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moccahobi · 3 years

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Reeled In [Seokjin x Reader x Yoongi]

Sumemery: You are cooking dinner for your boyfriends after their first (and last) fishing trip of the season.

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: Seokjin (BTS) x Reader x Yoongi (BTS)

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: risky fishing... don’t go fishing in a storm

Ratings: teen up

Rain poured down angrily on them, stealing all of their warmth and leaving the boat’s floor a slippery danger. Seokjin and Yoongi didn’t seem to care though. Their eyes trained on the ends of their lines in the water and their hands tightly clasping their rods. Determination caked their face and protected them from the many attacks of the rain. The fisher who took them out standing tiredly in the captain’s deck, white knuckling the wheel in an attempt to keep the boat under control. Today was their first time fishing all season and they wanted to get the best of it. Plus, it just so happened to be the end of the fishing season.

Soon it’d be too cold for fishers and the fish would bite way less than normal.

Yoongi and Seokjin were determined to at least catch one fish.

Of course, when you’d read the weather forecast, you got upset that they had decided to still go out and fish. They were their own people though and fishing during a storm was quite the adrenaline rush.

Even if none of the fish were biting.

A particularly rough gust of wind nearly knocked Seokjin over, his broad shoulders practically acting as a sail to catch the wind. As he righted himself again, he felt a slight tug on the line. If he wasn’t so experienced with fishing by now, he might have missed it, but he caught it and suddenly his eyes became trained on the water. It was such a small movement but Seokjin noticed the movement of a dark red fish in the water.

This was his chance.

Yoongi was on the other side of the boat, carefully eyeing the water as he waited for something to bite his line.

“Wahhhhh.” You cooed, looking at the large fish Seokjin and Yoongi brought back for dinner, “The storm was so rough! I am surprised that you were able to catch a fish this big!”

Seokjin laughed, his ears turning the sweet shade of cherry blossom petals. Yoongi shrugged, feigning nonchalance even though you knew that he was probably giddy about the compliment. There wasn’t much time to take in their tired yet happy forms though as all three of you were keenly aware of their sopping wet clothes dripping onto the floor. Quickly, the two scurried off to the bedroom to change and possibly shower before dinner. In turn, you scurried off to the kitchen with the fish to start working on dinner.

Looking down at the large silver fish sitting on the chopping board, you knew that there wasn’t a chance they had caught such a fish. You weren’t too into fishing but this was a salmon and salmon didn’t live off of the coast they went fishing in. You didn’t mind keeping up the act that they actually did somehow manage to catch salmon off of the coast of Deju though. They would tell you if they really wanted to. With the skill of a beginner chef, you began hacking away at the fish, quickly removing its tail and head before somehow splitting it in half. It was your night to cook and you were by far the worst chef of the three of you. It was a simple meal… but you forgot that you had to cut the fish into fillets first.

“Y/n-ah, I love you. But do you want me to cut the fish up? You can work on the other parts of dinner.” Seokjin offered as he entered the kitchen and watched you butcher the poor fish.

A laugh left you, “While normally, I would take you up on that offer, Seokjin-ah, I really want to learn how to properly prepare a fish. I won’t ever learn if you do it for me all the time. Thank you for the offer. If you do want to help with something, you can set the table.”

“If he does that, then I am happy to clean up after dinner!” Yoongi yelled from wherever he was in the apartment.

“That sounds like a plan to me. I look forward to dinner, Y/n-ah.” Seokjin said, walking over and giving you a kiss on the cheek before grabbing dishes and starting to set the table. From the kitchen, over the sound of the vegetables you’d bought searing in the pan, you could hear Seokjin softly sing a song. It vaguely reminded you of one of the latest hip hop songs they two had been listening to on repeat. There was something different about it though. The tune Seokjin was singing felt softer and for a second, you simply stood there and listened to the melodic voice of one of your amazing boyfriends.

In college, the two of them produced some music together, but as Yoongi continued on to grad school and Seokjin started working in a restaurant, the time they had to make music decreased to null. Seokjin said that he didn’t mind since his time was replaced with just as fun things but you knew that deep down, they really missed making music. You had tried contacting some of the others who Yoongi and Seokjin worked with in college but all of them were too busy as of right now. The smell of something charred brought you out of your thoughts, quickly looking down, you noticed that the onion had started to burn around the edges.

Shit.

You would definitely get crap for accidentally burning onions.

A deflated sigh left you as you spooned the vegetables onto a serving platter. There was no use in cooking them more and risked the onions burning even further. As quickly as possible, you set the sloppily done salmon filets onto the pan, quickly searing them. Thankfully, neither Yoongi or Seokjin joked about how poorly you cooked tonight, likely because they were tired from fishing all day and you were relieved. Despite their experience, you’d been stressing all day about their safety and having them home with you, looking fairly injury free, made you so relieved. It wasn’t until after dinner as you and Seokjin migrated to the couch to cuddle and Yoongi cleaned up that you realized just how tired you were.

“Did you have a hard day at work, pumpkin?” Seokjin asked as he gently rubbed your hair after your third yawn that night.

“Not really. My boss let me out early too.”

“Is it just one of those low energy days then?” Yoongi asked, plopping on the cough and nuzzling his face against your hip where he was resting.

You shrugged, “I was worried about you two, dip shits.” You joked playfully, winking a Yoongi, “I know you two are smart but the storm just seemed to keep getting worse and I was worried.”

Seokjin’s fingers stilled in your hair and Yoongi looked down with a solemn nod, “We had meant to message you and keep you updated but it was hard to do in the rain.”

“I get it. Really. Please don’t stress. There’s a risk to everything.” You gently squeezed Seokjin’s arm that came to wrap around you, “It just made me a tad tired.”

“I’m sorry we worried you. I was so excited about finally getting out to fish… I think I got a bit carried away.” Yoongi mumbled, still not looking back up at you.

“Yeah… maybe in the future, we try to make more of an attempt to get out fishing before we have to do a trip like this.”

“I like the idea of that.”

“Seokjin, Yoongi… you two really don’t have to do that.”

“I mean… we did get an ear full from captain, pumpkin.”

Yoongi snorted at that, “We got more than an earful. Dude banned us from his ship ever again.”

“What?! Why?” You sat up in shock, much to the complaint of a whining Seokjin.

