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thinkingoutlouddblog · 3 years

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Only For You - h.s.

Summary: H is usually pretty in tune with his body, but he’s apparently not very good at picking up when he’s getting sick.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of covid, plus me taking a guess at how covid testing in the US and at events works so sorry for any potential inaccuracies, I mostly used my knowledge of Aus but honestly its described all very generally

A/N: this took longer than I thought it was going to because I started and then got sick a couple days in :/ I’m still sick but she is done! If you have any requests pls send them my way!

Masterlist /// Send me an ask!

Harry is never sick.

He was so strict in his fitness and health, his immune system was better than almost anyone’s you knew. You were pretty sure someone could cough directly into his mouth and it would somehow boost his immune system by giving it a chance to exercise. There had to be fifty times over the course of your relationship so far you were sure you were going to pass on whatever illness you had acquired at the time. You always waited patiently for the other shoe to drop, for him to exhibit your exact symptoms and to be awash with guilt at his sickly state, but it never did.

It is such a rare occurrence, in fact, that he can tell you exactly the last time he came down with something. It was August 2019, he was in LA, and he had ended up missing two Fine Line album release related meetings. He remembered it because you had been in New York, tied up in projects of your own. You had pushed your flight up as a surprise to get home and take care of him, but by the time you touched down he had already been on the mend, and was sat in a rescheduled meeting when you opened the door to your shared home.

He could not recall, however, the earliest warning signs of a flu coming on, having experienced them so infrequently.

He dismissed the heavy tired feeling that had settled upon him, certain it was simply the aftereffects of intensive Grammy rehearsals. True to his perfectionist tendencies, he had been tireless in his efforts to make this one of his best performances and had been spending hours practicing a song you were pretty sure he could nail in his sleep. You said nothing of the fact that you thought he perhaps was spending more time than strictly necessary on this, of course, never wanting to undermine his process or invalidate his feelings of being under intense pressure. You just assured him you thought he was amazing and provided opinions and input whenever he asked it of you. He was overworking himself, but he was not deterred until the lights went down after his extremely successful (and extremely sexy, if you did say so yourself) performance.

Two days later, he was sure his hangover had extended over into a second day as he become aware of a dull ache in his head while awaking from his slumber. He groaned, rubbing his face as he rolled towards you, pulling you against his chest. He breathed deeply, cursing himself for drinking so much and sleeping so little only momentarily before thinking, hey, how many times do you win a Grammy? You stirred at his movement, eyes fluttering open only slightly before you shut them again and snuggled deeper into his chest. You sighed in contentment, loving nothing more than the comfortable feeling you can only get waking up in the morning, still on the edge of sleep. It had always been one of your favourite things, and it was only ever made better by waking up in Harry’s arms.

“I hate getting old,” he mutters into your hair, pressing a kiss where his lips had tickled your forehead.

“What?” You laughed at his unsolicited statement.

“Two-day hangovers are supposed to be reserved for after you hit thirty. But clearly, I’m older than I think I am because they have come for me and I am not enjoying it.”

You wriggled up in his embrace, so that you were face to face, giggling at him as you did say. “Oh god, do you think we should start thinking about retiring?”

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m not old!” He tightened his grip on you as he exclaimed in indignation.

“I mean what can I possibly say, H? Two-day hangover? You’ve basically got a foot in the grave,” you jested, but leaned in to peck his cheek at his faux sour expression.

In response, he released his grip on you and rolled away until he was at the very opposite edge of the bed in a big huff. You only laughed harder at his antics. You followed him to his side of the bed, wrapping your arms around him from behind and placing gentle kisses to the side of his neck.

“Darling, have you considered, maybe, just maybe, this two day hangover has nothing to do with the fact that you are getting older and more to do with the fact that you were working yourself to the bone for a month and then partied like the world was ending?” You pressed another lingering kiss to his neck. “Or perhaps like someone who had just won a Grammy?” A smile broke over your face at the memory, a fresh wave of pride washing through you, somehow still managing to leave you buzzing.

“Nope, I refuse to hear that. My youthful body is supposed to be stronger than any party, even an I-just-won-a-Grammy party.” You snorted in his ear, completely unsurprised by his steadfast stubbornness.

“Alright then old man,” you rolled away from him and hopped out of bed.

“Hey,” he called out, both at the jab and your exit from bed.

“Since my big shot Grammy winning, senior citizen boyfriend is still feeling a bit dusty I suppose I’ll bring him a coffee in bed,” you sing out over your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen, craving the caffeine yourself.

He knew you were making fun of him to highlight how melodramatic you thought he was being. Each comment about him being old was really made to tell him just how young he was and how little you thought he had to worry about.

He sighed, wanting nothing more than to remain motionless in the warm comfy bed but having no choice to get up and make his way to the bathroom before he could enjoy his coffee in bed. (And maybe some lazy morning sex, he was sure that would help relieve some symptoms). His whole body felt heavy as he rolled out of bed, his limbs and shoulders feeling almost as though they were made of lead.

His brow scrunched as he slowly made his way to the toilet to relieve himself. This really was some day two hangover, he thought. I don’t care what y/n thinks, I’m pretty sure this is one of those moments where you realise your prime is coming to an end.

He flinched as the sunlight pouring in through the frosted glass of the bathroom window hit his face, instantly doubling the force of his headache. He grumbled and scrunched his eyes until they were nearly shut, attempting to minimise the light infiltrating his vision. He did his business as quickly as his protesting body would allow.

By the time he had returned to bed and bundled himself back under the covers the kettle had boiled and you were on your way back to your room. You shuffled along slowly, pausing every two steps to stop your nearly full mugs from spilling over the edge. Harry loved to point out the coffee drips that you left along the floor in your shared home so frequently. They were spread far and wide, and in fairness to you, most of the time you didn’t realise you had done it, else you would have wiped it up immediately.

“H?” you called softly, as you looked up from the mugs to see only a Harry sized lump under the doona as evidence that he was even there.

When you received only an, “Mmm?” in response you continued your slow spillage-avoiding pace up to his bed side table, placing the cup down gently.

“Are you feeling okay baby?” you kneeled down beside him, stroking his hair back from his face.

“Jus’ tired,” he muttered, not opening his eyes.

This shocked you somewhat. He’s always been a morning person, and never tended to sleep in two days in a row. The two of you had spent the morning in bed yesterday, having only crawled in in the (not even that) early hours of the morning and spent the rest of the day lazing about the apartment, nursing respective hangovers. Even with complaints of his hangover extending over into a second day, you had expected him to be itching to throw himself back into his routine, not curled up in bed still feeling shitty.

“You can back to sleep,” you assured, even though he seemed to already be halfway there. “Your coffee’s there if you want some.”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaving him to it, closing the door softly on your way out.

Two hours later, Harry stirs once more from his sleep. His throat is dry as a bone, and his once dull headache is now pounding. He lifts his heavy head off the pillow and his eyes fall to his now cold coffee. He reaches over and takes a gulp, hoping to ease the feeling in his throat. Is not uncommon for him to awaken with a dryness to his throat, he often finds a hot coffee is enough to solve the problem, but alas, he is desperate enough to settle for the cold one before him for now. Instead of the relief he is craving, a burst of pain shoots through his throat each time he swallows a mouthful. He coughs as he places the mug back down, unwilling to have another sip.

And oh Jesus, it finally hits him. He’s sick.

All the signs he had shrugged off now became blaringly obvious to him in retrospect. And oh fuck.

Alarm bells go off in his brain as he registers the risk of what exactly this could be. He scrambles for his phone on his bedside table.

Harry: Don’t come upstairs.

You glance down at your phone as you feel the buzz of the notification. You had spent the morning pottering around the house, catching up on little chores the two of you had neglected over the past few days in the Grammy busy-ness and subsequent hangover. Happy with your efforts, you had settled back into having a lazy morning and were watching television on the couch quietly.

“Harry?” you call out in confusion as you read his text, already pausing the TV and standing up, intending to do the exact opposite of following his advice.

You can’t have made it three steps before he’s calling you. The wave of confusion is soon followed by one of extreme worry as you pick up the phone.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t come up I’m sick,” he spoke hoarsely.

“What do you mean?”

“Darling, it could be covid you can’t come up here,” he was cursing himself on the other end of the line. He should have been paying more attention to what his body was trying to tell him. Shouldn’t have been risking you like this. If he had it, he was sure he had already infected you too and guilt gnawed away at him.

This stops you in your tracks. You hesitate, you do. But ultimately, you know if he has covid, you’re probably already infected. If he does have it, which you are praying he doesn’t because young as he is, healthy as he is, there is always a risk. The worst running through your mind. If the worst were to happen, you would curse yourself until the day you died for not going to him right now.

“It’s not covid,” you tell him firmly.

“Baby-“

“Your tests from before the Grammy’s were negative, and we should be getting more test results back any minute that will be clean too,” you’re on the move again, absolute in your resolution. The both of you, along with all the other attendees of the ceremony, had been tested both before and after. They were meant to text each of you with your results any minute (or call, if they were positive, but that was a possibility you were trying to put aside).

“Even so, we can’t risk it until we get the results.” At the sound of your footsteps on the stairs he spoke your name sternly, halting your steps again.

“Harry,” you countered, matching his tone.

“Please don’t fight me on this. If you’re so sure that the result is going to be negative, and that they’re going to come in any second,” he pauses to cough, lungs and throat protesting with each word he speaks, “then a little while in bed by myself won’t kill me.”

“But-“

“Darling, please. If it is covid, I’ll never forgive myself for not doing everything in my power to try and keep you from getting it too,” the quiet desperation in his voice is the only thing that could break your resolve.

With a long exhale, you turned back down the stairs but kept the phone to your ear.

“Fine,” you huffed, “but only because I was always taught to respect my elders.”

“See that’s the good news,” he half laughed, half coughed at the exhalation of breath, “I’m not an old man with a two-day hangover, just a young man with an unspecified illness.”

“Do you still have your smell and taste?” you asked worriedly.

“I could definitely taste the cold ass coffee I just drank,” he rasped. He paused for a beat, hearing only the rustling of sheets. “And our bed still smells like you,” you heard the smile behind the comment, appreciating his sweet reference to the love he often professes he has for the way you smell.

“Sometimes I feel like it’s nothing you’re putting on, and sometimes I think it’s everything you’re putting on plus just, you. There’s no other smell like it and I wish I could just bottle it up and have it forever. Bloody aphrodisiac,” he had once told you.

“And you’re not running a fever?” You chewed the inside of your lip as you fired questions at him, a bad habit that reared its head when you were worried, stressed or concentrating hard.

On his end of the line, he felt his forehead for warmth. “Umm,” he considered it, “I’m not sure. Probably not.” He was actually pretty sure he had the beginning of one, but he could tell you were freaking out and he didn’t want to worry you any further until he heard for sure.

“I’m going to grab you a thermometer and some cold and flu tablets,” Harry immediately started to protest but you didn’t let him start. “I’ll put a mask on and just leave them outside the door. I’ll grab you some water and something to eat too. I’m not just leaving you sick up there with nothing.”

He sighed into the phone. “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”

You scoffed. “Of course not, I let you win the last one not more than five minutes ago.”

He sighed once more, and you rolled your eyes at your overdramatic boyfriend. “Fine, but you have to be in and out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you leaned the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you grabbed what you needed for him.

“I’m not joking, y/n. You have to be quick.”

You bit your tongue, refraining from snapping back. Did he seriously think you were stupid? You knew he didn’t, he was just sick and stressed about the situation, but that didn’t stop the flare of annoyance that burst through your chest. You shook it off, knowing it was misplaced.

“Okay I’m going to put the phone down so I can pop a mask on and run up,” luckily, you had a million masks around the house ready to go.

“Kay,” he muttered, eyes feeling droopy all over again.

You pull your mask on, and with arms full of supplies dashed up the stairs. Once you arrived at the door, you placed down the cold medication, water and thermometer as well as the banana you had snatched off the kitchen counter before turning and running back down the stairs.

As soon as you’re back down the stairs, you’re pulling your mask off and putting the phone back to your ear. You faintly hear the close of your bedroom door, deducing Harry had grabbed everything.

“I’m back,” you acknowledged your presence on the phone.

“Thank you for that, my love.”

Your phone dinged in your ear, indicating a new text message. You pulled it away from your ear to examine the contents of the text.

You breathed a small sigh of relief.

“They just texted me my covid test results, they’re negative.” Everyone had been tested upon their exit of the Grammy afterparty.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You silently prayed that pause wasn’t caused by him examining another incoming call, suggesting his results were positive and required an actual conversation.

“Mine are negative too,” he exhaled, you could hear the relief in his voice.

“Oh, thank god,” you said, already turning to go back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I thought you were confident I didn’t have it,” he teased.

“Sorry somebody had to put on a brave face for Mr Worry Wart,” you teased right back. You hung up the phone as you reached the top step. Turning to the left and opening the door to your room.

You stride over to the bed wordlessly and climb in on your side, instantly wrapping both arms around him. He relished the embrace. You loved to poke fun at him, but sometimes the humour was just a way for you to mask how you were really feeling about things and deflect. Harry usually doesn’t point it out but he’s always aware of it.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice still croaky.

“I love you, too,” you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

You stayed like that for a moment longer before you swung into action, full nurturing mother bear mode activated.

“Now, have you taken your temperature? Taken some of the cold and flu tablets?”

At the shake of his head you frowned at him. “Come on then. You do that while I go make you a nice hot tea to soothe your throat. And a box of tissues,” you added at the sight of him sneezing practically hard enough to shake the room.

So back down to the kitchen you went for the third time that day, grabbing him both the tea, the tissues and a nice hearty bowl of porridge, figuring it would be gentle on his throat. “Temperature?” you asked as soon as you crossed the threshold of your doorway.

“No fever,” he punctuated with a cough.

You frowned as you watched it happen, his eyes were rimmed red, his nose beginning to run. He sat up in bed as you handed him the bowl of porridge. You placed the tea down so you could also hand him the box of tissues that had been tucked up under your arm.

“Thank you so much for all this, angel. But you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot, I’ve got a cold, I’m not bed bound,” he grabbed my hand and traced the outside of my hand as he spoke.

“I know I don’t have to do it, but I want to do it. My baby’s feeling crappy I just want to do whatever I can to make him feel less so.” Even after all this time of being together, your cheeks flushed slightly at your sappy words. You meant them, of course, but intimacy was still not one of your strong suits. The way you were raised lacked those kinds of affirmations and endearments, and was never modelled practically in your parent’s relationship. It left you both craving it, and feeling uncomfortable when it actually occurred. With both experience and Harry’s help you had gotten better at it, but you still weren’t 100% there yet. He knew one day you would be, though, and he was so proud to see how much progress you had made. Even if you couldn’t always see it.

Hearing those words from you, was just one more indication at how far you’ve come, and it warmed not only his heart, but his whole chest. With his grip on your hand, he gave you a slight tug, encouraging you to lean forward. Just as you had five minutes earlier, he presses a kiss to your cheek, craving your lips but knowing he can’t have them right now.

“You’re too good to me,” he praised as you pulled away reluctantly, giving him space to enjoy his breakfast while it was still warm.

He expected a joking, I know, in response but instead he receives a serious, “There is no such thing as good too to you. You deserve the world.” You don’t break eye contact with him, even as he is too shocked at your response to form one of his own. “But all I got you was this bowl of porridge sorry babe,” you broke the tension, pulling your hand from his.

“Where are you going now?” He pouts at you as you grab the half empty coffee mug and make your way out of the room.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” you assure him, already planning how else you are going to fuss over him. He has to be well to go to London to start filming his new movie soon, you reason with yourself. But really, you know he could have nothing coming up and you could be the busiest you’ve ever been, and you would still play nurse for him.

By ‘right back’ he assumed you meant in half an hour, because his mug and bowl are both empty by the time you return, and he is nearly drifting back off to sleep. He is still somewhat upright, but slumped back into his pillow, head lolling to the side slightly, directed towards the door almost as though is watching and waiting for you. While still conscious, his blinks are becoming slower and slower, reminiscent of a baby. You coo at his adorable sleepy state, the moment tugs at your chest so strongly it is almost physically painful. Sometimes, the magnitude of your love for him nearly sweeps you off your feet. You just feel so damn lucky to have these wonderfully domestic moments with him. To see him like this, to be his person that gets to take care of him. While he is a rockstar and you get to do all sorts of crazy things with him that most people dream of (like for instance, watching him perform at and accept a Grammy), you love doing everyday life with him.

“It’s not quite sleep time yet, baby,” you spoke gently, hoping not to startle him too much.

He peeled his eyes open and pouted at you once more. “Why not?”

“Because it’s nice, long, hot, steaming shower time,” his frown deepened, clearly not wanting to move. “I promise you, you’ll feel so much better afterwards.”

“You promise?” He refused to wipe the pout from his face, really stepping into being babied.

“I promise, now up you get,” you offered him both hands to help him up.

“Fine,” he groaned as he took your hands, and you pulled him up.

As soon as he was upright, he wrapped both arms around you and held you tight. He allowed himself a few short seconds before pulling away, not wanting to get you sick too. Even if it wasn’t covid, he still wanted his love well.

You shepherded him into the bathroom, where he winced once more at the brighter lighting. His eyes were always more sensitive to light when he had the flu. You turned the shower on for him while he got undressed, before turning to pull the blinds closed without him breathing a single word of complaint. His heart swelled with love for you for the hundredth time that day. To be loved by you was to be seen. He didn’t need to use his voice to be understood (though that communication obviously had its place).

“Take your time baby, let the steam help get all the bad stuff out,” you gave him a little smile before leaving, closing the door behind you to allow the steam to build up within the space.

Harry let out a sigh as he stepped into the stream of hot steaming water. You were right as ever, the steam helped clear him out somewhat, and even just feeling clean helped him to feel better already. He relished the heat and the soothing feeling of the water, massaging his scalp with shampoo as he began to wash up from head to toe.

He had no idea how much time had passed by the time he reluctantly turned the shower off and stepped into a big fluffy towel. He was much quicker in drying himself than he had been in the rest of his shower routine, eager to rug up in a jumper and some sweats (and some of those thick soft socks you bought him for winter).

He swung the en suite door open, contemplating where he left his comfy winter clothes last when he stops at the sight before him.

You’re putting the last pillowcase on, having changed the sheets completely. His breakfast dishes are cleared, replaced with a hot steaming bowl of vegetable soup and his bottle of water. You’ve dug the humidifier out of the cupboard as well and you’ve got it all set up and running for him. The book he was currently reading was picked up from its previous place on the living room coffee table and waiting for him on your pillow. The exact clothes he was about to grab were sitting at the edge of the bed, laid out ready for him.

“You’re an actual angel, ya know that?” He shakes his head in disbelief. He has no idea what he did in a past life to get so lucky. The success of the music, he can go to bed each night feeling like he has done a lot to earn. He’s worked hard for a long time, and while he accredited a good portion of it all to luck, he knew he wasn’t talentless or undeserving. With you, however, he had simply won the lottery. You weren’t a perfect person, but you were his perfect person. He would spend the rest of his life doing everything in his power to feel deserving of you.

“Only for you,” you say softly.

He strides over to you, holding his towel to keep it from falling as he went. He presses a kiss to your forehead and mutters an, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” you peer up at him. “Now get those on,” you gesture towards his clothes, “before your soup gets cold.”

“Where did the soup come from?” He asks as starts to shrug his towel off and pull his clothes on.

“Where did you think I went earlier?” you referenced your half hour long disappearance, having been downstairs chopping up and preparing vegetables to go into the homemade soup.

“Oh, angel,” he breathed, “you really are the best.”

“Oh stop. Don’t act like all of this is not exactly what you do every time I’m sick. Which is far more often than you are, I might add.” You weren’t wrong, he did baby you just as much if not more.

“You’re still the best,” he refused to relent.

“Yeah, yeah,” you end the conversation, not being able to handle too many compliments.

He lets it slide, knowing he could compliment you further and ask you to really hear what he was saying, because he meant it with his entire being. But you were doing so much for him, and he really was tired so he didn’t bombard you with more praise than you desired.

Once he was dressed, he hopped back under the covers and sat up with his soup. He didn’t have the appetite to finish it, but he knew as much of it as he could handle would do him some good.

You jumped into the shower yourself, wanting to feel as clean as the sheets did when you got into bed with him. By the time you were out of the shower and into your own pair of fresh comfy clothes, Harry had finished most of the bowl of soup and had set the remainder aside.

“Thank you so much, angel,” your cheeks tinted pink at the purposeful repetition of that particular pet name.

“Don’t mention it,” you crawled under the covers with him, picking up his book from your pillow. “Now, where were you up to?”

“Hmm?” he questioned.

“In your book, where were you up to?”

“Why?”

“So, I can read it to you, obviously.”

“Is that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“And why do you think I’m suddenly incapable of reading it myself?” He questioned, even though he was practically preening internally at the thought of your sweet voice reading his novel aloud to him. It was a beautiful novel, filled with rich descriptions and he just knew it would sound lovely rolling off your tongue, but you had already done so much for him today it was hardly for of him to let you offer this without giving you an out.

“I don’t think you’re incapable, I just know your eyes hurt when you’re sick and I can imagine it makes it hard to focus on the words. Plus, I always fancied a career in audiobooks,” you actually really wanted to do this for him, not viewing it as an inconvenience at all. In fact, you would probably find yourself disappointed if he told you he would rather read it himself.

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” he looked you in the eyes, gauging your expression.

“I want to,” you promised.

“About page 150, you might have to read the first sentence to check.”

So, you began reading, until his eyes grew heavier and his eyes drooped. Slowly but surely, he drifted off into the realm of peaceful deep sleep.

Not before, of course, he muttered, more than half asleep, “I can’t wait to marry the shit out of you.”

517 notes · View notes

plus-size-reader · 3 years

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Hack Job

Jerome Valeska x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2315 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Jerome comes back from the dead with his face stapled on and she needs to help him put it back

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You were bored.

Gotham was the kind of city where you could never really know what to expect, and you had to be ready for anything. There was always something going on, or going wrong, but tonight, that didn’t seem to be the case.

It was an unusually quiet Friday night, with nothing of note happening, and really, you were glad for it.

Having nothing going on was better than having to deal with the truth.

Since Jerome was killed, nothing had the same gusto as before. You didn’t find anything exciting, or worthwhile and that didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon.

You missed him.

So, rather than think about anything else, you decided to keep doing what you’d been doing all this time. You were going to spend the rest of your life on your couch with a bucket of popcorn and shitty news coverage.

