans.

You’d let him mess up all your plans if it meant you could end every day like this.

#dincember #trying this again b/c it didn't show up in the tags the first time smh #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin #emi writes #if you need me i'll be in h*rny jail byE #also i didn't know tumblr tags post if you even like mention s*x and shit wtf #like this is nothing compared to some of the shit on this site lmao bye

[massivedrickhead]

could you write maybe something about beca and chloe at a farmer's market at their first christmas together as a couple starting up new traditions? like getting hot chocolate, picking ornaments and a tree, stuff like that

Naturally I couldn’t write just normal Christmas fluff, I had to add a bit of angsty hurt/comfort in there. So, trigger warning: alcoholism is mentioned.

Read on AO3

Saturday mornings were Beca’s favourite time of the week for two reasons.

One, she got to sleep through them, catching up on all the sleep she’d lost through the week.

Two, she got to sleep through them with Chloe.

Chloe, the perpetual early bird, the seizer of every moment, had finally relented and given Beca this one lazy morning.

(Beca had tried to get Sunday morning too, but Chloe said she was pushing it.)

So on Saturdays they lay warm and comfortable, wrapped in each others arms, under layers of blankets because they couldn’t keep the heating 24 hours a day, and New York winters were cold.

They’d sleep late, waking up every few hours to exchange lazy kisses, before falling asleep again, eventually waking up to eat a late breakfast (read: lunch). 

Except this Saturday was different. 

Chloe was tugging the blankets away from Beca, or trying to at least, and telling her to get up and shower or they’d be late.

“Late for what?” Beca mumbled, her grip on the blankets surprisingly strong for 8 am.

“The Christmas market!”

“It is November 28th,” Beca said, incredulously, finally giving up and allowing Chloe to whip the blankets away.

“Exactly! So we need to go buy our decorations if we’re gonna stick to our plan!”

Beca sat up, brows furrowed, hair sticking up at every possible angle.

“I knew that plan would come back to bite me.”

“Come on, up! Up! Up!” Chloe said, each up punctuated by a clap of her hands. 

Begrudgingly Beca climbed out of the safety and warmth of bed and made the quick cold dash to the shower. She felt herself relax as the hot water came sputtering out of the shower head and chased away the cold of their bathroom.

Their plan - or Beca and Chloe’s awesome best Christmas ever, as Chloe had dubbed it - had been finalised only a few days before.

It was their first real Christmas living together as a couple that would be spent just the two of them.

Chloe’s mom had video called her and said that as all her kids were grown up now, her and Chloe’s dad would be going on vacation for Christmas from now on.

Chloe had pouted and pleaded but her mom’s mind was made up. She said they had to start making new traditions now that they were getting older, and Chloe should do the same.

Chloe was still miserable when Beca had gotten home from work late that night.

“You know, we could start making our own traditions,” Beca said, trying to coax Chloe out of her bad mood. “That’s the fun part about growing up, right? When you’re a kid you just do what you’ve always done, but when you grow up and you start your new family, you get to try new things. Mix things up a bit. Create new traditions that you get to pass on.”

“I guess,” Chloe mumbled, allowing Beca to put an arm around her and squeeze her into a side hug.

“Come on,” Beca said, squeezing again, “let’s think of some things we can do.”

And so they spent the next hour making their plan.

“The Christmas decorations go up the first weekend in December,” Chloe said, writing the first part of their plan. “So we should buy decorations soon.”

“Okay,” Beca said. “But no lights that make noise or dancing Santas or anything.”

“Agreed,” Chloe said. “How do you feel about flashing lights?” Beca pulled a face. “Me too.”

“Christmas Eve we get take-out,” Beca said, realising this was her only Christmas tradition she wanted to carry over. “Chinese.”

“Sure,” Chloe said. “But you’re skipping ahead. We have a lot of December to fill. Christmas movies every weekend until Christmas Day.”

“Christmas movie,” Beca said. “You get one per weekend.”

“Two,” Chloe said, grinning, knowing she would win any negotiation.

“Fine. One on Saturday, one on Sunday,” Beca said.

“Deal,” Chloe said. “Naturally Christmas music while we decorate.”

“Naturally,” Beca said. “But no Glee cover versions.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Ugh, fine.” 

“Christmas sweaters?”

“Sure.”

“Matching?”

“Absolutely not.”

It carried on like that until they had their December planned out. And Beca wouldn’t admit it, but she was actually kind of excited about their first solo Christmas. They had spent last year with Chloe’s family, and the year before they hadn’t been dating so while Chloe had gone home, Beca had hung around in New York with anyone she could find who was still in town. 

She’d had no desire to go back to her home town for Christmas for a long time now.

So she was excited to have Christmas plans that she could look forward to.

That was until Chloe had woken her up at 8 am on a Saturday so she could drag her around a Christmas market in New York.

“Is it gonna be crowded?” Beca asked, gratefully accepting a cup of coffee from Chloe as she left their bedroom, now fully dressed.

“Maybe,” Chloe said. “If we get there early enough it shouldn’t be too bad. Plus it’s not even December yet. I think it’ll get busier the longer we leave it.”

“Maybe next year we should do our Christmas shopping in June,” Beca said.

“I know you’re kidding but I promise you my Aunt Cheryl was fully wrapped by August,” Chloe said. “Anyway, don’t worry about the crowds. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”

“Okay, take it easy, you’re like an inch taller than me,” Beca said, rolling her eyes.

“If you say so,” Chloe said. “Okay, it opens soon, are you ready to go?”

They left their apartment, made the short but freezing walk to the subway, and about half an hour later they reached their stop. 

“Hot chocolate?” Chloe asked, taking holding of Beca’s hand and pulling her towards where the market was set up.

“Good idea,” Beca said, shivering, her breath coming out in white clouds.

Beca looked around while Chloe ordered their drinks. It wasn’t too busy yet, she was glad to see, but she knew it was only likely to stay that way for another few hours. She hoped she’d be back in their apartment by lunch, but Chloe likely had other ideas.

“Here you go,” Chloe said, handing over a cup. “So, where first?”

“Lead the way,” Beca said, gesturing towards the many stalls laid out in front of them.

They spent the next few hours weaving through the crowds as they looked at every stall. Chloe bought them almost matching Christmas sweaters - one for Chloe reading ‘I’m on the nice list’ and one for Beca which said ‘I’m on the naughty list’ - to which Beca had tried to protest.

“Are you telling me you’ve been a good girl this year, Beca? After the noises you made last night?” Chloe asked with a wink, causing Beca to blush furiously and stop complaining. 

“I’m not wearing it in public,” Beca muttered. 

“Duh, they’re for Christmas Day,” Chloe had replied, pulling her towards another stall that sold Christmas tree ornaments.

Chloe picked up some generic baubles, as well as some that seemed more personal to her. She grabbed a dog, a treble clef, and a teacup. 

“Spotted any that speak to you?” Chloe asked.

Beca shrugged, but her eyes were fixed on what looked like a little ornament of a carton of Chinese takeout. 

“This one?” Chloe asked.

Beca cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she said, trying to avoid Chloe’s eyes as she picked it up.

“What about the red panda?”

“Oh I didn’t even see him!” Beca said, almost squealing. 

“Get the guitar too,” Chloe said, laughing at Beca’s reaction. “Then we have three each.”

“Okay,” Beca said. “I’ll get these, you bought the sweaters. Do you wanna get a star?”

“My Mom is gonna send our old one with some other bits, if that’s okay?”

“Fine with me,” Beca said before she paid and they carried on walking, Chloe’s hand never leaving hers the entire time.

Chloe bought them some lunch once they reached what seemed to be the end of the first half of the market. They still had to walk down the other side so Beca was predicting they’d be here another hour at least.

“Doing okay?” Chloe asked, knowing how much Beca hated crowds.

Beca nodded, loosening the scarf around her neck as they sat at one of the picnic tables set out by the food stalls.”How much longer?”

“We can stop whenever you want, Becs, you know that right?” Chloe asked, looking at her with concern filled eyes.

“I know,” Beca said, smiling, waiting for her Mac and Cheese to cool. “I was just wondering.”

Chloe pulled up the list on her phone and started ticking things off.

“It looks like we’ve got everything we came for. We can head back now if you want?”

“You wanna see the rest though, right?” Beca asked.

“Well, yeah, but I can come back another time.” Chloe said.

Beca shook her head. “I’m good. We can see the rest. Just promise I won’t have to move out of bed until at least noon tomorrow.”

“And that’s different from how you normally spend your Sunday?”

“Sorry, I should have clarified, you’ll need to stay in bed with me.”

“I guess I can agree to that,” Chloe said. 

-

It was a week later and Chloe was dragging their newly purchased tree into their living room, close to the window so it could be seen from outside.

She was wearing a Santa hat, had tinsel wrapped around her neck like a scarf, and was singing along to their Christmas playlist. 

Beca was sitting on the arm of the sofa, getting seemingly more and more frustrated as she tried to untangle the lights.

“These are brand-new lights,” Beca muttered. “How are they already tangled?”

“Give them here,” Chloe said. “You just don’t have the magic touch.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

“Very funny,” Chloe said, holding out her hands for the lights.

Beca handed them over but before she could say anything else, she was cut off by her phone buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out and sighed, lowering the volume on the music.

“It’s my Mom,” she said, pressing the green button and moving out of the living room and towards the bedroom. “Hey mom.”

Chloe frowned and bit her lip, wondering if she should continue.

This was something they should be doing together, but she also knew Beca usually ended up in a crappy mood after she spoke to her Mom.

Their relationship had been strained for as long as Chloe had known Beca, but she never really found out much about it. Beca didn’t speak about her much, and always clammed up whenever Chloe would ask, even now. 

Chloe focused on detangling the lights, but decided she wouldn’t do any of the actual decorating until Beca came back.

It was almost an hour later when Beca came out of their bedroom and dropped onto the sofa beside Chloe.

“You okay?” Chloe asked, looking up from her phone.

Beca gave a non-committal grunt and turned to look at the tree. “You didn’t make much progress. Couldn’t untangle the lights?”

“Please, I did that in like 5 minutes. I wanted to wait for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Beca said, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean to take that long but…” Beca shook her head as she trailed off. “It doesn’t matter.” She pulled out her phone and restarted their playlist which had ended while Beca had been talking to her Mom. “Ready to carry on?”

Chloe smiled and nodded, and the two returned to their tree.

When it was decorated with a combination of the new stuff they had bought together, and the old stuff Chloe’s Mom had sent they both stood for a minute, smiling at their handiwork. Chloe’s arms came to wrap around Beca’s waist, her chin resting on Beca’s shoulder.

“I love it,” Chloe said, giving Beca a squeeze and kissing the side of her neck.

“Me too,” Beca said. 

The soft white lights wrapped around the tree glowed with warmth against the now dark sky, the streetlights below barely reaching the window of their apartment. 

It filled Beca with a feeling of cosiness and contentment that she didn’t usually associate with this time of year. Or any time of year for that matter.

“You know, if you wanted to talk about stuff with your Mom you can?” Chloe said, cautiously, feeling Beca tense beneath her arms.

“I’m good,” Beca said. “What movie are we watching?”

“Elf,” Chloe said, squeezing Beca even tighter.

-

Two weeks later, Chloe woke up in the middle of the night freezing cold and instinctively reached out for Beca. When her hand met cold sheets instead of Beca’s warm body, she opened her eyes, frowning.

It was then she realised she could hear Beca’s voice coming from the next room. She checked her phone and saw it was almost 2 am.

Frowning, she stepped out of bed and into the living room, pulling on her robe as she went.

“Mom, I can’t have this conversation with you again,” Beca said, pinching the bridge of her nose as she paced the living room. “I’m not in Barden anymore, Mom, I can’t just come over. We’ve been through this, I’m in New York.” 

Chloe watched as Beca traced one of the ornaments on their now dark tree with her finger.

“Look, I’m gonna go, okay? It’s late. Yeah. Yeah I know.” 

Chloe heard Beca suck in a breath the way she always did when she was trying not to cry.

“I love you too,” Beca said, her voice breaking. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I’m gonna call Grandma tomorrow, okay? She can check on you.”

When she ended the call she jumped as she felt Chloe’s arms wrap around her, but she soon relaxed into her. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Chloe said. She tugged Beca’s hand and pulled her towards the window. “Look, it’s snowing.”

They sat on the floor, the Chloe’s back against the wall, Beca’s back against Chloe’s front, and they looked looked out the window, watching the snow drift down, turning yellow as it fell under the light of the streetlights.

They were quiet for a while until Beca finally spoke.

“She’s drinking again,” Beca said, tapping her phone against her leg. “She’s been calling more and more. Wanting me to go over. She… She’s always had trouble with her short term memory, and it only gets worse when she drinks. She thinks I’m still in Georgia.”

“I’m sorry Becs,” Chloe said. “It must be hard being away from her at times like this.”

Beca sniffed and rested a hand on Chloe’s leg, her thumb brushing against the soft fabric of her pyjamas. “Does it make me a shitty person if I say I’m glad I’m not in Georgia right now?”

“No,” Chloe said. “Of course not.”

“I don’t… I don’t like seeing her like this. It just… It reminds me of being a kid, a while after after they got divorced but before my Mom lost custody. She drank a lot then. Sometimes it was kinda fun. She’d let me skip school and we’d go on these adventures together or we’d stay up late eating pizza and playing video games. And then… It was like flipping a switch. She’d just… change. She used to scare me.”

Chloe’s grip tightened around Beca’s waist, and she pressed her lips into the back of her head.

“She knows I’ll only visit when she’s sober. And maybe that makes me selfish. I know I should be there when she needs me. She’s my Mom. I love her,” Beca said, cutting herself off as her voice broke again. 

“I know,” Chloe said, softly, pulling her closer. “You’re allowed to put yourself first. You shouldn’t go back to an environment that’s bad for you. And you’re the least selfish person I know. I love you, so so much.”

“I love you too,” Beca said, wiping her eyes as they continued to watch the snow which had only gotten heavier. “It wasn’t all bad,” Beca said, after a while. “Before she started really drinking, we had some good times together, just the two of us. For years. Christmas Eve was always my favourite day of the year.”

“Chinese takeout?”

“Yeah,” Beca said with a small laugh. “She’d order my favourite and we’d have like a slumber party in the living room, watching movies and drinking hot chocolate. She said if I could stay awake until midnight, I’d be allowed to open one present. I never made it,” Beca said, smiling at the memory. “Even when things were really bad, when her drinking was at its worst, that was the one day that would always be good. Christmas wasn’t really the same when I had to move in with my Dad and Sheila. He tried but I guess I was just too angry and closed off by then.” Beca turned to face Chloe now. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a proper Christmas. For giving me new traditions and letting me reconnect with old ones. For being you.” She leaned forward to kiss her, and Chloe knelt up to meet her halfway.

-

“Chlo’ if I’m out of scotch tape can I use masking tape?” Beca called from the bedroom, two days before Christmas.

“No,” Chloe called back from the living room. Beca’s last present for Chloe had finally arrived, so she had spent the last few hours locked in their bedroom wrapping presents.

“I have more clear tape,” Chloe said, rummaging in a kitchen drawer until she found some.

“Don’t come in!” Beca said, in a panicked voice. She opened the door and quickly closed it behind her. 

“Here,” Chloe said. “Are you gonna be much longer? I’m bored.”

“Almost done,” Beca said, returning to their bedroom and shutting the door.

-

“Here you go,” Chloe said, handing Beca her container of take-out Chinese and a pair of chopsticks.

“Thank you,” Beca said, grinning as she dug in. Chloe set two mugs of hot chocolate down on the coffee table, and pressed play on Netflix. 

“Thank you for tolerating all my movies this month,” Chloe said, smiling as the opening music for Home Alone played.

“This one gets a free pass. It’s a classic.”

“I agree.”

“So,” Beca said, swallowing a mouthful of orange chicken. “If I stay up until midnight do I get to open a present early?”

“Sure,” Chloe said, grinning. “But you’ve been yawning since 6:30, I don’t think you’re gonna make it.”

To her credit, Beca lasted until 10:30 pm, falling asleep with 20 minutes to go in Home Alone 2. 

When Chloe switched the movie off, the only light in the room was coming from the tree and the string of fairy lights around their window. She thought that Beca looked beautiful in the soft glow of the lights, her face relaxed and free of the stress she had been carrying around the last few weeks.

Still, she was a little disappointed she hadn’t made it until midnight, there was one gift she had wanted to give her tonight.

-

The next morning, Chloe tried to coax Beca out of bed at 7 am, with promises of coffee and pancakes for breakfast, but Beca would not budge.

“But it’s Christmas morning,” Chloe pouted.

“It’ll still be Christmas morning in an hour,” Beca mumbled, tugging Chloe back to bed, and curling around her to stop her moving again. “You don’t need to be up so early, you’re not 6.”

“And you don’t need to sleep all morning, you’re not 15.”

“Touche,” Beca mumbled. “Merry Christmas by the way.”

“Merry Christmas,” Chloe said, grinning.

After another 40 minutes of dosing in bed, Beca finally let Chloe drag her up.