“Well… Yoongi almost fell off at one point… and it was just a lot of work for the poor guy.” Yoongi started, a light red now dusting his cheeks.

“Gosh. You all wanted to fish so badly?”

“Looking back,” Yoongi started, worriedly scratching his neck, “I probably could have waited.”

“Me too… which is why I said that it might be good to try to set up trips sooner instead of procrastinating.”

“And we didn’t even get any fish.” Yoongi mumbled out.

“Yeah!” Seokjin sat up and shouted, a playful glint in his eyes, “I thought we said we weren’t going to tell!”

“I’m sorry. It just came out.” Yoongi whined, gently patting one of Seokjin’s hands with sweet eyes.

At that you laughed and gently shook your head, “I don’t think you can get salmon off the coast of Deju… but good try!”

Seokjin gasped indignantly, “You knew this whole time!?”

“Jaji… I am not good at cooking but I listen to what you all talk about when you are excited about cooking or fishing. I know salmon isn’t often found off of the Deju coast.”

“Thank you for acting like we did catch it then.” Yoongi said with a laugh, taking the time to pull you onto his lap and kiss your forehead gently.

“No fair! I was snuggling with her first!”

“Too bad.”

You laughed, squirming and trying to grab Seokjin as the two continued to bicker. It was comical how as soon as Seokjin was in your arms, he immediately stopped bickering, a happy look plastered on his face before he stuck his tongue at Yoongi. Another laugh left you as you squirmed in Yoongi’s grasp, Yoongi taking to tickiling your sides in retaliation. Shocks of pain jolted through you as you squirmed to get out of Yoongi’s hold, the meniac man laughing as you giggled in pain. Before long, you found yourself on the floor, Yoongi and Seokjin holding onto each other for support while laughing.

You looked up pouting, “No fair! I was just trying to get comfortable!”

“Sure!” Yoongi laughed, reaching up to wipe tears from his eyes, “And we actually caught a salmon today.”

“Yeah! Stop rubbing that in!” Seokjin wined, his ears a bright red.

“I didn’t catch anything either pabo!”

A laugh took you as you looked up at your two handsome boyfriends, holding each other close and bickering away. This was the life. You sighed happily and clambered onto the couch and onto their laps.

“I love you both.”

“I’m glad because if not we’d have an issue.” Seokjin laughed, gently kissing you on the forehead, “I love you too.”

“Yeah… I love you both too… I guess.”

#thebtswritersclub #castlebangtan #blackswannet #wkcnet #bts #bts fanfic #bts seokjin #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts angst #bts fluff #bts poly #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #Yoonjin x reader

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jimlingss · 4 years

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Sugar and Coffee [11]

Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

➜ Warning: Suggestive content

cr.