Shitty news coverage all about Jerome.

Evidently, the rest of the world was celebrating the death of the man you loved, even though you were more miserable than you had ever been. You didn’t want to do this whole thing without him.

Even tonight, which started out fairly normal, was dull and dreary.

You had a pint of your favorite ice cream and a spoon, as well as the newest episode of your favorite show, but you couldn't have cared at all.

Nothing was going to make you feel better.

Unfortunately though before you could feel too bad for yourself, all that had to be put on hold when the doorbell of your apartment went off, echoing through the small space like the abrasive chiming of church bells.

“Coming” you groaned, standing from your couch with a groan, leaving the old blanket you had been cuddled up with in your place. You were desperately hoping they would just go away.

You weren’t in the mood for any company but you knew that whoever it was would just keep knocking. In this city, you were painfully aware of everyone who lived around here and they all sucked.

They wouldn’t go away.

...But it wasn’t like something terrible was going to happen.

You had no idea who could be visiting at this hour, but you doubted anyone would try to pull anything on you.

Everyone knew you as Jerome Valeska’s girlfriend so they didn’t dare inflict the wrath of his killer cult, who basically worshiped you as a goddess, even now.

The fact that Jerome was gone wasn’t going to change the way they felt about him, or how they felt about you by proximity. As long as you were alive, everything that Jerome had believed in was alive.

That was all they needed.

However, the moment the door swung open, you knew your ice cream would be long forgotten, left to melt without a doubt.

After all, the last thing you expected to see on a Friday night was your dead boyfriend but in Gotham you had to be ready for anything.

“Jerome?”

The word came out as a single gasp from the back of your throat, your jaw slack as you tried to collect yourself. All that did, of course, was cause hot tears to spill from your eyes and down your cheeks.

It was weird.

You had never been super emotional, in all your life, but for some reason, this was really getting to you. You couldn’t handle the rush of emotion that hit you as you tried to fathom a million things at once.

Jerome was dead.

You had seen him die, and the coverage of his murder was all over the news. It wasn’t like you’d imagined the whole thing, or forgotten to take your medicine again.

It was real.

Though, before you could get too worked up in that, you pulled Jerome into your body as tightly as you could. You didn’t want him to disappear again, even if you couldn’t figure out how this happened.

It didn’t really matter as long as he wasn’t going anywhere.

You sighed, taking in his scent as deeply as you could just to make sure that he was really here.

He smelled faintly like formaldehyde but buried beneath all that was his calming scent that a few moments ago, you would have killed to smell again.

Somehow, you’d managed to forget just how much it meant to you.

“Are you real?” you whispered into the crease of his neck. You were no stranger to the odd hallucination in the past, but this was much more than that.

Hallucinating Jerome like this would be far too cruel to handle.

“Course I am” he grinned, pulling you closer before letting go completely, heading inside the apartment as if he owned it, which technically he did. After all, you’d bought it with the money he’d stolen.

The scene that Jerome walked into was hilarious, it was as if he hadn’t even left and you had been waiting for him to return.

The blanket you had been cuddling with was the only thing that was out of place, it had come from his closet, not from your shared bed.

He picked it up and looked back at you in questioning with a smirk dressing his lips. “It smelled like you” you level, shrugging and making your way over to him, before crashing down next to his body on the couch.

It was just like it always was, like it should have been all along.

You let yourself melt into his chest as you crawled into his lap, letting him wrap the before-mentioned blanket around you both as you moved closer.

...but there was one thing that you’d yet to address, and one thing that you needed to talk about.

Jerome wasn’t completely the same as you remembered because as you snuggled into him and let your fingers dance over the skin of his jaw, you were met with the cold chill of metal.

That was certainly new.

You pulled your hand away quickly and looked up at him in shock “What was that?” you whisper, keeping your voice low so as to not disturb the peace. You still hadn’t gotten any answers as to what was happening, but you certainly should have noticed that.

In the dark, it must have skipped your mind. You hadn’t noticed, but now that you had, it was kind of hard to go back to cuddling as if everything was fine.

It definitely wasn’t.

Apparently, Jerome's had his face stolen and as best you could tell, had attempted to reattach it with a staple gun.

“Oh no J, what did you do?” you whined, naturally concerned that he’d made some kind of half-cocked choice that was going to hurt him. He was prone to irrational solutions and you were worried.

There was silence between the two of you for a moment or so as you thought about what you were going to do before you stood from the warm cocoon you’d created on the couch completely.

You had to do something about this.

“How did this happen?” you muttered, taking his hands in your own to lead him to the table where you could get a better look at him. You didn’t really want an answer from him, of course.

It was just more of that nervous prattling you tended to get up to when you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“I did the best I could with what I had” he shrugged, as if there was nothing wrong with the way he had chosen to attach his face. In his mind, he didn’t think that he could have done any better but you knew differently.

It looked like a mess.

“You might as well have super glued it” you teased, sitting him down and getting to work looking him over. It was an absolute chaotic solution to what had happened, and frankly, you weren’t even a tad bit shocked.

The edges of his skin, held together with a few thick staples, were jagged and ridiculous.

“Careful princess, I didn’t exactly have you around to put it back on for me” he chides, admiring your concentration as you studied him. Your tongue peeked out between your lips as you did your best to pick at the staples without hurting him.

They had to come out.

Anything was better than having rusty metal holding your lover’s face on, and you were sure it wasn’t comfortable. As unpleasant as it was to look at, you could only imagine it felt that much worse.

“Stop me if I’m hurting you” you suggested, knowing fully that he wouldn’t. No matter what he was feeling, he was never going to admit that he was hurting. He was never going to do that, not ever.

Instead, all you could do was smile as you looked him in the eye, continuing to pluck at the metal in his face.

“I missed you” Jerome hummed, moving on completely from what you’d been talking about. He didn’t care about if his face hurt or about the fact that he was literally back from the dead.

Nothing mattered to him any more than you did.

“I missed you too” you whispered, taking in the predatory look in his eyes as he looked at you. You found yourself admittedly taken aback by that because you hadn’t seen that look in almost a year.

You really had.

Jerome was your greatest friend, and the love of your life. Having to live life without him for so long was awful, and you never wanted to do it again.

If you could help it, he would stay by your side forever.

“Y/N” he sighed, catching you off guard. Jerome very rarely used your real name so at first you were concerned you had hurt him, or that something was wrong.

However, all he really wanted was for you to give him the attention he’d been craving.

You were trying desperately to get his face cleaned up but he was already bored of that. So bored, in fact, that he slid his hands under your ample thighs to pull you into his lap, earning a heavy sigh from you.

This was going to take forever.

“Jerome” you scoffed, doing your very best to get away from his hold so that you could finish up here, but he wasn’t having any of it. In fact, the more you struggled against his hold, the more Jerome laughed.

This was one big game for him.

“I have to get you cleaned up J, you need to let me” you grumbled, doing everything that you could to figure this out. You were well aware of how difficult he could be but this was serious.

He could really run into trouble with this.

“But that’s no fun at all” he huffed, pressing a kiss to your face as gingerly as he could. It had been too long since he’d been able to hold you and right now, the last thing he wanted to do was wait for anything.

Especially not for you to sew his face back on.

Without hesitation, you stood from his lap and headed over to the medicine cabinet before he could argue with you over it.

He wasn’t happy about it, of course, which you could tell because of the hefty slap on your ass as you did so.

Thankfully though, you didn’t have to care about that because you had a job to do right now and it was far more important than whatever he wanted to do. You had plenty of time to spend together now that he was back.

You didn’t exactly have any experience reattaching faces but you knew anything you could do would be better than the hack job he was currently walking around with.

At least if you took over, it would be clean.

After quite a bit of going back and forth, you decided that a spool of thread and a sharp, disinfected needle was going to be your best option.

You practically soaked everything in 95% pure alcohol, and if it wasn’t clean, not was.

The last thing you wanted was for Jerome to be walking around with a painful, infected face, so you let the needle disinfect for a little longer just in case.

Once you felt it was good enough, you headed back over to the table where Jerome was now pretending to be dead against the hardwood, always the drama queen.

“Get up you goofball” you ordered, playfully smacking his shoulder with the back of your hand before setting everything you had gathered down in a huge pile.

You weren’t looking forward to doing this but it had to be done and you couldn’t exactly take him to urgent care to get it done. After all, the man you loved was still a wanted criminal, even though some people didn’t know he was alive.

“Okay J, this might sting a little” you sigh, biting into the plump flesh of your bottom lip to stifle your own nerves.

Jerome wondered if maybe you were more bothered by this than he was, but he thought it was cute so he said nothing regarding it.

“That’s okay kitten, I’ve got something to hold onto” he smirks, grabbing onto you before you could even ask what he meant.

Jerome Valeska was always a terrible flirt but considering you hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year on top of that, you couldn’t imagine how bad he was going to get.

It wasn’t until you felt his hands snake around your waist that you understood the meaning of his words, your suspicions were confirmed when he took two big handfuls of your jean wrapped ass and kneaded the flesh through the fabric.

This was definitely not how you thought your night was going to go this morning, but at least he was alive.

#jerome valeska #gotham #jerome #jerome x reader #jerome x ps reader #jerome x plus size reader #jerome imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x ps reader #jerome valeska x plus size reader #jerome valeska imagine #gotham x reader #gotham x ps reader #gotham x plus size reader #gotham imagine

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angelicmichael · 3 years

Text

Imminient Annihilation sounds so dope - Chapter Ten

Michael Langdon X Reader

Summary: Reader and Michael continue to work through their issues and finally start to warm up to each other even further.

Words: 5.9k+ …oops

Warnings: just normal IA warnings (swear words, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, enemies to lovers, slowburn, etc) anddd maybeee a bit of fluff 👁

A/N: hey guys! Sorry I haven’t updated this in a few months but hopefully this is satisfactory hehe. This chapter is kinda a turning point in the fic so I hope u guys like it!! Also I watched Jennifer’s Body as I finished this so.. do what u must w that information 😌 djdjd

Previous Chapter

Rain was never something you were accustomed too. Spending so much time in Los Angeles had made you partially spoiled when it came to the weather - which is why you knew immediately your day was going to be shit when you woke up to rain.

You tried to convince yourself that the emotions you were feeling weren’t complete disdain but rather just a pessimistic version of indifference.. or that’s what you hoped anyway.

You knew realistically that your day wasn’t already doomed before it even started; and that the rain was nothing more than a mere inconvenience.. However; you still felt justified in complaining, considering today was the day you were ripping the band-aide off and moving in to the apartment Michael had oh so graciously chosen to give you.

Your pessimistic mood surrounding the entire situation was inevitable, and that was something you didn’t even bother to resist or fight. It didn’t take long for your thoughts to quickly go south as you quickly packed. Hatred that seemingly came out of nowhere (but that you realistically knew was only temporarily dormant) wasted no time in blinding your judgement - making you feel a nearly nauseating amount of jealousy and anger for people who actually seemed to be fucking happy in their relationships and werent forced into.. whatever shitty living situation you knew you were bound to find yourself in.

An apartment with no strings attached was way too fucking simple, and you knew it was too good to be true. You knew you were basically walking into a trap, and for what reason were you doing that so willingly? Just so that maybe Michael could start to tolerate you? You resented yourself for even agreeing to this but you also understood you really had no other option.

However; personal feelings aside.. you still had a mission to accomplish. You still had to attempt to seduce Michael, and even though you were doing a shit job at that so far - you still had to try. You knew realistically it was only a matter of time before Cordelia would ask about the progress you've made, and you would have to tell her something.

You had to do this.

That's why you were (semi) blindly choosing to move in to a building you knew you absoluetly couldnt afford; and why you were sucking up your pride and choosing to become semi reliant on Michael.

No one from the coven knew, and for the time being you intended to keep it that way. After all, even though Mallory didnt exactly know that Michael gave you a whole ass fucking apartment - your sure she probably suspected that something important happened between you and Michael just from the short conversation you three harbored together. But for the time being, you didnt have to worry about that. You had bigger things that were on your mind.. like the actual apartment door itself that you currently stood in front of.

You held the keys limply in your hand, your bag slumped next to you as you procrastinated something as fucking simple as opening a door. How pathetic.

You continued to stall in the hallway regardless - thankful there was no one passing through to witness how ridiculous you looked. Your gaze fell south down to your keys which were cold in your hand. Dripping slowly with the subtle rainwater that managed to linger on them, along with the rest of your clothes.

Your skin stung from the cold that seemed stubborn to leave, and a nice change of clothes and a hot shower wouldnt be the absolute worst thing in the world..

Fuck.

You bit your lip in order to prevent letting the profanity from rolling off your tongue. Quickly getting a better grip on the keys (which only made you somehow colder) and numbly, hastily unlocking the door.

You pushed it open, letting the door hit the wall and taking a few steps inside before dropping your bag to the floor.. as well as your jaw.

No words could possibly convey how you felt as you noticed how the room was already illuminated with not only natural light from the already huge windows you could see.. but also with a warm, yellow artificial glow.

Was someone already here?

What the fuck?

The hatred and resentment you previously felt toward others earlier rapidly started to return - except this time it was targeted at one very specific person.

It didnt even register in your mind that the light could've been left on by accident or that people besides Michael actually existed that could be present in the room but.. you didnt care. Anger was the only emotion that was solely present in your body as you fully abandoned your bag by the door. Advancing forward; and only feeling more shock and disbelief with every step you took at the thought that he could very possibly be in (what was supposed to be) your space.

"Michael, I swear to God-"

"Y/n?” said a soft, feminine voice.

It was practically automatic how you froze. Just getting close enough to notice that it wasn’t Michael after all that was on your bed in your new studio apartment, but a woman sat on your bed instead.

For about two seconds, you were scared it was Madison but.. that was a stupid assumption within itself. The company you were with was from a far different nature than of which Madison was, even though at first glance the two woman might look or sound similar. There were so many qualities that distinguished Mallory from Madison. Brown, auburn hair.. dark eyeshadow.. and her classic black boots. It didn’t take long for your anger to fade away as you tried to not think about how logically this still didn’t make sense - walking closer to your bed anyway.

"How did you get in here? And since when did you ever break into peoples rooms?" You asked with a laugh.

Mallory echoed your laugh back, seemingly watching you and your behavior. As if she was expecting you to do something or to act a certain way.. like perhaps leave.

"I didnt break into your apartment but.. you should probably sit down." She spoke, before nodding off to her side. Nonverbally suggesting you to sit next to her.

You did as you were told. Noticing briefly before you sat down how nice the apartment actually was.. including the bed.

The walls, and most of everything in the apartment was a solid black. It looked sleek, and even though black paint made most rooms look small - the natural light helped keep things looking open which you appreciated. It was no surprise that the bed matched the dark theme too. The sheets were silky, black satin. You almost laughed at how comfortable the bed was once you sat next to Mallory, the entire situation was so ridiculous it nearly hurt for you to not laugh out loud. The two of you sat in the silence for a moment.. you were each incredibly anxious, that was more than apparent.

You looked up at Mallory, expecting her to speak first and explain herself since after all.. shes the one who broke into your apartment but she still remained quiet.. Stalling, you could only guess.

"So, why are you here? How did you even get in here? Is everything okay?" You asked, your words speedy and rushed.

Panic started to temporarily set in when you realized that something could be serisouly wrong with the coven, even though you knew how completly irrational it was to think that way with no evidence. What if witch hunters found them? What if someone preformed the seven wonders and it went wrong? What if the plan had suddenly changed with Michael?

Mallory seemed to pick on how anxious you suddenly were, putting a hand on your upper arm before making you meet her gaze. Her soft, hazel brown eyes immeadietly making your breathe slow. That was another reason you were so thankful for Mallory - the soothing, calming effect she seemed to have on everyone she met was something you never took for granted.. Espically now.

"Hey, nothing's wrong and nothing happened. I promise. I just wanted to see you and talk to you, and I figured we should catch up after Michael basically made me leave," Mallory explained.

You quickly nodded. Feeling guilt start to creep into your system once you remembered how Michael previously treated her.

"Yeah, youre right. I've been wanting to see you anyway and I'm sorry I didnt just call you last night or something.. and I know I cant control him but I'm still sorry for how Michael treated you. I shouldn't have brought you into that-"

"(Y/n), stop," Mallory said urgently. Shaking her head slightly in disagreement with your words. "Sure, Michael was acting like a dick but.. it's nothing I'm not exactly accustomed too. It was harmless," she ended her words with a smile. One that was meant to comfort you both at the epiphany her words brought.

You sat with her words for a moment. The realization suddenly hitting you like a truck-

"Wait.. what? Do you know Michael?"

Mallory fell completely silent. Looking at you almost in a.. guilty manner. Her gaze fell downwards before she looked up to meet yours once more, licking her lips anxiously before she uttered out a quiet reply.

"I wasnt going to tell you because I knew it would make you upset but.. Michael called me last night-"

"And you answered?" Your voice raised up a few octaves unwillingly. Threatening to break as you tried to process what you were hearing.

As much as you wanted to immeadietly jump to conclusions, you had to remind yourself that this was Mallory you were talking too. Your best friend, Mallory. You knew she would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.

You noticed Mallory was also starting to get tense. Her spine suddenly a bit too straight and her shoulders were rigid. It was nice to know you werent the only person in this situation who was feeling this way, although you would be lying if you were to say that you werent curious for why Mallory felt tense.

"At first, no but he kept calling so I figured it would cause no harm to see what he wanted so, I answered," Mallory said cautiously.

It was obvious she had more to say and as much as you wanted her to keep talking and fully explain herself - you were more than happy that you didnt have to cut her off again. It was too much. This was too much.

You pinched the bridge of your nose before loudly exhaling with a shallow growl. Not really caring that it probably was coming off like you were mad at Mallory when in reality, that wasn’t the case. Mallory wasn’t the problem; you were really just beyond fucking pissed at Michael.

But at this point.. that wasnt new news.

"I told him that we shouldnt be talking, but he insisted," Mallory continued with a shrug.

You tried to sit up straight again; trying to exhale some of the pure fucking anger that was currently coursing through your system. Your vision was spotted black when you opened your eyes - your gaze pointed upwards at the smooth, blank ceiling. Quickly wishing that you were anywhere else, or really anyone else at the moment.

What you wouldnt kill to swap bodies again.. but then again, who knows what the hell Michael was currently doing at the moment.. He couldnt be trusted.

That was more than obvious now.

You should've known that he would contact Mallory, but how he even got her number was beyond you.. Unless-

"How did he even get your number?" You asked. Your tone strikingly calm.

Mallory looked incredibly spooked when your head suddenly snapped over to look at her. As if she was worried you were angry at her still, and as much as you wanted to reassure her otherwise, you really didnt have the energy to do so anymore. Not at the moment anyway.

"You can't be mad when I tell you the answer, okay?" She said softly.

Your features immeadietly softened at her words. The rest of your body relaxed as well; your shoulders dropping and your jaw unclenching.

"Mallory, I could never be mad at you. You could never piss me off, i'm just.. frustrated at Michael. It's not at you, I swear," you said. Trying your best to make your words sound reassuring and genuine.

Mallorys reaction wasnt one that was verbal but immeadite nonetheless. Her arms suddenly shot out and wrapped themselves around you. Her body temporarily pressing into yours as your hands went to her back, before she quickly broke the hug.

"Promise?" Mallory prompted. Brown eyes looking diligently into yours.

"Yeah.. I promise. Just tell me what that idiot did,” you said halfheartedly.

"So.. I've had his number for a while. Not for too long but just since you two switched. But, we never really talked," Her voice stalled as she watched your reaction. Your mouth grew dry as you really tried to let it sink in that they've known eachother since- well for atleast a week. "But I knew immeadietly that it wasnt you.. that day. I'm sorry I lied, but Michael made me promise."

"Why didnt you just tell me?"

Mallory looked at you in a guilty manner. Her lips pursing shut as she looked solemnly at her shoes, avoiding eye contact. You knew exactly why she was being quiet - she didnt want to admit why she had lied but.. the answer was pretty obvious.

Even though Mallory was one of the strongest witches - almost stronger than Cordelia on some days, she still was scared of Michael and that was nothing worth holding a grudge over. After all he was still the antichrist, no matter how (mostly) harmless and idiotic he seemed to you now.

"Okay.. I guess that doesnt really matter," you admitted with a laugh. Figeting with your hands as you heard a shallow laugh omit also from Mallory, which made you smile. The shallow pit that resided in your stomach finally starting to let up. "But.. What did he call you about last night?"

Mallory hesitated again before giving you another subtle smile.

"It was mostly about you.. I know how you feel about him y/n, but its working. I promise you. Hes finally warming up to you. I just wish you could hear how he talks about you,” she spoke. Taking your hands into her soft, warm ones.

"I wish I believed that," You admitted.

"I wouldnt lie to you. Hes finally starting to warm up to you, plus it was obvious yesterday-"

"Yeah; It was obvious how strong he was coming onto you."

Mallory laughed again at your words. Shaking her head slightly in protest.

“Y/n you know that’s not true. The only reason why he was flirting with me was just to get to you.. I thought that was obvious.”

“It was obvious I just.. didn’t know that you knew that. I mean, Michael has Madison.. or he did so you think that would at least satisfy his flirting needs for a bit but.. Michael faking to be interested in you, that would mean he wanted a reaction out of me on purpose? Why would he-“

“You know why. You need to start cutting yourself slack and realize that maybee this rivalry is starting to be one sided.”

You pouted at her words at the realization that they actually held more truth in them than you were willing to admit. If Michael didn’t hate you anymore, if he was truly actually willing to be civil.. then why were you still so upset? Were you the one who was unintentionally causing problems now? Was it now you instead of Michael that was holding the relationship back?

How fucking stupid.

“I can’t trust him, Mallory. How can I when he and Madison literally tried to kill me. I can never forget that they did that to me.”

“I’m not asking you to forget what he did, y/n. I’m just saying that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to start having an open mind around him, and see where it gets you.”

You were struck silent, knowing that Mallory was completely right. If you wanted to have any hope at all of making things right with Michael (even though you really didn’t do anything wrong..) you would have to try a different approach because obviously; what you were doing now wasn’t working. Being snarky, and vaguely threatening him every chance you got was fun of course but- it wasn’t working. Even though Mallory was probably the sweetest person you knew, the fact your own best friend had to (very politely) make a intervention was.. not a good sign. Although, you knew Mallory was doing this for your best interest because if she didn’t say anything, then Cordelia certainly would.