They ate breakfast in their Christmas pyjamas, and then, at Chloe’s request, they got dressed in their almost-matching sweaters and took a selfie in front of their tree.

As they exchanged gifts, they both got increasingly more nervous. Something neither of them realised as they were too preoccupied with their own nerves to be focused on the other person.

“I, um, actually have one more for you,” Beca said, standing. “Two seconds.” She moved into the bedroom.

“Yeah, I do too,” Chloe said, reaching towards the back of the tree where the final present was hidden.

After a few minutes of silence, Beca spoke up from the bedroom.

“Chlo’, can you come in here for a minute?”

Chloe suddenly got a weird feeling in her stomach, and the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile.

“Actually Beca, I kinda need you in here,” Chloe said.

There was a small silence.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“It can’t wait?”

“No.”

Another small silence.

“Meet halfway?” Beca asked.

“Okay,” Chloe said. She stood from where she was in the living room and moved so she was in front of the window.

Beca left the bedroom, something held behind her back, and she walked until she was standing in front of Chloe.

Without a word, they both dropped to one knee.

“Chloe Beale.”

“Rebeca Mitchell.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Will you marry me?”

“Duh.”

They both laughed and kissed until they had to stop, happy tears streaming down both of their faces.

“I know we haven’t been officially together that long,” Beca said, wiping her eyes as she slid the ring onto Chloe’s finger. “But you’re my soulmate. I don’t ever want to be with anybody else.”

“I love you so much, Beca. I feel like I waited my whole life for you,” Chloe said, sliding the ring onto Beca’s finger. “I want spend the rest of it with you.”

“Best Christmas ever,” Beca said, still laughing and crying.

“Almost as good as the year we got a Wii,” Chloe said, earning a smack on the arm from Beca. 

“I love you.”

“Love you more.”

#bechloe #bechloe drabble #bechloe fluff #bechloe hurt/comfort #bechloe christmas #established bechloe #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe fanfic #no matter the timeline #christmas fluff #beca mitchell #chloe beale #beca #chloe #drabble #Pitch Perfect #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #tw: alcoholism mention #trigger warning alcoholism mention #alcoholism mention

[chaninfused]

[you’re the fire] For @ruellelix ♡

“Let me go with you then!” Your voice trembled as you grabbed the rifle off the table, arms dropping with its weight. A small smile drew itself on Felix’s lips, but his eyes were sad as he gently took the weapon from your hands and set it back. “I’m sorry, love, I can’t take you with me.”

“Must you go?” Tears blurred your vision. This was war, death, and your fiancé was walking right into it. It didn’t seem to faze him.

“I have to, y/n, I’ve been called,” he murmured, hands finding yours and giving them a reassuring squeeze. It’s not that he was unfazed by the war, but he had to put a strong facade for you or else he would never leave with the carriage. He would never leave you.

You pulled in a shaky breath, of course, he has to leave. He had no choice, you knew. “I-I know.”

“I’ll be back,” he promised, although you knew better than to hold him to that word. Falling into his embrace, your cheek was met with the rough material of his uniform, yet another reminder of the miserable situation you were in.

It had barely been a couple of weeks since your engagement when your country plunged into war. Felix should’ve been wearing a fine suit in celebration of the life you were going to build together, not the fatigues of battle. You felt as though your happy ever after was snatched away right before your eyes. It was unfair.

For all you knew, that could be the last time you held him close and listened to the soothing beat of his heart.

It was unfair.

Felix seemed to sense it too because he tightened his arms around you and rested his head against yours. “I’ll be back, y/n.”

“I’m fighting for you, for us, for our little family, so I need you to stay,” he murmured. “Please...stay.”

His words felt like a stab to your heart, and you found yourself unable to answer if not by tears.

Our little family. You carried another life in yours, and it was growing day by day. Felix hated that he wouldn’t be there to take care of you and welcome his child to the world, but that gave him enough of a reason to fight in the frontline. He wanted to protect his family.

A shout from outside caught your attention. It was time for him to leave.

Hesitantly, Felix loosened his embrace to look at you one last time. His eyes searched your face, wandering, as if you were fading away and he was desperate to keep the image of you in his mind. He hated farewells. So much. “I’ll see you.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat and whispering at the best of your energy, “I love you.”

“I love you more. Always.”

It was a promise exchanged between the two of you, murmured away from the eavesdropping evils of the universe. And although you’d normally respond to that, you didn’t trust yourself to say more.

Felix pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lips lingering longer than they should’ve before forcing himself to slip out of your arms. Grabbing his rifle, he hurried out of the house and into the streets. You fell in step behind him, watching from where you stood on the front steps as he hauled himself onto a carriage filled with the men of your town, the young and the old.

Wherever you looked, families were giving their goodbyes. Hugging, kissing, crying — war was tearing them apart.

With a final shout from its driver, the carriage began to move, taking the love of your life away and into the dark hollows of battle.

You wanted to run after them until your legs gave in and you were met with the harsh ground of reality, but you couldn’t. You were going to stay, and stay strong. For Felix.

And so you stayed, day and night, over and over again. Weeks poured into months, and you only had the memory of Felix’s words to keep you sane. You told yourself to stay strong when loneliness and longing overwhelmed you. You reminded yourself to stay strong when financial ruin befell your town. You pushed yourself to stay strong when you found yourself nearing labor, alone. Your life was moving on, despite you lingering behind and waiting for Felix.

A year had almost passed when the first letter reached you, and you read it with trembling hands and a weary heart. It was no proof of his current state or whereabouts, but the mere recognition of his handwriting lit a flame of hope in your heart.

The light of that flame guided you through your desolate days. Every day was a day closer to the end of this heartless war, a day closer to him. You might’ve been foolish to have hope in such times, but distress had worn you out beyond sanity.

You were no longer living for yourself alone. A little girl had barged into your world, and you would be lying to deny the remarkable resemblance she had to her father. She, too, needed you to stay.

So you joined the women of your town at work, keeping yourselves alive amid the war. It was a fight of your own, one that never stopped even after the carriages drove through the changed streets.

You were securing your baby’s wrap around your torso in preparation for another day in the sewing shop when you heard the victorious cries of men outside.

How long had it been?

You hadn’t felt your heart flutter in pure joy in so long, you’d almost forgotten how it felt.

You rushed out of your house, holding your daughter flush against your chest as you pushed your way through the crowd of reuniting families. There were losses, you knew, but that didn’t stop you from looking for him among the people.

You found no one.

Dread began to creep into your heart, a hand that threatened to crush it mercilessly, but as if by an unseen force, your gaze fell on him just as he hopped off the last carriage.

Your world froze with your bare breath.

There he was, clearly fatigued by the war, but still him. Your Felix. The man who held the universe in his eyes and your heart in his hands.

He came back, just as he promised, and it was the only happy ever after you could ever wish for.

#stray kids #lee felix #lee felix imagines #felix imagines #skzwritersclub #lee felix scenarios #felix scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #skz #source: -Kyutips chaninfused #aliceeee happy birthdayyyy 🗣♥♥🎉

[zawasscarf]

Void - Keigo Takami/Hawks One-shot

Warnings : none/ reader is gender-neutral.

Genre: angst! i got inspired from a tiktok I saw, the link for it is here.

Prespective: second person

Synopsis: Hawk's and you have been broken up after villians revealed his secrets to you, but having no time to drown in sadness, he forces himself to attend a press conference, where he reunites with you...but it doesn't go as well as imagined.

Void. Empty. Still. That's how he would describe the feeling in his heart when he woke up to his empty, cold bed. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, pumping blood into his veins, reminding him that he was alive for another day. That he had to suffer for another day. That he was just existing, barely even alive.

He lazily rolled from one side to another, his eyes gazing up at the alarm clock he had knocked off the counter in a fit of frustration when it started ringing early in the morning. Normally, he wouldn't need an alarm clock, knowing that you'd wake him up by peppering kisses all over his face. Knowing that you'd lay on top of him, and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until he is fully awake and motivated for the day. But you weren't there. You weren't, so he had to use this stupid, lifeless machine to wake him up. It displayed the hour. 12:30. He had to go. He was already late for the conference he had to be attending. So he got up, and headed to the bathroom, dodging the empty bottles of sake on the ground and the dirty laundry piles that were looking more like mountains. The apartment was never left in such a messy, dirty state before. Carpets stained, laundry gone unwashed for days, bed un-tidy, used plates in the sink, piling on top of one another. Hawks was for-sure forgetful when it came to his laundry and his chorus, but you would always remind him. And with you it was easy to do his chorus, even if you would be doing most of the work, while he sat there, distracting you rather than helping.

Hastily, he splashed water across his face and brushed his teeth. Then he looked into the mirror, and ran a hand into his hair. He looked miserable. Facial hair untrimmed, overgrown blonde hair on the top of his head, eyes worn-out, wings a dull colour of red. He couldn't remember the last time he looked presentable. He wasn't the only one who noticed this, the press also did. They noticed everything, that's why he didn't want to be seen in public. That's why he has been locked in his skyline complex for days, only going out in complete disguise to buy food or get groceries.

He dragged himself out of the bathroom, and moved to the way-too small pile of clothes thrown on the floor. Getting dressed in his hero outfit, he put his hand on his back to reach for the zipper.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to zip up my bodysuit, baby bird. What does it look like?"

"It looks like a chicken is flailing trying to scratch it's back."

"Well, if you stop being so sassy and help me, I wouldn't be flailing. Come on, I'm going to be late for work."

"Maybe I want you to be late.."

"Oh?"

He found himself staring at his messy bed. Where you would stare up at him, wearing nothing but his shirt, trying to get him back to bed even though you were the one to wake him up. For a moment, he could vividly see you. See both of you. Sitting on the bed as you helped him with his zipper, laughing when he pulled you into his lap to kiss you, to tickle you and shower you with love. He could still feel your tender hands on his tinted cheeks, caressing them oh so softly, telling him that he was the world's most wonderful boyfriend, that you would love him until the stars die, until the sky falls, until the world ends, and maybe even then, you wouldn't stop loving him.

His heart clenched, making it hard to breath. His eyes were on the verge of welling up with tears. "No," He thought, putting on his pants and his matching jacket. He had to go and say something. He couldn't hide like this any longer. Endeavor wasn't good with the press, and as the number two pro hero, as the charming one, he had to make up for it. The one that could handel all the talk, while also being an inspiration to everyone. He had to pull himself together. It's been too long. He had to accept that he isn't going to see you anymore.

Slipping on his black sturdy boots and fixing his hair and eyeliner, he opened the window and flew out, a few of his long red feathers fell, leaving a trace of him on every inch of the city. He looked down. The streets were busy, but peaceful. Buzzing with open shops, with traffic, kids were laughing, it was so tranquil, considering there was a villian attack on this part of town only two days ago. He bit his lip. He wasn't able to help that day. Too drunken and heartbroken to even pick up his cellphone. He felt like such a failure. He failed the pro heros that day. He failed the civilians. He failed you. He failed you, and now he was living in a limbo. A limbo that only you could get him out of, but you wouldn't. And he wouldn't blame you. He deserved this. He was a selfish bastard. He was too secretive. He was. And god, if he could just turn back time..for just one day..

Kids pointed up at the blue sky at the winged hero. They wore shirts with his face on it, one of them was even wearing a costume like his. They were waving, waving and waving, praying that he notices them. Hawks waved back with a slight smile on his sleep-deprived face. Like little chipmunks, they squealed, being noticed by him was a dream of theirs.

"Hey, would you ever want kids?"

"With you?"

"Of course with me. Anyone else you're seeing behind my back that's offering you to have kids?"

"Shut up," You laughed whole-heartedly, and put a hand on his chest, letting him carry you as both of you flew over the glimmering city. "But the answer is yes. I would love to have kids with you. Maybe a baby girl or a baby boy. It'll be our little cozy family."

"Little? I was thinking maybe we could have seven kids. I am ready to give you an entire football team."

"That doesn't sound very pleasant, Keigo."

"The process would be worth it, though."

His smile fell. The memories. The talks you shared when he picked you up and flew you over the city. God, they always meant so much to him. He always tried to linger a little longer in the sky, to share a few more laughs. To share a few more conversations. He lived for moments like that. Moments where it felt like time stopped. Where it was only you and him that existed in this vast universe. Moments where he could hold you close to his chest, breath in your scent and perfume. Fly with you up in the sky. Fluster you. Cuddle you. Hug you. Kiss you.

Forcing himself out of his misery, he landed down on the roof of the building he was suppose to be interviewed infront of. The press were already huddled up at the front door. There were civilians too, waiting for him to appear. He could see Miruko, Snipe, Endeavour and Gang Orca, all ignoring the press asking them about his whereabouts. Miruko had her phone pressed against one of her bunny ears. She was calling him. Hawks swiped left on the call, and took in a deep breath. He could do this. He just had to forget about you for an hour. Forget about how his heart was in shreds, how his rib cage was suffocating his lungs, how his brain felt all jumbled. He fixed his wings, calling all his feathers back to him, and then he flew down to the side of the building.

The camera shutters increased when he emerged from the shadows of the alleyway. Journalists squeezed each other, all spewing out questions for him already. Microphones were shoved at his face, but he deflected them, doing his best to give them his infamous million-dollar worthy smile, trying to pretend that the sadness in his eyes wasn't as visible as the sun on this summer day.

"Where were you?" The booming voice of Endevour cut his tracks. He looked up at the larger, much taller pro hero, and his smile disappeared. "I over-slept." His answer short and dry. That made the line of standing pro-heros all tense up. This wasn't like him. He would usually tease Endeavour. Tell him to take it easy. That the press wouldn't go anywhere even if he appeared three hours later. Not today.

Hawks made his way up the stage, and stood infront of the mic. His playful voice was dull, and he looked far more serious than when he first walked in.

"Alright, folks. I'll be taking all your questions today, but in order. I won't know what to answer if you all throw your questions at me." Hawk's sharp, golden rhinestone eyes scanned the crowd. So many people. So many people wouldn't make him anxious, but he could feel something was off. He felt..watched. Like someone was staring right through his soul. Goosebumps raised on the nape of his neck, but he chose to ignore it. It had to be nothing, everyone was staring at him all the time anyway. "Okay," He pointed at a reporter with dark hair in the very front. "let's start with you. Go ahead—"

"Hawks, if it's not a bother, can you tell us why you did not assist with the fire attacks two days ago?"

He tensed up. Not from the question. From a feeling. He felt something rumble in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was because he didnt have a bite to eat. There was no way he was feeling uncomfortable just because a bunch of reporters were looking at him. Or maybe it was the three glasses sake he had yesterday before heading to bed. "Uh," He paused, trying to think of a quick excuse. "I was..out of town."

Lying. That what he resorted to. No wonder you left him. He lied to you. He lied to you and hid everything about himself from you. He hid everything, and now you were gone.

"Next question." He pointed at another reporter. "Who do you think is the suspect of these attacks, Hawks?"

"The League of Villians." The answer came short and quick. He knew who was behind those attacks. "They may not seem much of a threat as Overhaul or the nomus Endeavour and I fought, but they are a dangerous organisation and I am sure they had something to do with this." Moving to a question to another, he answered almost a hundred questions, all of them filled with lies and excuses. He couldn't go through two questions without lying. What could he do? Tell them that the reason he has been MIA is that he was on his floor every morning, sobbing his heart out on his lost love, that he searched the streets every night for his lover to apologise. To make you come home, to him.

Hawks pointed at a tall man, who had his hand raised at the back. Oddly enough, the man wore a dark hoodie and sunglasses. The hood was up, and he was looking at the ground, as if to hide his identity. He didn't have a camera, a crew, or even a microphone, but his voice was still loud for Hawks to hear his question.

"You haven't been seen with the Pro Hero: Light Monarch for a few weeks now. Nor has they been seen in public. Mind telling us why..." The man looked up. Hawk's face fell, as he saw those fiery, glowing blue eyes staring back at him. His breathing rapidly increased, his chest rose and fell in unrythmic ways. His hands clenched the sides of the microphone stand, until his knuckles turned white. "..wing hero, Hawks?" The mockery in his voice. He was enraging him on purpose. He was mocking him. Mocking him for being unable to protect your relationship. For being unable to protect you.

Other reporters picked up his question and started twisting it into different questions. Ranging from 'Has your relationship fell apart?' to 'Is Light Monarch even a hero?', but all he could focus on was Dabi. Dabi, who was secretly recording all of this. Dabi, who was the main reason your realtionship fell apart. Dabi, who he strived to make suffer for what he did to him. Hawk's eyes were so fixated on Dabi, that when someone nudged him away, he immediately looked over to them.

They were wearing the villain's long coat, along with a hoodie similar to Dabi's. They were nudging him away, trying to make him move out the crowd. Dabi only put an arm around them, pulling them close to his lean body. That's when Hawks caught a glimpse of their face.

And that's when everyone saw the winged hero unfold.

He leaned into the mic, and closed his eyes. Possibilities flooding his mind, clouding his senses. Why were you here? Why were you wearing Dabi's coat? Did you come here just to see him? Why was Dabi holding you so close to him? Why does he have his arms on you like that?