Life is like a box of chocolates — you never know if it’s gonna fuck you over and end up giving you the shits. It’s in the middle of the night when he feels someone crawling into bed with him. The sheets ruffle. The covers are pulled, and he feels a weight settle onto his hips. Jungkook’s shaken awake from his slumber and through the slits of his eyes, he sees you grinning down at him, palms laid on his chest. “Wh-What are you doing here?” Jungkook croaks with a voice thickened with sleep, completely disoriented. He tries to lift his head to look around his dark dorm room. “How’d you get in?” You brush your hair back and lean down close to him, whispering, “Does it matter?” Your hot breath skims against his skin and sends goosebumps all over his flesh. Suddenly, your lips lay on the juncture between his neck and shoulder and he feels your hips rocking into him. Immediately, Jungkook lifts his hands to find purchase on your waist, halting your movements. “We shouldn’t do this.” “Why not?” You pout and just to tease, you swivel your hips again, grinding down on him. Your name chokes out of Jungkook. “W-We’re friends.” “Really?” Your lashes bat, body heat warm against his. “Friends don’t do this, Kookie.” Jungkook realizes that you’re just in a white night slip with thin straps he can easily tug down. Your underwear is gone too and he can feel the heat of your center as you shift to sit right on his crotch that’s growing harder by the second. Jungkook groans and you whine back at him. You grab his hand, guiding it to palm your breast, and Jungkook squeezes. It feels soft like a pillow. “Friends don’t touch each other like this,” you murmur to him, rocking yourself against his clothed length. The bed creaks quietly and Jungkook can feel his pajama pants becoming damp. “Friends don’t get this wet.” You kiss his jaw. “Friends don’t want to touch each other.” “God, Y/N.” Jungkook doesn’t know what’s happening. But he can’t resist the temptation. He can’t control himself. It only takes one more eager jerk of your pelvis before he’s embarrassingly coming undone in his boxers like a prepubescent teen. “Feel good, Kookie?” you coo and when he manages a husky ‘uh-huh’, your lips curl. “Then why do you fucking suck at making cakes, huh?!” Jungkook’s startled when you abruptly screech into his ear at the top of your lungs and his horror only accelerates when you stand on the mattress, looming over him and placing your foot on his crotch. “You’re a fucking joke!” Your heel digs into his soft dick and he’s unable to pry it off, scared shitless. “Your cakes are DRY!” The whites of your eyes bleed red, skin morphing into purple as the strands of your hair raise. The word ‘dry’ is jarringly spat with multiple demon voices in low tones overlapping your own. It echoes all along his room, surrounding and suffocating him. All of a sudden, your jaw unhinges and smoke begins to ooze out towards him. Jungkook screams and his vision is flooded in pitch black. Jungkook jolts on his mattress. His eyes pull back. He hyperventilates, catching his breath. The first thing he sees is the white mug you gave him on his bedside table, ‘Jungkook — World’s Best Chocolatier’, unused and kept pristine. But he rolls away and realizes his hand has been tightly squeezing a pillow, that he’s dripping of sweat and his pants are soiled, that you’re not here — that you never were. What the fuck. It was a wet dream, or rather, a wet nightmare. // It’s an understatement to say Jungkook is utterly traumatized. He wonders if his subconscious is broken, but the nightmare has stained his brain permanently and he is still horrified by morning. He couldn’t fall back to sleep and stayed in bed motionless for two hours, deeply disturbed to his very core. He’s shocked out of his thoughts by a brush on his arm. Jungkook whirls his head over, and there you are. Manifested into thin air. Coming from nowhere. As if you were summoned through his thoughts like the devil. He screams and stumbles back. Your eyes are wide, brows lifted. “Jungkook?” “Fuck! You scared me!” He presses his hand over his heart where it’s thundering against his rib cage. “I called you three times! Did your one brain cell die? God, you’re so embarrassing.” People are looking at him, startled from his shriek and stopped in the middle of the corridor. Jungkook swallows hard and quickly collects himself. “S-Sorry.” “Geez, get it together, Jeon. Anyway, I was going to ask you about…” He tries to talk to you and not stare at the petals of your lips that had softly kissed his neck in his nightmare. He tries to focus and not let his eyes stray down to the swell of your chest that was firmly pushed against his own in the nightmare. He tries to ignore that nightmare, the nightmare of you climbing underneath his warm covers, pressing yourself to him, whispering in his ear— “Jeon—” Jungkook screams again, the silver bowl of chocolate knocking against the counter in a deafening clang, but thankfully not spilled. Your classmates are wide-eyed like you are and the teacher spins around, afraid that someone is on fire. “S-Sorry,” he apologizes to you and the rest of the people in the kitchen. Everyone turns back to their stations and you frown, ducking your head in second-hand humiliation. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?” You’re leaning too close to him, your scent is overwhelming and Jungkook’s heart is beating fast enough that it’s going up his throat. He might just have a heart attack. He frantically shuffles back to put some distance between the two of you. “Nothing.” “Really?” You have a doubtful expression. “Are you sick? Do you need to go to the hospital?” “No, I’m not. I’m fine.” “A—lright then, weirdo. I just wanted to ask you if you have any extra eggs I can borrow.” “Borrow?” He quirks his brow. “You’re gonna give me back the eggs?” You grin mischievously and it does something to him that is quite unsettling. “Can I take some, please?” Jungkook swallows hard. He’s not sure why you’re batting your lashes like that, why you’re trying to act coy. It’s not cute. But he doesn’t comment, instead diverting his eyes and sliding the carton over. “Take it.” “Thanks, Jeon.” It’s not going to work and he knows it. Pretending and trying to ignore what’s on the forefront of his mind will only arouse more suspicion from you. It won’t be long until you think he needs to have medical attention. Which he probably does at this point. But your concern will only unknowingly throw fuel into the fire. Jungkook knows the only way he can shake this weirdness off is by switching strategies. And the best strategy of all is time. // When Jungkook enters the lecture hall, he urgently claims a spot at the very back, even if he can’t see the white board and he knows it’ll be hard to hear. He ducks his head, wearing the hood of his sweater and instantaneously picks you out in the crowd. You’re in the middle rows at the usual spot with your seat beside you saved. And as time ticks closer to the lecture, he can see you looking around, searching for him. 10:58 pm. Y/N: are you skipping class again idiot 10:58 pm. Y/N: im not giving you the notes Jungkook sees your text but doesn’t answer. At lunch, Jungkook books it to the dining hall and just dumps whatever is convenient onto his tray. He sits down and begins to scarf down his food. Yoongi, who hasn’t even been able to take a bite, eyes him. “Wow, you’re hungry today.” Jungkook chugs his water so the food can easily slide down his gullet. Yoongi lifts a brow at how he hasn’t answered and blatantly stares at him. “What’s your problem, Kook? Is someone chasing you?” The dark-haired man in his campus hoodie and dark jeans checks his watch. With his cheeks full, he mutters, “Class ends in three minutes which means she’ll be here in five.” “Who? Y/N? Did you do something to piss her off?” It’s not exactly that. But Jungkook doesn’t respond. He’s too busy slurping up his noodles. Then swiftly, he stands with his tray and grabs the hard piece of bread in his other hand. “See you.” There’s a permanent question mark etched onto Yoongi’s face and the tired man watches Jungkook dump his unfinished food into the bin and runs off with more vigour than he could ever have. And like clockwork, exactly as Jungkook predicted, you come into the dining hall thirty seconds later. You pick up your food while humming and then sit yourself down across Yoongi. “How was class?” “Fine.” Yoongi doesn’t explain. He cuts straight to the chase. “Did something happen between you and Kook?” “What?” “He was just here.” “He was?” You turn around but the mop of black hair is nowhere in sight. You shift back to Yoongi, completely befuddled. “No, nothing’s wrong. He’s just been jumpy today, I don’t know what his issue is.” “Huh.” 12:06pm. Y/N: is everything okay??? Guilt crawls up Jungkook’s throat as he leaves another text unanswered. But it’s not his fault. You’re a witch for plaguing him with these feelings. These horrible feelings that he doesn’t even know how to begin describing. It’s like he’s horny but when he touches his dick, you’re the first person to come to mind. And it makes him stop — aware it’s too fucked up to continue. He can’t believe that the span of a few hours and one measly nightmare has changed the entire wiring of his brain. Or maybe you’ve bewitched him, cursed him somehow, voodooed him. Frankly, Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised if you actually did that to get back at him for something he doesn’t remember doing. You’re a witch and you would probably cackle if you knew what was going on. 2:43pm. Y/N: wanna go eat out tonight 2:43pm. Y/N: im hungryyyyyy again 2:56pm. Y/N: BITCH 2:56pm. Y/N: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY LEAVING ME ON READ What Jungkook needs most is to turn off his phone and get away from you. Or at least, anywhere where he could potentially run into you on accident. So after class, he goes to the best place he can think of to get his mind off of things. “Damn, you look rough, dude.” Taehyung shuts the door to his dormitory room and grins. “Did you have another wild