And sadly, Mallory was actually right.

If you wanted things with Michael to advance any further; or to advance at all you needed to step things up but, you could always worry about that after Mallory left.

“So what, are you guys besties now or something?” You sneered.

“Shut up!” Mallory said with a laugh, playfully pushing you over a bit. “He’s barely even my acquaintance. The only reason he’s being nice to me is just to get to you, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I mean that’s the goal-“

“Do you think that’s the only reason?” You interrupted.

Your throat automatically tightened after you spoke, the threat of your words potentially being true coaxing you to silence. Your not sure why the thought of Michael using you made you upset.. it’s not as if you didn’t think he was doing it before but this time it was different. Perhaps it was because you finally thought Michael actually had some type of interest in you.. and to have that suddenly ripped away?

That would leave you beyond broken.. you knew that for certain.

Mallory looked at you solemnly, as if she was already resenting her words before she had to say them outloud.

“Look, I don’t exactly know Michaels intentions and I’m not going to pretend too.. I don’t really think anyone does at this point but I do know that regardless of your feelings, or even his feelings that.. you have to try.”

You let out a loud exhale.

“I mean you said it yourself.. Michaels so unpredictable, there’s no point in guessing how he feels so.. maybe I should just.. ask him?”

Realistically you didn’t know how good of a idea that was- but.. trying to remain realistic was something you gave up on days ago. Pretty much the same day you switched and that definitely wasn’t a coincidence by any means.

As soon as Mallorys mouth opened, you heard three loud knocks. Quick and rapid with no hesitation between them. The apartment nearly shook with the force of whoever happened to be at your door, and you certainly didn’t doubt that your neighbors heard the knocking as well.

Mallory looked at you in utter confusion, but stayed on the bed nonetheless with no sign of getting up. Naturally, you found yourself scooting closer to the end of the bed, knowing it was you who was going to have to get the door.. and that made you scared shitless. Not because you were necessarily scared to open the door but because you had a horribly bad feeling on who was on the other side.. There was only one person that you knew of that was aware of where you lived, and you knew it wasn’t matience or staff.

You knew standing up was the logical thing to do but you still stalled. Hands starting to painfully dig into the soft, expensive sheets that lie underneath you. You mouthed a silent, ‘what the fuck?’ to Mallory but your head snapped back at the door..

Three more knocks which were only louder and more persistent than the last.

“Coming!” You quickly called out.

It was pure anxiety that fueled your next actions. You quickly stood up from the bed, trying to walk hurriedly to the door as fast as you could and trying your damn best not to think.. Hoping Mallory also had a idea of who was at the door and also happened to get the fuck out of view.

You didn’t want a repeat of yesterday happening again today, and you knew you wouldn’t hesitate to slap Michael if he tried to flirt with her again. Even though, you knew you weren’t supposed to act like that anymore.. but why should you have manners if Michael refused them as well?

Opening the door swiftly and without a second thought; you stood breathless as you saw a familiar blonde standing in front of you.

You both stared at each other at first - each not daring to have the balls to say ‘hello’ or anything else for that matter.. You noticed how Michael first eyed you up, fully looking up and down your body (as well as peering behind you, hopefully not making eye contact with Mallory). You made a point to just look into Michaels eyes, refusing to do what he was doing.. whatever the fuck that truly was.

“How did you know I would be here?” You breathed.

“I knew it was just a matter of time before you’d come, but it also never hurt to charm the hotel staff a bit,” Michael responded swiftly without a second beat, almost as if he anticipated your words. His lips upturned slightly at the edges, in a way that nearly made your stomach sick.

“The hotel staff-?!”

“I have connections everywhere y/n, I thought you knew that,” he sneered.

He brushed past you as you continued to stand in shock. Your mouth slightly falling open as Michael took a few steps into your apartment - looking curiously around, almost as if he knew Mallory was here..

“I did.. I think that’s obvious,” you shot back hurriedly. “But thank you for the apartment again, Michael. I still feel weird taking it but it is nice I’ll admit,” you continued. Hoping to make him turn around to look back at you and hopefully not find Mallory.. Which worked. At least for a few seconds at least.

Michael made direct eye contact with you for a moment, almost as if he wanted to speak but was deliberately choosing not too. Instead he turned around, walking in deeper in the apartment.

Your mouth immediately dropped open - your feet carried yourself forward as you started to feel a bit numb with shock- not knowing even in the slightest how you were going to handle the situation if Mallory didn’t fucking move.

Sure enough..

“You always manage to linger.. don’t you?” Michael spoke.

It took only a couple steps for you to fully realize he wasn’t speaking to you. You only saw his backside as you approached them. Quickly meeting Mallorys gaze as you came into view.. Her brown eyes darker than ever as she peered up at you.

This time it is nearly impossible to distinguish whether she looked in agony from Michaels appearance or yours; since you apparently interrupted them. Her gaze quickly returned back to meet Michaels before you could think anything of it.

“I’m not here to see you, Michael.” Mallory announced. Her tone harsher than what you were expecting what apparent friends would use.. Were they even really friends?

Mallory suddenly stood up while Michael was still standing a few feet in front of her. Making eye contact with Michael for a split second before almost ducking around him before she stood in front of you.. leaving Michael speechless behind her. She quickly hugged you, her arms only embracing you for a split second before leaving. It was obvious she was in a hurry to leave now but.. you weren’t sure exactly why.

“I should get going, you and Michael have a lot to talk about,” she subtly smiled before turning to leave.. not letting you reply or have any sort of reaction to her words.

You stood solemnly as you heard Mallory’s footsteps gradually go farther away, before hearing the door open and close. You watched Michaels back as he refused to turn around.

“How was your nice chat with Mallory?”

“Why are you asking? Am I not allowed to see her or something?” You bit back. Your words possibly twice as venomous as his were.

Michael hastily turned around, looking at you with utter disbelief. His blue eyes looking into yours, as if he was suddenly surprised by your tone and how you were acting - as if his behavior didn’t proceeded yours.

“You need to relax,” he snapped. He approached you until he was right in front of you. “I wasn’t asking because I’m trying to control you, I know that’s what your thinking,” His words fell soft until they were nearly inaudible. “I just wanted to ask what she talked to you about.”

“About us?” You prompted.

“Well what else would she be talking to you about,” he snickered. His words spoken as more of a statement than a question. His laughter quickly dwindled off after he saw how rigid your frame suddenly looked. “Kidding. For the most part.. she said she was going to talk to you, and I figured I should actually speak to you this time rather than her.”

“Are you.. actually trying to trust me, Michael Langdon?” You teased. A smile, as well as laughter escaped from your lips at the mere thought.

Even though the thought was amusing on its own, you still didn’t completely trust him. Even now when he had Mallorys trust (for the most part), you still didn’t doubt that he had a ulterior motive.

Michael finally stepped back, hesitantly breaking eye contact before inaudibly beckoning you to follow him.

“I’m trying, just like how I told you I would,” He hauntingly reminded you.

You followed him silently to the long leather couch that sat by the overly expansive windows. Sitting down next to him in a way that felt almost too casual.. but being casual around Michael and not borderline fearing for your life was something you would have to adjust too.

You noticed how he instantly slipped his shoes off; drawing up his feet on the couch.. his arms and as well the rest of him contained. Away from you.

“So if your trying.. now,” you suggested uncertainly. “Then.. tell me why you came here to talk suddenly again? I mean why not just go through Mallory again like you’ve doing previously?”

“(Y/n), please. Take me seriously and just trust me for once,” His words came out quick and stern as he spoke them. “I was being serious yesterday, as well as all the other times when I told you I wanted to start.. putting effort in and trying.”

You stared at Michael utterly dumbfounded.. Feeling a bit hopeless that you actually felt almost.. touched by his words. That’s if he was actually being serious, anyway.

“What does trying mean to you?” You asked carefully. Your mind naturally went back to Madison.. were they even broken up yet? Was that even something that Michael was willing to do for you, and how was that something you could just ask? “What about-“

“Madison’s fine. She’s fine.. with everything,” he replied hesitantly.

You simply ignored the fact that he seemed to pick up what you were talking about almost immeadietly.. focusing on rather the latter part of the sentence.. that she was okay with everything?

“So she knows? That you’re here?”

“Yeah. She knows but that’s besides the point. Madison isn’t a part of the equation anymore, I don’t want to talk about her,” He spoke as if his words were final and not to be argued with, but his tone wasn’t angry. He was just done.. and you were too.

You wish that wasn’t the case though. Cutting Madison off didn’t sit right with you in the slightest, and it would definitely have to be something that would have to be mended later. That was a given.

Madison and Michaels relationship was far too close for them to suddenly split and remain like that forever - it was temporary, but so is everything really. That shouldn’t phase you but - it still managed too.

“Okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t-“ you started.

“It’s fine. I knew you would ask.. She’s the reason why I’m here actually,” His eyes broke contact and averted down to his hands. “I don’t mean that as in I’m not here to see you but, it was something she said that brought me here.” He continued, his voice almost growing soft now at just the mention of his ex girlfriend.. and now, you felt like you actually were starting to understand his point of view. Not fully but, it was clear that Michael was trying to be more open with you, and this time he wasn’t ‘fake’ drunk.

It took nearly everything in you to not immeadietly retort but just like the night where you were at the party; you tried to fully hear him out since this was apparently one of the few times he was being civil.

“So Madison gave you advice and you actually took it?” You said while laughing softly. Trying to lighten the mood since Michael seemed to be brooding.

Michael didn’t laugh back but instead his gaze flickered up to meet yours for a moment. The corners of his mouth upturning in a shallow smile that only lasted for a few seconds.

“I did because it made sense.” He said, his tone still remaining serious. You noticed how careful he was being with his words.. something that was typical for Michael to do but this time it seemed a bit too deliberate. You wanted to ask what exactly Madison even told him to do but.. that felt wrong. “It was also the right thing to do.. Being close to you is something I should’ve done a while ago, probably immeadietly-“

“But what’s in the past; stays in the past. And since your so adamant about being close to me.. we can always try now,” you cut in.

Michael continued to sit a good distance away from you; you thought it was ironic how he could talk about wanting to get close with you but wouldn’t dare to move any closer. That thought made your pride a little bit too happy.

Right before he could open his mouth to say something; his phone rang. The sound suddenly earsplitting and blaring but Michael didn’t bother to flinch. Instead he stood up and answered his phone.. making sure to nearly trek across the apartment before he said anything into the phone.

You stretched and casually examined him as he talked, you had a feeling who it was on the line..

After how tense things were with Mallory - you knew they probably weren’t going to be on friendly terms anytime soon.. especially in front of you. And judging by how.. oddly relaxed he seemed (yet timid when he caught your gaze and realized you were staring), it had to be one person.

You were about to sink back into the couch and try your best to not speculate what they were talking about, but before you could fully turn - you realized Michael was sauntering towards you.. clearly still on the phone.

Oh fuck.

Before you could ask what was wrong, the look he gave you alone ushered you to silence.

He quickly held the phone away from his ear. A quick glance at the screen confirmed that the call was still active.

“You said you forgive Madison.. right?” He spoke lowly. His words barely audible, more so mouthing the words than actually speaking them.

You looked at him with a expression you’re sure looked as if you were furious but you were really just completely confused. You wanted to ask but.. there was no time if she was on the phone, but knowing what you were about to get yourself into would also be nice to know.

His eyes had since lost the sharpness that had nearly cut you earlier, instead swarming with urgency and a bit of panic.. It had to be Madison. The only person that could ever have that effect on Michael was Madison.

You simply nodded in response. Not trusting yourself to speak quietly outloud but you also didn’t exactly trust your response because it wasn’t exactly truthful, but Michael seemed to be level headed.. for now.

Michael immeadietly turned and held the phone back up to his ear, this time staying in closer proximity and within ear shot. Putting on his shoes as he continued to hold the conversation he was having.

“Okay

...

So when are you coming?

...

Great, see you then. . . Bye.”

If you didn’t just hear the words that you thought you had heard.. you knew under normal circumstances your heart would’ve ached when you realized how Michael hesitated before he said goodbye, most likely catching himself before he said ‘I love you’. Instead though, you felt a gruesome wave of nausea suddenly rise through you.. urging you to shakily stand up and speak without thinking.

“She’s coming to see you?”

Michael barely gave you a second glance as he turned around and started to head for the front door of the apartment.

“Yes. You’ll be seeing her too, don’t worry.” He spoke before he quickly let the door shut behind him.

You continued to stand, utterly speechless.

Part of you wanted to run after him and the other part merely wanted to scream in anger that he had already made fucking plans but instead you felt numb. Numb and calm.

You returned to your bag and unpacked, trying your best to not let your emotions consume you like they previously had too many times.. until you finally broke down and called Mallory.

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @king-with-no-crovvn @melodylangdon @littledemondani @langdons-pinkyring @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @mindlesschicca

Let me know if u would like to be added or removed to the taglist!!

#michael x reader #Michael Langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon fanfiction #Michael Langdon #my fic #Imminient Annihilation #hopefully y’all like this and it’s not all over the place djdjd #about to post to ao3 like always #ALSO thank u for the 2k hits on ao3!! 🥺💖#also side note - Jennifer’s body was amazing and now I wanna write something related 😭

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im-frickin-trying-okay · 3 years

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Random BNHA Headcanons

(This is my first time doing this 😭)

Summary: A bunch of random BNHA headcanons. So, basically the title. The only reason I’m adding a read more is because I want it to be easier to navigate my page, lol

Bakugo is oddly nice when he first wakes up, but he's not exactly a morning person. He's less "I hate the world, why am I awake???" And more like "I'm extremely comfortable and the only thing that can ruin my mood is becoming less comfortable." He likes hovering between awake and asleep, y'know? Which is why if he's sleepy, his guard drops. When leaving the dorms, if he hasn't fully woken up, he goes from "outta my way, shitty-hair," to "mornin' Eijirou," and by the time he's actually aware of what he said, Kiri's already freaking out. If he's in bed all day for any reason other than being sick, he's probably soft for at least a few hours.

Kaminari's the type to wake up at 2 AM with an idea, go to jot it down, and then realize that he wrote a ten chapter book and now he's late for class. He'll probably put it into a google doc or something, so he can continue to add onto it throughout the day. I also feel like he probably will also randomly get a question and then spend hours researching it and any surrounding topics, before rambling to Kiri about "bro, if I went to the beach, I could make a bunch of glass! Probably! Maybe!" And then have to try and convince his friends that he can just make windows if anyone needs them.

Sero had added moves to his skill set, and practiced particular actions, with the sole intention of mimicking Spiderman. When Kirishima questions him on it, he compares Spiderman to Crimson Riot. They have a conversation that's essentially fanboying, both of them saying "we are not bringing All Might into this," and then more fanboying.

Jirou has an extremely eclectic music taste. If you can name a song, she probably knows it. She can memorize full melodies and all the lyrics within two or three listens, because she's just that good. Some people call her the human Shazam, because if you play the first five seconds of a song she likes, she'll immediately know what it is. She's also called out artists if they made a clear rip-off of a much better song. Her music taste is all over the place, which therefore makes it superior. However. This does not stop her from listening to the same six songs on repeat for a week. The six change a lot, though.

Koda has trouble with bugs, especially big ones. They scare him. But he has pretty much no issues with tigers, lions, horses, or even wolves. He loves animals, he really does. If you just showed up at his doorstep and shoved a bear cub in his arms, he wouldn't really question it, because he'd be happy to have a cute animal to play with.

Todoroki believes himself to be the opposite of moody. His definition of moody is switching emotions for no reason. He, personally, doesn't feel any emotion until something happens that day, be it a thought or an event, and his emotions stay fixed like that until something else happens. He could be having a great day, and then suddenly, it's a horrible day, and he can't figure out how people just "get over it." He does, however, find that unless something REALLY bad or REALLY good happens, his brain does a little emotional reset when he goes to sleep. Like, go to sleep feeling down, wake up feeling kinda meh.

Kirishima has considered re-dying his hair. Come on, hot pink is so manly! How could he not consider it? But he eventually resigns himself, because red just is his color now. Also, I feel like once, before dorms, he was really out of it, so he went to class with his hair down, and this was the first time anyone had seen him like that, and everyone was just confused as hell. Especially Bakugo. "Your hair's less shitty today. What the fuck."

Uraraka takes part in stupid bets all the time. Partially for the fun, and partially for the profit. She once floated Bakugo to the ceiling for 26 minutes before she had to put him down, because Kiri said that if she survived, he'd give her a dollar per minute. She ended up having to go to the recovery girl's office, but at least she got her money.

Mina is one of the few people who can understand and keep up with Deku's mumbling. This is not because she specifically tries to, (like Uraraka) or because she's known him long enough, (like Bakugo.) She's just used to gossipping with Hagakure at 4 AM, and therefore can understand high-speed low-volume speech. She's called him out on things before, but only when she's interested. She completely tunes out things about All Might and heroes and whatnot, but if he ever has anything to say about his classmates, specifically about Uraraka, Todoroki, and Bakugo, (because she, Hagakure, and Denki placed bets,) she hears every word.

Iida secretly loves to break the rules. He acts strict in front of anyone who he respects, or wants respect from, but after he thinks everyone's asleep, he relaxes, doing things that he considers rule-breaking without any remorse. Denki heard someone walking around outside while on one of his late-night internet searches. After finally willing himself to break away from an article about pandas, he popped his head out of the door to find Iida sneaking around. After some silent observation, Denki realized that not only did Iida just get back from breaking curfew, but he casually stole Hot Cheetos from Bakugo's room on the way back to his dorm. He said nothing the next day, at least not directly, but he sorta shoved Sero and Iida in the same room so that they could be bad influences on each other.

Despite it being a major part of her quirk, Hagakure almost never feels invisible. She has a lot of friends to talk to, she can wear cool outfits to stand out, and she is always talking. The only time she's not talking is during stealth training, and when she's using said stealth training to spy on people.

Tsu's little "ribbit" thing is actually just for fun. It feels right to do it, so she does it. Nothing wrong with that. However, pretty much everyone else assumed it was a part of her quirk. It took an insane amount of convincing to get that idea out of their heads. Deku was proud to be one of the few who never actually associated it with her quirk. He could prove it if he wanted to, actually, but that would require showing someone his notebook, which would open a whole other can of worms.

Oh yeah, speaking of Deku's notebook, he has multiple. Six to be exact. One is on his fellow classmates, one is on most pros, one is on the LOV, one is specifically on All Might, one is on his own quirk development, and the last one is a narrative of what's happening in his life, which is why he's constantly thinking as if he's telling a story. He mentally narrates everything that happens in his life, although he sometimes wonders if he's dramatizing things because of that. His internal monologue is constantly running its mouth, and sometimes he ends up speaking over it.

Tokoyami really likes plague doctors. He just does. He wants a plague doctor mask so he can walk around with less judgement, or maybe more, who knows? He just loved the concept. He claims that they're just really cool, which most people agree with, but he's never told any of them that he likes them because he saw a plague doctor mask for the first time at the age of six, and immediately thought bird man.

Sato likes baking, but he can't cook normally to save his life. Well, he can, but he can't. He hasn't burned water, and he knows how to do the very basics, but he can't function without a recipe, not to mention the fact that he's googled how to saute mushrooms three times and still doesn't get it. Baking comes pretty naturally. Exact measurements, precise times and temperatures. Cooking does not. Eyeballing ingredient amounts, guessing if the flame is high enough, trying to figure out how often 'stir occasionally' is. He actually once asked Bakugo if he had advice, to which he responded, "Why the hell are you asking me?!"

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lovelyirony · 3 years

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hi hello i am feeling very angsty so: rhodeytony ft tony's worrying lack of interest in avoiding getting kidnapped and his bodyguard rhodes' increasing stress levels to save a boss that doesn't want to be saved (and, if the flutter in his heart should be anything to go by - should not be his boss anymore). bodyguard to lovers??

Rhodey is a good bodyguard. Hell, he’s the best.

That was why Pepper Potts hired him, after all. He’s not easy to fool, can follow anyone with a dogged determination that nearly defies human nature. He’s had successful stories before with glowing reviews from multiple people from all different threatened backgrounds.

(Including at least three world leaders and a pope.)

Tony Stark is...new. Well, nearly new. He’s a businessman, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary for Rhodey to deal with.

…except Tony’s highly eclectic, a billionaire, and purposely makes his behavior as erratic as possible.

It’s fun. What can Rhodey say? He loves a challenge, and Tony is about as challenging as they come.

When he first starts, Tony tries every trick in the book. Rhodey still sticks to him, although he does leave some distance. Tony tries to make him uncomfortable by bringing just about everyone who looks home, and all Rhodey says is, “you gonna feed them cereal when they wake up? Because that’s all you have in your pantry right now, and you don’t pay me to do the shopping.”

Tony scowls at that, and then changes his strategy.

It’s an odd strategy.

Tony decides he will just make Rhodey his friend, starting with the nickname of “Rhodey.”

“That’s stupid,” Rhodey says, because he can already tell it will stick.

“Not my problem, just my solution,” Tony grins. “Now come on, we’re getting burgers.”

They’re at a sit-down restaurant. One of Tony’s favorites, actually. Rhodey is not sure why he’s sitting down across from the man with the most influence in the world, but he is.

“So, what’s new with you? Who are you?” Tony asks. “Pepper sent me your file. You’re from Philly, right?”

“Oh my god, you sound weird when you say it like that,” Rhodey says, deciding against formality as he basically tells Tony Stark that he sounds weird and shouldn’t say “Philly.”

“Oh what, is that not what the locals call it?”

“I’m going to take you there and they’re going to beat you up.”

“Not the worst Sunday night I’ve ever had,” Tony mentions. “Hey, look at the menu. I don’t want you to flounder when the waitress shows up and you know fuck-all about what they have to offer.”

“Okay asshole, any recommendations?”

“The banana milkshake and bacon-burger.”

Rhodey looks at the menu.

He does end up with the bacon-burger, but chooses strawberry for his flavor of milkshake.

“You traitor.”

“Oh am I? Well then let me tell Pepper that you stole the last good pen she had then-”

Tony flings a fry at him, and Rhodey laughs.

Here’s a concerning thing: Tony has a very “c’est la vie” approach about kidnapping.

Like he genuinely doesn’t really give a shit if he knows what’s going on, or even if he doesn’t.

Rhodey was eagle-eyed and chased a van three fucking blocks and caught up to the driver, wherein he punched his lights out and got Tony out. His hands were bound in zip-ties and his suit was rumpled, but Tony just blinked at him.