"Because I'm an idiot." He spoke into the mic. A hush fell on the crowd, and you looked up. Both your eyes met, you could sense the hurt in his eyes, you could see the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "Because I hid information about myself that I shouldn't have. Because I slipped and everyone was watching me. Because everyone just couldn't let us be." Hawks closed his eyes.

For a moment, a flash appeared before his eyes. It was you. You in all your beauty and grace. You comforting him after a long day of work. You smiling and laughing at his corny jokes. You running your fingers through hair and untangling it for him. You kissing his bruises. You sitting on his bed, tinkering with something you found in his house. You holding him after a nightmare. You. All he could think about was you. How your lips felt against his. How your foreheads touched whenever you finished kissing. How your hands felt so warm holding his. How he was a lucky bastard.

"So.." head raised, the first few strand of his hair falling into his tear filled eyes. He choked on air, his lip quivering. "So, baby bird, I am sorry for being such a selfish bastard." His voice was shaking. His hands were shaking. You were staring at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. The eyes that he would stare at for hours, without feeling a hint of boredom. "I am sorry for hiding the truth. "His voice got louder, louder and louder until he was yelling. "I am sorry for letting you go so easily. I am sorry for hurting you!"

"Hawks—"

"Bastards, all of you." He spat out, looking directly at Dabi and the frozen crowd of shocked journalists. They were the reason. They were the reason you weren't with him. They were the reason your laugh and your smile were stolen away from him. If they could've just let him explain.

"Songbird, I love you." Your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes that were full to the brim with tears were now spilling your emotions into view. Dabi only noticed when your figure started shaking in his arms. "Hey, let's go.." He tried to drag you away, but you wouldn't budge. Keigo was staring right at you, unfolding into a mess, a crumb of a man he once was. Tears streaming down his handsome face, eyeliner ruined. Your heart felt crushed. Like it was an ornament that was knocked down by a carless child. You couldn't imagine what he was feeling, but you were sure that he wouldn't be able to handel all that pain alone. So you stepped to the front subconciously, and if it weren't for Dabi's hands around your waist, you would've ran right over and reunited with your lover.

"I love you." He repeated, desperate. Memories were flashing right before his eyes. Your first meeting in that grocery store infront of UA. Your first kiss under the moonlight during a patrol. Your first dance. Your first date. Your cuddles on the couch in winter. Your odd sleeping positions in summer. Moments. The way you would lean into his chest when he sat you on his lap. The way you liked him to tuck his wings around your body because it felt warm and you like the feeling of feathers against your skin. "I love you! I love you!"

"Let's get out of here." Dabi grabbed your hand and squeezed just a bit, not too forcefully. You were surprised by his gentleness, but you couldn't take your eyes off him. "I love you. I love you.." He was staring at you with such desperation, such longing, such regret. You didn't want to forgive him, you tried not to. But you couldn't. You couldn't, because he made it so hard. He made it so hard to hate him.

"Till the stars die and till the sky falls, remember?" His voice was much lower now. He was leaning over the stand so much that it almost fell over. You clasped a hand on your mouth, and let out a silent sob. You could feel everyone's eyes on you. Cameras were pointed at you. That's when you looked away, after giving Keigo a long, parting look. That's when you followed Dabi into the crowd.

Hawks watched as you walked away, back given to him. He wanted to move, he wanted to follow you, he was telling every limb on his body to move, but he couldn't. He looked down at his body. It was glowing. Glowing with a white aura around it. You. You were using your quirk on him, forcing him in place, not letting him move and rescue you.

He didn't understand why. Why didn't you want him to rescue you now that you found each other again? Did you really loathe him that much? Did he really mess up that badly?

So, all he could do was helplessly watch you go. Watch you as you disappear into the crowd, with the flame user by your side, knowing that one day, you might reunite again.

And then when that time comes, he won't mess it up.

a/n: aaaaah! my first oneshot on tumblr. i hope you liked it. posting this is basically testing the waters, but i enjoyed it so i think I will keep writing on here!

#hawks x reader #wing hero hawks #hawks headcanons #hawks imagine #hawks one shot #boku no hero x reader #anime

[thischickwritessometimes]

MYSME RBB

Hey!! I joined my first ever collab this year for the Mystic Messenger fandom! It was totally awesome, and I lucked out and got someone super cool as my artist. Shout out to @thedum1, who was my partner for this. Go check out their amazing art that goes along with my writing, and give them some love. Without further ado, here’s the fic!

(You can also find this on ao3!)

Saeyoung decided that he’d been sitting in one place for far too long. His back was screaming in agony, his eyes were trying desperately to make the computer screen focus, and his head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. All of those combined to make him feel miserable, like he was going to explode if he sat there for even one more minute. 

He shut down his workstation, making sure that his work remained where it was, the computer encoded carefully to make sure that no one could get into it and change things. Of course, if someone was going to get in, they’d have to break through the security in his house, which wasn’t likely to happen. He’d just figured out the best password for his front gate, after all. As Saeyoung idly considered his password (and other possible future ones), he slid on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. 

He stopped in the kitchen to grab a package of Honey Buddha Chips and then was off, heading into town on some form of a quest. The destination isn’t important, he tells himself, just the experience. He just needed some fresh air, a sight that wasn’t his computer screen (or, more recently, the wall slightly above and behind his computer), and perhaps a reminder that there were other humans in the world outside of himself and Vanderwood.

He hummed to himself as he walked, enjoying the sun on his skin and the sounds of birds and people talking. Couples were walking just about everywhere in the park, each chatting and laughing happily. Some younger kids were running around chasing each other. A dog sprinted past Saeyoung, chasing a stick that had just been thrown. 

The dog reminded him of Elly. She always was willing to run around his feet happily as he played with her in Jumin’s apartment. He missed the white cat. It’d been far too long since he last saw her, and he mentally decided to schedule a time to break through his friend’s security to see the fluffy Persian again.

As he walked along, a flyer for a pet shop caught his eye. It was advertising a day to come play with the animals, both cats and dogs alike. As he stopped to read it more thoroughly, Saeyoung realized that if he headed to the shop right now he could get in at least an hour and a half with the cats (and maybe some dogs too). Now armed and ready with a plan of action, he set off with a purpose, striding quickly to the pet store.

As he neared it, he noticed that not many people were lingering around. Saeyoung realized that this must be one of the less popular pet shops and was sad to see that, especially because it looked very charming and quaint. As he pushed open the door, a bell above his head let out a quiet sound to alert an employee that someone had arrived.

Sure enough, a slightly frazzled-looking young man appeared. His hair was shaggy and black, long enough that it was falling into his eyes just slightly. The eyes in question were a stunning blue-green that Saeyoung wouldn’t mind looking into for a while. He tried to shake off that thought. He was here for cute cats, not cute people.

“How can I help you?” The guy asked, a small smile on his face. 

“I’m here to play with the cats. I saw a flyer saying that you guys had free time for that?”

“Oh, of course! Right this way. I think there’s only one other person in there, so it shouldn’t be that much of a crowd. Feel free to use any of the toys out. And don’t worry, the only one that scratches is our resident sourpuss, Yoshi.” The employee opened the door carefully and Saeyoung peered in, amazed at all the cats running around or napping. 

There was one girl sitting happily in the middle of the room, surrounded by cats. She had a dark skin tone and was wearing a pink skirt and what Saeyoung was pretty sure was a halter top. (How he knew that? Well, let’s just say that he had been considering one for cosplay for a long time.) When she turned to look at him, he spotted glasses and heterochromatic eyes. One brown, the other a bright blue. 

She’s cute, was his first thought. It only amplified when he realized that her hair had a piece sticking up that looked to be meticulously formed into a heart like you would see on a lovesick anime girl. Her dedication spoke volumes and he knew that he would probably end up liking this girl if they talked. 

He shook his head slightly. No, he couldn’t be thinking about that. Not today! He was here for cute cats, not cute girls or cute boys. His mind was set firmly on petting all the adorable creatures. 

So he walked past the girl, giving her a faint smile. She returned it with a glowing one that practically lit up her entire face, and Saeyoung had to hide how his heart pattered at the sight. He focused his eyes on a particularly cute orange cat that was napping peacefully in a ray of sunlight.

As he reached out to pet it carefully, the cat responded by purring softly, like this was everything it could have dreamed of. However, after a while it tired of his antics and scratched softly at his hand in warning. He chuckled and pulled his hand away, letting the feline relax by itself. His eyes scanned the room for another willing friend and they snagged on a little black and white kitten.

It was pawing at a toy, obviously bored. Saeyoung crawled over carefully and picked up the toy, which appeared to be a feather on a string. He bounced it around, and the kitten started to paw at it. It got into the game, eventually leaping at it until it tired itself out. 

Saeyoung made a “pspsps” noise, trying to attract the kitten to him. Its ears perked up and it headed over to his lap, where he petted it softly. The cat seemed like just the perfect companion, and if he could adopt a cat right now he would definitely consider this little guy as the one.

There was a quiet intake of breath over his shoulder, and Saeyoung looked back to see the girl gazing fondly at the kitten. As soon as she noticed his gaze, she colored, blushing slightly. “Ah! Sorry to bother you!”

“Oh, it’s not an issue,” he said, giving her a smile. “He’s a cute one, isn’t he?” He gestured to the kitten that had made itself comfortable in his lap. 

“Yes, he really is. I must admit, I may have been looking at him the entire time… but I got a little nervous he wouldn’t like me.” She looked away, seemingly embarrassed. 

“Well,” Saeyoung said, an idea coming to mind. “Let’s test that out, shall we?” With that, he scooped up the feline and plopped him directly in her lap. The cat seemed stunned at first, and Saeyoung worried that he would hiss and claw at the abrupt change. Instead, the cat sniffed at the girl and then settled in again, seemingly unconcerned by what had just happened. 

“Oh,” the girl said, smiling. “He’s lovely.” Her hands went to softly pet him. 

After a few minutes, she looked up. The cat was happily asleep in her lap, purring softly. She spoke again, her voice quiet so as to not disturb the kitten. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Jasmine, but you can call me Jas. It’s good to meet you…”

She trailed off, searching for a name. Saeyoung smiled at her before giving her his fake name. “I’m Luciel. It’s good to meet you as well, Jas. It seems like you’ve got a way with cats, huh?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” she said with a laugh. “I do love them though. Cats are some of the best animals, in my opinion.”

“You have a top-tier opinion then. I’m inclined to agree!”

“So I take it you’re a cat enthusiast as well, Luciel?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “I have a friend who has a gorgeous cat and that’s kind of what kickstarted my love for them.”

“Have you ever considered getting one?” She cocked her head, but her hands never left the black and white kitten.

“I’d be lying if I said no. But my job is kind of crazy, and I can honestly say that I don’t think a cat would be good for me right now. Someday soon, hopefully. What about you?”

“I actually came here today hoping to adopt. I’ve been looking for a while but I never found one that I really loved. Well, until today. But I’m still not completely sure…”

“Well the little guy loves you, I can tell that much. And if I’m wrong, which is not very likely, let me tell you, he’s the kind of cat that will always be able to find a new home.” Saeyoung stretched and winked at her.

“Well in that case… I guess I’ll need a name for him, huh?” She looked down with a smile. “Got any good ones?” Jasmine’s heterochromatic eyes twinkled with a hidden glee when Saeyoung’s face lit up. 

“Oh boy, do I! I’ve been saving up all sorts of names for this. Okay, there are the classics, like Fluffy, Batdude, Charles. Oh, and you can’t forget Toast!” His rambling list of (admittedly awful) cat names went on for a long time, leaving Jas halfway to tears with laughter as he continued. When he finally drew his list to a close, both of them had laughed so hard that the kitten had woken up and the employee had poked his head in to make sure that nothing bad was going on.

“Okay, okay,” Saeyoung said once he’d calmed down slightly, “any names catch your fancy?”

“I mean Fuzzbucket was a pretty good idea, but I think I decided on Tama.”

Saeyoung and Jas looked down at the same time to inspect the cat. The black and white kitten released a soft mewl and butted his head at Jas’ hand to request more pets. The two scheming partners in crime looked at each other and smiled. 

“Tama is perfect.” They both said at the same time, then blushed and looked away. Saeyoung swore that when he looked at her cradling the tiny cat next to her chest she seemed to glow with happiness.

Soon enough the time to play with cats was over and the employee was putting the animals back in their cages and thanking them for coming to play with the cats. Jas told him about her interest in adopting Tama, and the employee got her the forms she would need to sign before she could take the kitten home. Saeyoung stayed with her as she filled the forms out, the both of them laughing and chatting the entire time. When all was said and done, Jas hoisted the carrier that held Tama up and exited the building, Saeyoung holding the door for her.

Jas scanned the street, then took a deep breath in, steeling her nerves. “I had a really good time today, Luciel. I was wondering if you’d like to do it again some...time?” She turned around to see the man gone. Her brows furrowed as she swiveled her head to see where he’d gone. “Luciel?”

Saeyoung, who had darted behind a pillar beside the pet store, let out a quiet sigh of disappointment. He gritted his teeth together when he heard Jas whisper sadly to Tama that “he must not have wanted to talk anymore, huh?” 

He leaned his head against the pillar and stayed there until he heard the quiet clip-clop of her shoes walking away. Then he tore himself away from the pillar and walked towards home, hands shoved into his pockets, knowing that he would always remember the girl from the pet shop.

The sounds of music coming from a radio fill the kitchen. A black and white cat races around its owners’ feet as they try to dance. Laughter and pure contentment fill the air as the redhead twirls around the girl with one blue eye and one brown one. 

Years ago, when I was younger, I kinda liked a girl I knew. 

“Do you remember when we first met?” Jas asked, her skirt swinging wildly as Saeyoung spun her enthusiastically.

“How could I forget? That pet shop must be the most magical place on this Earth to me.”

She was mine, and we were sweethearts. That was then, but then it’s true.

“I was so upset when you disappeared, you know. I thought you’d gotten sick of me.”

“I was just as upset, trust me. But I thought I had to, because of the agency. And with Rika and the RFA… it just wasn’t a good time.” Saeyoung shook his head, but then pulled Jas closer to him as they waltzed across the floor.

I’m in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts. Cause I don’t care if I lose my mind, I’m already cursed.

“And then I showed up at Rika’s apartment a few weeks later. Crazy how fate works like that, huh?”

“Oh trust me, I was incredibly surprised to see you appear on the CCTV feed. If my life had a playlist of all the moments where I nearly fell out of my chair, that would definitely be on the top ten list.” 

“I was just as shocked as you were, trust me! I had told myself that I would never see you again, but then there you were!” Jas shook her head. “I had half-convinced myself you were some figment of my imagination.”

Every day we started fighting, but every night we fell in love. No one else could make me sadder, but no one else could lift me high above.

“I feel bad that I tried to push you away while we were both in the apartment. It was hard for me because you were the thing that made me happy and also frustrated me to no end. After all, I was sure I would hurt you.” 

“I wanted to punch you so much, I hope you know. I was at my wit’s end when you finally opened up a little bit!”

“But I did, and look at where we ended up. I opened up, got my brother back, and I got the privilege of having you in my life as my girlfriend and now fiancee.”

“I’m glad that it all worked out because there’s no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my days with.”

“The same goes to you, Jas.”

“I love you, Saeyoung Choi. Bad cat names and all.” Jas said as the music started to slowly die down.

“And I love you, Jasmine Luna, no matter how much time you spend in the bathroom doing your hair.” Saeyoung responded, dipping Jas as she let out a quiet squeal.

The two laughed and continued dancing late into the night, Tama observing from his perch high above.

I’m in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts. Cause I don’t care if I lose my mind, I’m already cursed.

And there’s the fic!! Reminder to check out the awesome @thedum1 for their amazing art!!

#mysme reverse big bang #mysme rbb #mystic messenger #saeyoung choi #jasmine luna #cmc #saeyoung choi x mc #thischickwrites #my fic

[soyforramen]

28. i’ve been crushing on you for so long and when i get your name in secret santa i decide to write you a love note except there’s a last minute shuffle with people trading and my gift is given to someone else (bonus: ot3! ot3!)

I know this was a prompt sent in by @arsenicpanda, but lord help me if I can find the ask.

--

“So, who’d you pull for Secret Santa?” Fangs asked.

Betty picked at her sandwich. The reminder of Cheryl’s forced Christmas cheer drove away what little appetite she had. Nervously, she glanced over at Jughead who seemed oblivious to her internal struggle. When he glanced at her, she smiled and shoved her sandwich towards him.

“Veronica,” he mumbled through bites. He shot Betty a glance, a concerned warning that he’d be making sure she ate later.

“Cheryl,” Betty said miserably. “I don’t even know what she’d want.”

While she and her cousin had been on better terms now that the babies were older, it was still rocky. Alice Cooper and Penelope still hadn’t learned how to co-grandparent, forcing Cheryl and Betty to work together to avoid a Hatfield and McCoy situation for every holiday."

“Something red,” Fangs said with a laugh.

“Or stupidly expensive,” Jughead added.