night?” “Uh, no, not really.” “What are we playing? Overwatch? League? PUBG?” “I’m good for whatever.” He plops onto Taehyung’s bean bag chair, ignoring the spilled chips on it. Taehyung’s dorm is ten times nastier than Jungkook’s room has ever been. It’s a literal dump. You would never step into it and he knows it for a fact. Taehyung’s pig style lifestyle is Jungkook’s ultimate refuge. “So you gonna tell me what’s up?” Taehyung glances at Jungkook as the loading screen appears. Jungkook musters a half-scoff, half-laugh. “There’s nothing up.” “Okay then.” There’s a long silence. The music plays. The screen continues loading. Jungkook sighs and leans back, gesturing wildly. “Okay. I had this dream.” Taehyung cocks a brow. “You had a dream?” “Yeah, and it was really, really, really, really weird—” “Dude.” The brunette laughs. “I get it. It was really weird. Get on with the story.” “And now it’s fucking with my head.” He releases another sigh. “It was about Y/N.” “Y/N?” Taehyung grins. “What? Did she shoot you point-blank? Did she knife you in a back alley and now you think this is some kind of sign for the future and you’re gonna die?” “No—” But before he can explain himself, Taehyung’s phone dings and he pulls it out. His boxy smile expands on his face and he momentarily shows his screen. “Well what do you know, speak of the devil, Y/N’s coming over here right now.” “What?!” Jungkook sputters, choking on his own spit, heart stuttering. Taehyung smiles. “I’m giving her the lemon meringue pie recipe in exchange for her red velvet cupcake recipe. Don’t tell Yoongi though, he keeps on talking about selling it and keeping it a secret, but I personally don’t really think it’s going to work— Hey! Where are you going, dude?” Jungkook has grabbed his bag and shoes, and is opening the latch on Taehyung’s window. Thankfully he lives on the bottom floor and it’s easy to climb out. “Are you being serious right now?” Taehyung stands, appalled. “Yeah.” He swings his legs over the ledge. “Don’t tell Y/N I was here.” Both of Jungkook’s feet land on the ground and he takes off running without glancing behind him. In the meanwhile, Taehyung blinks hard. He’s shocked and shouts out the window— “You never finished telling me about that dream!” You’re a witch — Jungkook’s sure of it. He has no solid evidence yet but there was just no way you could appear at every single place he’s at. Always two steps behind him. One corner away. He didn’t know it would be so hard to avoid you. You’re truly like the plague. “Jungkook? What are you doing?” The man is lightly jogging, but stops in his tracks. Hoseok and Aeri are hand in hand together in the middle of the path across campus. Jungkook automatically grins, thankful to see them. What he needs most is to surround himself with people and to not be trapped inside his own head. “Hey, guys! Was just going on a run.” “In jeans with your backpack?” “Never a better time for exercise,” he declares and Aeri laughs. But Hoseok quirks his head to the side, unsure. “Where are you going?” “We were just heading to the gelato place by the west building. We still haven’t tried it since it opened.” “Great!” Jungkook joins them happily, throwing an arm over Hoseok’s shoulder. He doesn’t realize how the way he stands in the middle forces their interlaced hands to break apart. Hoseok flashes him a dirty look that Jungkook’s subconscious chooses to ignore. “You’re coming with us?” “Well I haven’t tried their gelato yet either and I heard their strawberry flavour was pretty good.” “I heard it was good too!” Aeri smiles, trying to be polite. And when Jungkook isn’t looking, she sends a sheepish look to her boyfriend, mouthing to him that it’s okay. The three of them walk together and when the sidewalk becomes too narrow for three people, Aeri falls behind. Hoseok glances at her over his shoulder, apologies swimming in his eyes. Eventually, they get across campus and order before sitting out on a bench to enjoy their sweet desserts. It should be lovely — the weather pleasant as the sun is going down. Aeri is holding Hoseok’s hand comfortingly as they both eat their waffle cones. But the date is interrupted with Jungkook’s loud chewing and they’re squashed with three people out on the wooden bench. Hoseok’s thigh should be brushing against his girlfriend’s. But instead, it’s squished against Jungkook’s muscular ones. “If we’re watching a movie after this, I heard the new Terminator was pretty decent.” “We were planning to watch When Spring Meets Autumn,” Hoseok deadpans lifelessly, eyes blankly looking out at the distance as the man considered how this cute date turned out this way. “A rom-com?” Jungkook blanches. “Since when did you like rom-coms?” “I like them,” Aeri pipes up. “But I’m okay with Terminator too if that’s what you guys want.” “The reviews are pretty stellar, so it should be good. Are you planning to grab dinner afterwards too?” “Y-Yeah, maybe,” Aeri timidly answers Jungkook finishes his cone and dusts his hands off. “There’s a McDonalds nearby the theater and they have a new angus burger I’ve been meaning to eat too. We should try it.” Hoseok glares at him. Jungkook’s doe eyes overlook it. Suddenly the phone rings, and it’s Jung Hoseok’s saving grace. He sees the caller ID, smirks and answers, pulling it up to his ear. “Oh, hey, Y/N.” Jungkook’s entire body freezes. His muscles become rigid. Hoseok glances at him. “Yeah, great timing actually. He’s right here with me. We’re at the edge of campus right by the west building in front of Dog World’s Gelato. Yep. Okay. See you soon.” Shit. Jungkook gets up right away. “Uh—maybe we can hang out next time, guys. I should get going.” Hoseok grabs onto the bottom hem of Jungkook’s sweater before he can book it. The male’s fist is tight enough that his knuckles turn white and he musters a stiff smile, trying not to show how much he’s enjoying his act of vengeance. “Why, Kook? You should join us! Y/N’s actually coming right now! She’s been looking for you, right?” “Uh, t-tell her I’m busy. Just realized I have an assignment. Gotta go finish it before the deadline!” Jungkook rips his sweater back from Hoseok’s grip and runs for the hills. Finally Hoseok and Aeri are left at peace to enjoy their outing. “Is Jungkook avoiding Y/N?” Aeri asks curiously, watching Jungkook’s backside diminish. “They’re playing some kind of cat and mouse game. You should see the group chat.” Hoseok chuckles. “I don’t know if Jungkook’s checked at all, but Y/N’s out for murder.” Jungkook sprints across campus again, this time taking the route through the underground parking lot to avoid you. There’s only one person left who can save him and he trusts this person wholeheartedly. He knows they won’t betray him, that they’ll protect him until the very end. Sweet, summer child— “Jimin!” “Hey.” The boy grins, eyes crinkling into half-moons. He put down his pen on top of his textbook, seated at the small table in the corner of the second floor of the library. You never come here. He’d shit himself if you did. “I saved you a spot when you texted me.” “Thanks.” Jungkook’s out of breath and falls into the seat across from him. He turns to the windows to watch the sun lower over the horizon and Jimin smiles at him, chewing on his slices of deli meat. Jungkook never understood why, but the man loves snacking on deli meat and cheese. “Did something happen?” Jungkook steadies his breathing. “Nothing really. What are you working on?” “Just some theory for sugar work. Gotta prepare for that test. Do you need some water?” “Please.” He gulps down the rest of the water bottle that Jimin hands him, quenching his dry throat. And the brunette watches him with a grin, waiting patiently until he’s finished. Then, he asks— “Are you sure this has nothing to do with Y/N?” Jungkook wheezes on air. He chokes and sputters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His doe eyes are rounded like a deer in headlights. “How’d you know?” Jimin turns to the phone beside him, swipes and then quotes, “Where is Jeon? When I get my hands on him he is going to die I swear to god.” The way Jimin reads it is very matter-of-factly, deadpanning, but Jungkook groans, already imagining your yelling. Jimin looks at his friend again, eyes twinkling with amusement. “There’s more in the group chat, but you get it. So...what did you do?” “I didn’t do anything!” Thankfully, there’s no one around the library to send him a glare when he defends himself in a higher-pitched voice. But it’s a lie. It is his fault. Jungkook’s been blatantly avoiding you all day, running from you and leaving you on read. Yet, the ironic part and what killed him the most is that Jungkook was actually beginning to miss you. It’s just harder than he expected to distance himself. For the past few months, you’re almost always together. “I….I had this dream last night,” Jungkook confesses, finally letting the burden off his shoulder. Jimin raises his brows, lips falling to the side as he earnestly listens. “A dream?” “About Y/N.” Jungkook cringes, but lets it tumble off his tongue. “Itwasawetdream.” “Oh.” “Yeah.” He sucks in his cheek. Jimin’s expression is blank too, registering in the confession. Jungkook’s about to burst out laughing and spit out ‘sike’ to take it back. But his close friend beats him to the punch— “Isn’t that normal?” “What?” “I mean Y/N is attractive and you are too, so you’re probably attracted to each other at least on some human level. Isn’t it natural to be attracted to someone and think of them like that?” “Yeah, but this is Y/N we’re talking about here. Y/N.” The person who tells him about your face acne and your period flows — that tells him he sucks at icing and piping — the person who calls him a bitch when he slyly passes his used bowls in the sink while you’re washing your dishes — who tries to sing IU songs and absolutely grates his ears. But Jimin merely shrugs. “So? Y/N’s still human. It’s not weird unless you make it weird.” It’s easier said than done. Jungkook is being driven crazy by you. Jimin stares at him. “Do you like Y/N, Jungkook?” You? No. Of course not.