“You think you broke a racing record with that?”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they take anything?”

Rhodey’s all over Tony, checking for any injuries, any stolen wallets or watches, and thank god everything is there. (Not that Tony would really care if anything was stolen, save for his sunglasses. He spends far too much on those, in Rhodey’s opinion.)

“Okay geez,” Tony says, batting Rhodey’s hands away. “I’m fine. These people were amateurs. Shit, I’m running late for my consultation meeting, aren’t I?”

“You just got kidnapped,” Rhodey says, tone rife with disbelief. “You just got taken and your concern is with the consultation meeting?”

“Well I figured that you were going to come by or I’d be gone a lot longer, but now that I’m not? Yeah. Yeah, I am concerned with the consultation meeting. It’s a tech start-up company, only not that shitty Silicon-nice-guy start-up. It’s a more inclusive thing. I don’t know, I read their little ‘about’ section on their website. Which needs work. But that’s besides the point.”

Rhodey just follows, dumb in disbelief.

The few rare times that previous clients have been kidnapped or even attempted, they’ve needed a day to recuperate at minimum. They were shaken up, and usually beefed up the security for the rest of time after it. They also scheduled therapy appointments.

Tony treated this like it was a traffic jam and he was only running five minutes behind.

The second time it happens when Rhodey’s there, it lasts a little longer.

Rhodey has to admit, he maybe did some...under-the-radar looks. The FBI wasn’t moving fast enough, and the legal channels weren’t up to snuff. And besides, Tony did say that he could use Jarvis if he really wanted to.

(Turns out they both went to MIT at the same time, and Tony had been that obnoxiously short guy in his econ class that rarely showed up, but when he did he showed up in a suspiciously nice outfit.)

It was a weekend. Rhodey had gone away for two seconds to get a drink for Tony and then he was gone.

It was...bad.

The problem is this:

Tony definitely doesn’t need to be kidnapped as often as he is. He has so many inventions that can prevent that, he’s sold quite a few of them to the military.

But for some fucking reason, he doesn’t want to be saved. No, he’s content just going along with what’s happening, even though everyone else around him wants him back. Needs him back.

He finds him bruised and tied up to a shitty folding chair.

“Hey darling,” Tony says, lips a bloody red. “Can you believe this chair? I would’ve thought they would at least have gotten something a tad nicer. I am their best-dressed guest, after all.”

Rhodey looks over the torn shirt and the pants that have all but been shredded. His shoes are battered and stained beyond repair.

“Don’t,” Rhodey says. He sounds tired. He is tired. “Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what, get kidnapped? I hardly try,” Tony snaps. “Or do I just have a sign on my back that you didn’t know was there?”

“You know I was in the Air Force,” Rhodey snaps back. “I got high enough clearance that I was one of the guys who got to see what brand new toy you sent our way. I know you could use any of those, shit, you probably tested it out, so you would know.”

“And your point?” Tony asks. “What, you’re saying I should know better? Saying you know better than me?”

“You know what? Yeah, yeah I am saying that,” Rhodey yells as he’s untying him. “I am fucking saying that I know more than you because you couldn’t give less of a shit if you tried about your own well-being! You were kidnapped and I’ve been running myself ragged trying to get you back, and you just don’t care!”

Tony stares at him. Really stares at him.

“Let’s go home.”

Nothing else is said in the car ride home. Tony can’t even look at Rhodey.

They go home, where Pepper greets Tony with a hug and makes him swear not to leave again, and Tony says “I promise,” only they both know that he’s lying.

But they’re not calling him out on it yet. No, not tonight.

Rhodey stays. Technically he doesn’t have to. Jarvis is the most advanced artificial intelligence system in the world. Hell, he’s the only one that’s even in his league, but Rhodey just...feels better staying.

And Tony’s mansion is a gargantuan structure with about twenty different rooms to choose from, so Rhodey gets a nice view and tries to go to bed.

He’s never gotten enough sleep. He knows he never would. That’s why the army loved him: he could be up at any hour and he’d be fine. That’s why his dad called him the bane of his existence in a loving manner: Rhodey would be up at four in the morning filling out the crossword before anyone else could.

He’s up at four a.m. making breakfast.

Tony’s pantry is still shit, but it looks like Pepper went shopping for him or had someone else do it, because he actually has eggs and juice and actual food instead of the odd pickle jar or way-too-old yogurt.

“You’re...up,” Tony says.

Rhodey turns around.

“Sorry. I, um. Stayed.”

“It’s fine,” Tony says awkwardly. “What are you making?”

“Omelet.”

“I always mess those up,” he says. “Either too much cheese or I forget I’m cooking it.”

“You want one?”

“You gonna make me one?”

“Accidentally cracked one too many eggs, so yes. You want onions and spinach in yours?”

“Sure,” Tony says. “What are you doing up?”

“Always bad at sleeping,” Rhodey answers. “Can never really stay asleep for too long.”

“Forget to take your melatonin gummies?” Tony answers, grinning.

Rhodey can see a bruise on his collarbone.

“You sleep okay?”

“No, but I rarely ever do,” Tony says. “Especially after yesterday’s fiasco.”

“You mean the whole weekend,” Rhodey says, putting the rest of the eggs into the pan. “Can’t imagine that was fun.”

“Oh come on, it was a ball,” Tony answers sarcastically. “They let me play cops-and-robbers and I was given pizza. Clearly it was a fantastic time.”

Rhodey stares at Tony.

“You know in the contract that I had you sign it specifically states that you have to let me help you, right?”

“It says you have to rescue me regardless of feelings or previous obligations,” Tony says.

“Rescuing you doesn’t just mean I chase after vans and track you down in an abandoned warehouse, it means that I rescue you from those situations before they can happen. But I can only do that if you agree that you won’t get kidnapped,” he says.

“And what, I want to?” Tony asks. “Do I say that?”

“You don’t have to,” Rhodey says, flipping the omelet over. “You never think you’re worth rescuing it because you think you’re never going to be good enough and I think you think that you owe me for giving a shit.”

Tony looks at him.

“You’re really honest.”

“I try to be.”

“I love that about you.”

Rhodey’s hand shakes slightly as he moves the omelet a bit in the pan. He hopes Tony doesn’t notice.

“Well I would love it if you stopped being kidnapped.”

“Aye aye, Colonel Rhodes,” Tony says, saluting. Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“Oh my god, do not.”

“What, am I not supposed to thank our armed services for making this country safe?” he mocks, standing up. “For going above and beyond the call of patriotism and helping keep Americans everywhere safe?”

Rhodey threatens to eat his omelet when he breaks into singing the national anthem.

There’s an...understanding.

Tony starts taking up training with Happy and almost agrees to regular training with Rhodey until Rhodey wants him to get up at six and do some workouts, and he yells “No!” after one workout session.

Rhodey pointedly pretends like he’s not staring at Tony’s chest when he lifts up his shirt to wipe away the sweat.

“Come on Rhodey my darling, let’s do breakfast.”

Tony dragging him to breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. It’s...nice. Rhodey ignores it when Tony waggles his eyebrows as he takes the check and calls him “darling, honey, baby,” and he lets him because it sounds nice.

He doesn’t say anything to Tony. No, you can’t date your boss. It’s unprofessional as hell and Tony probably is just doing it because Rhodey’s in close proximity and they have a good banter going.

The next time that Tony has an attempted kidnapping, Rhodey is there.

He’s there, and he’s being taken away, dragged from Tony, and Tony for the first time looks terrified.

Rhodey tries to struggle, tries to do anything, because Tony has to get away, and he...

He’s knocked unconscious.

When he wakes up, his head hurts worse than it ever has, and for a moment he’s pissed at Tony because he forgets that he’s been kidnapped and there’s no control over the thermostat because the room is hot as all get out.

And then he sees Tony across from him, and he’s never seen Tony angry.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, voice shaking. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault we have assholes take us,” Rhodey says. “But god I would kill for some air conditioning.”

Tony smiles a bit at that.

Here’s a problem: you cannot give Tony Stark anything if you want him to not escape. Either that or he has to be unconscious because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch.

And they used actual handcuffs to keep him there. God, what a joke.

Tony learned how to break out of handcuffs when he was twenty and chained to a bedpost on accident. (Long story.)

This is nothing.

But the problem is that Rhodey’s here. His bodyguard who really shouldn’t be putting his life on the line for someone as shitty as Tony, but here they are, and he has to get him out.

“Follow my lead,” Tony whispers.

“Well of course I will, who else has as much experience being kidnapped as you?” Rhodey mutters.

“Okay is now going to be the time where you sass me? You’re here too. I could leave you.”

“You’re not gonna do that, Pepper would make you come back.”

“No she wouldn’t.”

“Yeah she would!”

“Not after I tell her that you used the last of her salad dressing.”

“Shit.”

Tony snorts, looking at the room. They don’t have security cameras, which is just...questionable. Oh my god, he got kidnapped by amateurs.

He’s kind of embarrassed.

Rhodey gets free, and they’re both headed towards a door, and Rhodey picks up a stray part of a metal pole, and Tony cannot lie and say he’s not intrigued by that.

Not saying he hopes Rhodey gets to use it.

He’s just curious how he’ll utilize it.

They get to just. Walk out. They fucking walk out. What kind of people did they get kidnapped from? It can’t be that easy, can it?

It can’t be...

It is.

Okay sure Tony is driving in a hotwired car and they’re being shot at, but all things considered that’s not the worst thing. And the truck is probably considered stolen anyways, and once Tony makes it to the highway, it’s not like they’ll be able to follow without making it onto national news, not that they haven’t already.

Pepper’s very effective at getting things to trend on national news when she wants to.

Rhodey is sitting on a beach chair. He shouldn’t be, and he also shouldn’t be drinking a mimosa because it’s four p.m. and definitely the morning, but he figures since he got kidnapped he’s allowed at least one mimosa.

“So. Your first kidnapping?” Tony asks. “All things considered, yours went well. I think next time we should go to Wendy’s or something, I was starving-”

“I’m just. I’m glad we’re okay,” Rhodey says. “But yeah. Maybe next time. If there is a next time. I’m going to I think make you hold hands with me so that you don’t get napped by terrible, shitty people.”

“You could’ve just asked to hold my hand, we didn’t need to be kidnapped together,” Tony says.

“Hm, is that a breach of contract?” Rhodey teases.

“Only if Pepper decides to enforce it, and she won’t because you’re the first bodyguard to have an actual success story with me,” Tony says. “So. I’m thinking maybe we skip the kidnapping next time and go straight for dinner.”

“Oh thank god, I thought you were gonna say a fast food restaurant.”

“I still could, you don’t know,” Tony grins, winking. “What if our first date is to Burger King? What are you gonna do?”

“Be mad that I still like you,” Rhodey grumbles.

Tony cackles, dropping a kiss onto his hand.

“Do you think I should get another bodyguard or will dragging you away during a party be too awkward for them?”

“...I’ll think about it.”

(They don’t get a new bodyguard.

No matter how much the other security complains that Rhodey’s the only one who knows where Tony is at all times, and they can’t exactly ask them if they’re busy doing...things.

Rhodey finds it hilarious.)

#longer night than usual for me which meant more time to work on this beauty #this has been in my inbox for months #so my apologies #but uhhhh i still did it! which is good #lovelyirony writes #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #rhfe #rhodey #tony stark #pepper potts #rhodey is in love and so is tony and they're both so LAME about it #tony doesn't really care about being kidnapped #meant to make this more angsty but was not feeling it

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 12k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: good god where to begin, loss of virginity : ) for real, big dick joon, cowgirl, unprotected sex, special appearance from namjoon’s sensitive neck o.o, premature ejaculation sorry bud, creampie, dom!joon still tho, sub!reader, sexting, dom!hoseok/master!hoseok, sub!jungkook, sub!reader agAIN, bondage and shibari, master/slave dynamics (sorry i have to spoil the prompt but want to properly TW this stuff, but the word slave is only used once out-of-scene), filmed sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, hoseok wearing the tear dior fit you are WELCOME, fingering, orgasm control/denial, oral (m receiving), anal (m receiving), a position i am told is called a lucky pierre/french sandwich, threesome in case you couldn’t guess, aftercare, guided masturbation, phone sex, pet-names, discipline/punishment

banner designer @jamaisjoons | thank you my darling SFHS babies ! i love you

DAY EIGHT

“Are you ready to make your decision?”

No. Of course the answer is no, but there’s no delaying it anymore. “Is it nine already?”

Sejin sighs, shuffling to the side of the table to indicate you’re to sit beside him. When you do, facing the boys on the couch, your heart gives another sickening lurch. Sejin squeezes your shoulder kindly. “Just a game, sweetheart,” he assures quietly, before raising his voice into the authorial tone he used for announcements. “Thank you for all being here on time, any on topic questions before we begin?”

Nobody answers, not even Jin. There’s a tense atmosphere, and you feel caught right in the centre of it.

“Okay, then,” he says softly, sensing the sullen atmosphere. “I’d like to give each of the Gentlemen a chance to explain why Y/n should keep them in the show. Let’s go around the room. Yoongi?”

To Sejin’s left, perched on the end of the three-person couch, is the doctor himself, legs crossed and face relaxed. “Um, Y/n should keep me in becau-”

“Say it to her,” Sejin guides, shuffling back to move out of the way.

Reflexively, Yoongi glances up at you, and the calm warmth of his eyes reassures you. “Y/n, I’d ask you to keep me in because we’ve had a good time together so far, but there’s so much that we have yet to explore. Beyond that, I’d like to think I’m a good fit for the house, and I’ll continue to assist Jin-hyung in cooking many meals.” Once he’s done, he sends you a small smile, eyes glinting playfully.

The younger boy sitting next to him is not as cheerful. Bottom lip red from gnawing, Jungkook tucks his feet up on the couch, resting his chin on his knees. His eyes meet yours after Sejin signals for him to begin. “I really hope you don’t vote me out because I like it here a lot. You’re so cool, and the hyungs are so cool, and I feel really happy here. I know we haven’t spent a whole lot of quality time yet, but I want to, if I stick around long enough.”

You bite down harshly on your tongue, sending him a strained smile. Fuck, this sucks. Beside Jungkook is Hoseok, who props his elbow on the arm of the couch, posture casual but face stricken.

“Y/n,” Hoseok begins, voice tentative and uncharacteristically subdued, “you’re a very intelligent girl and you have a lot of potential in being a sub. I’d appreciate the opportunity to stay in and show you and the audience how enjoyable BDSM can be. We’re all very lucky men to be on the show with you.”

On the couch beside, Namjoon is the next one around. He pauses, eyes dancing about the room as he thinks. “I think it probably doesn’t make much sense to keep me in the game,” he allows. “I’m not experienced like the others and so it’s a little hard to defend on that front, but I think me staying allows you the advantage of being my first and best experience. I feel like with just a bit more time, I’ll really grow into my element, and I feel safe doing it with you. So I really hope I stay.”

Squished beside him is Jin, who sends you a big grin, even if it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “This is so shitty,” he says with a laugh, “it’s harder than I was prepared for before I came, and I think that’s due partly to the warm environment that we’re developing with each other, but also because you, Y/n, are a very genuine and lively person. Of course this is a game about sex, but I don’t think any one of us could say that’s the only factor here. As for me, I ask that you keep me in at least a week more because I can promise not only a good time, but also an ear if you need one, and advice should you ever want it.” He pauses to glance around the room. “That goes for all of you,” Jin adds, “I cannot believe that I don’t hate any of you, I don’t know how the producers found such great people.”

His words ease a bit of the tension, and the rest of you let out laughs of relief, your heart easing slightly.

Next, it’s down on the floor for Taehyung, who seems to prefer sitting cross-legged on the carpet to any other spot in the room. “I really wanna stay here,” he pleads with his eyes locked on yours, so earnest, “you’re so fantastic, and Jungkookie and the hyungs are all so fantastic, and I don’t wanna go home so soon. And also I think in terms of sex and stuff, I bring a lot to the table.” Taehyung avoids Sejin’s gaze, fiddling with the hem of his shirt innocently even as he stares up through his eyelashes at the rest of you cheekily. “I think we saw that yesterday. Though in the future, hopefully it’ll cost me less.” He sends a withering glare at Yoongi and Jin. “You assholes.”

You let out a chuckle, Jin huffing in response and Yoongi just shrugging with a shameless grin. Finally, it’s Jimin’s turn, and your chest pangs as you remember the last time you were together. The way he squeezed your hand gently before getting out of the car last night, the way he walked you to your bedroom door, wishing you sweet dreams. The way you saw an entirely different man to the one he’s been advertising.

His eyes on you are imploring even as his back is straight and legs crossed. “I value the time I spend with you. This is, after all, a game about sex so I’ll defend myself by saying you can rest assured I’m skilled enough to please you well, but if you allow me to stay,” he drops eye contact, fiddling with his rings even as he fights to remain poised, “I do hope it’s not the sex alone that keeps me here.” Like a switch is flicked, his momentary vulnerability vanishes, and he glances up and sends you a smile, warm and at-ease, having said his piece.

“And Y/n,” Sejin guides from beside you, his kind eyes on you, “anything to say to the guys?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s been a week? Why is this so hard? “I- First of all, this decision has been insanely hard. You’re all amazing, not just in bed but as people, and I hope that whoever has to leave will still stay in touch. It feels really cruel that I have to say goodbye to someone so soon. The reality is, none of you did bad, and there’s nobody I don’t like; nobody that doesn’t belong here. I’ve made my decision, but- I don’t know. I’m not happy with it, but I don’t think I’d be happy with any decision. In the end, I guess I just went for the least painful option.” You take a deep breath, eyes lifting to look at Hoseok, who sends you a sad smile. You open your mouth-

“Wait!” Sejin interrupts loudly. Everyone turns to look at him in unison, eyes wide. “There-” He breaks off with a sigh, glancing at the camera closest to him before looking back down at the group. “Listen; this will be edited out, but ratings have been doing far better than we’d ever anticipated. We already hired a third editor to keep up with demand and get more episodes out than was on the schedule, and there’s talk we may even start getting sponsorships because the support has been creating headlines, at least on Twitter. The higher-ups at Bangasm, well… they want to make an exception.”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” Sejin answers. “Act surprised.” The eight of you stare at him with varying degrees of bewilderment as he puffs his chest and carries his voice louder, switching back into producer mode. “Wait!” he repeats in the same tone as earlier. “The production team hasn’t been completely honest with you. This isn’t just a basic game with prompts each week like we told you. There will be a special advantage, a wildcard if you wish, that changes things up. They could affect the prompts, or how the game proceeds for that week. We call them Bangasm Bombs. And while we didn’t tell you, our production team has drawn the Bangasm Bomb for Week One.”

Sejin pauses to look at you all meaningfully. Jimin picks up the hint. “So; what’s the ‘Bangasm Bomb’ for this week?” he asks for you, gesturing quote marks with his fingers.

Your mind is starting to whir, possibilities beginning to percolate in your mind, but you aren’t prepared for what Sejin says next.

“Nobody goes home this week.”

Your mouth drops open, eyes darting around the room to see the open disbelief on the guys’ faces. “So I- I don’t have to send anyone home today?”

“No,” Sejin answers warmly, and you feel your shoulders sag in relief, a breath rushing out you didn’t know you were holding. Sejin winces, clearing his throat lightly. “That’s… the other thing.”

“Other thing?” Yoongi asks incredulously. “There’s more?”

“With the success of the show comes other benefits. For example; the CEO and treasurer of Bangasm have agreed to double our funding if we can keep the views up. No, Seokjin,” Sejin quips the second the eldest contestant raises his hand. Jin puts his hand down, lips pursed in a pout. “We’re changing the rules a bit. Before, we said if Y/n eliminated you, you’d pack your bags and leave. Now; you stay.”

Sejin can’t get another word out over the clamour that arises, everyone shocked and excited and confused all at once. He waves his hand for silence, and only after a minute or so everyone calms down.

“So, there’s just no eliminating?” Jungkook asks with a comically quizzical look on his face.

“Please just let me explain,” Sejin requests, sighing. “Yes, there will still be eliminations. But if you get eliminated, you stay in the house.”

“So it’s a free pass,” Jungkook surmises.

“Not quite. No longer will you not be competing in the game, but you won’t be able to have sex with or sexually touch Y/n in any way. If you do, then you’ll be sent out of the house for good.”

“No sex with Y/n?” Taehyung asks meaningfully. “So… otherwise…?”

Sejin sighs, a tired laugh falling from his lips. “Just no sex with Y/n,” he confirms. “If you touch Y/n sexually, you go home. If Y/n touches you, of course we can’t send her home, so we’ve devised a punishment.”

At the word punishment your head darts up to stare at the producer, but Hoseok beats you to the punch. “She’s gonna come join us in the bunkroom?”

“That’s for failing prompts, Hobi-hyung,” Namjoon points out, “Y/n doesn’t have any prompts.”

“Correct,” Sejin confirms. “If Y/n touches an eliminated member in a sexual manner, then that member gets to choose what she wears for the next 24 hours.”

You frown. “That doesn’t sound so…” you trail off when you glance up, only to be met with seven hungry sets of eyes. You can just about see the cogs turning in their brains as they stare at your body. “Ah.”

“Yes. So stick to the rules, and you get, as Jungkook so elegantly put, a free pass minus Y/n. Got it?”

The eight of you stay silent, still shell-shocked from the two revelations. This changed things. Now, when you voted someone off, they would get to stay, but they would get to stay. You can see both the positive and negative possibilities there, and it’s no surprise that a reality show would have such a sneaky plot twist.

So you’d have all seven fucking you for one more week, and then all seven every week in the future, only with your sexual prospects dropping as you went. It does ensure that you’ll begin voting for them purely based on sexual performance; considering their personalities in the house wasn’t an issue if you’d have those anyway.

As you glance around the room, you can’t help but wonder if your vote would’ve been different had you known that he’d get to stay. And you wonder if you’ll end up picking the same person in a week’s time, after a new set of prompts. The thought makes you sit up, turning to Sejin again.

“Will the boys draw their new prompts, then?” you ask. “Do I get to know the theme again?”

“Ah, of course-” Sejin breaks off to sit up, retrieving a stack of slightly crumpled papers from his back pocket. “This week’s theme is dynamics and roleplay. Come pick a card.”