Betty sighed and stared out at nothing in particular. Between finals, editing the school paper, and Christmas shopping for her own family, not to mention the long list of things she hadn’t managed to get to this month, it looked more and more like she wouldn’t be getting much sleep until the New Year.

“If you wanted to stare at me, all you had to do was ask. I'll send you as many pictures as you want.”

Betty’s eyes refocused to find Toni sitting across from her. Her knowing smirk made Betty flush. Suddenly, Toni was all she could see, bright eyes twinkling with mirth and her lips temptingly full and pink. Before Betty could stammer out a response, Jughead laughed and slung his arm across her shoulders.

“Toni, are you flirting with my girlfriend?”

At the reminder of his presence, Betty squirmed and stared onto the old picnic table. Guilt crawled across her skin; after all, Toni hadn’t been the only one flirting lately.

“Have been for a while Jones,” Toni shot back with a wicked grin. “You gonna do something about it?”

Betty held her breath, waiting for an irritated response or jealous sulking, but instead Jughead threw his head back and laughed. The sound shook out the tension that had suddenly risen within in her, and she couldn’t help but join in with him. When she glanced across the table, Toni shot her a wink. This time Betty’s skin crawled with something far different than guilt.

--

It was the last day of finals, and Cheryl had finally rounded everyone up. A vast array of presents, the wrapping of each a reflection of the giver, was piled in the center of the common room. Betty’s was meticulously wrapped, a hand made bow sitting on top. Archie’s was wrapped with more tape than paper, and Jughead’s had been thrown into a plastic shopping bag. Veronica’s was wrapped in expensive, holographic paper, no doubt wrapped at a chic New York boutique, while Kevin’s sat in a reusable tote that proudly thanked him for his donation.

“Can we get this over with Cheryl,” Veronica said over a latte, “I have an economics test in fifteen minutes.”

“So much for holiday cheer,” Kevin said in a soto voice.

“She’s even wearing Grinch green,” Fangs added.

“Do any of you humbugs have any holiday cheer?” Cheryl asked. She set her hands on her hips as she surveyed them. “No? Then how about we make things extra interesting. We’re all redrawing names.”

A collective groan rang out. Not to be discouraged, Cheryl picked up the first gift, a small package topped off with tinsel.

“Archie, pour vous.”

Before he could take the package, Toni leapt forward and grabbed the package.

“Sorry Red, you'll have to take a rain check,” she apologized, ignoring Cheryl’s harsh look. When Cheryl started to object, Toni said, “You’re the one who changed the rules on us.”

Cheryl huffed. “Fine, I’ll allow it just this once. But anyone else who tries it -“

She let the threat hang in the air before reaching for the next present.

“And this one will be for …”

--

Betty watched Jughead pack from the comfort of her bed. Outside the snow fell, it’s soft plinking noise lulling her back to sleep.

“Are you sure you have to be in Ohio the whole time?”

He turned, smiling, and kissed her on the forehead. “Jellybean’s been threatening me since August that if I didn’t come up there she’d drag me there herself.”

Betty reached out and grabbed his flannel shirt, pulling him back for another kiss. “I’m sure I can fend her off.”

“I’ll miss you too," he said.

His eyes were so soft when he looked at her like that. It was almost enough for her to volunteer to drive him to his mother’s. Almost. Knowing that they had holidays to spend together years from now made it easy enough to let him leave today. That, and the fact that if she did go she’d miss the twins’ first visit Santa. (And, worse than that, she'd have to hear about it all second hand from Cheryl).

“Why don’t you ask Toni to hangout? She wants to go see that weird alien movie you've been gushing about,” Jughead said, turning back to his luggage.

All of the warm, gooeyness that she’d felt evaporated immediately. Desperate to relieve her discomfort, Betty pulled the blankets tighter around her. There wasn’t really a reason she could give as to why she could say no; after all, they were part of the same friend group and they did get along splendidly. Not to mention the inappropriateness of admitting to one’s long term boyfriend that you had a maddeningly, infuriatingly, deep crush on someone else.

“Maybe," Betty said while she picked at a loose thread.

Then again, maybe spending more time with Toni would cure her of this crush; after all, it had happened with Veronica and they’d settled into a close friendship, one Betty wouldn’t give up for anything.

“Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone,” Jughead said, picking up his bag and helmet.

He kissed her cheek and Betty mumbled out an ‘I love you’ that felt just as real, just as strong as it ever had. A few minutes later Betty’s phone chimed and she saw a text from Toni. Betty groaned and burrowed deeper into her bed.

--

“It’s fine, really. I can walk. It’s only a few blocks,” Toni repeated as she pulled on her jacket.

Betty glanced out the diner window. Outside, drifts of snow were quickly growing.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” Betty replied.

Despite the tension that had been building up within her, despite the fear (exhilaration? increasing desire?) of being alone in such a close space with Toni, Betty couldn’t let her walk home in this kind of weather. Even if their friendship hadn’t grown deeper over the past week and a half she still would have made the offer.

“Are you worried about me, Cooper?” Toni teased.

“Yes.”

The smile fell from Toni’s face. She searched Betty’s face, and finding what she was looking for, smiled softly at her. It was so similar to the one Jughead had given her before she left that Betty had to look away.

“Alright. Lead the way,” Toni said.

Pop’s bid them a good night on their way out, and they braced themselves for the cold. Impulsively, Betty slipped an arm through Toni’s. After all, they were friends now, closer than they had been. She did this sort of thing with Veronica all the time, though unlike with Veronica, Betty only found her crush on Toni growing deeper.

“So, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Toni shrugged and stepped closer to Betty. “Same thing we always do. Watch reruns of It’s a Wonderful Life with Grandpa and eat too much. You?”

“The Blossoms invited us over for Christmas dinner.”

“Yikes,” Toni said with a slow whistle.

Betty pulled out her keys and opened up the passenger side door. Toni nodded her thanks and sat down. A minute later they were pulling out of Pop’s parking lot.

“I take it you and Cheryl are running interference?” Betty nodded and turned on her blinker. Despite there being no one on the street, it was a ingrained habit that made Toni smile at her.

“Something like that. Mom’s convinced they’re going to cancel last minute to make us host it, so she’s been on a cleaning and decorating rampage this past week. But the kids love that Cheryl’s been staying with us.”

“That’s good. I'm down there. ” Toni pointed to the right side of the Sunnyside Trailer Park. “The most drama we get is when some idiot decides to shoot off firecrackers at 4 am.”

Betty laughed and pulled in next to the trailer surrounded by half rebuild cars. She sat on her hands to keep from rushing out of her car and checking the models of each.

“Well, this is me,” Toni said.

Betty nodded, unsure of what else to say. In her peripheral vision she saw Toni pull something out of her bag.

“You were supposed to get this at Cheryl’s Christmas exchange,” Toni said.

She held out a package with crushed tinsel wrapped around it. When Betty looked closer she realized there were different kinds of vintage cars driving along a highway, each with a pine tree strapped to the top. Glancing at Toni, she gently pulled the paper apart. She almost fainted when she realized what it was.

“Toni, this is too much, I can’t -“

Toni held up a hand. “It’s really nothing. I just got lucky at the thrift store and thought of you.”

Betty stared at the first edition copy of The Secret of the Old Clock, scared to open it least it fall to pieces in her hands. A paper peeked out of the pages, and she gently tugged it out.

‘Merry Christmas Betty!

Thought you might like this (and don’t forget to check the inside cover before you put it under glass).

From,

Your Secret Admirer.’

Upon reading those words, Betty couldn’t help but keep the smile from her face. Something like this was so heartfelt, so personal, she couldn’t help but want to take Toni into her arms and thank her profusely. Opening the book ever so gently, Betty gasped at the author's faded signature.

“Toni -“

Her voice had taken on a tone of anguish. Torn between her loyalty and the sudden tenderness she felt, Betty was at a crossroads without a map.

“Is this about Jughead?” Toni asked. Betty whipped around to look at her. With a gentle smile, Toni wrapped her hands around Betty’s.

“Call your boyfriend.”

Betty squinted at Toni, unsure. Was Toni asking her to choose between them? As if reading her mind, Toni laughed. She slipped the book out of Betty’s hands and set it on the dash.

“Call your boyfriend, Coop.”

Frowning, Betty pulled out her phone and dialed Jughead. With every ring, her heart beat more painfully against her chest.

“Hey, happy Christmas Eve eve,” came Jughead’s sleepy voice.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you did I?”

She could her him shifting in the background. “No, we were just watching the worst movie of all time.”

Jellybean yelled out in the background and there was a scuffling as the phone exchanged hands.

“Break up with him, Betty, he has no taste.”

“Santa’s Slay should never had been made,” came his tinny voice. A second later and his voice was as clear as if he were sitting next to her. “What’s up?”

“Toni’s with me, and -“

“Oh, she finally gave you her Secret Santa gift?”

Betty’s eyes drew together and she glanced over at Toni. “You knew she drew my name?”

“Actually, I drew it, but -“

“You?”

Jughead’s chuckle was throaty and deep. The sound of it sent shivers down her spin in much the same way that Toni’s look did right now. “She wanted to trade, and neither of you have been subtle.”

“But -“ There was a silence that hung in the air as Betty processed what was happening. “Do you mean -“

“I’m secure in our relationship Bets. If you want to, then you have my blessing.”

“Oh.”

He laughed again. “Merry Christmas Betts. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, her voice sounding far off.

The line went dead and she sat there, watching the falling snow. It felt as if her chest were going to explode. The world had expanded three times since she’d first picked up the phone and suddenly it felt as if there was a wealth of new possibilities open to her.

“Well?” Toni asked, breaking Betty out of her reverie.

Betty turned to her slowly, taking her all in. Setting her hand on the console between them, Betty slowly leaned in, hesitantly touching her lips to Toni’s.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I really like my Christmas gift.”

Toni wrapped her hand around Betty’s and tugged her closer. “Than you’re going to have to do a better job of showing it than that.”

#toni/betty/jughead dynamic #ot3 #listen this took far too long to get done #but here's christmas in june

[five-miles-over]

Blackout (Willie Gutierrez x Reader)

(image source: pinterest.com)

Summary: The reader is Willie Gutierrez’s new neighbor, and the two of them accidentally meet during a power outage when the reader wants to borrow a lighter for some candles

Word Count: 1,588

Warnings: mentions of weapons and murder, as well as references to the plot of ‘The Yards’

They'd only been apart for a week and already he had a new lover hanging off his arm.

For most people living in the run-down apartment complex, situated in the darkest, grittiest section of The Bronx, tonight was just like any other Friday night. After another day at their miserable 9-to-5, minimum-wage jobs, they’d saunter on home and either drink away a large portion of their paycheck or fall asleep in front of their television with a frozen dinner.

But for Willie Gutierrez, it was a night for celebration…a celebration of survival. This Friday marked his first week since he’d been released after 5-year-long sentence that he swore permanently took a part of his sanity. Even though there would be a parole officer visiting him twice a week, Willie was finally free to get his life back and live in society. As soon as the rays of the setting sun caught his eye, Willie cracked open a Miller beer and began scrolling through his cell phone.

I guess he finally got over his thing for Erica, Willie grunted as he looked at the photo. In an effort to be courteous, Leo Handler - Willie’s friend from grade school - sent a picture of himself with his arm around a blonde girl wearing a slip dress and Doc Marten shoes. He really had no need to try maintaining their relationship, visiting Willie in prison and calling him every week, especially not after all the trouble Willie had gotten him into. Maybe it was Leo’s mother who encouraged her son to let the past remain in the past.

Though for Willie, following that advice would be a task much easier said that done.

On the night he killed Erica, Willie remembered hearing a story from Leo’s step-uncle about Leo and Erica being in love despite their relationship as cousins., and how those two were caught having sex once. Even though it had been a while since that fateful night, it still made Willie cringe to think of them doing it. He wouldn’t have felt as bad if he’d found out one of his friends was Erica’s ex, but the fact that it was her cousin and his best friend - who’d taken jail time for their gang - made Willie want to vomit even now.

“Fuck.”

The lightbulb fizzled out like a dying fly, and the heating suddenly stopped, leaving his entire apartment completely dark and cold.

As he took in the view from the twentieth floor, the lights seemed to go out all over the city. Swearing under his breath, Willie slumped onto the couch and tried his best to take another swig of beer. He didn’t exactly have the wildest plans for tonight, but it’s not like he wanted to be stuck in a blackbox with no means of any entertainment.

A few moments later, Willie perked up when he heard a knock followed by an unfamiliar voice.

“Hello, is anyone home?”

Willie remained silent, wishing that his gun were here right now in case the voice belonged to a robber. Unfortunately, concealed carry for  had a bit too much red tape for Willie’s liking. Not even getting in touch with Frank, his ex-boss, would help him get a gun for self-defense. Frank probably wanted nothing to do with Willie at this point, even if he was released for good behavior.

“I’m not a telemarketer, or anything. I’m your neighbor.” The voice added. "And I'm not armed."

"What do you want?" Willie muttered under his breath.

"A lighter would be nice," You replied. "Or some matches - could you open the door please? I swear I'm not here to hurt you."

Covering his eyes, he was blinded temporarily by the flashlight you held up so he wouldn't bump into you "Geez, you don't have to point that fucking thing at me!"

"Sorry…just wanted to make sure that you knew what I looked like." Sheepishly, you introduced yourself to him, telling him your name and how recently you'd moved into the building.

"I'm Willie, yeah…I'm new too. Why did you need lighters?"

You gestured to your other hand, which held a few candles. A flashlight probably wasn't going to last you all night, and even though your apartment was a literal shoebox, some candlesticks would provide enough brightness until the power came back on.

"Oh."

"So…may I borrow your lighter, please?"

"I would, but this is my only one."

"…And you don't trust me because you think I won't return it to you?"

After a moment of silence between the two of you, you invited Willie over to your apartment just so that he could take the lighter when you were done with it. And you secretly were hoping that Willie would turn out to be good company.

He internally debated for a few moments before accepting your proposition. On one hand, you seemed like a decent person…a decent person who probably just ended up in this place because you couldn't afford a nicer building, not because you had just gotten out of prison. On the other hand, you probably didn't know that he was a criminal and a murderer - how could he completely trust you, let alone accept an invitation into your home? He didn't even want to tell you his last name, just in case you'd seen it in the newspapers. Then again, it wasn't like he knew anybody else here except for his parole officer, and taking a chance might just be the thing he needed to get back to his old extroverted, adventurous self.

"So, what floor do you live on?"

"The same one as yours, Willie. The twentieth," You answered with a chuckle, leading him inside your home. "Can I get you something to drink - water, beer, or something?"

"Beer sounds fine."

You lit the candles in your apartment before heading to the fridge and handing him a bottle of hopefully-still-cold beer. Gladly accepting the drink, Willie sneakily tried to get a better look at you while you poured yourself another round of your favorite alcohol.

Amongst the candles, you actually looked quite pretty, maybe someone he wouldn't mind seeing more often. He'd most likely never seen you before because he rarely left the apartment over the past week, let alone his room.

On Monday, he could barely get out of bed because of how overwhelming it all felt - starting over from scratch with no friends, no family members, and no former acquaintances. He kept thinking about where to begin, and whom to ask for help. Tuesday and Wednesday, with a little help from his parole officer and prison therapist, he was able to enroll himself in some economics classes from a local college, and a part-time thing as a cashier at a drugstore. Thursday was spent mostly in bed again; it was a 'relapse', as Willie called it. And on Friday, he went out grocery shopping for the first time. Even though most of the stuff he picked out was instant, ready-to-eat food that required little to no preparation, it was still a good start.

"Power outages suck," you muttered, taking a sip.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I remember getting them sometimes when I lived in Queens."

"You lived in Queens?" "My whole life, yeah."

For almost three hours, the two of you continued to make some small talk. You eventually told him that you had recently graduated, and now working somewhere in the Bronx. It wasn't the greatest job in the world, but at least it got you a place to live and paid the bills. You told him a little about your home town, along with a silly thing or two about your childhood.

Willie felt himself relax a little more, hearing you talk about your life. He wished that maybe someday, he'd be able to talk about his past with the same ease that you seemed to have. In addition, you had a really great voice that was nice to listen to, though he wouldn't say that out loud. He didn't want to seem like he was coming onto you too suddenly. Plus, he didn't know if you were even looking for a relationship, or if you were already taken.

Just when you were almost finished telling a story, the lights buzzed back on with a crackle. "Look at that." You sighed, a part of yourself wishing that the power would not return for a while just so that Willie could be over for a bit longer.

"Yeah…power's back. I should probably head back. Besides, it's really late."

"Don't forget your lighter," you joked, reminding him why you originally invited him over to your place. Willie thanked you for your company and laughed a little, his jade-green eyes bearing a slight twinkle.

You walked him over to his place, a mere few steps away from yours, and the two of you discussed the possibility of maybe having dinner together sometime. It wasn't meant to be a date or anything, but just an opportunity for you to hang out as neighbors. You were both alone in a new city, and agreed that it would be great to have at least one familiar face to depend on.

"Good night…neighbor." He disappeared behind his door with a smug wink, proud of himself for taking a chance with you. Just like a poker player with a royal flush, he'd undoubtedly won this round.