‘The fuck is wrong with Jeon?’ seems to be the question of the day. It’s pinpointed on your mind and one you have no idea what the answer could be. And the more you sit and think about it, the more you become enraged. Your blood is boiling, temples pounding, and you’ve never been one to sit aside and let things happen. So, you seek him out to get some answers. You sneak in and pound on his door at ten at night. Hard enough that the surface rattles against the hinges. He can run from you all he wants all day but he has one place to sleep at night. The door opens a sliver, Jungkook’s eye and big nose pokes out, horrified. “Y/N?!” You push the surface but he holds it. There’s a struggle. “W-What’s your problem?” Finally, you stumble in. Jungkook steps back. His room is pitch black but the light from the hall illuminates his small space and your eyes dart to his ruffled sheets, the laptop pushed aside, the lube on his nightstand by the cup you gave him for Christmas. Immediately it clicks and your pupils dart to his crotch. You see something poking out from his gray sweatpants and he covers it with his hands, but a moment too late. You groan. “Ugh. Are you seriously getting off, right now?” “Fuck off, I’m...just a little sexually frustrated.” “Is this what you’ve been doing all day?” “No!” “Then why did you leave me on read?!” You confront him, not leaving room for excuses. And as for receipts, you hold up your phone where tens of messages were left unanswered today. You sigh when Jungkook says nothing for an excruciating thirty seconds and you soften. “Just tell me what I did wrong, so I can apologize for it and fix it.” “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” “Then why did you ignore me all day and make me feel like….like some kind of clingy ex?” The words taste bitter as they come out. You’re reminded of what happened not too long ago, how you were ghosted by Kim Seokjin and you don’t appreciate Jeon Jungkook doing the same to you. You don’t enjoy being shunned and abandoned by your best friend. Jungkook can see the hurt in your expression and realizes he’s fucked up. Big time. His ears perk when you sigh frustratedly. “This morning, you act all weird and then you don’t show up to class and Yoongi tells me you shoved your lunch into your mouth and left seconds before I came. Okay. Whatever. I was going to let it go. Maybe there’s something up. Maybe you need space.” You step forward and he staggers back. “But then….but then Taehyung tells me you jumped out of a window when you heard I was coming.” Jungkook curses his friend for betraying him inside the recesses of his head. You’re imposing, closing the distance with one large step. Jungkook wobbles back. “And then when I call Hoseok to try to find you and see what the hell is going on, he tells me you’re over in the East building. But when I get there, apparently you’ve run off. Again.” “So what the hell?” You take one more step and the back of his knees hit the edge of his mattress. Jungkook falls back onto his bed into a seated position. He swallows hard, palms feeling sweaty. Your hair is falling in front of your face as you lean down, connecting your eyes with his. It’s just like it. The nightmare. If he wanted, he could reach out and hold your waist, sit you on his lap— “I had a dream about you,” Jungkook murmurs. Your brows furrow. “A dream about me?” Jungkook holds your gaze, unwavering. “You stabbed me.” It goes silent. Then you step back, bursting into laughter. You believe the lie. But Jungkook doesn’t relax. The sound of your giggles make him stiffen more as his heart rate picks up speed like he’s about to die. “You had a dream I stabbed you? Damn your subconscious must be really scared of me or something.” “Hey, it felt really real, okay? You like shanked me with a kitchen knife right in my stomach. It freaked me out…” You feel enlightened. Relieved. It makes sense in your brain as to why he was so jumpy this morning. He was probably scared enough to avoid you all day. And here you thought you did something wrong and the friendship was over. You approach Jungkook and grab his face. Your palms squish his cheeks together and you make him look at you. “I wouldn’t ever stab you, Jungkook,” you tell him with your utmost sincerity. “Not now. Not ever. So you don’t have to worry about it. At the worst, I would step on your foot or pull your hair. Promise.” He gently pulls your hands off him and holds it. “Thanks for the reassurance,” he says sarcastically with a small smile. “But I already know. You can’t overpower me.” “Is that a challenge?” You quirk your head to the side. “You just promised you wouldn’t ever stab me.” He grins boyishly. “But I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t mean to ghost you and make you feel….like I…” “It’s okay. I get it.” You smile at him. The corner of your mouth lifts, eyes tender, lashes fluttering. The warm light from the corridor casts upon your skin and features, making you glow. Jungkook stares up at you and swallows hard. The feelings train runs him over, the locomotive crushing his entire body, steel wheels stomping him flat. And he knows. Damn. He’s so fucked.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook reader insert #jungkook x reader #jungkook as a baker who's just basically opened his third eye #pray for his soul y'all #jokes aside this is one of my favourite chapters