Like last week, you pay close attention to the reactions of each of the seven. Namjoon blinks wide at his, but doesn’t seem as put off as last week, and his eyes go distant when he sits back down, like he’s already picturing it. Jimin takes two, one for him at one for Taehyung, and the two compare, Taehyung laughing at Jimin’s and Jimin smirking at Taehyung’s, brushing his clean-shaven cheek with the back of his knuckles and murmuring something in his ear.

When Jin gets his, he bites his tongue and shakes his head with a light laugh, and Yoongi’s mouth drops open upon reading his card, eyes darkening with lust. Jungkook winces at first, but thinks on it a moment longer and grins eagerly, taking a second glance and scrunching his nose cutely at it. Hoseok takes his last, calmly reading it with a pleased smirk, sliding it into his front pocket and taking a seat.

Your breath leaves you in a slow stream. You’re back to the not-knowing. Dynamics and roleplay. It could really be anything, you supposed. Naughty schoolgirl, pizza delivery guy. You didn’t watch a lot of porn but you vaguely knew some of the tropes, and it’ll be a rather interesting week indeed.

“That’s not all, of course,” Sejin adds, and you feel like your brain could implode with the information dump that this morning has been. “Would you like to hear the Bangasm Bomb for Week 2?”

“We find out now?” Hoseok questions. “Not at the end?”

“Well, in order to fulfil it you need to know now,” the producer explains. “This week, Y/n may not sleep in her own bed, and she may not sleep in the same bed twice.”

You blink, not expecting it to be directed at you. “I what?” Your mind catches up with the rule, and you let out a light laugh. “So, I’ll have to share with the other guys?”

"Let's not forget the type of show we're on," Yoongi points out, leveling an impressed stare at the producer. "Well-played."

"Thank you," Sejin replies shortly. "Now, that'll be all. Just a reminder, if your scene isn't filmed, it doesn't count, and it's okay if Y/n guesses the prompt, but if you tell her directly then your prompt is void. Seokjin; we ordered you a set of chef's knives that should be here later today. Please stop spamming the company's inquiries email."

He's out of the room before Jin can even react, open-mouthed but smug like the cat that got the cream.

The eight of you sit in silence for a moment or two, still reeling. It's Hoseok in the end that recovers first.

"So we all stay," he muses. "Even if we get voted off, we stay. Why is that both a blessing and a curse?"

"This is reality TV," Jimin points out calmly, "and it's porn on top of it. Tension and drama skyrockets ratings. Well; I'm going to make some coffees if anyone wants one."

Most of the group move back into the kitchen, rifling through cabinets like zombies to make their breakfasts, but Namjoon approaches you hesitantly, biting on his lip.

"Y/n, can I talk to you? Privately?"

You stand up off the coffee table, though still you're lifting your chin to meet his gaze. "Sure," you reply easily, "privately or privately privately?"

"Um," he hesitates, glancing towards the entrance foyer, where across the hall lies the unfilmed rec room. "Just privately is fine for now."

Everyone else distracted with the prospect of food and hot coffee, it's easy enough to just sit on the stairs, side-by-side and thighs touching. Like this, you become aware of how much bigger he is than you. Namjoon's legs sprawl out down to the bottom of the stairs, socked feet slipping slightly on the glossy stone floor, whereas yours are tucked on the step below you. He glances down at you with a nervous disposition, but his eyes are surprisingly steady.

"Hoseok-hyung and I slept in the bunk bed room last night, as you probably know," he explains. "Him and I talked a lot. About a bunch of things, but he helped me realise something. And after I got the prompt today, I was sure."

Your eyes widen as they watch him carefully. The roots of his purple are starting to grow out in a soft brunette that makes him look even younger, his face round yet gently sculpted, chin pressed out in solemnity. "Sure of what?" you question quietly.

Namjoon takes a slow breath, rubbing his palms over his knees. "I think it's better if I don't lose my virginity while doing some cheesy role-play for a porn show, you know? I know I chose to come here knowing what I was walking into, but... Hoseok suggested maybe we could use the rec room for some privacy and then I could just fill my prompt later in the week. Of course, the producers will probably get annoyed at me not losing my virginity on camera, but they never said I had to, and I think I want it to be something just for me, you know? Something that's just you and me, outside of the show. I understand if you don't want to do that, but if you're happy to, I think I'm ready now."

You take a few moments to fully process his words, the gravity of them. "You sure you're ready? If you are, I'm happy to do that, Joonie. I want it to be good for you. You deserve that."

He smiles at that, broadly, but with his head ducked down. "That means a lot," he admits, "but yeah. I'm ready. If you want to...?" He trails off, tipping his head in the direction of the private rec room.

You sit up straight. "Oh! You mean- now now? Yes, I can do that, wow, okay-"

"If that's alright?" he asks hastily, face pinched with worry, but you just stand up, holding out a hand to him. He takes it, letting you lead him to the door.

From the few times you've needed to use this room, it's been pretty empty. It's small; most likely originally intended as extra storage or a home office, and the producers had put a visibly second-hand couch on one wall, a skinny coffee table and a lamp in there.

Generally, it's a glorified staffroom of sorts, a time-out that's more valuable for its lack of cameras than anything actually inside. Today, though, you freeze in the hallway at the sight that greets you.

With the table pushed to one side, boasting two bottles of water, a box of tissues, a bottle of self-heating lube and a small bluetooth speaker, the rest of the room has been converted into a massive bed.

The floor is covered with blankets, sheets and duvets, thick enough to be like a bedroll, with pillows stacked on the edges. They cover most of the floor, roughly the size of a queen size bed. On top of the impressive set-up are a colourful variety of packaged condoms, arranged in a tasteful love-heart.

Namjoon groans at the display, pinching his brow. "Hoseok said he'd set up for me and make it a little more comfortable, I'm sorry."

"It's cute," you say with a laugh, "are you wanting to use condoms?"

Namjoon swallows. "Uh, you- what would you prefer?"

You shrug, collecting them up and flicking through the buffet of options. You chuckle as the majority are L and XL. Unsurprising. "I mean, we don't need one. So if you want to feel everything fully, I say go bare."

"G-go bare, please," he coughs out awkwardly, shutting and locking the door behind him, double-checking the handle. "Can we put some music on? It's really quiet in here."

"Of course." You busy yourself with the music, smiling at the fact that he must have appreciated it last time. By the time you select a nice playlist on your phone and pick a decent volume, Namjoon's surprised you by hastily stripping down to his underwear, shyly rubbing at his knees.

You stand stock-still for a moment, just taking in the gorgeous sight of his body, all understated muscle and bold lines and planes. He must do some form of exercise, because his chest is thick, as are his thighs, and his lower stomach is soft but lean. He's gorgeous, and between your legs you feel your excitement grow.

Hustling to strip your clothes off as a gentle guitar strumming fills the air, you feel the cool cotton of the duvet under your knees as you straddle Namjoon, the man sucking in a breath as your clothed pussy presses flush against his hardness.

"Give me a kiss," you ask softly, a suggestion to let him take control, and a sigh of relief leaves his lungs as he cups your face in his hands, tugging your lips onto his greedily.

The ferocity with which he kisses you takes your breath away. It's powerful, greedy and demanding like he's waited an eon to kiss you again. While he was surprisingly skilful the first time, now it feels like he's come into his own.

You make a noise of surprise in the back of your throat as you feel his tongue slipping between your lips, licking up into your mouth like he's trying to devour you. You're drunk on it, mind feeling hazy, but you manage to pull away for a moment, gasping out a, "how the hell did you get this good?"

Grunting, Namjoon's eyes flutter open and one of his hands slips back to cup the nape of your neck securely, preventing you from backing up further. "Hoseok gave me some tips," he admits. "Now get back here."

You let yourself be pulled in again and eaten alive, muffled groans and sighs of bliss slipping out between swipes of tongue and flashes of teeth, nipping at your bottom lip until it's swollen and aching in the best way.

Without realising, you've begin to grind your hips against him, needing friction, and he pants into your mouth at the feeling. The pleasure makes him sloppy, and you groan as his lips leave yours, veering down to kiss along your jawline, tugging on your earlobe before sucking blossoms of colour down your throat. You tip your head back, arching into his mouth and rocking your hips against him, the friction addictive.

"Gonna fuck you now," you hear him groan against your collarbone, lips on your skin that's slick from his spit. Even in your heightened state of arousal you can sense the slight question in his voice, like he's checking you're still okay with it.

More than okay, you glance down to see the point that joins you, your panties so wet that the grey of his boxers is marred by a dark spot, wet and clinging to the stiff outline of his cock. You curse lowly at the sight of it. "Fuck, please, I need you, Joonie."

He lets out a strangled sigh, hands trembling slightly as he pushes down the waistband of his boxers so that it rests below his balls, cock bobbing up to rest at his stomach. He swallows hard, eyes closed and back resting against the base of the couch. The sheets beneath you have heated up with your body temperature, arousal radiating off the two of you in waves.

When you first reach out to touch him, you keep your eyes on his face, on his reaction. The initial contact makes his brow twitch, eyes clenching shut. So thick your fingers don’t touch around him when you grasp his base, he’s definitely the biggest you’ve seen in the house; a touch of irony that the least experienced member had the biggest genetic advantage. His bottom lip finds his way tucked between his teeth, thighs tensing beneath you.

“Joonie,” you mumble in a mock pout, “are you gonna fuck me now or so I have to do all the work myself?”

His eyes fly open, gaze landing on your widened eyes of innocence, before darting down to where you’re gently stroking him, fingertips catching on the sensitive ridge beneath his head. “Hobi-hyung said you should ride me so you can get used to it.”

You chuckle, tapping your thumb over his weeping slit, making him hiss. “Let’s stop thinking about what Hobi said and start worrying about what you want. Do you want me to ride you? Feel how tight I am for you?”

He curses, brows knitting as he nods shakily, and you can’t hold yourself back any longer. With a low curl of thrill in your stomach, you sit up so you can quickly slip off your panties, before straddling him again. He feels heavy when you brush his length through your sodden folds, readying him for you, and the thought makes you groan lowly.

“Wanted you so bad,” you confess over the music in the background, now a simple drum beat that gives you rhythm as you grind your hips over him, letting his blunt head catch at your entrance. “Fuck.” His fingers are digging into your hips just with the feeling of your pussy clenching over his tip, and you lower yourself painfully slowly, adjusting to the way he stretches you to your limit, dragging inch by inch against your walls.

“H-oh god, it is, it’s so tight,” he comments with a hitch in his voice, and again you feel the muscles of his thighs twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to bury himself in you. Though the thought of it is hot, you’re merciful that he’s giving you time to grow accustomed to the sheer girth of his dick inside you.

“Does it feel good, Joonie?” you ask, the question panted as he takes your breath away, grinning at the quick stuttered nods he gives in reply, fingers flexing on the flesh of your hips and ass. By the time you’re sitting flush against his lap, you can barely breathe, a shaky hand pressing onto your stomach almost expecting to feel him bulging out of you from the inside. He’s not just the biggest on the show, but the biggest you’ve ever had, and you feel like you could cum just from rolling your hips against him.

“You feel so amazing, Y/n,” he praises, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close so that he can press his lips to yours. You whine as he shifts in you, feeling shakier than ever, but appreciate the chance to adjust to him, tongue chasing his and fingers slipping into his hair as you kiss.

You’re content to stay like that for as long as he continues to move his mouth against you, mouth watering at the feeling of cockwarming him and joining your bodies so intimately, but the excitement of new sensation gets to him, and after a while he begins to shift, holding your hips down and grinding his hips.

Your jaw drops open, hands flying out to grip at his shoulders at the feeling. He’s so deep you can barely comprehend it, can barely think with his cock filling you so completely, and find yourself pleading quietly, an unintelligible babble of more, please more, need more. He shifts his posture as you sit on his length, uncrossing his legs and instead bracing them in front of him.

“Want me to fuck you like this?” he asks, nipping at your throat, and you shiver at the husky gravel of his tone. What happened to the shy virgin?

“Please, Joonie,” you gasp, clenching around him, “need you to move.”

His first thrust takes your breath away, punching the air out of your lungs. When he moves inside you it feels monumental, like a core piece of you shifting, and your eyes water with the delicious burn. You whine when he pauses for a moment, hands slipping down to knead at your ass. Namjoon’s eyes are like molten dark chocolate as they focus on you, rich and intense, and when your head tips down to kiss him again it’s so needy your teeth clash, the keening whimper in your throat sign enough that you want more.

It’s only once he begins to fuck you in earnest, bouncing you on his cock, that you see how truly affected he is. Strands of lilac cling to his temples as he sweats, chest heaving and hands trembling even as his fingers dig in hungrily. His lips are slick with spit, but he makes no move to wipe them clean, just biting onto his bottom lip and sucking, hips snapping up with bruising momentum.

You can’t catch your breath, but still you chase his lips like oxygen, needing to be as close as possible. His panting keeps you anchored as you moan shamelessly, toes curling and back arching. Your high approaches quickly enough that it shocks you, but there’s no escaping the pleasure that rushes through you with every snap of his hips.

You lose contact with his mouth, cheek resting limply on his shoulder as he speeds up his pace, the muscles in your legs failing you, twitching uncontrollably.

“No, no, no, fuck,” Namjoon chants lowly, and you feel a hand bury in your hair, holding you to the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry, I’m not gonna last.”

You moan at that, feeling him stiffen impossibly more inside you with every thrust. “Wan’ you to cum,” you promise in his ear, barely more than a gasped breath, “wanna cum with you.” To end the statement, you nuzzle your nose against his throat and nip at his pulse point. To your surprise, he shudders violently, suddenly going stock still.

Your eyes widen as hot ropes of cum fill you, Namjoon clutching you to him helplessly, groaning nonsense as his orgasm hits him out of nowhere. Your own high recedes, but you barely notice it as you sit up tiredly and clench around him, watching the pleasure flicker across his face as he rides the high.

“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes cast towards the ceiling and chest still heaving, “I’m so sorry, I… sensitive neck.”

You grin, running your hands up to gently brush over it, feeling him pulse inside you, spurting the final drops of cum from his spent cock. “Don’t apologise,” you assure, leaning in quickly to nibble at his lips and give him a lazy, indulgent kiss. “That was really fucking hot.”

He laughs, cheeks pinkening slightly, and you feel your heart warm at the return of the shy Namjoon you’d gotten used to. So he’s a lot more dominant and confident in the heat of the moment, you muse as he catches his breath, good to know.

When you find your strength again, slowly sitting up off him, you wince at the rush of cum leaving you, and the uncomfortable feeling of emptiness. That’s only exacerbated by the fact that you haven’t cum yet, but it’s his first time and you don’t want him to feel bad. Collapsing on the sheets beside him, you rest your head on his shoulder, breath still coming in shallow pants. “Good?”

“Good god, Y/n,” he exclaims earnestly, “I think I might be a sex addict now.”

A surprised peal of laughter leaves your lungs, and you shove him playfully before crawling over to the coffee table, cracking open a bottle of water and cleaning yourself up with the available tissues. “Hoseok really did think this through, huh?” you muse, chucking him the box once you’re done.

Namjoon clears up the cum on his cock and thighs, grimacing at the way some of it has stained his boxers, but he sends you a guilty look. “I’m sorry.”

You frown, reaching for your clothes. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t-”

Whatever Namjoon is about to say is cut off by a sudden thud that gives you both a fright, followed by three polite albeit enthusiastic knocks. You stare in bewilderment at the door, before hastily dressing yourself.

“Is everything alright?” Namjoon calls out, putting his underwear back on properly and hopping into his pants. “Has something happened?”

“I should hope so, young grasshopper!” an enthusiastic voice chirps from the other side of the door, muffled but unmistakably Hoseok. “You’ve popped your cherry, Kim Namjoon!”

The academic winces, reaching out to unlock the door once he’s made sure the two of you are dressed. “Hoseok, what are you doing? Wha-?” He breaks off once he opens the door, and you rush around behind him to see what gave him pause.

In the foyer are Hoseok, Taehyung and Jin, all in matching paper birthday hats, the strings of thin elastic digging into their chins. Hoseok’s holding two more in his hands, and he thrusts them towards you as Taehyung wiggles the weighty bottle of champagne in his grasp. Behind them, Jin calmly holds a kitchen knife.

“What’s going on?” you ask in bewilderment, stepping out into the foyer and wincing at the ache between your legs with each step. “Why the fuck are you holding a knife?”

Jin, his bright blue party hat on at a jaunty angle, stares down at his hands blankly before gasping, tucking it behind his back. “Sometimes I forget I’m still holding it.”

“That’s extremely alarming,” Namjoon says with a frown. “I still don’t understand why you’re all gathered outside the door.”

“It’s time for the party, hyung,” Taehyung explains, “to celebrate you finally getting your dick wet.”

Your cheeks go flaming red as you glance at Namjoon, the poor man spluttering and eyes wide like he didn’t know what to do. “If there’s champagne, I’m there,” you announce calmly. “Come on, Joonie, let’s go celebrate.”

Namjoon visibly relaxes when you aren’t offended, flicking you a warm smile. “Is everyone wearing a hat?” he questions incredulously, taking the thin cone card.

“Mo-mostly everyone,” Hoseok answers suspiciously.

“It’s just you guys, isn’t it?”

“Well, if you both wore one, we’d have the majority.”

You grin, patting Hoseok on the shoulder as you walk past him into the foyer. “Let’s just go,” you call out to the guys behind you, “there better be food.”

As expected, the three that greeted you were the only ones wearing party hats. At the dining table, which has been laden with aromatic dishes, steaming rice and empty champagne flutes, the other three await. Jimin’s is resting beside his plate and chopsticks, untouched. Beside him, Yoongi has his upside down, using it as a bowl for the rice snacks he’s munching happily on. The youngest man in the house hasn’t even noticed you’ve arrived, using it like a very inefficient telescope, one eye scrunched shut and the other focused on the pinhole at the top of the cone. Sitting at the head of the table, he aims it at Jimin, mouth hanging open as he tries to see through the tiny gap.

Giving up, he waves the wide end around the room, desperate to catch a glimpse of something. Once the cone lands on the five of you, he gasps, chucking down the party hat. “You’re back! I didn’t start eating the cake, like you said!”

Jin frowns. “That sounds awfully suspicious.” Knife still in hand, he makes his way to the kitchen island, where you catch a glimpse of a beautifully iced cake with writing on the top that you’re too far away to read.

Jungkook shifts restlessly in his seat, staring worriedly at Jin. “The- um, the birds attacked it.” If you look closely, you think you can see the slightest hint of vanilla icing in the crook of his mouth.

Jin stares at the cake desolately. “The birds?” he deadpans.

“Seagulls, you know,” Jungkook tries to pass off casually, the pink of his tongue dashing out to lick the sugar off his lips. “Absolute vultures.”

Hoseok tsks in disappointment. “Was it seagulls or was it vultures?”

Jungkook stays silent an inexplicably long amount of time, glancing slowly between Hoseok and Jin. His eyes are wide like he’s trying to work out the lie in his head “...It was me.”

Jin’s fingers are pressed to his temple as he sighs. “Right.” Setting down the knife, he picks up the cake and brings it to the table, placing it in the middle of the table. The rest of you all take a seat, filling in the spaces around the table. Taehyung slips in beside Jimin, Hoseok at the end of the table opposite Jungkook, and finally Jin, Namjoon, and you take the last of the seats.

The cake is beautiful, neat and fluffy buttercream all over with swooping cursive written in a thin black stream. Unfortunately, a very delicate but obvious slice has been taken out so you have to focus to work out what the writing says. Once you do, you let out a reluctant chuckle, watching Namjoon blush once more, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his shirt shyly.

“‘Here lies Namjoon’s virginity,’” you recite, “‘1994-2020.’ Who came up with that?”

“That’s not impor-” Jin begins, but Taehyung swiftly cuts him off.

“I did!” he declares proudly. “Everyone agreed mine was funnier than Jin-hyung’s.”

“Obviously not everyone,” Jin replies bitterly, dishing himself up some of the rice closest to him. “Dig in, everyone, Yoongi and I worked hard on this. And congratulations Namjoon,” he adds, though he sends Namjoon a genuine smile, eyes twinkling.

After everyone says their congratulations, the food is dug into and the cork of the bottle is popped, conversation flowing like the champagne.

Over time, Namjoon seems to get used to the chatter about sex, perhaps not feeling so left out of the loop, and his face is more open and relaxed than ever, a dimple poking out when he smiles. You occasionally reach out to shove him playfully or squeeze his arm as the chatter continues, and he no longer freezes or stiffens up. It warms your heart that he feels a little more comfortable amongst you.

You’re happy to tuck into your meal, having worked up an appetite for lunch, but it’s barely more than a second after finishing your first helping that your phone buzzes.

You slip it out casually, frowning when you see it’s a notification that you’ve been added to a group-chat.

After that, you smother a scoff and slip your phone back into your pocket, hoping if your cheeks are red they can safely be attributed to the alcohol.

Glancing up, you see Jungkook stand up suddenly, eyes wide with barely-contained excitement as he picks up his bowl, chopsticks and champagne flute, scurrying over to dump them in the sink before disappearing upstairs. Yoongi stares at his empty seat in confusion, but shrugs and takes another mouthful of cake. You eat yours quickly enough that your stomach flips, or perhaps that’s just the anticipation.

After you’re done it takes you a few moments to build up the courage to look across to Hoseok, feeling his gaze hot on your skin. When you do, your eyes lock immediately, but he just continues to stare, lips pressed in a narrow line.

Your heart leaps for a moment, wondering what that hard gaze means for you later on. Silently, as Taehyung continues to explain something to him with a mouth half-full of food, Hoseok lifts his eyebrow once, gaze darting to the roof. The message is clear. Go upstairs.

Biting your lip, you let Namjoon know you’re heading up, waving off his concern until he’s pulled back into a thread of conversation. You try to ignore the uncertain adrenaline rush that makes your hands tremble and your core throb all the way upstairs, until you’re knocking on Jungkook’s door.

The two of you share a look once he opens the door, one of anticipation and desire, and you let out a breathy chuckle.

“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?” you ask rhetorically, stepping in and collapsing onto the bed.

“I’ll take it if it means getting a good fuck,” he states matter-of-factly, sitting himself beside you and tucking his legs up. “Besides; I’ve wanted to see Hobi-hyung in action for a while.”

Sitting up, you think back to that day in the confessional booth, where he had so easily made you fall apart without even taking a single item of clothing off. You wondered if he’d deprive you of his body tonight as well.

“I think he’s angry at me,” you admit, “before I left, he looked… intense.”