"Good night, Willie."

#willie gutierrez #the yards 2000 #Joaquin Phoenix #willie x reader #willie gutierrez x reader

[thiswasinevitableid]

for monster march, ghost + indruck + nsfw?

Here you go! I borrowed some ideas we’ve tossed around on the Discord

A sketchbook, new pens, a Hershey bar, and a bag of jumbo marshmallows. A small but lively fire. And a new, huge, fuzzy sleeping bag waiting for him in the tent. 

Not a bad camping set up for a city-boy art goth (as Barclay likes to call him).

Indrid sticks another marshmallow on the fork, roasting it until it’s deep brown, the smell of burning sugar curling through the air and settling in his hair. He’s never liked Graham Crackers, so he jams a square of chocolate into the molten center of the marshmallow and shoves the entire thing into his mouth. 

Kepler is small. Barclay hadn’t been kidding about that. He’d also been right that one of the two tattoo shops in town was willing to hire Indrid after looking through photos of his work and confirming he completed his apprenticeship. 

He’s been living in the Eastwoods campground in the Monongahela National Forest while he apartment hunts, and the tattoos he’s done so far netted him enough cash to buy his luxurious new sleeping bag. He might be waiting on a place for some time, so he may as well camp in style. 

Three “s’mores” later, the moon is up and the night is chilly enough that he wants his sweatshirt. Ducking into the tent, he can’t find it on his pillow, where he swears he left it this morning. Maybe he accidentally buried it getting dressed.

A splashhiss interrupts his rummaging. Scrambling from the tent, he discovers his fire is now a pile of soaked ashes and logs being angrily stirred by a thick piece of kindling. 

“Excuse me, but what the fuck?”

A man in a ranger uniform appears, the stick falling through his hand as he gives Indrid a disapproving stare. 

“Look here, I know you’re new here, maybe to campin entirely. But you can’t just leave a fire burnin when you go to bed.” He doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s a disappointed big brother scolding his sibling. 

“I wasn’t-”

“And all this” he gestures to the food on the table, “has gotta go in the bear box. Black bears are real good foragers and we don’t want ‘em comin’ into camp and gettin to comfy around humans.”

“Of course, but-”

“You didn’t take any food into the tent, right? Wouldn’t want somethin to decide to join you ‘cause it smelled a snack.”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “I am aware of all of these rules, and plan to follow them. Once I actually go to bed instead of ducking into the tent for my sweater. But since my evening appears to be over…” he grabs the marshmallows, roasting fork, and chocolate, carries them to the bear box, and slams it closed. 

When he whirls back around, the ghost is still there, chagrined. 

“Uh, sorry. I kinda jumpy about people leavin fires alone.” In the lantern light, his smile is as charming as his drawl. His stocky, bearish shape and unassumingly handsome face command Indrid’s focus, which is why his revelation comes so quickly. 

“You...there’s a statue of you at the visitor center. Which makes you, ah, damn it what was the name-”

“Duck. Duck Newton. They put my legal name on there, even though Juno tried to stop ‘em. But my name’s Duck.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Duck. I’m Indrid.”

“Nice to meet you too. Uh, sorry for ruinin your campfire, looks like you were havin a nice time.”

“It’s alright. I suppose I’m grateful there’s someone haunting the campsites to keep them in order.”

“You’re takin me bein’ a ghost surprisingly well.”

“I’ve always been interested in strange things, to the point that I earned the nickname ‘mothman’ in high school.”

“Huh” Duck watches him a moment, then shrugs, “well, guess I better be goin’. Have a nice night, mothman.”

With that, he’s gone.

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

“Hello again.” Indrid says as the campfire smoke curls around a human form, “Doing your rounds?”

“More or less. I like my job, and ain’t about to give it up just because I beefed it and turned into a ghost.” A creak as Duck joins him on the picnic bench. When he materializes, he floats slightly above the worn wood, watching Indrid draw. 

“That’s incredible, it’s so realistic it’s like you pressed the leaves into the pages instead of colored them.”

“Thank you.” adds depth to the leaf, “you know, I looked at the statue again today. It hardly does you justice.”

From this close, he can see a blush spread up semi-opaque cheeks. Then he starts fading.

“Oh, ah, I’m sorry. I was aiming for a benign compliment, not to make you uncomfortable.”

“S’alright, just surprised me. Not many folks wanna flirt with a dead guy.”

“I’m more interested in what the ‘dead guy’ wants.” Indrid smiles, hoping to convey he would submit to spectral touches as readily as he’d keep talking. 

Duck floats closer, “Kinda curious about your other drawin’s.”

Indrid turns the sketchbook back to the beginning, “they’re half portfolio and half travelogue. Here” he holds up a fade, detached piece of paper,  covered by an Morpho Butterfly that looks ready to fly away, “this is the first tattoo I ever designed.”

“Damn. Guessin’ that means you did this one” he touches the Rosy Maple Moth on Indrid’s forearm (or tries to). It’s chilly, but not in the way Indrid feared. More like taking a cool shower on a sweltering day.

“I did. Here, it gave me an idea for my first series of flash tattoos…”

They go over the illustrations page by page. Slowly, Indrid weaves in questions to Duck who, instead of recoiling from discussion of his mortal life, tells him rambling stories about the woods and which places serve the best food in town. 

The conversation doesn’t end until the fire goes out on it’s own, Duck standing automatically, grabbing a water bottle, swearing, and then disappearing so he can pick the bottle up. 

“Do you think that’s part of why you’re still here? Some unfinished business having to do with the woods?”

“Nah.” The water bottle thunks back on the table as Duck reappears, “I tried to live a normal life, improve the world the way I knew how, make some kind of difference to this town. Then I had to go play the goddamn hero.”

“I would say saving two dozen people from a forest fire makes a considerable difference in the world.”

A sad huff of a laugh, “Yeah, guess you’re right. Just...I meant to do somethin’ with my life, not my death, even if it was a small somethin’, and the closest thing I got to unfinished business is a model ship.”

“I...what?”

“It was four-masted and everything! I had Leo order it in special and everything and then I never, I never got to-”  He tilts his head up, sniffs once, “never mind. I better let you get to sleep.”

By the time Indrid calls “goodnight,” the ghost is gone. 

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

“Please tell me you’re gettin a place soon so you stop eatin everythin outta a can?” Leo bags the last of groceries.

“No such luck. Ah well, there are worse things than canned soup and Pop-Tarts.”

“At least let Barclay feed you, half the point of havin a friend who can cook is to let ‘em do it for you. You need stamps or anything?”

“N-” A box behind the counter catches his eye. It’s at an odd angle, as if whoever put it there is hoping no one will see it. Indrid can just make out an illustration of a four-masted ship.

“Is that for sale?”

Leo looks where he’s pointing, and for a moment something in his gruff affability wavers. Then he nods, “Yeah, suppose it is.”

“Can you ring it up for me?” Indrid nearly bounces on his toes when Leo sets the box on the counter and confirms his hunch. 

The older man sets a gentle hand on the cardboard, sliding it across to Indrid, “Don’t worry about that, kid. It’s yours.”

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

“Duck?” Indrid turns in a circle by the picnic table, “Duck, I have something for you!”

He saw the ranger briefly last night, but he didn’t hang around. Gingerly, he sets the box on the table, tearing off a piece of sketch paper to write a note in case the ghost stops by while he’s asleep. 

“Holy fuck.” Duck floats across the table from him, “‘Drid, where did, how did--why?”

“Leo still had it. As for why I, ah, it seemed like you still wanted it. If you can douse a fire and over my camp stove, I figure you can build a model ship.”

Duck disappears and Indrid’s heart sinks; that must have been too much. Then he’s squished in an invisible, wonderful bear hug.

“Thanks, ‘Drid.”

From then on, Duck spends every night at his campsite, building the ship while Indrid draws, reads, or talks with him. The model lives in the safest corner of the tent during the day.

“I mean, I’m up durin the day too, but I scared a few folks on accident and I don’t want people avoid the forest because of me.”

Indrid also learns that Duck is stuck within a certain radius of where he died, and that his attempts to talk with Juno when she was in his part of the woods only lead to his friend thinking she was hallucinating and Duck feeling miserable for three solid days. Indrid offers to act as messenger and invite Duck’s friends (many of whom have, by chance and by proximity to Barclay, become his friends) to the campsite to see him. The ranger is quiet for some time after that offer.

“Not yet. Maybe someday, but not yet. I, it ain’t even been a year, ‘Drid. I think a lot of ‘em are still hurtin. And, and maybe this is selfish but...I ain’t ready to deal with them findin’ out I aint fully gone. It’d be so much all at once.”

Indrid doesn’t bring it up again. More than once, when Aubrey tells a story about Duck only for her eyes to sadden halfway through, or when he sees Juno looking at Duck’s statue a little too long, he struggles to keep his promise. 

A cold front blows into town and, since he’s still in the tent, he pops into Kepler Thrift N Find in search of an extra sweatshirt. Tucked in between one reading “Ranchos” and one with a picture of Garfield is a soft, well-loved hoodie with “Monongahela National Forest” on the front. He buys it and wears it home, the fact it’s loose in the arms making it even easier to tuck in his hands when he gets cold. 

He stops by the visitor center out of habit, checking out the new plush wild animals. There are also hints of Duck here and there; his name on displays, his face in group photos. As he contemplates a small, squishy black bear, he notices Juno looking at him more than usual.

“Hello again” he sets the bear on the counter.

“Howdy. This all?

“Yes, please. Are you alright? You look, ah, tired.”

“Yep. Or, uh, just noticed that sweatshirt. It was one that got made special for staff a few years ago.”

Indrid fidgets with the cat-bitten drawstring, “It was Duck’s, wasn’t it?”

“Uh huh. He put that patch on the sleeve. Guess it startled me to see it on someone else.”

“I understand.” 

“Knew him since we were kids. Hell, he’s my daughter’s godfather. Still don’t feel right, bein’ here without him.”

Indrid pushes the bear towards her and she pets it.

“What was he like?”

In the empty visitor center, Juno tells him. In her stories are echos of every conversation he’s ever had with anyone who knew Duck. When it’s time to close up, she asks if she can hug him, and thanks him for listening to her. 

“Guess you weren’t kiddin about wanting to sleep with a bear” Duck teases as Indrid sets his new purchase inside the tent. Indrid whaps at him, arm going through his torso. The ranger floats nearby as Indrid heats up ravioli and opens a can of Mountain Dew. Indrid tells him about the conversation with Juno. 

“Huh, guess that is my old one. Glad someone is gettin some use outta it. And it looks good on you.”

Indrid sets down his bowl, “We talked a lot, Duck. And it made me think about what you said to me one of the night after we met. You said you wanted a chance to make the world, the town, a little better. Everyone I’ve talked to, and I mean every one, has a story about you. How you helped them, how Kepler is worse off with you gone. You did so much, even with your time cut short. I, I wanted you to know that.”

The ghost looks away, “I wasn’t done tryin to help.”

“You still aren’t. You do what you can to keep the forest and the visitors safe. And you, you’ve made my life immeasurably better Duck. Seeing you is the best part of my day and I think I’m falling--ah, that is, you’re not done making a difference.”

Duck hasn’t moved since Indrid started talking about his feelings. When Indrid tries to meet his eyes, he disappears. Hurried, he reaches out to offer a reassuring touch and gets only air. 

“Duck?”

Nothing, even after he calls his name three more times.

He slumps onto the bench, “well, fuck me I guess.”

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

This is a terrible idea. But it’s his last, and therefore his best. 

Indrid even asked Barclay’s boyfriend, Joseph, if anything in his impressive library of the paranormal advised the reader on dealing with upset ghosts. A few did, always from the perspective of trying to get the specter to go away. They said nothing about what to do if your upset ghost was missing, leaving an ache in your heart you didn’t know you were capable of feeling. 

Instead, after a week of silence, Indrid changes tactics: if he can’t coax Duck back, maybe he can annoy him into appearing. 

Tonight, he finishes dinner and cleans his dishes, puts the bulk of the food in the bear box, and then tears open a bag of chips, scattering them across the table. He eats one, then leaves the open bag laying amongst the potato shards. 

Next, he dumps his remaining water on the fire, which takes it down to embers but does not extinguish it. When none of that gets a reaction, he decides to narrate.

“Hmm, that should be fine, it’s not that dry and I don’t think sparks can go over the edge.”

“Should I leave these juice pouches out? Yes, I think I should, in case I get thirsty at night. Maybe I’ll take one into the tent, just to be safe.”

He already feels silly and like no one is listening, and so he escalates. 

“I know I shouldn’t leave food out for the wildlife, but since there’s no handsome, ghostly ranger here to punish me for my transgressions, I am just going to leave some nuts out for the raccoons. I like raccoons. They deserve nice things. Hell, how about I just leave them a whole buffet since no one is stopping me!”

All he gets in reply are the few bugs awake this early in the spring and the crack of brush as a small mammal runs away from the weird bipedal thing yelling at his camp fire. He doesn’t leave out food for the raccoons; he climbs into his tent in a huff. What a bad idea, to think this of all things would bring Duck back to him. He’s being childish and bratty and selfish; Duck doesn’t deserve that, no more than he owes Indrid his company. 

He changes into his pajamas pants and sleep shirt, intending to go back out to make the site safe and tidy. Except.

Except something just opened the bear box. The chip bag crinkles and the fire hisses out a minute later. He should be running outside to apologize, but his mind has simultaneously  registered the full darkness of the night , the possibility that Duck is not the only paranormal thing in these woods, and the fact the nearest other campers are on the other side of the campground, meaning he is very, very alone.

The zipper on the tent moves, the flap falling open so his lantern shines on nothing but April air.

“Duck? Please say that’s you.”

A low chuckle, “It’s me, ‘Drid.” The fly zips shut, “mighty peeved about that trick you pulled.”

“I’m, I’m sorry. I missed you, but that was a bad way to communicate that.” He can’t see him, and the lantern only picks up the odd shift of sleeping bag or tent floor, so Indrid’s eyes’ dart about trying to pinpoint him.

“Oh, you communicated plenty, sugar. Like what you want a certain, uh, ghostly ranger to do to you.”

“Oh god” he winces, “please, forget I said that, it’s humiliating.”

“Not all that surprisin, truth be told. I mean, you and I flirted now and then. And you told me enough about yourself for me to suspect that you’re a kinky little weirdo who’s dyin to get fucked by a ghost.” 

“I, I feel I should point out that I only want to fuck one ghost. You. I want to fuck you and that means fucking a ghoOOOst.” He gasps as cold lips press into his neck.

“I can make that happen, darlin, all you gotta do is say it. You were a pain in the neck earlier, so now I expect you to be real polite and use your words.” Duck’s voice has never been like this before, rough and possessive yet still, under all of it, the same warmth draws Indrid in like a flame. 

“I want you, Duck.”

A bite to his ear, strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind him, “Want me to do what?”

“Fuck me” this is like every wet dream he had as a teenager, the supernatural being coming for a fellow outsider. 

That gets him a tender kiss on the cheek, “That’s better. Though, if I’m rememberin correctly, word you used was punish.”

Indrid yelps as Duck turns and shoves him to lay across his lap, kicks his legs out in surprise when his waistband slides down to his upper thighs. 

“Yesss” he wiggles his ass as Duck palms it, “yes, Duck, pleaseAHgod” the first strike stings, and Duck doesn’t let him recover before delivering five more, three to each side. His cock perks up at the pain. Stranger still, because Duck is invisible, all Indrid has to do is tilt his head to watch it harden and twitch with each slap.

Twenty strikes later Duck pauses, hand rubbing soothing, cool circles on the burning skin, “Learned your lesson?”

“Mmhmm.” Indrid presses an awkward kiss to Duck’s knee. 

“Glad to hear it.” Duck hauls him up onto his knees, slides a hand under his shirt and up his chest, “I’m rarin’ to feel more of you--holy fuck” 

“AH!” Indrid arches as Duck toys with his left nipple piercing, his other hand quickly finding the right. 

“God, fuck, you’re fuckin hot, if I were alive I woulda taken you home first time I saw you.” Messy kisses cover his neck as Duck tugs the piercings.

“Gaahnnyes, that’s, that’s very flattering.”

“Ain’t flattery, sugar, it’s the truth. Never could turn down some skinny punk with piercin’s and messy hair, not when I was a teen burnout hidin in the woods and sure as hell not now.” He moves Indrid onto his back, rucking up his shirt as his legs twist in his half-down pants. The ranger cups his face, and Indrid is positive he’s meeting his eyes, “tell me what you want sugar, tell me so I can treat you right.”

“Marks, I want marks anywhere you’ll give them.”

A growl from above him, then lips smashing into his, drinking him in before continuing down his throat, biting and sucking hard enough that he cries out every time. Duck pauses, teasing his nipples with his tongue as he rakes his nails up his sides. He sits up and for a horrible moment Indrid loses him. Then with glee he watches five red marks drag down his chest. He moans, rolling his hips and discovering just how closer Duck’s clothed cock is to his own. The contact only feeds the rangers eagerness, and Indrid is tosses and turns as he sucks, bites, and scratches, laying claim to the illustrated expanse of his body. 