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the-scooby-gang · 4 years

Text

Us... But not quite

Part 1

Crossover: Mystery incorporated x My Scooby Gang

Summary: After falling through a portal while they were being chased by their most horrifying monster yet, The Scooby Gang finds themselves in a place they have never been before. A place called Crystal Cove.

No one saw the portal.

Shaggy was running ahead of them, each step faster them the last, Scooby in rapid pursuit. Fred, Velma, and Daphne were not far behind while the ghost from Blackhill facility loomed over their backs way to close for comfort.

The hallways of the old medical facility were narrow, without a window on sight, either covered in mold or falling apart. Each step taken resonated in the walls and a thousand same steps followed you, echoing in the stale air. The light system was barely functional, flickering on and off like it was candlelight on the wind, each movement made in the weak light or in the complete void with only their lanterns to lead the way.

Shaggy spent most of the night handheld by one of the gang while his other hand was firmly attached to Scoob’s collar. Since the gang started dating, Shaggy had shed his fears little by little, taking comfort and support from their presence and encouragement. For months he, and by extension Scooby, was getting more confident, especially with their acting and disguises.

“Like, its easier to be brave when you are pretending, you know?”Shaggy had said after a case. He was smiling from the back of the van, Daphne helping him sew one of his dresses back together after the skirts having being lacerated by the ghost lions from the Pongie circus, one of their more festive cases.

But there was something different in this particular mystery. And it was not only Shaggy that noticed.

The Blackhill scientist was a grotesque creature. There were local myths and legends that said that one of the lead scientists tried several experiments with himself as the guinea pig, trying to make himself something more than human. Something better.

But not even armed with this information was enough to prepare them.

His skin, rotten and blackened, was falling away from his body like rags. The fingers no longer had any flesh on them and the white bone looked more and more like claws the closer he got; where the right eye should be there were only maggots and darkness; and the smell… Shaggy, Daphne and Scooby, the three with the best noses on the group, were beyond nauseated when they made the first contact.

“It smells like something rotten. You know, like roadkill that was left for days in the rain and then put to dry in the Arizona sun” Daphne had said in a whisper. The absence of windows and precarious old led lights gave the place an eerie feeling keeping them all on edge.

“Yeah. Like, as if something started to eat it and then threw up all over the carcass” completed Shaggy, that had his hand on Daphne’s strong grip, whispering even softer them Daphne did. Scooby whimpered and got closer to his best friend.

Velma and Fred had walked just some steps ahead and hadn’t known what frightened them more: the roadkill description; the smell; or the fact that even with both of them whispering, they could hear them perfectly. No wind passed them by. No door creaked from years of disuse. There was no sign of the pitter-patter of the rain that they knew they left behind.

But what truly made them pause was when they noticed.

Their feet no longer made a sound on the marble floors.

This was when it appeared again.

Now they were running. Running, running, running. It was just behind them approaching slowly like it had all the time in the world. Each step it took, more and more of its skin graced the floor like rotten autumn leaves. But the most unsettling thing about it was the bottom half. Where in any other human-shaped being a pair of legs would be present, the Blackhill monster had… something else…

They could not see clearly over the flickering dim light. Only that it was big. Big, contorted, and decaying. Just like the rest of the creature.

Even running they could not take their eyes away from the thing. How its sheer presence consumed the entire dark corridor. How they were, even without knowing, running from its shadow as if it was a second entity entirely.

Maybe if they were more attentive they would have seen where the creature was leading them.

Maybe they would have seen the portal.

Falling, falling, falling. The portal appeared endless and void of anything. It was cold. Far colder them any cemetery they had ever wandered and darker them any night they had ever seen. There was no sound coming from nowhere. Even their screams refused to leave their throats.

There was no sound in the silence.

Grabbing each other for fear of being torn apart, they fell, and fell, and fell.

And then they stopped. They laid on the ground groning not too far apart from each other.

They were outside again and the sun was just starting to rise.

Fred was the first one to take a grasp on his senses.

“Hey gang, is everybody ok?” he said, crawling slowly to where Daphne was sited, one hand in her head, trying to make the world stop spinning for five seconds.

“If by Being Ok you actually mean I feel like a used spinning top, then yeah. I’m doing ok” Even Velma’s sassy voice sounded dizzy. Her glasses where nowhere to be seen. “What exactly was that thing?”

“To what are you referring to here? The sleep paralysis demon following us or the Alice in wonderland’s rabbit hole that we fell into?” Daphne was now standing, supported by Fred’s arms, cleaning her skirt the best she could. The world was still spinning, even if now in a more calm way.

“The portal, silly” Velma said, a little smile wanting to creep its way on her face. “The creep was what all the creeps are. It was probably just some dude in… to be fair, a really convincing costume…” here her voice vacillated a little. Even some of their most scary crooks didn’t pull this kind of… felling of dread from them.

“Well, man, if it was a crook in a suit we have found the most invested lunatic on the planet! Like, what did he do? Bathed in the remains of a poor cow somewhere in the local slaughterhouse??? That man stinks.” Shaggy said not too far away from them. Scooby was perched on his back like he was an extension of his body, the poor pooch still terrified from the entire ordeal.

Velma giggled and approached slowly the blurry form that had Shaggy’s voice. When she reached them, her clumsy fingers tried to discern with of the fluffy heads was Shaggy’s sandy hair or Scoob’s soft fur. When she found out which was a man, and with was a Dane, she asked Daphne for a Scooby Snack while she patted the pup between his ears. Scoob’s whines stopped almost immediately and he happily started wagging his tail.

“What a ham!” Said Fred when he approached arm in arm with Daphne, the promised treat already in hand.

While Scooby happily devoured his snack to the sound of the giggles of the gang, Shaggy started looking in his pockets. With a small Aha, he brandished a pair of red glasses like they were the most important artifact created by humans.