“Why would he be angry at you?” Jungkook asks with a frown, his hand slipping under the baggy fabric of his black tee, rubbing at his shoulder like he’s aching to take the item off.

You go to shrug, but then your mind flicks back to this morning. “The elimination,” you realise, dread rising in your stomach just as much as your arousal is. “I think he knows I was going to eliminate him.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, round enough to be saucers. “Wait, really? Why him?”

You find the words dry up in your throat. “I- God, I don’t know. How am I meant to choose anyone when you’re all amazing? Maybe his had the least impact on me, I suppose.” You eye the door to the walkway warily. “I guess he’s determined to change that now.”

Instead of replying, you’re taken aback when Jungkook throws his arms around you in a tight hug, his long hair brushing at your neck and shoulder as he tucks his chin into the hollow of your collarbone. Hesitantly, you bring your own arms up to hug him back, feeling your tension melt in the warm embrace.

“It must be so hard,” he murmurs, “I don’t think Hobi-hyung is really mad, you know? He probably just feels like he wasn’t good enough for you and wants to prove himself.”

This thought just sends another spike of guilt through you, but you have no time to dwell on it before the door is clicking open, making you and Jungkook instinctively jump apart.

Hoseok stands there, as intimidating as last time in all-black. Though he’s wearing just socks instead of the heavy duty boots he was in that day, there’s no denying the power he holds in the clothes he wears like armour. Leather pants so snug they’re like a second skin and a black long-sleeved shirt, tight but breathable cotton with a harness of thin leather straps providing some structure. His raven hair is swept back, but just a single stray lock hangs low over his brow, drawing your eyes back to his. “Starting without me?” he questions lightly, though his face is devoid of humour.

You swallow hard. “No… Master,” you add, seeing the expectant look on his face. Once he steps further into the room, you notice the black bag that was previously hidden behind his back. The duffel bag from last time. You suck in a breath and clench your thighs before you can even think to stop yourself, and Hoseok’s positively gleam at the sound.

“Both of you have been very naughty today,” he explains, dumping the bag on the bed beside Jungkook, beginning to casually pull a heap of bright red nylon rope out. “Little Jungkookie ate the cake that Jin-hyung worked so hard on, even when he was specifically asked not to. And Y/n… Y/n knows exactly what she did.” Your eyes widen when Hoseok sets the multiple lengths of rope to one side in a neat folded coil and reaches back into the bag to produce a pair of wide, heavy-duty shears.

“Woah, hyung,” Jungkook exclaims in alarm, “I can apologise for the cake, I-”

“Settle, Jungkook, it’s okay,” Hoseok explains softly. “I told you we’re gonna be tying you up, yeah? This is so that we can cut the ropes quickly in case you want out. They aren’t part of the scene.”

You feel a thrill run through your veins at the gentle click of metal resting on the nightstand once Hoseok sets the scissors down. He hadn’t needed them for when your arms were tied. It meant that whatever you were going to do tonight would be more intense. The thought of everyone else downstairs having a good time and hanging out while you and Jungkook were up here getting bound by Hoseok… it somehow feels even more illicit and dirty.

“Let’s do Jungkookie first, hm?” the dom proposes. “I’ve been wanting to see what you’d look like all prettied up for me. Choose red just for you.”

Jungkook positively preens at the compliment, hands tucking into his lap and chest puffing out. “I’m excited, Master!”

Hoseok gestures for Jungkook to remove his clothes with a flat expression. “Don’t be,” he retorts calmly, “this isn’t a reward, it’s discipline. We’re going to learn a lesson about behaving.”

The camboy trembles, hastily shucking off his baggy shirt and pushing his sweatpants down, naked except for a pair of white socks. Your breath is taken away by how easily he bares himself to the cameras and to the two of you, eyes eager and nervous as Hoseok picks up one of the longer lengths of rope.

“I want you to kneel, Jungkookie,” Hoseok instructs, “kneel on the bed for me, arms at your sides.”

Jungkook obeys, breath hitching as Hoseok approaches, passing the coil over his palm. You watch with baited breath as a bright red strand of rope is run around his narrow waist. As the professional dom begins looping, knotting and wrapping the rope around Jungkook’s torso, the boy’s eyes grow lidded, cock twitching as it rests back against his lower abdomen.

It takes a while, but time is as smooth as velvet in the soft silence of the room, just gentle breaths and the whir of nylon rope sliding so beautifully along Jungkook’s skin.

By the time Hoseok is done, Jungkook’s eyes barely open, so content with the feeling of being patiently wrapped up, and he hums lightly as Hoseok rechecks the tightness of each loop, slipping two fingers between rope and skin in several places.

Rather than bondage or restraint, this looks like art. An elaborate harness of red contrasts beautifully against the pale golden flesh below, hardness of his chest and abs softened by the vaguely fishnet pattern, loops that interlock and curve across his body gracefully, the most careful and precise lattice of scarlet ropes.

“Pretty, isn’t he?” Hoseok questions, and a finger comes down to run through the glossy precum that has been smeared onto Jungkook’s lower stomach. The boy hisses, arching his hips up in search of contact, but all it takes is a sharp swat at the head of his cock and Jungkook is whining, thighs flexing with the force of keeping still. “Patience, my little prince,” Hoseok tuts, patting Jungkook’s cheek with a hand still wet with the camboy’s own precum, “we’re gonna teach you how to be patient today.”

Jungkook groans low in his throat, lips parting at the term of endearment, and Hoseok grins at it, tiger-like.

“Oh, do you like that, hm? Wanna be my special prince today?” Hoseok runs his fingers through Jungkook’s long hair, the camboy sucking in a sharp breath when they snag on some knots. Jungkook nods, eyes round and glittering as he looks up at his Master. Hoseok pouts, tapping him once on the end of his button nose. “It’s a shame you weren’t behaving today, then wasn’t it? Maybe if you’re good for me tonight, you can earn it.”

Jungkook’s brows lift pleadingly, looking so small under Hoseok’s harsh stare. “I’ll be good, though, Master.”

“Mm, I’m sure you will,” Hoseok confirms, swiping a thumb over Jungkook’s nipple to make him shiver, before he fixes an iron gaze onto you.

You swallow, slipping out of your clothes as quickly as you can once he gives the same gesture as before, crossing your legs and arms to try and preserve some dignity. Hoseok just tuts, picking up two of the remaining sections of nylon rope, only one still left waiting on the bed.

“Hands at your sides, kneeling,” he instructs sharply, and you feel the way your walls clench at the authority in his voice as you hustle to get into position.

The harness he puts you in is different to Jungkook’s, accentuating your breasts with bands both above and below them, leaving your stomach free but doubling the rope over so that every loop that wraps around you is twice as thick. The final tie is slipped up between your breasts, around the back of your neck and tucking back down to hold it all together, and your breath shallows at the secure feeling of the rope.

It’s peaceful; the warm stripes of friction as he pulls strands through loops, the gentle flicking of the ends against your skin until he folds them away, the way it embraces your chest so snugly, but not too tight. It’s only once he’s done checking the rope like he did with Jungkook that he picks up the second, shorter length of nylon, and by then you already feel the sleepy yet electric haze of subspace seeping throughout your body.

“Hands,” he instructs, and you hold them out for him, watching with heightened arousal as he binds them, the rope wrapping around and between your wrists until they’re locked together. Last time your hands were bound behind your back but like this, you can watch him as he works.

It’s quick - a testament to his expertise - but you spend every moment with your eyes locked onto him. The eyes, gleaming with control and satisfaction, the pink tip of his tongue poking out just slightly as he focuses. His thin fingers, looping and wrapping and knotting with such skill.

His last move, eyes darting up and smirking once he catches you watching him, is to connect the thick cuff-like ropes to the top of your harness, pinning them up to your chest, folded hands resting at the base of your throat. You instinctively tug once he’s done, only to feel the rope around your back tighten and dig in, but no distance made. The feeling of being at his mercy only adds to the slick gathering between your thighs.

Once he steps back, eying the two of you up, your breath catches in your throat. Both you and Jungkook are fully naked, somehow feeling even more vulnerable in the rope, and Hoseok stands across from the bed in all his black leather glory, eyes raking over you like he’s assessing his work.

“Are you gonna touch us, Master?” Jungkook questions in a small voice, fingers clutching at his own thighs, cock flushed and needy between them.

“Not you yet, Jungkookie. Gotta warm Y/n up first.” Your eyes widen - for what? - but Hoseok is moving closer run a hand down Jungkook’s back, fingers jumping over the strands of rope. “Do you wanna help me, baby?”

Jungkook nods, blushing when Hoseok pinches lightly at his cheek.

Hoseok leans over to you, carding his fingers into your hair and curling them in so that he can hold you steady. Like this, kneeling on the bed, you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, but he just tuts, holding you face-forward to Jungkook. “You wanna give her a kiss, Kookie?”

You swallow, fingers interlocking together as you look over to the camboy. He looks so needy, blissed out and pretty in his red rope, cock untouched and weeping. Your lips part automatically, tongue darting out to wet your lips and you don’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes are drawn to it, lids now as he nods.

With your hands pinned to your chest and kneeling, you don’t feel able to meet him halfway so you just wait as Jungkook crawls to you, glancing up at Hoseok for permission before burying your hands in your hair alongside the dom’s. With barely a second to suck in a breath, Jungkook ducks his head, his lips descending onto yours with sweet, unrestrained need.

Unable to touch him back, you let your eyes slip shut with the soft presses of his mouth, taking everything he gives you. Everything about Jungkook in this moment is soft; his lips, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones, even the subtle scent of vanilla as his hair tickles your face - but the stiff grip in your hair is anything but, reminding you where exactly you are and the hand you’re under.

Your breath hitches as two things happen at once; Jungkook’s tongue presses into your mouth, deepening the kiss, and behind you Hoseok shifts, getting up on the bed behind you. Though you can’t see him, you become even more aware of his commanding presence, through the simple gesture of a fingertip, tracing beside lines of rope with a touch so light you shiver.

“You both look so pretty for me,” Hoseok murmurs warmly, his voice closer than you’d expected him to be, sounding like it’s right beside your air. Jungkook doubles his efforts in response, and your core is alight with excitement when you instinctively go to touch him, only to be reminded of the restraint you’re in.

Jungkook kisses without abandon, not hurried but deep and purposeful. Though you still tremble under Hoseok’s teasing touch, your mind is so enraptured by Jungkook’s tongue in your mouth and teeth on your lips that you lose track of it.

The camboy doesn’t dare venture his hands further than your face, cupping it so tenderly as he delves into you, so your eyes fly open with shock when two fingers are suddenly slipping through your folds, running over your clit for a single delicious moment of pleasure. You moan in shock and pull away to look down.

Between your kneeling legs is the slender but calloused hand of your Master himself, wrapped around your front and slipping inside you without question like you’re his. His to explore, his to ruin. You pant at the intrusion of two fingers, clenching around him, but his only response is to tug suddenly at your hair, pulling your gaze back up again.

Nipping sharply at the bridge of your ear, Hoseok scolds you. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he growls harshly, “did I?”

“Sorry, Master,” you reply without thinking, barely a moment before you let out a muffled squeak from Jungkook joining you together again, wasting no time to obey.

Hoseok doesn’t stop his motions between your legs; on the contrary, he continues without pause, fingers moving inside you with a steady urgency.

For a while, your brows furrow, hips rocking below him. He keeps missing your g-spot, fingers too straight to press against it on each thrust, and he moves to three fingers without touching your clit at all, hand held foward off of you to avoid friction. You moan brokenly into Jungkook’s mouth as you realise Hoseok’s doing it intentionally, stretching you out almost clinically, without regard or want for your pleasure. You go weak at the thought, sinking forward into Jungkook’s embrace, but soon enough the fingers are removed from you completely. Empty and unsatisfied just like earlier, you huff and begin to kiss the camboy more frantically, desperate for some pleasure to replace it.

But Hoseok clearly isn’t having it. “Stop,” he commands shortly, “hands off.”

Jungkook sits back quickly, making sure you won’t slump over before he presses his hands to his thighs again, cock twitching at the continued neglect. Blinking, he licks his swollen lips and glances behind you to Hoseok in confusion. “Master?”

Your mouth goes dry when you hear the unmistakable sound of a zip being lowered. Hoseok’s hand leaves your hair suddenly, and you feel unmoored between the two men, just you and your hands tucked under your chin. “You tasted her pretty little pussy in Week One, didn’t you, Jungkookie? Would you like her to return the favour?”

Eyes wide, you drop your gaze down to Jungkook’s aching dick, as it twitches and leaks another thin trail of precum, the boy groaning. “Please, Master.” His fingers flex, holding back from touching it. “‘Hurts,” he whines.

You bite your lip, mouth watering. He’s not as big as Namjoon, but you know how fully he filled you just yesterday, and to have him in your mouth… “Please,” you croak out, fingers wiggling in the air as you’re unable to lower yourself to him.

“Good girl,” Hoseok praises, hands strong on your shoulders as he helps you down, elbows propping yourself up awkwardly in the space that Jungkook’s shuffled back from. “Gotta warm Kookie up too, don’t we? Open up, princess.”

Like this, you’re able to keep upright, but barely, craning your neck to look up at Jungkook. His cock is in front of you, and this close you can see just how flushed it is, the tip almost perfect. Hoping your pleading gaze can communicate your desperation, you open your mouth, letting your tongue rest just over your bottom lip.

Jungkook’s brows furrow in wanton need as he glances towards Hoseok. “Can I touch her, Master? Help her?”

“Of course,” Hoseok’s voice allows from behind you, palms running over the flesh of your ass, “but my little prince better not cum.”

Jungkook visibly shivers at the nickname, hips jerking uselessly. “Y-yes, Master,” he allows, before tipping your chin up so gently, gripping himself to guide his length into your waiting mouth.

You moan the moment your lips wrap around his tip, the tang of his precum bursting on your tongue as you flick it over the slit, making Jungkook thrust up again, enough that his cock reaches the back of your mouth. You’re barely able to avoid gagging, but you inhale harshly through your nose, blinking up at him as he brushes your hair back with a shaky apology.

Knowing he can’t orgasm, Jungkook seems happy enough to lazily roll his hips, just enjoying the wet warmth around him as you follow his rhythm, enjoying the slight ache of your jaw around his girth. Hoseok gives you only a few moments to reach this equilibrium before you feel his cock lining up against you.

Eyes widening, you’re given no time to prepare as he slides inside you, slowly but without pause, making your back arch with the intrusion.

You moan, muffled, as Hoseok pulls out and begins to pick up a steady pace, once again sliding right past your g-spot, not fast enough to make your toes curl and not deep enough to make your eyes roll. There’s no denying he’s doing it on purpose, and the thought that he might not let you cum at all has you whining desperately around Jungkook’s cock, loud enough that Hoseok hears.

To your disappointment, he tsks and pulls out, tugging at your hair to pull you off Jungkook. “What the fuck?” you complain bitterly, sucking off the drool that’s accumulated in the corners of your mouth. Equally deprived, Jungkook makes a noise of confusion, but before he can speak up, a commanding voice calls out to you.

“That’s it, on your back,” Hoseok orders, making you jump as he smacks the flesh of your ass. “If you’re gonna be ungrateful you won’t get anything at all.”

You pout, craning your neck to look back at him. “Hobi,” you whine, hoping to appeal to that soft inner that got you what you wanted the last time you were scening with him, but it doesn’t work.

Impatient, his hands find your hips, flipping you around unceremoniously. Your breath is punched out of you as you’re suddenly landing on your back, and you whimper as he hooks a finger in your harness over the top of your breast, using it to tug you higher up the bed so that him and Jungkook are on either side of your waist.

“You’ve been far better behaved,” Hoseok directs at Jungkook casually, reaching into the duffle bag to pull out a square foil packet, “so you’ll get my cock instead.”

Jungkook bites his lip harshly, shuffling on his knees as Hoseok rolls a condom on. “Thank you, Master,” he replies politely, eyes lidded and needy.

“What a good boy,” Hoseok coos, reaching over to brush a fond hand over Jungkook’s cheek. “Do you wanna fuck Y/n too, my little prince?” You let out a low groan at the prospect, at the way Hoseok speaks for you like you’re a toy of his. The thought is more erotic than you’d expect, and your legs part unconsciously.

Jungkook whimpers at the sight, dark hair curling at his temples with perspiration. “Please, Master.”

“Go on, then, baby.” Hoseok gestures for him to straddle you, and you whimper as Jungkook’s form blocks the light from the ceiling, framing him in a silhouette of dark hair.

Your legs part further as he settles between them, cock brushing between your folds lightly until he puts a hand down to line himself up. With one arm bracing himself, Jungkook slowly drives his cock deep inside you, small rocking motions to get you accustomed to him as he bottoms out. The two of you groan in unison, the feeling of being full again like bliss.

Before Jungkook can set a pace, you hear Hoseok’s voice again behind him. “There’s only one thing,” the dom adds in an apologetic tone, “Y/n hasn’t earned an orgasm yet, not like my sweet prince has. If you want to fuck her, Jungkookie, she better not cum.”

You let out a frustrated moan, heel kicking into the mattress. “Fuck,” you whine, hips already rocking against Jungkook’s length inside of you, “are you serious?”

Calmly, Hoseok clicks open a bottle of what must be lube, and you feel Jungkook go lax above you, holding his weight off of your torso but dropping his head onto the bed beside yours, groaning lowly. “Of course I’m serious,” he explains simply as he preps Jungkook with his fingers, “I’m doing you a favour, Y/n. This way you won’t make the same mistake twice.”

You sob, feeling Jungkook twitch inside you from the pleasure he’s receiving from Hoseok. As the dom finally deems Jungkook ready and lines himself up, you realise why Hoseok was so popular at his job. Handling two subs, let alone one who was getting punished and one who was now getting rewarded, was a tough balance, and yet he does it with such cool and professional ease.

Jungkook curses, rocking his hips with stuttered gasps, and you feel the impact of Hoseok’s hips through Jungkook’s body as he thrusts the first time, the camboy hurriedly throwing his other arm up on the other side of your head to prop himself up with more stability. You can feel the rhythm as he gets fucked, and the way his chest heaves, breaths panting over your bare shoulder.

With your hands tied to your chest and lain on your back, you quickly realise there is nothing you can do to chase any pleasure for yourself, and you let out another low sob. You won’t be making the same mistake twice indeed, you muse as Jungkook barely shifts inside you. He feels so good, but it’s just not enough for you to get anywhere close to your own high. The lesson has most certainly been learned; if you want pleasure, you play by Hoseok’s rules.

“Please, Master,” you pipe up desperately, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder to the dom’s face, calm even as his hips rock with the graceful fluidity of a dancer, every stroke making Jungkook cry out. “I’ll do anything, Master, I’m sorry for being bad, just please let me come!”

A grin spreads across his face, satisfied, even as he grunts from exertion, Jungkook trembling above you as he’s brought mercilessly to the edge. “It’s too late for that,” Hoseok pants out with a chuckle, “it’s already time for my little prince to cum.”

Jungkook moans, a high-pitched keen at the pet-name, and the sound is so sinful you can’t help but clench, making him stiffen impossibly inside you.

It only takes a thrust or two more, and a gruff command to cum before Jungkook does just that, spilling inside you with a drawn-out whine, thanking his Master with every breath he can suck into his lungs.

He manages to keep his weight off of you as he rides his high, Hoseok fucking him into oversensitivity before he pulls out, leaving briefly to discard the condom. Jungkook pulls out of you with a wince, but a satisfied one, and rolls over onto his back, running his fingers under the lines of rope lazily as he catches his breath.

Once Hoseok returns, he begins untying you first, and as your wrists are loosened from your chest and promptly released, the cool air on your skin feels like defeat. Your eyes slip shut, a pout no doubt on your lips as you give him nothing but dead weight, forcing the professional to manhandle your torso as he undoes the rope bit by bit.

You open your eyes once he’s done, frowning at him as he releases the rope from Jungkook’s body. Without looking, Hoseok chastises you. “Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds, “I’m sure next time you’ll be behaved like our Jungkookie here.” The boy in question preens softly at the compliment, blinking up at Hoseok as the dom brushes his hair out of his eyes.

The sight warms your heart, and you can’t deny that Hoseok has the right to discipline you, no doubt feeling self-conscious about his place on the show. And the feeling of him playing you so skilfully is something that will stick with you for a good while. You press your thighs together, sighing out at the slick still between them.

After finishing with Jungkook, speaking quietly with him in praise or reassurance, he comes back around to you, rubbing at the few red marks on your chest and wrists that have appeared from your movements. His eyes search your face, and you’re surprised to see the absolute calm in them, clearly switched out of the Master persona and just into a dominant but caring one. “Not hurt?”

You shake your head after taking the time to really think it through, wiggling your fingers and toes.

“Not angry?”

Again, you take a moment to consider, but shake your head.

Hoseok smiles down at you, warm as he squeezes your hands fondly. “Good. Now I know you can’t sleep in your own bed, so Jungkookie has kindly offered for you to stay here with him. Take care of each other, okay? I’m just down the hall.”

By the time Hoseok zips up his pants - you note that even after all that, you hadn’t seen him properly naked - and gathers his bag, Jungkook’s managed to slip his legs under the blankets, snoring away peacefully with the aftermath of a good orgasm.

After the dom leaves, you get under the covers yourself, watching the relaxing cycle of Jungkook’s chest rising and falling, the way his eyes flutter lightly in his sleep, but it doesn’t lull you to unconsciousness.

Instead, the unsatisfied throb between your legs just grows more ferocious than ever. If you could just get yourself off…

Your hand trails down, slipping between your legs naturally, but the first swipe of your index finger against your clit gives you pause. Hoseok had pretty clearly stated that you weren’t to masturbate without permission unless you were in a scene with another contestant and, well…

You grimace as Jungkook snuffles in his sleep, wriggling around to get more comfortable. You can’t exactly wake him up.

Which leaves you with only one option.

Fuck it. As quietly as you can, you slip out of bed, stumbling over to your pile of clothes. After retrieving your phone - still somehow tucked neatly into your pants pocket - you hop back into bed and seek out the one contact who can alleviate your need. Hoseok himself.

You answer the call with shaking fingers, those not still buried inside you. When Hoseok’s voice comes through, it’s thankfully quiet and low, but the words still make you keen.

“Princess couldn’t wait until the morning, hm?” Hoseok chuckles quietly at your whine of response. “That’s okay. Let Master help you.”