“More, please, god that all feels so good.” 

“Don’t worry darlin, still got plenty of you to mark up, but we’re gonna do somethin else while I do.” He eases Indrid onto his stomach, slaps his ass fondly, “don’t go nowhere.”

Indrid’s duffel bag unzips, clothes and pens moved aside until a bottle of lube hovers in the air. The tube compresses and drips coat the rough outline of fingers. When the two digits press into him he sighs, eyes closing as he melts under Ducks watchful eyes. 

“That’s it ‘Drid, relax for me. Got well over a year of horny to work out, so this cute ass needs to be ready to take it.”

Indrid pushes his hips back in reply, taking as far as the fingers will go and whimpering excitedly when he presses in the tip of the third. Duck works that one more carefully, kissing Indrid’s face and shoulders as he whispers about how good he is, how much he’s wanted this.

“I want it too so for, for goodness sake please fuck me soon or I’ll leave my entire cooler out for the bears.”

“Only one bear in this campsite tonight darlin.” Duck laves his tongue down the base of his spine, bites down hard on his ass. Indrid’s still moaning from the pain when his cock pushes in.

“Fuuuckme that’s good. Shoulda snuck into your tent sooner, sugar, made you a fuckin cocksleeve you feel so fuckin good.”

“Ohgod” is all Indrid, voice muffled by the sleeping bag he’s biting, manages before Duck adjusts them so Indrid is on his knees. The ranger isn’t gentle, pounds into him like he’s nothing but a warm hole and chuckles whenever Indrid moans. 

“H-handprints, Duck, want hand prints GAHyesyesyes” he struggles to move in time with the ghost as the air fills with ear-splitting slaps. He’s so close, the pain and the sensation of phantom fingers claiming his body making his body beg for release. When he slides a hand down to jerk himself off, the arm twists up and stays trapped against his back. 

“You wanna cum, you know what to do.”

He blinks away the ecstatic tears, words raw in his throat, “Please let me cum, Duck. I want to, need to cum while you fuck me pleaseplease-” he cuts off into whine as the ghost works his cock hard, all the while jamming into him hard enough that the smooth fabric of the sleeping bag burns his knees. When he cums it’s with a weak cry of Duck’s name, which is swallowed up by hungry lips as Duck kisses him over and over, repeating Indrid’s name like an incantation as he pumps his hips and cums, pulling out as he does so it splatters on the reddened patches of his ass. 

A final kiss to the top of his head, and then there’s no contact between them and the zipper is moving.

“Oh no you don’t” Indrid scrambles, sweaty and exhausted, between the tent fly and the invisible man somewhere in front of him, “for goodness sake, Duck, I thought you liked me enough to at least let me fall asleep before you ran.”

The ranger finally appears, hair a mess and cheeks noticeably pink, “‘Drid, all that was amazing, but it’s all I can give you. I, I can’t...you said you were fallin for me and I can’t give you that.”

Indrid cocks his head, “Why not?”

“Because I’m a fuckin ghost, ‘Drid! You deserve to be with a livin’ fella, you deserve someone who can be a real part of your life.”

He crosses his arms, “Duck, you are a real part of my life. Honestly, what part of all the nights we spent together, all the ways we take care of each other, all of this” he points at the rumpled sleeping bag, “suggests otherwise?”

The ghost doesn’t speak, simply hugs himself (or tries to).

“If this is too much, if I’m offering something you do not want, then please tell me. But if this is you thinking that some paranormal quirks keep you from being a worthy partner for me, kindly think again.”

Duck disappears and Indrid is gearing up to try and tackle a supernatural entity when a familiar face buries itself in the crook of his neck. The ghost clings to him, and Indrid clings right back. 

“You really wanna give it a go?”

“More than anything.”

Duck lifts his head so their cheeks rest together, “Then fuck it. Let’s see what happens.”

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

Indrid finishes hooking up his lightly used Winnebago, AKA his solution to the lack of available apartments. He’s in a different section of Eastwoods, but he’s happy with his new spot. He opens one of his few boxes, gently lifts the completed model ship into a place of honor, and waits, humming happily, for an unseen hand to knock on his door. 

#indruck #monster march #indrid cold/duck newton #reader request #ghost au

[tuancore]

Lost You (Part 16) Final :

Starring- Jinyoung x reader

Genre- Angst, fluff

Summary- It's your choices and actions which made you miserable.

It was taking you a whole lot of time to accept and embrace the reality, even when it was much better than the little imagination of your head. Sometimes you still wondered if it was really nothing but just a figment of your imagination, your mind playing tricks on your unconscious body and damaged brain.

It's strange how a human body functions. You visited the neurologists for the best treatments and therapy that you could receive. Examining your brain, the doctor concluded that your hippocampus which is responsible for the memory has certainly been damaged resulting in retrograde amnesia, since you don't remember anything apart from your so called traumatic imagination. Fortunately you were still able to recognise people who were your close ones.

Everyone has been very understanding and nice to you even when you've clearly dumped each and every memory you had shared with them, a river of guilt soaking you wet with each passing second whenever they tried to tell you a certain piece of your memory of how you used to be. A sad smile adorning your face, it had become like you never lived with others and Jinyoung for so many years. You lost majority of your memories with Jinyoung, you did know that you were madly in love with him but everything turned upside down for you.

Undoubtedly it was your brain who played your life in such episodes which didn't even take place, though it felt so damn real. According to the doctor, It rarely happens that some patient who is suffering from a concussion and is in coma is precisely living in their mind. You didn't really tell them about Jisoo, you just termed her as some girl you wouldn't want to ever meet in your life.

Although you've certainly accepted the loss of your memories but you still needed time to let Jinyoung in again, you didn't feel a lot comfortable around him, he sure treated you like some princess but you couldn't bring yourself to accept him, so you kept yourself far from him as much as possible. Whenever he tried talking to you, you've been cold to him, you were worried if he would grow upset and leave but no, he didn't. Instead he stuck to you.

"Jinyoung, I'm sorry" You muttered softly pulling your hands from his grasp, standing up on your feet your back facing him,"I—I know that you've been hurt and how happy you're to see me again, but..... Jinyoung" You fiddled with your fingers nervously,"I need some time,I'm not ready to love you again, it's not like I don't trust you, it's just...—".

"Shhh~" Jinyoung cut you in between standing from the couch,"I understand how you're feeling right now,you were just handed with the most shocking news of your life. I won't force you into doing anything which you are uncomfortable with, trust me...." He expressed softly, a warm smile spreading over his sharp features as he stood in front of you.

"Thank you" You smiled back,for him being so understanding, "And I'm so sorry for putting you through this—".

"Aigoo, you talk too much" He chuckled, "Neither do I require your thank you nor sorry. All I require for living is you. If you're happy then I'm happy bab—", he stopped biting his tongue, "I'm sorry for that".

"It's okay you c—can still c—call me that", You cleared your throat avoiding the eye contact, he grinned inwardly probably thinking how cute you were being right now.

"I hope we can start off as friends then, as housemates. I promise no funny business", he asked raising his pinky finger for you to entangle in his which you did with a hesitant smile.

Since then you and Jinyoung have been sleeping in two different rooms, you're quite surprised at the amount of patience he has. He probably does everything which an ideal husband should. Yes, a husband and not a boyfriend. It sometimes makes you wonder what kind of memories you actually shared with Jinyoung, how was it to be newly in love with him, what all things about him intrigued you, what was that about him which really made you fall for him.

You started spending your time with others, you did say that you no longer consider your traumatic experience, yet in some corner of your heart, you were terrified since it was the only thing that you remember, that's it. The hardest was to meet with Youngjae. However, he showed you the photo albums which had both of your past times captured, he also took you out to the places, where you both used to enjoy hanging out and playing around with eachother.

Jinyoung mostly spend his afternoons and evenings in his office working diligently but always managed to call you once in a while to ask you if you had eaten your lunch, had your medicines on time, if you were reading anything in particular. You were mostly bored at home, unless one of your friends took you out with them. Jinyoung made sure you had no household chores to be worried about, he used to clean and arrange the entire house before you could open your eyes in the morning, mostly he went office without you knowing, your breakfast already prepared, ready to be consumed.

BamBam and Mark often came over to play video games with you whenever you were alone, Yugyeom and Jackson taught you some of their dance moves which was better way to stay fit than gyming out according to them while you went out with Jinyoung and Jaebeom to book stores and coffee shops, and you genuinely appreciated each one of their efforts. They have always been your family but now the picture was getting more clear.

On his days off, Jinyoung used to take you out on small dates, exactly how you liked. No fancy restaurants with people wearing tuxedos and silk dresses instead you liked strolling around the streets at night, playing at amusement park, eating ice creams, spending that quiet moment at Han river, you didn't really recalled that you liked those until Jinyoung informed you.

You knew that behind that adorable smile and soft affectionate eyes was a hurting heart, he was sorely hurting himself more and more just to mend yours. At the beginning you were somewhat scared of Jinyoung, of course he felt foreign to you, but you weren't to him, Most of the times when you tried putting yourself in his shoes, it broke your heart every single time.

"Noona!" BamBam and Yugyeom nudged your arm from either side.

"Yeah yeah", You answered staring back at them. "You've been zoning out, are you okay?" Yugyeom asked.

"I'm fine, just thinking about something", You replied still staring into the void. "Something or someone?" BamBam smirked. Had it been some other time you would have smacked them, but it made you blush.

"Can I ask you guys something?", You said aloud gaining all six of their attentions, eyes watching you intently,"Go ahead", JB motioned.

"Do you guys think that I'm hurting Jinyoung?" You asked nervously. They all laughed softly as if you could not say something more stupid than this, "I really did....".

Youngjae shrugged BamBam and Yugyeom from beside you, conquering the right side on the couch while Jackson sat on the left, tears brimming in your eyes.

"Shhh~" Youngjae wiped your tears lightly pulling your cheeks, "You can never hurt him, this is just a hard phase that you both will eventually get over with, together".

"What made you think that you are hurting him?" Jackson added, you faced him with a sad eyes,"I—I don't know....it just feels so, he is always smiley face whenever he's with me, but blame my heart because it says that he's somewhere hurting real bad", You explained.

"That's true, he is hurting real bad", JB began as soon as you locked eyes with him, he smiled "But not because of you, he is hurting because of the distance you both have, he's not blaming you for any of that actually he's happy because you....." He pointed at you "You are his heart, is with him but not within him. You know we've seen him crying and mourning over you the entire time. But other than consoling him and encouraging him we had nothing to do".

"He barely ate, barely slept. He kept on switching between you and his work yet managed to do both of them perfectly. We are aware about your condition, and please don't feel as if you asking for sometime was wrong. It was right in your place" Mark explained, "But we also have seen him longing for you, praying continuously for your well being to God, he was dying to hold you in his arms where you belonged".

"Your brain might've deceived you, but your heart won't, the feelings, the emotions and the love that you hold for him will forever be engraved there, because you both love eachother", Youngjae expressed while others nodded in approval.

Tears flowed constantly down your cheeks to your neck, not bothering to wipe them you still listened to each of their views with blurry eyes.

__________

Jinyoung called you in the evening letting you know that he'll be working late, with a quiet yet affectionate 'I Love You', which you obviously didn't reply back.

It's been six months already since you and Jinyoung restarted off as friends. Not even once did he cross the line, although he had every right to hold you in his arms and behave like a possessive boyfriend, instead he gave you so much freedom, just for your sake. He never touched you, not even your hands and it was about time you knew that he is the one for you, he didn't had to really touch you to make you feel things, to make you see how much he loves you because his eyes were enough to tell that you are his world, You are his life, And if you are not here, Then he won't be able to survive.

And the way he took care of you for past six months without asking for anything in return, if this isn't love then you were genuinely not interested in knowing it's actual definition.

Thinking everything to yourself, you drifted off to sleep hugging onto a pillow. Later when Jinyoung arrived home, it was 2am in the morning he was always cautious of his actions and he didn't want to wake you up right now at any cost. He gently pushed open the door to your bedroom, seeing you sleeping peacefully with your luscious hair sprawled over your pillow and some of the locks cascading your face, Jinyoung smiled softly feeling content, walking towards your form, he crouched down on his knees to see your face.

The moonlight landing on your face, making you look ethereal to him, the way your skin shimmered with the moonlight. He could sit and watch you like this for day and night without even blinking. Jinyoung lightly raised his fingers to side your locks being extra careful to not to touch your skin.

"I'm sorry, I promised not to touch you but it's just it's hard to hold back", Jinyoung apologized, finally caressing your head lovingly. "I'm sorry that I'm busy with all these office works and I'm unable to give you time, it's been hectic lately. Sometimes things get so.......so—that I just want to run to you telling you about my problems, like I used to. Your eyes, your smile was enough to say that everything will be alright.....but nothing about you is same anymore, why are you still so uncomfortable with me? I want you back please......When will we be like before?".

"Baby....I am not blaming you for any of that, I can understand. When you were admitted to the hospital the doctors almost gave up, they said that— that.... Maybe y—you won't survive, but I wasn't ready to let you go...hell I won't ever be ready to let you go ever......before losing you I would want to die, seeing you on that hospital ward was enough to wreck me, God knows how many times I wished it was me rather than you lying lifeless ".

Jinyoung has been keeping his feelings bottled up since then, and today they spilled out. He sobbed caressing your hair, "But the look you gave me when I first tried to hug you, I can never forget how hard it hit my heart. You were scared of me...... but I'm glad that you didn't leave me, you decided to stay with me....under the same roof and that was enough. I won't ever give up on you on our love, I love you and I've faith on my love that one day you'll feel the same for me.....till then I'll wait, I'll wait baby".

He stood up from the floor, pressing his lips lightly to your forehead which lingered for awhile, "I Love You so much....". With that he tip-toed out of your room closing the door behind him.

Tears rolled from either side of your eyes onto your pillow, you were asleep but when you heard his voice. You woke up, sobbing to yourself. He sounded so broken. It's not that he didn't listen what role he played in your imagination, it already pained him but the fact that it was making you act accordingly to your imagination in front of him, was stinging his heart.

________

You squirmed under the the sheets as soon as the sunrays landed on your face, seeping through curtains, the blinding light making you squint your eyes still trying to sleep even when you were awake by then. Suddenly you no longer felt the warmth on your face, opening your eyes. You were met with the most pleasant sight ever, and you finally admitted it.

Jinyoung's head blocking the sunrays, locking eyes with his soft alluring ones, you couldn't help but stare at them quite for some time, how can you not look at him when he was staring at you with so much love and affection. You almost lost it when the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a dazzling smile reaching his eyes and you swore it was the first time you noticed him smiling that wide, his eyes crinkling.

"I didn't mean to wake you up" He chuckled nervously, standing up on his feet from the exact spot he was sitting the previous night, sitting up on the bed, you smiled, "It's okay. I was up anyways".

"I brought you breakfast, it's not much though. I woke up late as well, so it was the fastest that I could prepare", He stated, rubbing his nape in embarrassment. That's when your gaze landed on the small glass table in your room, a tray which had french toast and a glass of orange juice.

"You're still here?" You inquired since Jinyoung is barely home in the morning due to his early departure for the office.

"Today's Sunday".

Nodding a little, you got up from the bed standing right in front of him, "Did you eat?".

"Not yet—"

"I'll just go and freshen up, let's eat together", You beamed brightly at him, which for sure made his heartbeat escalate to the sky, "S—Sure", he stammered picking up the tray, leaving your room immediately.

The breakfast grew quite awkward which you both knew about, he informed you about him being free today so if you wanted to go somewhere or wanted to do something, you were yourself feeling very nervous, fidgeting with your finger you asked, "Can we just stay home?".

"Yeah, of course".

"So would you like to have a movie marathon or something?".

Jinyoung got scared suddenly as to why were you not in the mood for movies, as far as he has come to know the new you, you liked watching movies and playing video games on Sundays, then why were you acting so strange.

"If I did something wrong unintentionally then please forgive m—".

"Jinyoung, can we have a reading session?" You suggested, cutting in.

"Yes of course!" He agreed happily, "I have a whole lot of books to read, you can sit on the couch, and I'll sit there", He pointed at the bean bag at the corner of the living room.

You could see how his eyes glowed just by hearing the term 'Books', which also made you smile. Within a minute he was back with a bundle of books in his hand.

"I didn't know which one to pick so I brought all, you can pick any one", he said, extending his arms for you to choose a book from. Instead you grabbed the bundle from his hands.

"Not here, in our room", You chimed, running to your room. The feeling of your unstable heartbeat wasn't foreign at all, instead it felt home. Jinyoung on the other hand dumbfounded by your words. Did you just say what he thought he heard?

Jinyoung felt as if he was falling for you all over again, and that he was trying to approach you, living young love once again. He stood awkwardly waiting for you to command him further, you've been so quiet and simple around Jinyoung, always talking to him in monotone, that he didn't even dare to move a finger against your will. And now when you're finally being soft to him, yet he doesn't have any idea what to do.