He slowly cupped Velma’s face with his hand while the other gently put the spare glasses over her eyes. When she finished adjusting them he leaned down and gave a little kiss to her nose, causing a new wave of giggles to escape her lips.

Scooby started snickering and slowly he left his perch on Shaggy’s back and took place by Daphne’s side, who had already forced the world back on its axis and was no longer using Fred as a beefy staff.

The atmosphere had regained its light, and the dread that had consumed them was now on the back of their heads.

“Ok gang, first things first. We have to figure out where exactly we are before we figure out how we got here. Velma, any ideas?” Fred started to look around, searching for something familiar on the small road they found themselves in.

“The air is windy and salty. This indicates that we are close to the coast, no more them five kilometers away I would say” Velma was looking around too, looking for any signs or tall buildings, but wherever they have landed it was more of a road in the middle of nowhere them anything.

“Shag, do you smell anything?” Daphne asked.

Shaggy had over the years of cooking and gardening developed a keen nose for all the foods and spices known to man, so much so that in one mystery he was able to locate a salt mine by smell alone. Since that day, the gang began to ask Shaggy what he smelled in the air. More times than not it was really useful for them to locate themselves, sometimes even give them clues. You would not believe what the local food said about a place.

He stopped looking around. Shaggy closed his eyes and straightened his back, slowly filling his lungs with the night air. Fred and Velma stayed quiet, waiting. He took two more deep breathes before he opened his eyes again.

“There is a restaurant up north, like, probably a trucker stop or the first and last food joint before you leave a town. It’s American food that’s for sure, but it appears to have some europian influence?” here he took another deep breath “Yeah, definitely europian. Spain, if I’m not mistaken” another deep breath “Velma was right, like, no one eats that much fish and clams if they are not close to the coast! Do you guys know how expensive it is to import clams to non-coast cities? Man, it’s almost an arm and a half!”

Shaggy started to widely gesticulated the more into the local cusine he got into. The lanky man could go for hours just talking about preposterous food prices and the most ecletic recipes know to human (and dog) kind.

“Ok, ok, Chef Rogers, we get it” Fred hugged Shaggy from behind, giving him a small kiss in the cheek “No matter how cute it is, now is not the time to get worked up on food prices”

Shaggy let himself relax agains his boyfriend’s chest and cuddled more into Fred’s warm arms, grumbling something about overpriced fish. Scooby was nodding his head saying something about expensive ralmon. Velma and Daphne laughed of how surreal it was that even the man’s dog appeared to have his broad culinary knowledge .

“Ok, so we are close to a Spanish influenced American coast town. So far so good. What you guys say that we go walking towards this road restaurant and see if we can find any more clues about where we fell on?” Said Daphne with one hand on her hip and the other pointing north, like she was one step away from starting a new adventure.

“Sounds good” Agreed Fred.

“The most logical” Said Velma.

“Restaurant! Yummy, yummy, yummy” Scooby was already licking his lips.

“Daph?” said Shaggy, having left Fred’s arms, now looking up at something.

“What?” She turned towards him, a questioning look in her blue eyes.

“You memorized the entire road map, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, and all the cities, towns, and historical sites from across America” she responded, not understanding where his line of thought was going.

“Where exactly Crystal Cove is them?”

“What?” They turned their heads towards Shaggy, then towards were his eyes laid.

Above their heads, a green sigh, one that they should have noticed before, read in big white letters:

CRYSTAL COVE. 3 MILES.

They all looked at Daphne, waiting for the answer.

But her face was getting paler and paler the longer she looked at the sign. Frowning, once in concentration, them in confusion followed by horror, her blue eyes turned to her lovers and their dog, with her words loaded with dread.

“There is no Crystal Cove”

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selfships-in-spanish · 4 years

Note

That spy post gave me WAY too many ideas: I can picture either a scenario in which Connor is a government agent who's chasing superspy/master thief Ona around the world a lá Carmen Sandiego, where she's constantly evading his grasp, or that Connor and Ona are rival spies for different governments who keep meeting and flirting with each other on-mission before being separated yet again - Simon-Data Anon

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

SIMON-DATA NON I MISSED YOU MY DARLING ❤❤❤ So glad to have you back in my inbox!!! Fgjdldfgkd I love your ideas so much omg.

The first scenario is just so *chef kiss*

Just imagine Connor chasing after her, this woman who is one of the most famous thieves alive, who always escapes his grasp and even toys with him, but in a way he sees what she is doing, stealing from Cyberlife (and Connor was not stupid himself, he knew Cyberlife had powerful items and did shady things) but not for own gain or profit, but to return items to their rightful owners. She’s some kind of modern Robin Hood.

They found themselves trapped in one of Cyberlife facilities one time, having to work together in order to make it out alive and unscratched. Connor had various cases going on at the same time, and the Cyberlife one had a new lead he got to follow. Needless to say it got dangerous, but working with her came surprisingly easy, even enjoyed it and had fun despite of almost dying. He felt alive.

“It was fun playing with you today, agent Stern. We should stop meeting each other like this, don’t you agree?”

Connor sometimes finds himself daydreaming about fluffy white hair and a playful smile disappearing into the night as beautiful olive-green eyes wink at him.

BUT DUDE THE IDEA OF BOTH BEING SPIES??? YES?????

All the rivalry between them, who’s the better spy, the better agent... (please something along The Man From Uncle with Napoleon and Illya, just roasting the other but not being able to leave the other to their fortune when they get in a situation).

Please we need a scene of Connor and Ona having to work together towards a same goal, infiltrating a high end party or something and Ona has to seduce a target in order to get intel, all while Connor slips into private aisles of the mansion where the party is held to gather evidence and intel of his own... but he didn’t count on Ona looking absolutely amazing in that beautiful and jaw-dropping dress. He needs a moment. Several, in fact, as well as a double bourbon shot because his throat is suddenly too dry and parched at the sight of her entering the room, her honey skin and freckles showing in what the slit of the dress allows Connor to see and–

“You may want to close your mouth before you ruin your beautiful suit with drool, cariño.”

Connor instantly closed his mouth, clearing his throat as if he hadn’t been absolutely bewitched by the sight. He ventured a quick look down as Ona sat next to him on the barstool, her movements oozing elegance and finesse as if she had been born with a silver spoon. That peek of her leg made Connor seriously consider to loosen his tie and pop open the first button of his shirt.