You sigh out, sitting the phone so that it lies on the pillow beside you. “Please, Master,” you whisper, “can I touch my clit?”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “such a polite girl now. Baby took her lesson well. You can touch it, princess. Get yourself close for me.”

When you change the angle of the fingers thrusting inside you to make room to rub at your clit, you could cry from the satisfaction, biting your lip to muffle the moan that’s pulled from your lungs.

Glancing quickly beside you to ensure Jungkook’s asleep, the sight of him sleeping so peacefully as you get off right beside him has you clenching down, and your back arches off the bed.

Your high is close, and the faster you strum your clit frantically, the more you pant, desperate to keep quiet. Your mouth drops open as you suddenly feel the orgasm approaching, and you turn to the phone on the pillow, getting close enough that he can hear your whisper. “I’m go-gonna cum, Hoseokie, fuck,” you choke out before quickly pressing your lips together, preventing further noise.

His voice is low velvet on the phone, a calm command. “Cum for Master now, princess.”

You feel your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, crashing so violently that you curl over your hands, shivering and convulsing as pleasure rocks every inch of your body. As it floods you entirely, you feel hot tears stream down your face, ones you didn’t even know you were shedding. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves and you don’t stop your fingers until there’s no more pleasure left to be milked from you.

When you finally cum down from your high, panting, you fumble clumsily for the phone. “Tha-thank you, Master.”

Perhaps it’s the post-orgasm delirium, but you swear you hear the smile in his voice when he murmurs, “you’re most welcome, princess. Now get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

After hanging up, you lock your phone and chuck it down onto the carpet beside the bed carelessly, the wetness between your thighs no longer uncomfortable, now just a satisfying reminder of the pleasure he finally allowed you. Taking one last look at the tranquil face of Jungkook as he slept, you let yourself join him in a blissful unconsciousness.

ELIMINATION GRAPH

No elimination this week ! What a doozy, huh? If you were curious, here are the results of the vote!

It was taken after exactly 48 hours of the poll being open, and required a sign-in with email to prevent spamming so that it was as fair as possible!

In the future, we’ll use this format for both Fan Favourite and Elimination voting. I’ll tell you the top three for audience fan-favourites in the following chapter, and for elimination you’ll find out Y/n’s final decision in the following chapter, plus this graph at the end for the complete results.

Thanks for all your support !

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levis-hazelnut · 3 years

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Summary: when you and your best friend, Hanji, were younger, you had made up stories about your dream guys - what they would look like and how you would meet. What happens when the one you had made up appears to be real?

Warning(s): I don’t think there are any in this chapter. But, please do tell me if there are any.

Taglist (closed!): @castellandiangelo @fandom-addict19 @20coldhearts

Status: completed!

part 4 > part 5 > part 6

series masterlist

It's been exactly five days since that time I yelled at Jean and Levi. What did I do during these days? Well, first of all, both males had sat down with me at lunch the next day, making Hanji, Connie, Sasha and Armin leave the table. Surprisingly, they apologised for things they weren't at fault for, so I shut them up, telling them they did nothing wrong. After that, they told me they won't stick their noses in my business and would let me tell them what was on my mind if I wanted to. We sorted everything out and ended up spending the rest of lunch being stupid, including Levi who tried covering up a couple of chuckles behind coughs. Since our table looked fun, those who left came back, along with Petra, Isabel and Farlan.

After uni ended that day, Jean and I stopped by at the cafe Eren worked at. I spoke to him about how I think he should forget about me because the relationship we had was in the past and he should move on. He did seem upset (obviously) but he understood what I was saying. Of course, however, he continued flirting with me. But that made sense since he can't just get over me like that and it's a habit of his to flirt with the first girl in sight. He claimed he was glad that I wasn't avoiding him or acting awkward around him. Soon, we parted ways and headed home. And the rest of the four days, I got over the fact that Petra and Levi were now in a relationship and I can't do anything about it. So, I was back to my usual, crazy, energetic and friendly self which Hanji, Eren, Jean and Levi were happy about. Though, one of those people had no way of showing me that (Levi). Now, it's Saturday (one week after the raven and strawberry-blonde went on their first date). Once again, me and Levi were sitting at the table with our laptops in front of us. Instead of hot drinks, we had iced drinks with all the windows open, seeing as how the weather was smouldering. This time I didn't have a gloomy expression, more like a smile which would often widen as Levi and I messed around. And there wasn't the depressing sound of Lo-Fi, we took turns in playing summery songs that only made our moods better. "Oi, stop singing. You sound like a cow and sheep fucking." I laughed and chucked a pen at him since it was the only projectile near me and he swiftly dodged it. Unfortunately, for the brunette with glasses, who happened to walk behind Levi at that moment, she got hit by the pen. I quickly apologised before locking eyes with Levi. "As if you sing any better," I retorted, about to take a bite of my sandwich, but it soon disappeared from my grip because of Hanji who took a bite before passing it back to me. "Hey, by the way, Erwin's coming over soon, but then we're going to go out," Hanji announced as she chewed on the food, causing both me and the raven to scrunch our noses up in disgust. "Wait. Erwin?" he repeated and shot me a questioning glance. "Yeah, our professor," I confirmed his vague query. "They're in a relationship." What the hell?" he murmured which I snorted at. "Anyway, that's fine." "You aren't going to be distracted?" "Uh, we're barely even concentrating because of the heat and this assignment isn't exactly fun," I said, standing up and stretching before taking Levi's glass and going into the kitchen to refill our glasses with mojito that I made. "You don't mind, right, Ackerman?" I questioned and placed the glass in front of him. "Yeah, whatever. It's not my apartment," he stated, looking down at his phone. I flicked his forehead, causing him to scowl once he glanced up at me. "What was that for, brat?" "I'd appreciate it if you give me your full attention when I'm talking to you," I smirked. "Sure, your majesty." He rolled his eyes but put his phone away, nevertheless. "What do you want?" "Nothing, really. Just wanted to make you look up." "To see your repulsive face? You're torturing me too much," he teased and I snorted before taking a sip of my drink. "Hm. You're really thirsty, aren't you?" If I hadn't swallowed the minty beverage a second before his remark, it would have spewed onto his face. My face grew red and I chucked a pencil at him. He dodged it once again as a smug smirk rested on his lips. "I hate you, you know," I muttered. I was so grateful that Hanji went back to her room because she would irritate the hell out of me about it, with Levi's presence here or not. "Yeah, right. Just as much as you hate that Eren kid?" "I have no romantic feelings for him. He's my best friend, other than Hanji, and he's a hell of a lot better at keeping me company than you." "Well, I obviously can't give you the attention he does since I'll be cheating." "Ugh, why did I even invite you?" "Because you don't hate me and I'm amazing at keeping you company." "Say whatever you want, Ackerman." "... Oi." "What?" "I'd appreciate it if you had your attention on me while I'm talking." "Yeah, give me one second," I told him as I continued typing away on my phone and I heard a sigh, which made me look up at him. "Is your pitiful ass upset because I'm not noticing you?" I mocked in an innocent voice. "Tch." He crossed his arms over his chest and faced away from me. "Why would I be upset, darlin'?" "Because you love me so much. And I'm your bestest friend in the whole, wide world." "You're such a child," he chuckled lightly. which made me smile. "Thank y--" I was cut off by the sound of the buzzer, so I stood up and approached the front door before getting pushed by Hanji who sprinted down the corridor to answer the door for her boyfriend. I clicked my tongue before going back to the table where Levi and I sat. "Someone's horny," I mumbled. "Hey, I'm not bothered to carry on with this. Let's just chill." "Sure. What do you want to do?" "I don't know. You should never ask me what I want; I'm the most indecisive person." "Fine. Seeing as how the weather is nice, let's go out somewhere." "Stop, stop!" a hushed voice giggled, catching mine and Levi's attention. "(Y/N) and Levi are here." I rolled my eyes and I could see that Levi was holding back a laugh. "Forget about them. So, where should we go?" I inquired, which Levi shrugged to before both of our heads turned towards two figures entering the room. "Hey, Erwin," I greeted with a smile. "Ah, hi, (Y/N). I didn't expect to see you here, Levi." "Likewise, Smith." The blonde male didn't regard the way in which Levi spoke and simply smiled at both of us. I'm going to be completely honest and say that Hanji is lucky to have a man like him. He's handsome, caring, polite and basically the embodiment of charming. And Hanji mentioned how great he is in bed. I never wished to know that, but whatever, it's Hanji so no one can stop her from saying her shit. Nevertheless, I love her. And I would never think about moving onto her boyfriend, well, it's not like I actually developed feelings for him. I kind of see him as an older brother or something of the sort. "Hey, Hanji, what's something fun to do outside today?" I questioned. "Um... Picnic in the park, go to the beach, cycle, visit a zoo--" "Okay, thanks," I cut her off before there would be too many decisions to choose from. "Why are you asking?" she asked before gasping in excitement. "Are you going on a date?!" "I don't see why you would be so surprised if I had a date, but no, I don't," I said, arching a single brow. "Me and Levi gave up on this shitty assignment, and since we shouldn't be inside when it's so sunny outside, we decided to do something," I told her before realising that the work we were doing was for the professor standing beside her. "I mean, we've finished it and we deserve a reward for doing so well," I joked and the male with cerulean eyes chuckled softly. "I appreciate your choice of words for describing the task I gave you. I'll be sure to remember that when I grade it," he teased, with an undertone of warning. "You know, you're the best professor in our uni." He shook his head and smiled. "Go out. I don't want to ruin your fun because of 'this shitty assignment'." "Haha, you know I was only joking about that. Anyway, let's go, Mr Moody," I said and got up from my seat, stretching. "You're going to out in your pyjamas?" "Oh, right. Wait here, I'm going to quickly change." "Okay." I rushed into my bedroom and sifted through my clothes, finding a white, lace singlet, along with baby blue, jean shorts. I slipped both pieces of clothing on before styling my hair into a half-up, half-down ponytail and put on sunglasses to rest on my head for now. I grabbed whatever I needed and stuffed it into a small bag, hooking it onto my shoulder before leaving my room. Hanji and Erwin were on the sofa as I spotted Levi leaning against the table, we previously sat at, with his backpack slung over his shoulder. I gestured for him to come and he came to my side as we both waved at the couple before proceeding to leave. We both slipped on our shoes and left, taking the stairs to go down. As soon as I opened the main door of the building, the heat slapped us and the sun blazed in our faces so I positioned my sunglasses to protect me from the light that threatened to blind me. "So where are we going?" the male beside me asked. "Pick from the things Hanji suggested. Maybe not a picnic since we didn't prepare any food for that unless you want to be lazy and just buy things. Also, not the beach because it'll take a while to get there and then there'll be no point since we'll only be there for a short while." "So picnic, cycling, and the zoo?" he listed and I nodded as he thought about it. "... Picnic in the park - let's be lazy and buy things." "Okay. Shall we head to the shops first?" "Yeah." ~/~ The grass tickled my bare skin as I laid on my back, with my eyes closed, one leg was arched as the other was stretched across the ground. My head leaned on one of my arms as my other arm rested over my stomach. Music rang in my ears, which I softly hummed to, from Levi's phone that rested in between us. Said male laid on his side, propped up by one of his elbows. He had his head in his palm and held a book in his other hand. Before we were relaxing like this, we had eaten the snacks and food we bought, though, some remained since we may have gotten too much stuff. Then, we decided to take over the playground, and apparently, we seemed to have intimidated some kids. Pfft, they're such scaredy cats. Why couldn't an eighteen (me) and nineteen-year-old (Levi since he's a few months older than me *eye roll*) mess around as well? Once we laughed at the children's faces, we came back to this spot and decided to just relax. Barely any words were spoken. A sigh left my lips when I felt my phone vibrate in the back pocket of my shorts. I fished it out before bringing it to my ear. "Hello?" "Hey, (Y/N)!" "Hi, Petra," I smiled and rolled over, onto my stomach. "What's up?" "I was wondering if Levi is still with you." "Yeah. We're in the park. Is something wrong?" "No, no. I was just trying to call Levi, but he wasn't answering his phone." "Oh, here you can talk to him.” "Thank you," she said before I passed my phone to Levi, so he could talk to Petra. He put his book down before taking my phone. I took his book and read the blurb before turning to the first page, trying not to listen in into their conversation. I'd say I've improved - there's barely any jealousy in me (okay, maybe a little), I don't turn bitchy when I see them two, and I don't have to fake smile anymore. The tone in which he spoke in was hardly any different to how he talks to anyone else, but I could hear a hint of something gentle. A soft smile touched my lips when I listened to his voice (not his words, mind you) and I wished I could listen to it on repeat. It was his usual nonchalant voice, mixed with a soft timbre, which was a sign he cared about Petra. He spoke in a hushed tone that almost sounded like a purr. I wasn't even concentrating on the book in front of me anymore. I kept on reading the same sentence over and over but I still wasn't able to understand the printed words since I was stuck in a daze because of Levi's voice. "What are you smiling about?" "Your voice is nice," I blurted out without thinking what I was saying. Once I realised what I said, my eyes slightly widened as I averted them from the book to him to see he was smirking. "I mean--" "Whatever, you weirdo," he cut me off, the smirk still present. He gave my phone back and stole the book from my hands and flipped the pages over until he reached the one he stopped on before his phone call. "And what are you smirking about?" "It's amusing to see you get nervous," he replied with a shrug, his eyes absorbing the information on the page. With a roll of my eyes, I returned to my original position but rested my head on Levi's lap this time since he was sitting with his legs outstretched. He flicked my forehead, which I ignored, as I took my phone in my hands when I got a few messages from Eren after taking a sip of the iced tea I bought. 'Hey (Y/N)' 'I got off work early today' 'Wanna go out somewhere since the sun's out?' I wasn't bothered to type so I decided to call him. He picked up after about five seconds and spoke a small 'hello'. "Hi, Eren." "Hey." "Basically, the thing is... I'm in the park with Levi right now." "Oh." "But," I began before glancing up at the raven whose eyes were still on the book. "Hey, Ackerman?" "What?" "Would you mind if Eren came?" "He's your boyfriend, do whatever." I rolled my eyes. "Sorry about that. But, you could come and join us, or we can go out somewhere later?" "I don't mind. What did Levi say?" "He doesn't care. We aren't really doing anything, though." "What park are you at?" "The one near my apartment." "... Do you mind if I come since I'm around there?" "Of course, I don't, you doofus. And, we can still do something later." "Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes. See you later, angel." "Bye, love," I went along with the joke. "And you say he isn't your boyfriend," Levi muttered. "He isn't. I already told you we're just stupid kind of friends that act like a couple by calling each other names. Don't think anything more of it." "Well, why are you so defensive? Also, you've never mentioned that you have an interest in someone." Yeah, well, that's because the person I have interest in is you and you're taken, I thought. "Just because I haven't mentioned it, doesn't mean I don't." "Well, do share, darlin'." "I thought you weren't going to get involved in my business." "But you don't seem upset about it." "Look, you asshole, I have no obligation to tell you, so--" "Hi," a voice cut me off and I flitted my eyes over to the figure that was protecting me from the sun. "Eren!" I beamed and tugged on his wrist which caused him to fall. I hugged him as he struggled to get off of me. "Where are you going? I haven't seen you for the entire week." "I'm probably crushing you right now. Let go of me, (Y/N)." "Hmph. Fine." I released him from my grip and he rolled off of me, sitting up next to me as I still laid on my back. "This is a park, you two might want to keep it PG," the male that I rested my head on commented. "Shut up and read your book." I scowled at him before facing Eren. "There are snacks and drinks, help yourself." "Okay, thanks," he grinned and laid down next to me, resting his head on Levi's leg as well. "Oi, I'm not a fucking pillow." "You are now," I told him bluntly. "So, how was work?" "It was all right. Horseface came in and decided to annoy me. However, he did look kind of upset about something. When I asked him what's up, he just scoffed and told me that it's none of my business. Typical of him, but I think if you ask him, he'll tell you." "I'll ask him later. Right now, I just want to relax without having to deal with anything," I sighed and turned to look at the sky. Eren glanced at Levi to see that he was still engrossed in whatever book he was reading and he slightly nudged me. I gave him a questioning glance and he motioned for me to come closer, so I did. "What's wrong?" I questioned the teal-eyed male. "How come you aren't depressed anymore?" "I got myself together. I realised there's no point in getting upset over something I can't change and just pushed everything to the back of my mind. Are you proud of me for doing that?" I asked like a little child, wanting praise. "Yeah," he smiled, tousling my hair. I shifted my head to rest on Eren's shoulder and closed my eyes, breathing in his entrancing scent and feeling content next to him. "Ackerman?" "Hm?" "Are you okay?" "Yeah, why?" "You're unusually quiet." "Maybe because I'm reading. Are you okay? You're being unusually kind." "Excuse me? I'm always nice." "As if," he scoffed. If my eyes were open, I would have rolled them. "If you're so nice, why don't you have a boyfriend?" "Seriously? You're still asking about that?" I didn't even bother to look at him since I was comfortable with my position. "Forget about it. Forget I said anything about liking someone since I have no intention in telling you, or anyone, right now." "... Is it Eren?" "No," I huffed. No matter how much Eren and I acted like a couple, we would never develop feelings for each other. I always have and always will see him as a brother, but not one that annoys the hell out of me. The one that cares for me and gets angry if someone would hurt me. The love we feel for each other is not romantic. ~/~ "Ah, it feels so nice to have a shower after sweating all day," I sighed in delight and plopped down onto the sofa in between Eren and Levi, who were talking about something before they both fell silent. I only cocked an eyebrow but didn't say anything, brushing it off. "Eren?" "Sure," he already replied without hearing my request. I grinned and passed him my hairbrush as he proceeded to brush my hair when I slightly turned my back towards him, now facing Levi who had his gaze on the floor. "Do you two want something to eat? We haven't had dinner and it's already nine o'clock," I suggested. "Yeah. But, do you have things to cook?" Eren pointed out. "Yep. What do you guys want?" I asked them, and Levi only shrugged, leaning back against the sofa. "What do you have?" "I'm not sure. I'll have to check, but I know we have ingredients to make a simple meal." "I kind of just feel like pasta," Eren spoke. "But like really saucy and cheesy." "What, like me?" I chuckled at my own stupid joke and I could imagine he rolled his eyes. I witnessed Levi's lips curl upwards slightly as he shook his head at my stupidity. "Anyway, I'm sure we've got pasta, and stuff to make the sauce, and cheese. Thanks, by the way," I smiled at Eren when he passed me back the hairbrush. I got up and quickly placed it back in my room before going back to the living room. "Both of you can have a shower while I cook something if you want," I told them as Eren nodded, leaving the room. "Darlin', there's one bathroom, so you better not be suggesting anything." I rolled my eyes. "There's actually two. Hanji has an ensuite and she won't mind if you use it. I'm sure you don't want to sit around after sweating, especially with you being a clean-freak, so go ahead. You can borrow Eren's clothes since I'm pretty sure he's left some here." "And you still claim you aren't in a relationship with the boy?" "Yes. Also, if we were dating, why would we hide it? And don't you think that I would've just given up and told you by now?" "Maybe you hide it because you're ashamed of something. And you're a stubborn brat, I doubt you would break." "Just shut up and go have a shower," I snapped with a playful tone, showing him I wasn't actually annoyed. "I'll get you some clothes and leave them on Hanji's bed; there should already be a towel in there." "Okay, thanks." I went to look for some of Eren's clothes. After a bit of hunting, I found a t-shirt and joggers, neatly folded, and I left it on Hanji's bed. When I went to the kitchen, I noticed Eren already fishing through the cupboards and had previously already found the pasta. "Hey," I spoke, catching his attention. He turned around and gave me a grin before looking for ingredients again. "You can sit down, I don't need help." "Are you sure your clumsy ass doesn't need help? I do remember when you nearly sliced your finger off like an idiot. And when you tripped over your own feet and dropped a plate. And--" "Okay, okay. Fine, you can help," I pouted. "I'm not that clumsy, though," I muttered to which Eren only chuckled softly. "Whatever you say, princess. Boil water in this pot," he told me and I nodded, doing as he said. I then helped him look for everything else as we set everything out on the counters and began preparing our dinner. It was silent until the teenage male spoke up. "... (Y/N)?" "Hm?" "What are you going to do about Levi and Petra?" he asked quietly, causing me to look up at him as he came by my side. "I don't know... There isn't anything I can do. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens. I mean, me and Hanji did say that there would be so many girls chasing after him, yet he still chooses me," I described another detail in the stupid story thing we created. "Hey, don't look so down. It's been five months, not a few years, so you still have time to see what the future holds," Eren grinned, noticing the gloomy expression that cast over my visage. I gave him a small smile and looped my arms around him, feeling him embrace me tighter as my cheek pressed against his chest. I wish I could live in Eren's hug, there's nothing I love more than his hugs since he always comforts me and cares for me, and he smells so damn good, especially after coming out of the shower. "Oi, lovebirds." I huffed inaudibly before parting from the hug. "... What?" I spat, not meaning for it to sound so harsh, as I turned around to look at the raven. "Hm, so you are dating?" he smirked and went to sit down at the dining table, crossing his leg over the other. "What do you mean?" I inquired, folding my arms over my chest as Eren continued cooking. "If you weren't dating, you would have responded to 'lovebirds' or at least retorted with something. However, you didn't." "Or maybe I just got tired of correcting you." I arched an eyebrow, approaching him to flick his forehead. But, he grabbed my wrist, preventing me from doing that. I wiggled out of his grip and just frowned at him. "What will it take to prove that we aren't in a relationship?" "I just want to point something else out: Eren doesn't deny it whenever I say you two are dating." "Because he thinks you're an idiot. Now, tell me what it'll take." "Not a legitimate answer, but whatever. Anyway, you know I'm just messing with you when I say all this. I know you two aren't boyfriend and girlfriend." "Tch. Why do you have to be so annoying?" I muttered, plopping down in a chair next to him and he ruffled my hair. "I only annoy you, darlin'. You should be happy that you're special." "Whatever. I'm going to go help Eren with dinner." "Do you need help?" "Two people are enough. Thank you, though." "You just want to be alone with your boyfriend, don't you?" Levi stated when I turned my back to him, but he never knew I was holding a knife in my hands. So, to let him know, I faced him. "You better shut your mouth before this accidentally pierces you, Ackerman," I growled and he only laughed under his breath. God, what being on Earth is able to make that sound? Why is he so gorgeous in so many ways? Why can he make me feel like this, yet, I have no effect on him? Why can't I just jump onto him, and hug him, and kiss him, and love him, and marry him?