You gently held his wrist dragging him to your bed making him sit, he watched you with those lost puppy eyes, "I know that you like to read while laying down on bed, with your head against the headboard, I've seen you reading in that room".

Reluctantly he positioned himself on the bed, his head against the headboard. You immediately placed a pillow on his back so that it won't kill his muscles. Motioning him to begin reading, you flipped through the pages of your book, sitting on the bed beside Jinyoung.

Two minutes into the reading and you could already see Jinyoung with his nose buried deep into the book, while you kept on stealing glances at him, for the first time you were paying so much attention to Jinyoung after waking up from coma, the way his soft black locks were parted revealing his milky forehead,to his perfectly shaped dark eyebrows, to his beautiful almond shaped eyes, to his long straight nose, to his soft plump pink lips.

Holding the book firmly in your hand, you climbed on the bed, taking advantage of Jinyoung's concentrated mind you gently laid your head on his thighs, a shy smile adorning your face as if it was the most normal thing to do. You stared at the words and sentences blankly written in the book, hoping for Jinyoung to say something.

Jinyoung flinched slightly feeling your head against his thighs, more than anything he was surprised to see you initiating the physical contact with him. Lowering his book, he glanced at you who was busy reading, or maybe pretending to be busy with reading.

"What are yo—you d—doing?" He croaked out, his throat drying, he knew how much you disliked to have any sort of physical contact with him. Finally getting a response from him, so the tables have turned now. He was being scared of you.

"What do you mean?" You teased him, with your head still on his thighs. "You—I mean.....it's—", he couldn't even form a proper sentence.

"I'm lying on my Jinyoung's thighs, you got a problem with that?"

Your response shocked the hell out of Jinyoung, his heart stopped for a moment, keeping his book aside, he fixed his gaze on your face which had a pretty grin.

"What did you just say?" He exhaled desperately.

"You are my Jinyoung" You remarked softly, your heart hammering against your chest cavity so loud that you could actually hear it. Swiftly crawling up his legs, you settled on his lap straddling his hips, "You're mine right?", You asked cupping his face in your hands staring deep into his hypnotic eyes.

"Only yours", He whispered both of your faces merely an inch apart, he was getting high just by inhaling your intoxicating smell, it was taking every single fibre in him to resist the urge to kiss you then and there.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, without breaking the eye contact, "Don't—". You shushed him putting your index finger on his lips, "I'll speak and you'll listen".

"I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.....it was just....I genuinely needed some time to put myself in place. But trust me, I never hated you, I was just being cautious. I'm sorry", You cried. Wiping your flowing tears from his thumb, he shook his head, "Don't apologize, I know how difficult it was for you".

"I shouldn't have distanced you from myself when all you did is love me and care for me without asking for anything in return, and not even once did you try to claim me. You selflessly kept me first when your own heart was in pain. Jinyoung.....I can't bring back the old me but I promise that with my new self I'll love you the way you love me, maybe more but nevertheless".

He was speechless at your confession, he never saw that coming from you atleast not like this or anytime soon. The position you both were in was already quite intimate and none of you wanted to let go of eachother. The shimmer of love heavily clouding both of your orbs, were enough to pull both of you to eachother, sending you both overdrive.

"So, Will you forgive me for putting you through all of this alone?", You asked your thumb caressing his cheeks ever so lightly.

Already drowning in your captivating essence, he nodded like a puppet.

"Will you forgive me for keeping you away from your love?".

Nod.

"Will you let me make things right between us?", Your fingers gliding from his cheeks to his jaw.

Nod.

"Will you let me love you all over again?", Your thumb caressing his bottom lip.

Jinyoung was thrown to some trance called you, the way you were straddling his hips with both of your chests pressed against eachother. Such unexpected loving confessions coming from you, in your sexy husky voice was driving him insane. His gaze switching between your inviting lips and your adorable eyes.

"Yes.."

Without any second thoughts, you pressed your lips against his soft ones into a small yet passionate kiss, just to seal your feelings for him, Jinyoung was too dumbfounded to comprehend while you pulled back.

"Did you— Did you just express......that you love..me?".

Pouting childishly, you stared at the wall pretending to be thinking, "Maybe....", Your taunting voice made him smile too.

"I'm sorry for making you wait so long but now, when we finally have eachother I don't want to stay away from you even for a second".

"That means I've full authority on you then?" Jinyoung teased back, with a grin slipping his hands behind your back pulling you closer to him. Your heart literally skipping thousand beats per second, "Yes your highness".

"I don't think that kiss was a real kiss", He smirked, putting your arms behind his neck, you encouraged, "Why don't you show me then?". And he didn't have to be told twice, he pushed you off his lap, pinning you on the bed with your hands on either side of you.

"Are you sure?", He breathed, slightly grazing his teeth over your ear, the sensation of him being so close to you made you blush in different shades of red, you faced the other side closing your eyes shut, "Where did my bold little angel go?".

Had it been earlier you would've cowered away, hearing 'Angel' from him. But the reality is where you will reside with your love, with your soulmate, with your Jinyoung.

"She's right before you, so will you kiss me or not" You provoked him with a sly grin. He chuckled heartily, attaching his lips to your plump ones again, both of your eyes closed. The kiss started slow but passionate, your hand flying to his nape bringing him closer to you if that could be possible, both of your love and emotions entirely poured into the kiss, none of you wanted to pull apart.

If there could be a proper definition of drugs then it would definitely be Jinyoung for you, you cursed yourself in your head for not doing this before, for not letting Jinyoung in sooner. His arms felt home and you were more than happy to be back in your home and God, you will never let anyone come in between you both ever.

Reluctantly pulling away from eachother for oxygen, you both inhaled heavily still staring at eachother affectionately. A fond smile appearing at both of yours lips, resting his forehead against yours, Jinyoung whispered, "I really missed you, I promise to look after you all of my life and not to do anything which will cause us to lose eachother. I love you angel, I love you so much".

"I Love You more Nyoungie", You smiled back, closing your eyes.

__________

"Lisa! Lisa! Here here!" BamBam and Youngjae shouted waving their hands at Lisa who looking here and there trying to locate the sources. Finally finding BamBam and Youngjae waving and yelling frantically, Lisa ran upto her boyfriend hugging him tightly. BamBam twirled Lisa around in his embrace kissing er head.

Youngjae made gagging noises, the same way BamBam did seeing couples showing PDA. Lisa grinned happily, greeting Youngjae.

"It took you so long! You said it would be three day thing and you're returning after a week!" BamBam whined.

"I had to attend the fashion event, the last minute. I couldn't back out" Lisa whined back convincing BamBam, "Leave all this how's unnie and Jinyoung, are they......".

"Yeps they are together finally! Noona accepted all of us and she can't wait to meet you, she didn't really get to meet you earlier".

You and Jinyoung along with other decided to call for a celebration, since you both have finally found way back to eachother plus Lisa was also coming back to Seoul today.

"The restaurant is quite impressive", You commented sitting beside Jinyoung who was cladded in a gorgeous Black Armani suit.

"Thanks to Mark hyung's friend, he owns this pretty restaurant", Jinyoung replied pecking your cheeks despite everyone eyeing you guys. The place was definitely expensive, one can tell just by looking at its interiors and fine lightings.

Lisa entered with BamBam along with her new friend which she met back in Australia who was surprisingly one of the youngest female CEO's of an IT company in Seoul. BamBam immediately rushed upto his friends hugging them one by one. Lisa glanced her friend whose gaze was focused on certain someone.

Nudging her friend's arms, Lisa warned quietly, "I hope you are not still crushing over him, Jinyoung is a taken man....Jisoo".

Facing Lisa with an innocent smile, Jisoo replied, "Of course not....", Thats when Lisa was summoned by BamBam, she motioned Jisoo to follow behind.

Watching Lisa walk to them, Jisoo smirked, crossing her arms to her chest, "I am not crushing over him Lisa.... because I love him".

"I am looking forward to know you personally, Park Jinyoung", her gaze fixed on Jinyoung who was whispering something into your ear making you giggle.

Part 15 // Part 16 (End) // ___________________________

(A/N: So I'm finally done with this FF, I hope you guys enjoyed it. See you next time. And thank you~~~) __________________________________

#got7 imagines #got7 jinyoung #got7 x reader #jinyoung imagines #got7 angst #got7 bambam #got7 jackson #got7 jaebeom #got7 mark #got7 youngjae #got7 yugyeom #jinyoung angst #jinyoung x reader #jinyoung fluff #jinyoung fanfic

[spookypalace]

something borrowed - chapter one

After one drink too many at her  30th-birthday celebration, Jo unexpectedly falls into bed with her  longtime crush and best friend, Alex -- who happens to be engaged to her best friend, Izzie. Ramifications of the liaison threaten to destroy  the women's lifelong friendship, while Jackson, Jo's  confidant, harbors a potentially explosive secret of his own.

—

Or the one where everyone is a little messy but you still root for them anyway.

June 2010

“Oh! Wow, I had no idea! This is amazing.” The small brunette whispers to herself as she paces the dark littered sidewalk of ninth street in the East Village, the wind briskly wafting through her freshly curled hair as her high-heeled clad feet clicked against the gravel. “No, that sounds so obvious,” She continues to mumble to herself, using a manicured finger to flick away the bang which had stuck to the lip-gloss which painted her plump pink lips. With a deep sigh, she threw her hands back to her sides, shaking them furiously as she felt the familiar clammy feeling begin to settle in her palms due to her nervousness.

As her entire body began to heat up, she was thankful that it was the little black dress that had caught her eye earlier that evening whilst she was examining her wardrobe in search of something to wear. It wasn’t a dress she had chosen for herself; short little pieces of clothing had never been her thing—her style was usually casual, ripped jeans and relaxed t-shirts. But her best friend, Izzie Stevens, had picked it out specifically for her during a shopping trip back when they were college freshman. It was Izzie’s style; figure hugging, clinging to every curve and a deep square neckline which showed off her perky assets.

She didn’t believe she had any of that, never had. Her shoulders were a little wider than her hips, her legs much shorter, barely standing at five foot four and her chest substantially lacked what Izzie’s had. With luscious blonde hair which flowed down her back, blinding white teeth and skin smoother than butter, Izzie really was perfect. Izzie was always the lucky one, always had been—since they were in fifth grade. Her skin tanned more quickly, her hair feathered more easily, and she didn't need braces. Her cartwheels were superior, as were her front handsprings (she couldn't do a handspring at all). She had double-pierced ears and the trendiest clothing from her rich and caring parents.

But at least Jo would always be a few months younger than Izzie, six months, and four days to be exact. Izzie, as obsessed with clear and smooth skin as she was, constantly worried about growing old and the aging effects that was brought with old age. Izzie’s age was the one thing that Jo didn’t quite mind never catching up to.

“Oh my god!” Jo plasters a fake wide grin on her face and throws her hands into the air in mock surprise, white teeth illuminating the small corner of the street she continued to pace up and down. She brings her dainty hands to her chest and widens her eyes as not to blink, willing herself not to blink in an effort to fake cry. Something which she was usually very skilled at. But not tonight it seemed.

With a groan, Jo gives up, “I suck!” She shouts into the empty street before sitting down onto the concrete steps which lead up to the apartment building, she was currently having a small breakdown outside of. Huffing, she removes the black heel from her right foot, resting for a moment in hopes she’ll finally calm down.

The feeling Jo currently had reminded her of New Year's Eve when the countdown is coming and she’s not quite sure whether to grab my camera or just live in the moment. New Year’s Eve never goes how you plan. Then you’re left feeling enormously let down and think to yourself that the night would have been more fun if it didn't mean quite so much, if you weren't forced to analyse where you’ve been and where you’re going.

Like New Year's Eve, tonight is an ending and a beginning. She didn't like endings and beginnings. She would always prefer to churn about in the middle. The worst thing about this particular end (of her youth) and beginning (of middle age) is that for the first time in her life, Jo realises that she has no idea where she’s going. Her wants are simple: a job that she enjoys and a guy whom she loves. And on the eve of her thirtieth birthday, Jo had come to the realisation that she wasn’t anywhere near getting what she wanted.

First, she’s an attorney at a large New York firm. By definition this means that she’s miserable. Being a lawyer just isn't what she thought it was cracked up to be—it's nothing like L.A. Law, the show that caused applications to law schools to skyrocket in the early nineties. She works excruciating hours for a mean-spirited, anal-retentive partner, doing mostly tedious tasks, and that sort of hatred for what you do for a living begins to chip away at you. So, Jo had memorised the mantra of the law-firm associate: I hate my job and will quit soon. Just as soon as I pay off my loans. Just as soon as I make next year's bonus. Just as soon as I think of something else to do that will pay the rent. Or find someone who will pay it for me.

Which brings Jo to her second point: she feels desperately alone in a city of millions.

Whilst visually she knows for a fact she’s not alone, because if she were then she wouldn’t currently be stressing out about how to fake shock to all of her friends once she enters the club in which her ‘surprise’ birthday party is being hosted in five minutes. She had friends to summer within the Hamptons, friends to meet on a Thursday night after work for a drink or two or three, friends to gossip with and rant to. And she had Izzie, her best friend from home, who is all of the above.

For a while, friends were all she needed—when you’re in your twenties, settling down with the man of your dreams can wait. There’s still so much living to do when you’re twenty-three and then twenty-seven, but by the time you’re twenty-nine … the cold empty side of your double bed begins to get a little old.

“Right.” Jackson Avery’s voice booms from the now open door which leads to his apartment, shaking Jo from her thoughts of loneliness, “I’m ready, you good?” He asks with a smirk when he notices her perched on his steps, face bored and disinterested.

Big doe eyes, decorated with mascara and dark eyeshadow, glance up at him as her lips turn into a pout involuntarily. “I don’t wanna’ go,” she knows he thinks she sounds like a toddler, she can tell by the way he chuckles and continues to look down at her with raised eyebrows, “I don’t want to be thirty.”

Jackson jogs down the few steps, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as he does so, until he’s standing directly in front of the small woman. “Come on,” he extends a handout to her, hoping she’ll take it without much of a fight. Jo only pushes her bottom lip out further as she places her foot back into the uncomfortable heel and places her hand into his, groaning as Jackson pulls her up with force. “If it makes you feel any better then honestly, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

Jo scoffs, letting him lead her towards the club only two streets away from his place, “right.”

She had met Jackson in college, during orientation their freshman year. Whilst they weren’t fast friends, both of them were rather reserved. After a while they began to grow closer; during study sessions and group projects—they always seemed to be on the same page. It wasn’t until they finished college and realised that they were only living a few blocks from one another that they really started to spend time outside of class together, Jackson was always available for a morning coffee or an afternoon stroll during a stressful day.

Izzie had always been adamant that Jackson was crushing hard on Jo, but she never saw it. When it came to men, Izzie had a one-track mind—according to the blonde, no male and female could ever just be friends. She believed this so strongly that she took it upon herself to try and set the pair up during every night out at the bar or weekend lunch. Something which got old and obnoxious on Izzie’s part fast. Due to this, Jo had chosen to keep her friendships with the two fairly separate. Except for the times it was unavoidable, like birthdays and engagement parties and whatnot. Like tonight.

They arrive at the club far too quickly for Jo’s liking, she comes to a stand still once they’re outside, dragging Jackson back by the clasp of their hands as she firmly stays put. He sighs, his eyes subtly giving her the once over now Jo’s directly stood in the bright lights of the nightclub’s neon sign. Jo doesn’t notice, pays no mind to the man in front of her as she thinks about what’s on the other side of that door.

“What’s up?” He asks, frowning with concern, “you love an excuse to get drunk—your thirtieth birthday is as good an excuse as any,”

Jo takes a deep breath, “I told you, I’m getting old.”

“Keep going with that and I’m going to get offended,” he steps closer to her with a smirk, eyes gazing down at hers, “you remember I turned thirty, like, ten months ago, right?”

At Jackson’s comment, a sincere smile finally spreads across Jo’s glossy lips, “barely, I woke up passed out in your bed with a pink wig on and roller skates hanging off my feet.” Jackson’s smirk turns into full-fledged laughter as he recalls the memory.

“If we’re lucky then maybe tonight will end similar.”

Jo’s eyes glimmer as she teases, “no way, I’m thirty tomorrow—it’s socially unacceptable for me to wake up in some random guys bed.”

Jacksons face turns into a mock frown, “random?” As they both continue to laugh with one another, Jo shoves a dainty hand into his chest and walks past him with a bump to his shoulder. Her heels click towards the large black door with the shiny brass handle, pulling it open as she throws an eye roll at him and finally gets over her nerves and steps into the room her friends had piled into to celebrate her birth.

She wasn’t alone, she knows that—she felt that when she stood with Jackson, laughing and smiling so effortlessly.

But she was lonely.

One hour later, once everyone has gotten over how atrociously Jo’s fake shock was, the party is in full swing. People were dancing and laughing and singing along to the sound of Jo and Izzie’s nineties playlist as it blared through the speakers.

She never enjoyed being the centre of attention, which is why she specifically asked Izzie months ago not to throw her any kind of party—before Jackson informed Jo that actually, Izzie had ignored her completely, Jo’s plan was to enjoy a chilled night at their favourite bar. Just Jo, Jackson, Stephanie, Izzie and Alex.