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #snk #snk fanfiction #snk imagines #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #reader insert #x reader #anime #dream guy #series #modern au #this part was kinda boring #queue ⏰

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jay-the-day-away · 3 years

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My World Is Ending

🚨Trigger warning🚨: Abuse/physical child abuse (mentioned, not described in detail), child neglect, suicide and suicidal ideation.

Please don't read if this will upset or trigger you.

So this is gonna sound fucking stupid because I'm relating it to the absolute shit-show that was Supernatural, but I think I understand Dean Winchester's dependency on his little brother a little better now.

Basically, my parents were shitty so I took up a lot of the responsibilities of raising my sister. I'm only about 2 years older but I matured really fast (as trauma from abuse will sometimes cause), and I used every method at my disposal to make sure she didn't have to.

I bathed her. I gave her whatever food I could manage to cook. I tucked her into bed. I helped her do her homework. I taught her all the games I knew how to play and all the songs I could remember how to sing. When we eventually got seperate rooms she would sleepwalk to mine and crawl in bed next to me (I was never sure if she was actually sleepwalking or if she was just scared).

I dropped out of high school (I later got my GED) and started working at 14. Financially, my parents could have provided for us, but often neglected to. This was also during the time in which the physical abuse I was suffering escalated. My parents divorced and didn't tell us until one day my father abruptly packed his things and left. My older brother had already been drinking and smoking by that point, and was an asshole to me so we left each other alone. My mother was frequently gone and when she was there she was awful. I was used to it all. My father was in the army so he'd been gone before, my brother had never wanted anything to do with me and spent all his time alone, and my mother had been spending nights out somewhere forever. (When I was younger I used to try calling her to ask where she was, she never answered but she always came home eventually). My sister was being emotionally affected by everything, she started lashing out at me any time I tried to tell her she had to do something. "You're not my mom!" became her favorite phrase. Those words still hurt.

My sister started high school. She mellowed out a bit. I gave her lunch money and picked her up from school after work. She played Hamilton in the car and we each sang different parts. Most days we got take-out and I'd find ways to ask about her day. "How was school?" wouldn't get a real answer, but "Have you memorized your parts in choir?" would often get a whole performance, and "What are you working on in theater?" an explanation. It wasn't really a surprise, she'd been singing almost non-stop ever since she learned how.

She started taking driver's education. I was beyond terrified. I helped her memorize the road signs and she got her permit. My mother kept telling her she was bad at driving, I kept saying everyone is bad at driving at first. One day I layed back and closed my eyes in the backseat, I was only resting for a minute but after she glanced back I heard her whisper to my mother that she was glad I trusted her enough to sleep. I kept my eyes closed the whole way home. She got her license and I gave her my car (that had been passed down to me) and bought another used one.

She was in a bunch of plays throughout high school. I went to every performance I could, I must have seen each play 6 or 7 times each. Every show I looked for little details to compliment or discuss with her. I loved quoting them to her and watching her face light up when she realised I still remembered months later.

She started applying for colleges. Her last day of high school is this week. Her graduation is Saturday morning. When she leaves at the end of July, she'll be going many states and miles away. I'm so proud of her. I'm so sad. I feel like my world is ending.

Last night we watched a horror movie. She was so scared she asked me to sleep in her bed with her. The sun is almost completely risen, and I haven't slept. I keep looking over at her, like I'm scared she won't be there. The tears keep coming, but I just wipe them away and try to breathe through it. I'll probably never get to lay next to her all night again, and definitely not in this house. My baby is grown up.

I've had depression as long as I can remember. I used to think I knew pain, the gaping darkness of the inevitable future has proved me wrong. What will I have without her? Who will I even be? For so long I haven't looked more than a few days ahead. The chasm of a life without her was never something I considered, never something I realised would eventually happen. My world is ending. I spent so long with the knowledge that she relied on me being there, yet somehow I never realised I relied on her being there too. I kept going because of her, now I don't know how I will without her.

So yeah, I think I get some things about Dean now. I get the overprotectiveness. The constant fear of not being good enough. I get why he looks at Sam like he's going to disappear or leave. I understand selling his soul to a demon to bring Sam back to life. Being willing to let the world burn if it means this one person is okay. I see why later, when Dean thought Sam was dead, he downed a shit ton of pills.

Anyone who's spoken to me lately knows I'm not in a good place, but it's hard to find things that seem worth living for when your world is already ending.

(I have to survive this, she might need me later.

How will I survive this?)

#abusive mother #abusive parents #depression #tw suicude #john winchester's a+ parenting #spn #supernatural #codependancy #rant #rant time #sorry guys

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

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feel something pt 5 - jj maybank

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents, abuse

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight)

Words: 3.9k

A/N: I have finally delivered more than three lines of JJ content, yall are welcome. Also a little baby bit of angst, but that’s the name of my fic game. I just love Chick sm, protect my small bean 2k20.

series masterlist

(gif NOT mine - if its urs pls let me know so i can credit!!! found on the google)

You don’t know how Chick knows, but she does.

That night, she crawls into bed with you, desperately seeking your comfort as her worldview crumbles around her. You can relate, you were about her age the first time you realized that most kid’s parents don’t scream at them like they’re the scum of the earth. The major difference being you were the oldest and you didn’t have anyone to comfort you. With that thought in mind, you make a promise to yourself that you will never let Chick feel a quarter of the shit you went through.

You let her curl into you, arms clutching you tightly, head tucked into your shoulder. One hand of yours smooths her hair, the other holding her just as closely. “Sister day tomorrow?” you ask her quietly. Her only response is a slight nodding of her head against your neck, so you ask, “what do you want to do? The whole day is your choice.”

“Surfing and gumbo.” She mumbles and you can’t help but smile. If your baby sister is one thing, it’s predictable.

“Sure thing bub. Bright and early tomorrow,” you warn her, left hand fumbling to grab your phone from under your pillow before setting an alarm for six am.

She’s out like a light, no response to you. You close your eyes tightly, heart breaking for your little sister. You have trouble sleeping that night, every shifting movement and slight sigh that escaped Chick had you on high alert. Add on to that the guilt of the prior night, the warmth you felt when you thought of having Sarah back and the confusion of what was going on between you and JJ… you didn’t sleep for longer than half an hour at a time.

Six am came early that next morning, predictably right when you thought you might finally be falling asleep. Despite your exhaustion, you were looking forward to spending some quality time with your baby sister. You changed quickly in the dark, letting Chick sleep in an extra ten minutes as you flicked through your bathing suits looking for a bikini top that was a little more secure to withstand some choice waves if you caught any.

“Rise and shine, Chick!” You cheerfully shouted, flicking on the light. She groaned and raised the comforter over head, but you laughed and tore it right off the bed. “C’mon you’re the one who wanted to go surfing and you know the morning is the best.”

She grumbled a bit, but quickly darted to her bedroom to change. You met her in the hallway, smiling to yourself when you spotted her wearing the pink and blue rashguard you had gotten her for her birthday. “Alright, let’s go!” you cheered and raced her down the steps, quickly grabbing your keys from the little bowl that sat on the console table in the entranceway.

“And where are the two of you going?” Your mother sat on the front porch swing, sipping on a large cup of what you assumed to be coffee, raising a single eyebrow at your bikini and jean short combo.

“Sister day,” Chick replied before you could, “Surfing and gumbo.”

Your mothers harsh gaze softened upon gazing at her youngest daughter, smiling before waving the both of you off, telling you to have fun. You grinned at Chick and hopped into your jeep, handing her your phone to queue up a spotify playlist. The two of you goofed off and giggled the whole way to the beach, almost as if the events of the past week hadn’t happened at all.

Upon arriving at the beach, you hopped out of the driver seat and quickly took down your boards from the roof rack, handing Chick hers before setting off onto the beach. You had chosen to drive into pogue territory both for the convenience of hitting up the Wreck after and to avoid a certain kook who had made a certain confession. Plus, it was nice to be judged based on your surfing ability (or lack thereof) rather than how expensive your surfboard was.

Entering the water always felt like coming home. From the first toe dip until you were waist-deep in the ocean, it was like your entire body came alive. There was no feeling like it, when you were a kid your dad had joked that you were a mermaid. You used to spend all day in the water, coming out all pruny and honestly slightly dehydrated, but so, so happy. You and Chick paddled side by side into deeper water, and you sat up on your board to let Chick take the first crack at it. You can’t help but giggle when she wipes out approximately five seconds after popping up. She sputters and throws you an offended glance as she resurfaces.

“Let’s see you do better then,” she yelled at you with as much sass as she could muster so early in the morning.

You grinned at her, eyes watching the rolling water waiting for an appropriate wave. Finally spotting one, you started paddling to try and catch the wave before it breaks. Hopping up on your board by pushing your body up and tucking your feet under you, you stood on your board knees bent and arms relaxed, with your torso leaned forward to help balance. You couldn’t help showing off for Chick; angling your board across the wave, you leant into the turn before shifting your body weight to your front foot, letting your board slide down the face of the wave in a tail slide. You heard Chick whoop, cheering you on, causing your grin to widen.

Returning to her, you both floated on your board side by side for a few minutes, watching the waves crest and break. “Alright little Chick, your turn again, unless you want to ride the white water, I won’t judge.” She gave you a look and you just grinned at her again.

She started paddling towards a smaller wave than the one you rode, and you couldn’t help but cheer when she managed to stand on her board and ride the wave straight in. You hooted and hollered with no care in the world, celebrating your baby sister not eating shit. She was laughing on the shore line as you paddled back towards the shore to meet her.

“Not bad tail spin, y/l/n” you looked up to see JJ Maybank staring at you.

“Oh! Uhm, thank you,” you mumbled, suddenly self-conscious as his gaze traced your body.

“That was a pretty bad wipeout earlier, pretty brave of you to ride that wave after that Little y/l/n” he complimented Chick. At least, you think it was a compliment, it was a little back-handed after all.

Chick being Chick just grinned and said thanks.

“Are you goofy foot naturally, or do you just do it because y/n does?” he asked her seriously.

She looked at him in confusion, “Goofy foot?”

“He means which foot you put forward. I lead with my left,” you explained. A look that was suspiciously close to shock briefly flashed on his face, before he recovered and grinned.

“I don’t know, I guess I just copied y/n,” she admitted, face reddening a little.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Little y/l/n, but why don’t you try putting your right foot forward instead and see if that’s more of a natural stance for you.” He advised her. She looked to you, and you just smiled and shrugged at her.

“Alright, watch this you guys!” She shouted and headed back into the water.

You sat down on your towel, watching Chick take JJ’s corrections seriously as she chased a few waves. “Thank you,” you said a little reluctantly to the blond sitting next to you, his eyes trained on your sister.

He broke his gaze to turn his head to you, “’Course, gotta unteach her your bad habits.” You gasped and shoved him playfully. “Just kidding, your technique is basically perfect.”

It was your turn to turn a little red. You weren’t used to compliments without any ulterior motives. “Thanks, but it’s not that good.”

“What are you talking about? You’re amazing out there.” He complimented you again, causing your cheeks to get redder.

“Oh, look at Chick she’s going for that wave,” You pointed out at your sister, hoping to deflect some attention to her.

“She’s a quick learner,” he commented. You smiled, more than a little proud of your sister.

“She gets that from me,” you bragged, and he laughed, throwing his head back. Your mind briefly wondered what it would be like to run your fingers through his wavy hair before you snapped out of it. “You know, I think this is the longest you’ve gone without calling me princess.”

“I could call you princess if you want, princess,” he smirked at you, but you shook your head quickly.

“Y/n is just fine,” you told him as Chick came running at the two of you.

“Did you see that?” She yelled, “that was awesome!” She stuck her board in the sand before launching herself at you. You laughed, catching her on your lap, listening patiently as she babbled on about how amazing that felt. JJ found himself watching you, thinking this was the most expression he had seen you show, with the exception of your high freak out which he tried not to think about in all honesty. Chick seemed to remember JJ was there, turning to him and thanking him profusely before inviting him to the Wreck with the two of you, “We’re going to get gumbo next, you should come with!”

You sputtered, sure that JJ had better things to do than hang out with you and your little sister, “Oh, I’m sure JJ has other pl-“ you started to tell her but he quickly cut you off.

“Nah, I’ve got no where to be, count me in.” He told Chick, smirking at you causing you to roll your eyes slightly.

“Alright alright,” you sighed before pushing Chick off of you, “dry off a bit first I don’t want you dripping all over my seats.”

JJ had no problem sliding into your backseat, sitting in the middle and leaning forward so that his upper body rested against the center console. You found his closeness a little distracting but you would never admit that, so instead you snapped at him and told him to “put on his seatbelt or you would slam on the breaks so hard he would go through the windshield”. He had grinned like he knew the real reason you wanted him to sit back, which only served to irritate you.

You couldn’t help but think what your parents would say if they knew a pogue was sitting in the back seat of the car they bought you. The more you thought about it, you realized you didn’t really care what they thought. JJ had been kind to Chick and you were just returning the favor. That’s it.

“So what is Chick short for?” JJ asks through a mouthful of french fries, several minutes later sitting across from you and your sister at the Wreck.

“Chicken nugget,” you answer gleefully, stealing a fry. You laugh at JJ’s wide eyes, practically seeing the thought bubble over his head as he considers the stupidity of kook names.

Chick laughs, throwing a fry at you, before responding to JJ, “No it’s not. It’s not short for anything, and it’s not actually my name”

“I came up with it,” you tell him proudly, “Our parents wanted me to be a part of the name decision and let’s just say I was a really creative four year old.”

JJ laughs loudly at that, tipping his chair back on the back two legs. You’re about to tell him off, when Kiara appears out of nowhere to shove his chair back into a regular position. She looks a little confused at seeing JJ hanging out with you and your sister, but she doesn’t look shocked. “I told you not to do that, JJ. It scuffs the floors,” she huffs impatiently at him, before turning to the other side of the table where you sat by chick.

Before she could say anything, you realized this was probably your best opportunity to try and mend the fence you had smashed through with Sarah. “Hey Kie, do you think we could talk?” You asked her timidly. For a second you were afraid she was going to tell you to fuck off, but her eyes flickered towards Chick and she must have thought swearing in front of a thirteen year old wasn’t a good look.

“What about Chick?” Was all she asked, causing you to pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at JJ. The corner of his mouth upturned a little as he shrugged and said he could handle your sister for a few minutes. She threw a French fry at him for that and shooed you and Kie off.

Kie didn’t bother taking off her apron, leading you out to the back alley before turning to you sharply, “You wanted to talk? So talk.”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For how I’ve acted this week and… how I acted before. I’m so sorry that I just followed Sarah instead of trying to stick up for you. It’s just she’s been my best friend since birth and I was scared to lose her, which is really stupid because I ended up losing her anyway-“

“It was really shitty of you,” Kie admitted, looking you in the eye, “I thought we were friends and you dropped me like I was last year’s Gucci or something.”

“I know, and you don’t know how badly I’ve regretted not sticking up for you. You were just like such a good person and such a good friend and I really did you wrong,” you think she’s starting to break a little, her eyes have softened and she’s almost got a smile on her face. “Seriously, Kie, I’m so so sorry –“

Kie cut off your rambling by throwing her arms around you, surprising you completely. “I really missed you.” She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, “but if you ever do me like that again I won’t be so forgiving next time.” You laugh and hug her back tightly, promising her you won’t hurt her again.

“About that stuff you said about your parents…” she awkwardly trails off, but you just shrug a shoulder at her as if to say ‘what are you gonna do’. “Just, I’m sorry and I hope you know you can always come to me if it gets bad like that again.”

“I will,” you promise, before linking arms with her and leading her back to the table where surprisingly JJ hasn’t done anything too stupid in Chick’s presence. The four of you split the French fries on the table, laughing the afternoon away and it all feels… so normal. The empty feeling in your chest is replaced with a feeling of warmth spreading through your bones.

You’re sitting around a fire with the pogues as a boneyard party rages on around you. Despite their initial misgivings about the Kook Princess, and your initial underlying resentment towards them for being good enough for Sarah when you weren’t, they’re nice to you. Welcoming, even. You wouldn’t call it friendship, despite hashing it out with Sarah and Kie, you’re not naïve enough to think a few conversations make you one of them. But the lack of the term princess being spoken aloud is a start.

As you tip your head back and empty the last few drops of your red solo cup, you see Sarah’s eyes flicker to you. She thinks she’s being subtle, but you’ve never known any Cameron, even one with pogue instincts, to be subtle. Sarah is more bull in the china shop than discrete. You know she hasn’t really been drinking tonight, nursing the same cup for over half an hour at this point. You feel a little bad that she’s not enjoying all that a boneyard party has to offer, but there’s another feeling in your chest that you can only describe as “the warm and fuzzies”. Knowing that Sarah is going to do anything she can to show you that she still cares about you is touching.

“I’m gonna go grab a refill, does anyone want?” You offer the group.

“Do you want anyone to go with you?” Sarah asks, she figures she can’t offer to go with you or you might notice her still full cup. You watch her not so subtly look in JJ’s direction, but he’s got his eyes cast out towards the sea, watching the waves crash onto the shore.

“I’ll be fine, Sarah. The keg is just right there,” you point with your now empty cup. “I’ll be right back.”

Carefully navigating the Boneyard is a little difficult in your current state of inebriation, but you reach the keg just fine without any major issues. The major issue shows up just when you’ve finished filling your cup from the keg and stop to take a long sip.

“Really, y/n? A pogue? A fucking pogue?” Rafe Cameron spits at you and glares, “You chose a dirty pogue over me?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t choose anyone?”

“Oh really? Because I saw you y/n. I saw you with him.” He accuses.

“What are you talking about?” You repeat, your annoyance growing with every word that leaves his mouth.

“JJ fucking Maybank. I saw you having lunch with him and Chick.” He all but growls. Oh. That’s what he’s fucking mad about?

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You laugh humourlessly, “I bought him fucking French fries because Chick invited him to lunch after he taught her a few tricks on his surf board. Not that it matters, what I do or don’t do and who I do it with doesn’t fucking concern you!”

He pauses thoughtfully, obviously enjoying the thought that it wasn’t a date, but he can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at JJ. The way he thought you would look at him. “I thought we had something.” He admits quietly.

“Had something?” You ask incredulously, “What the fuck Rafe, all we had was you giving me fucking cocaine and fucking me a couple of times.” You think you see a flash of guilt, but regular Rafe is back in a second.

“Right, when you let me fuck you the day after you let Topper have you, like the little slut you are.” He answers darkly. Your mouth opens in indignation. Rafe is the fucking worst. His moods are giving you whiplash, yesterday he’s telling you that he cares about you and today he’s calling you a slut? So, yeah fucking your way around Figure Eight – not your proudest moment, but you were fucking spiraling. And you know Rafe isn’t innocent, more hookups than he can probably remember. Fucking hypocrite.

You’re on him in a second, perfectly manicured nail pressed right against his chest as you yell back, “Fuck off Rafe, you have no right to say anything to me, you don’t own me!” You almost can’t control your anger, you’re practically vibrating with it.

“He can’t give you shit, you know that right?” He raises a lone eyebrow at you, taunting you with his smirk.

“I don’t want anything from you or anyone else, got it? Leave me the fuck alone.” You spin on your heel, but he grabs your wrist as you turn to go, and you audibly gasp and wince. He lets go of you immediately, before gently cradling your wrist in his large hand. His face turns red as he takes in the hand sized bruise forming around it, and you can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves. Rafe’s moods are giving you whiplash – angry to gentle and almost caring and back to angry again.

“Did he do this?” He asks you slowly, dangerously. You resist the urge to snap your wrist back, knowing it will only bring you more pain. You look up at him, confused, so he clarifies, “Did that fucking pogue put his hands on you?” You’re stunned, JJ would never put his hands on you, in anger or otherwise. He’s just being nice to you because he can relate to your struggles with your shitty parents.

“What? No Rafe, calm down JJ didn’t touch me.” You reply, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you.

“I’ll fucking kill him, I swear to God. He put his fucking hands on you?” He lets go of your wrist in order to pull the snapback off his head and run his other hand through his hair.

“JJ. Didn’t. Touch me.” You repeat, slowly and clearly as if you can push the words into his thick, dumb skull. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but you keep going. “The only one who has ever put his hands on me in anger is you Rafe.” You wave your hand over your shoulders that he gripped so tightly they had bruised days ago. His face falls, and he reaches a hand out to you, but you shake your head. “Leave me and my friends alone.”

Maybe friends wasn’t the right word to use, but it rolled off the tongue a lot easier than ‘Sarah, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s friends including your old best friend and the guy he’s jealous of for no reason’. No reason because there’s absolutely nothing going on between you and JJ (although maybe you want it to) and even if there was, it doesn’t have anything to do with Rafe.

You’re holding your wrist to your chest subconsciously as you return to the pogues. Pope notices first, his high level of intelligence also lends itself toward being very observant. He elbows JJ hard, the blond turning his head to give his friend a look that practically screams ‘knock it off’. Pope does it again, before gesturing to you with his eyes.

“What happened?” Sarah asked before anyone else could.

“Nothing, I just had a little run in with your brother,” you murmur, shaking off the pain in your wrist as if to prove that you’re fine.

“What?” JJ asked, quickly standing up but you pushed him back down into a sitting position, wincing at the dull ache that resulted in your wrist.

“I’m fine,” you rolled your eyes, not really sure where this dynamic had come from, “he’s just… persistent.” JJ grumbles something about kicking Rafe’s ass, but you’re pretty sure that’s the default setting for JJ’s thoughts on Rafe.

“He’s a dick,” Pope stated matter of factly. You tapped your red solo cup to his in a cheers motion.

“You won’t hear me disagreeing.”

The rest of the night, you sit there with the pogues mind mulling over a million thoughts at once. Occasionally they try to bring you into the conversation, but you just briefly answer before settling back into your thoughts. You can’t stop thinking about the words your father called you or the feel of his hand striking your face. You also can’t stop thinking about Rafe and his moods and his possessiveness. After his confession, things make a little more sense but you still feel like you’ve got whiplash. Lastly, you think about JJ and how quickly he hopped up off the log to go defend your honour or protect you or whatever. Looking out at the dark horizon, you’re just really, really confused.

You don’t realize that JJ is thinking about you too, watching the way the flame of the fire danced across your face, contemplating the feelings he feels growing towards you.

#jj obx #jj x you #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #diverdcwn writes #feel something

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