Alex. The one saving grace of this party—his face was the first she spotted when she walked through the club doors, the first voice she heard and the first person who brought a smile onto her face. He’d sent her a wink, one which reminded her of way back when they were barely twenty, and it sent butterflies swirling in her stomach. She won’t lie and say she wasn’t disappointed when Izzie ran through the crowd of people, arms swinging and lips screaming, to engulf Jo into a tight hug, spinning the shorter woman around, and cutting through the moment.

Jo’s current personal situation seems all the more dismal as she sat with her oldest and bestest friend in the corner booth of the club, the blonde had a glamorous PR job and was now freshly engaged. After all this time, Izzie is still the lucky one. Jo watches her, telling a story to the group which had gathered into the booth, including her fiancé.

Alex and Izzie were an exquisite couple, lean and tall with ridiculous good look and great jobs. They are among New York's beautiful people. The well-groomed couple registering for fine china and crystal on the sixth floor at Bloomingdale's. You hate their smugness but can't resist staring at them when you're on the same floor searching for a not-too-expensive gift for the umpteenth wedding you've been invited to without a date. You strain to glimpse her ring and are instantly sorry you did. She catches you staring and gives you a disdainful once-over. You wish you hadn't worn your tennis shoes to Bloomingdale's. She is probably thinking that the footwear may be part of your problem. You buy your Waterford vase and get the hell out of there.

“So, the lesson here is: if you ask for a Brazilian bikini wax, make sure you specify.” Izzie finishes her obscene tale, and the whole group laughs. Except for Alex, who shakes his head, as if to say, what a piece of work my fiancée is. “OK!” Izzie shouts obnoxiously, hands slapping together as she claps, “I’ll be right back, tequila shots for us all!”

Jo watches as she moves away from the group and towards the bar, leaning over the sticky surface to flirt with the young bartender, who she already told Jo she would ‘totally fuck’ if she was still single. As if Izzie would ever be single. She said once in high school, "I don't break up, I trade up." She kept her word on that, and she always did the dumping. Throughout our teenage years, college, and every day of our twenties, she has been attached to someone. Often, she has more than one guy hanging around, hoping.

It occurs to Jo that she could hook up with the bartender. She’s completely and totally unencumbered—hasn't even been on a date in nearly two months, it was an utter disaster and she decided she needed to give herself a break. But it doesn't seem like something one should do at age thirty. One-night stands are for girls in their twenties, and as of tomorrow morning she would no longer be in her twenties.

Plus, she thinks she’d had her fair share of one-night stands and after every single time she always found that she ended up thinking to herself that she was a relationship person. She preferred to know the person, nothing competed with the feeling of being familiar with someone’s body. Knowing exactly how to make them moan, their toes curl, and their skin tingle—that’s what she wanted. And there was the feeling of comfort, being so comfortable that there was no awkwardness and you never felt too shy to try something new. She missed that. She really really missed that.

She hadn’t experienced that since her last boyfriend, two years ago.

“You look great,” Alex whispers into her ear as the rest of the group continue to chatter, his hushed voice breaking Jo out of her sad sad thoughts.

Jo rolls her eyes, tilting her head so it falls against the side of his, “you have to say that I’m your fiancé’s best friend.” As comfortable as the position was, Jo lifts her head up quickly so she can turn to look Alex in the eyes—eyes which were wide, gazing down at her. His lips were parted, as if there was something he wanted to say but as he opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, Jo decides to relieve them of the thick tension and shakes her head with a small girlish girl.

“No, I don’t,” he finally adds, eyes continuing to watch her every movement. The way she picks up her full glass of vodka with dainty hands, the way her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks and her curls frame her face—small things he’s always noticed.

The tension is cut once Izzie returns with the shots, but Alex refuses his, so Izzie insists that Jo does the two. Before Jo knows it, the night starts to take on that blurry quality, when you cross over from being buzzed to drunk, losing track of time and the precise order of things. Apparently, Izzie had reached that point even sooner because she’s now dancing on the bar. Spinning and gyrating in a little red halter dress and three-inch heels.

"Stealing the show at your party," Stephanie, Jo’s closest friend from work, says under her breath. "She's shameless."

Jo giggles, not really caring—it was something she had come accustomed to. “She’s just a little drunk.” She’s not sure when she became the person who constantly made excused for Izzie’s behaviour, probably way back when they were fifteen … maybe twelve, who knows.

Everyone waits for her next move, which is to swivel her hips in perfect time to the music, bend over slowly, and then whip her body upright again, her long hair spilling every which way. Jo turns her head away from the woman up on the bar to glance at Alex, who in these moments can never quite decide whether to be amused or annoyed. To say that the man has patience is an understatement. Alex and Jo had that in common.

"Happy birthday, Jol!" Izzie yells. "Let's all raise a glass to Jo Wilson!" Which everyone does. Without taking their eyes off the blonde.

A minute later, Alex whisks her down from the bar, slings her over his shoulder, and deposits her on the floor next to Jo in one fluid motion. Clearly, this was something he had done before. "All right," he announces, glancing over to Jo apologetically. "I'm taking our little party-planner home."

Izzie plucks her drink off the bar and stamps her foot. "You're not the boss of me, Alex! Is he, Jo?" As she asserts her independence, she stumbles and sloshes her martini all over Alex's shoe. In usuall circumstances Jo would agree with Izzie—Alex wasn’t the boss of the woman. But at this very moment, as she continues to cause a scene with her temper tantrum, Jo had to agree with him.

Alex grimaces. "You're wasted, Iz. This isn't fun for anyone but you."

"Okay. Okay. I'll go... I'm feeling kind of sick anyway," she says, looking queasy.

"Are you going to be okay?" Jo asks, concern dripping from her voice despite the fact she felt incredibly drunk herself.

"I'll be fine. Don't you worry," she says, now playing the role of brave little sick girl.

Jo thanks her for the party, tells her that it was a total surprise—which is a lie, because she knew Izzie would capitalize on my thirtieth to buy a new outfit, throw a big bash, and invite as many of her friends as Jo’s own. Still, it was nice of her to have the party, and Jo’s finally glad that she did. Izzie’s the kind of friend who always makes things feel special. Izzie hugs Jo hard and tells her she'd do anything for her, and what would she do without Jo, her maid of honour, the sister she never had. She is gushing, as she always does when she drinks too much.

Alex cuts her off, "happy birthday, princess. We'll talk to you tomorrow." He gives Jo a kiss on the cheek as she grimaces at the old nickname he had coined all the way back when they were freshman in college. Before he exits, he turns back one last time, “you’ll be OK?”

"Thanks, Alex," Jo smiles. "I’ll be fine, good night."

Jo watches him usher Izzie outside, holding her elbow after she nearly trips on the curb. Oh, to have such a caretaker. To be able to drink with reckless abandon and know that there will be someone to get you home safely—so you didn’t end the night passed out on your male friend’s bed with absolutely no idea if anything happened between the pair of you.

Sometime later, Alex reappears in the bar—much to Jo’s drunken delight.

"Izzie lost her purse. She thinks she left it here.” He huffs with a roll of his eyes, “it's small, silver," he continues, using his hands to show them the size. "Have you seen it?""

“She lost her new Chanel bag?" Jo shakes her head and laughs, a little louder than she anticipated thanks to the alcohol coursing through her system, because it is just like Izzie to lose her things. Usually Jo would try her best to keep track of them for her, but as it was her birthday, she decided to go off duty—albeit unintentionally. Still, Jo helps Alex search for the purse, finally spotting it under a bar stool.

“Oh my god!” Jo hears Jackson’s mocking tone from behind her, “the Chanel purse, Jo!” She grabs the purse from the floor, accidentally knocking her head against the bar, before turning around to shove a laughing Jackson in the chest.

Alex grins, lifting a hand to ruffle her now slightly messy hair playfully, “what would I do without you?” He asks rhetorically, but there’s a glint in his eyes as he watches her glance up at the ceiling with a smug shrug, full of confidence.

As he turns to leave, Alex's friend Andrew, one of his groomsmen, convinces him to stay.

"C'mon, man. Hang out for a minute." With that, Alex calls Izzie at home and she slurs her consent, tells him to have fun without her. Although she is probably thinking that such a thing is not possible.

Gradually Jo’s friends peel away, Jackson included, saying their final happy birthdays. Alex and Jo outlast everyone, even Jackson. Something which wasn’t uncommon, it had become a regular occurrence since college. The pair sit at the bar making conversation with the young bartender from earlier who has an "Amy" tattoo and zero interest in the aging brunette lawyer.

It’s just after three when they decide that it's time to go. The night feels more like midsummer than spring, and the warm air infuses Jo with sudden hope: maybe this will be the summer she finds what she wants to do, where she’s going and all that crap.

Alex hails me a cab, but as it pulls over, he says, "how about one more bar?” His voice is hopeful and there’s that familiar crooked smirk on his lips, “one more drink?"

"Fine," Jo groans with a roll of her eyes, a smile on her face that tells Alex she’s joking—she’s more than happy to stop at one more bar with him. "Why not?" Jo grins as they both get into the can and he tells the cab driver to just drive, that he has to think about where to next.

They end up in Alphabet City at a bar on Seventh and Avenue B, aptly named 7B. It’s not an upbeat scene—7B is dingy and smoke-filled. They both like it anyway—it's not sleek and it's not a dive, it’s more up to their speed, more them.

Alex points to a booth, “sit down, this ones on me." Then he’s turning around, "what shall I get you, still partial to a vodka cranberry or beer?" He asks, that smirk still on his lips as he’s proud to think of how well he knows the woman in front of him.

Jo tells him she’ll have whatever he's having, and then she sits and waits for him in the dark red booth, patiently as the vodka and tequila and rum swills around her head. Jo watches as Alex says something to a girl who’s stood at the bar wearing army-green cargo pants and a tank top that says "Fallen Angel." Jo almost scoffs. Jo smiles and shakes her head, ignoring the familiar pang of jealousy running through her veins. 

A moment later Alex slides in across from Jo in the old booth, pushing a beer her way. "Newcastle," he says before he smiles, crinkly lines appearing around his eyes. "You like?" Jo nods and smiles back at him.

From the corner of her eye, Jo see’s Fallen Angel turn on her bar stool and survey Alex, absorbing his chiselled features, wavy hair, full lips. Izzie complained once that Alex garners more stares and double takes than she does. Yet, unlike his female counterpart, Alex seems not to notice the attention. Fallen Angel now casts her eyes Jo’s way, likely wondering what Alex is doing with someone so average. Even if the little black dress did wonders for her usually non-existent cleavage, Jo didn’t see herself as anything special. She finds herself silently hoping that the girl thinks they're a couple. Tonight, nobody has to know that she is only a member of the wedding party.

“That’s the dress you wore to our celebratory drinks the night we took the bar.” Alex notices, tilting his beer in her direction.

“Oh wow,” Jo let’s out a breathy laugh, “you remember that?”

Alex smirks before letting out a sigh and shaking his head in almost disbelief, “Of course I do. You threw up all over my bathroom floor whilst wearing it.”

Jo’s jaw drops to the floor at the mention of the old memory, her eyes scanning over Alex as he sets his beer down and lets out a hearty laugh. “Noooo,” she drags the word out, cringing, “I was such a disaster.”

Alex scoffs, “no you were not, you were a college student.”

And for the third time that night, their eyes are glued to one another’s, both having so much to say but having no idea how to say it. But this is how it had always been with Alex, even when they could feel the tension between them—they were still nothing but completely comfortable with one another. Although, in this instance, her cheeks began to heat up.

Jo clears her throat, shaking her head, hoping the waft of her hair would cool down the heat that was rising at the back of her neck. “Do you remember that apartment,” she reminisces, “it barely fit the two of us.”

“How could I forget,” Alex mumbles with a grin, “I spent half the time I lived there sleeping on the floor ‘cause your place was always flooding.”

“I don’t know why you always let me crash in your bed.” Jo thinks out loud. He doesn’t answer, just shakes his head and takes another long swig of his beer, hoping the conversation will change. “You know, I had a huge thing for you back in college.” The words tumble from her lips, so fast he barely catches them but after a second he’s certain of what he’s heard. And she wants to say it’s the drink talking—the alcohol running through her system. But it’s not. And he knows its not. She can tell by the way he awkwardly bows his head, hiding his smile and shaking his head.

Eventually, the conversation changes and it’s as if she never made the slip up. But she did. But then Alex is talking about his job and their Hamptons share that begins in another week and a lot of things. It’s always been this way, easy and comfortable. But Izzie doesn’t come up and neither does their September wedding, not once.

After the pair finish their beers they move over to the jukebox, fill it with dollar bills, searching for good songs as they giggle and tease one another about their song choices. Jo pushes the code for "Thunder Road" twice because she knows it’s his favourite song.

"Yes, Springsteen's got to be at the top of the list. Ever seen him in concert?" Alex’s eyes glimmer, as they glance down to Jo—a tipsy smile gracing his lips.

"Nope," Jo answers with a laugh, “grew up homeless, remember. Concerts were a luxury I couldn’t afford." Jo almost tell him that Izzie offered to take her back in high school, well, Izzie would have been dragged along out of pity even though she much preferred groups like the Backstreet Boys. But Jo decides it’s best not to bring this up. Because then he’ll remember that it’s probably time to go home to Izzie and she doesn't want to be alone in her dwindling moments of twenty-somethingness.

Alex chuckles, never being one to skirt around Jo’s tough upbringing, it was actually one of the reasons they became such good friends. “You’ve had a zip code for over ten years now, I’m not letting that excuse slide anymore.”

Jo mocks shock, slapping a hand against the back of his upper arm, “not an excuse, jerk.”

Not too long later, it’s last call at 7B. They get a couple more beers and return to their booth.

Sometime later they are back in a cab once again, going north on First Avenue. "Two stops," Alex tells the cab driver, as they both live on opposite sides of Central Park. Alex is holding Izzie's Chanel purse, which looks small and out of place in his large hands. Jo glances over at the silver dial of his Rolex, a gift from Izzie. It is just shy of five o'clock. They sit almost silently for a stretch of ten or fifteen blocks, besides for a few comments mixed with tipsy laughter, both of them looking out of their respective side windows, until the cab hits a pothole and Jo finds herself lurched into the middle of the backseat, her bare leg grazing his.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Alex’s lips are on Jo’s. He’s kissing her. Or maybe she’s the one kissing him. But, somehow, no matter who was the one that initiated it, they’re kissing. And Jo’s mind has gone blank as she listens to the soft sound of their lips meeting again and again. Their tongues tangle, fighting for dominance which Alex eventually wins over and Jo can’t complain … because this is what she’s wanted for so so long.

Ever since freshman year.

At some point, Alex taps on the Plexiglas partition and tells the driver, between kisses, that it will just be one stop after all.

They arrive on the corner of seventy-third and third, near Jo’s apartment. Alex hands the driver a twenty and doesn’t bother to wait for change. They spill out of the taxi, kissing more on the sidewalk and then in front of Jose, Jo’s doorman. It makes her giggle and not because she’s still a little tipsy and high from the feeling of Alex’s lips on hers but because who would’ve thought—Hobo Jo has a doorman.

Their lips don’t part the whole way up in the elevator, their hands grabby and desperate as they try to fight the urge to rip off one another’s clothing. Alex has Jo pressed against the elevator wall, her hands moving to the back of his head.

Once their up, she fumbles with her key, turning it the wrong way in the lock as Alex keeps his arms around her waist, his soft lips nipping and biting against her neck and the side of her face. Finally, the door is open, and they’re no longer just kissing and touching. They’re in the middle of her studio, and he’s slowly pulling down the thin straps of her dress, kissing the soft skin where his hands graze—savouring the moment.

Just as Alex is about to pull down the tight dress the rest of the way. His hands stop their descent, placing them on either side of her head and forcing her to look at him. Her pink plump lips swollen, hair messy from him running his fingers through the long tendrils—she looked perfect, he’s never thought she looked more perfect than she did in this very moment.

“Are you drunk?" His voice is a whisper in the dark.

"No," Jo says. Because you always say no when you're drunk. And even though she is a little, she seems to have a lucid instant where she can consider this whole thing clearly. It strikes her that, in a sense, she can have both a momentous birthday night and the one thing she’s wanted for as long as she can remember.

One thought of Izzie is in her mind, but she’s being pushed to the back, overwhelmed by a force stronger than their friendship and her own conscience.

Within seconds, Alex’s lips are back on hers and he’s hurriedly removing her dress ad she makes quick work of snapping open the buttons of his crisp white shirt. Jo doesn’t even realise they’re moving backwards until he’s throwing her down onto the soft bed and Alex crawls on top of her. Jo’s eyes flutter closed, then open, then closed again as a swarm of pleasure sweeps over her as Alex’s hand continue to roam over her body.

“Me too.”

“Hmm?”

“I had a huge thing for you, too. Still do.”

And then, somehow, she’s having sex with her best friend's fiancé.

#jolex #jo wilson #alex karev