Ona ordered a Gin and Tonic, delighted to see they put her favourite pink tonic. Connor didn’t want to admit he shoot daggers to the barman winking at her as he delivered her drink. Connor decided he should keep his eyes up and not let himself venture down at all costs. He looked down again. Damn it. Her giggle made him look directly into her eyes, finding them full of mirth and mischief.

“It never gets old.” Ona took a sip of her drink, humming delighted at it. “So, any visual on the target?” She looked around discreetly while leaning in a little bit as she took another sip of her drink, Connor mimicking her.

“Behind us, the table on the left. It seems you may have some competition, honey.” Their target was occupied by already two beautiful women fanning over her. Ona arched her brow, licking her lips in anticipation. She enjoyed a challenge. Connor followed the movements of her tongue.

“That won’t be a problem. In fact, you’re gonna be part of the plan, so play along, darling.”

“Play along–?”

Ona grabbed Connor’s hand, putting it on her thigh. Connor’s hand instinctively twitched, the realisation of what her plan was dawning on him.

“Oh.”

Connor had to admit she was an impressive actress. Their target looked over the commotion, over Ona’s loud gasp and slap across his face. The sting made him think it was payback for that time in Rome when–

Oh, she was good. She stormed off with a “you men are disgusting”, grabbing her drink and purse and walking away from him to another seat, making sure the target was aware of the show and followed Ona with her eyes. Connor rubbed his cheek, the sting clearing his head. The barman from before came over him, handing another bourbon.

“She looks feisty huh. Better luck next time, man.”

Connor frowned, not liking the thought of this man being one of those who overstepped boundaries, but thanked him for the drink, agreeing as he had to maintain his role of “male with wounded pride”. He turned around just in time to see the target walking over where Ona was another cocktail in hand, crossing her long legs clad in an expensive looking suit and perfectly polished shoes.

Ona’s comm came alive in Connor’s ear.

“Are you alright? I couldn’t help but notice what happened before. Here, on the house.”

“Oh! How thoughtful of you. But yes, I am thank you. Men, right?” Ona played perfectly her role. She made sure their target had her attention solely on Ona, letting the mob boss get cosy with her.

“Oh darling, I know. Men are the worst.” The mob boss put an arm behind the couch they were in, getting closer to Ona. She played coy, letting herself be seduced, not knowing in the slightest she was the one being seduced.

Connor stood up when a certain piece of information was brought up, smirking as Ona pulled it out of the woman’s lips without effort. He knew where he had to go, and new Ona would entertain the target long enough for him to slip through security, find their prize and get out without anyone noticing anything.

He froze mid step when he heard the mob boss suggest her and Ona going somewhere more privately, specifically her rooms Where Connor was. He was going to murder her after they got out of that place.

(Needless to say the image of Ona’s lipstick smeared would be in his dreams for quite a little bit of time)

#dbh #detroit become human #rk800 #rk800 x oc #ask #mius answers #mius writes #simon data anon #spy master thief au #fuck it #we will think of a more fitting tag later #but for now #also I'm an idiot and hit publish before I finished #SORRY #IT GOT OUT OF FUCKING HANDS #BUT WELL

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amberlynnmurdock · 4 years

Text

Library Series (Part 12)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Chapter Summary: It has been a week since Matt’s date with you.

AO3 LINK

Library Series Masterlist

11:36pm. FRIDAY.

Cold. Brisk, Autumn cold. Stinging on the open wounds of his hands. Stinging? What’s that metallic smell? Blood.

White noise. Matt can’t focus on anything but the bloody man beaten to a pulp that lay in front of him, coughing up blood. Matt’s shaking. How could he have done this? Did he just do this?

Yes, of course he did. The fact that it came so easy to him frightens Matt. It was so easy to attack the man. So easy to wrap an arm around his neck–not so easy to get him on the ground and to confess what he has done, no. It wasn’t easy to hear the first plea to stop, and most of all, it wasn’t easy for Matt to listen to him.

But here he was, and Matt was shocked to feel so accomplished… unsettled, about this, but why? Was he wrong? Was he the devil in this?

Was he?

Who is Matt Murdock?

ONE WEEK AGO.

Matt stays put until he hears the door of your dorm unlock, and then lock, and then he stops listening when he hears Marci squeal, “So! How’d it go?”

And Matt walks himself home–nothing heavy in his heart.

He takes a deep breath and thinks to himself, what a night. He couldn’t believe he managed to pull off some story about him being nervous and acting weird all for the sake of keeping you safe from those two punks. And though Matt is relieved that nothing happened to you, it doesn’t change the fact that he lied to you. “Story”, Matt laughed at himself. You lied.

Matt didn’t have another choice, he supposed. You’d think he’s crazy if he told you the truth about his abilities. Oh, what a great topic of conversation for a first date. “Yeah, by the way, you want to know how I became blind? From a toxic liquid that took away my sight, but gave my other senses a 1000x boost. I can hear your heart beat and I can tell when you lie to me. I also know how long ago you put your perfume on.” What a nightmare, Matt thought.

Matt did what he had to do. He acted quick on his feet and got you out of there without causing a scene–er, well, he did spill that waiter’s food. But… he did what he had to do. It was either spilt soup or you getting hurt.

He doesn’t know why he chose Fogwell’s to go to. Of all places, Matt’s first instinct was to take you to Fogwell’s. He thinks it’s because that place was always a safe haven for him, so, when in danger… Fogwell’s. It felt right to take you there and to maybe give you at least some truth for the night.

Matt takes his time walking home. He doesn’t think he wants this night to end. After all, he does like you very much. You’re sweet and concerned and you hold your own. He doesn’t have to hear your heartbeat to know you’ve just entered a room. Matt likes that. Matt likes you.

Matt lets the sounds of the night fill his ears. He hears taxis pass each other and the chef of a pizza place kiss his teenage nephew on the cheek for mastering how to make the base of a pizza. He hears the doors of a flower shop open and close and now he smells… daisies.

He hears the sound of a silver chain tingle around someone’s neck. He hears that person grow uncomfortable with it.

A woman is walking around the corner of a street. She’s rushing to get home safe.

“Don’t fucking move!” a male voice hisses.

Matt stops in his tracks. He listens for movement but hears nothing. There’s no one surrounding him. He’s alone, walking on the path from your dorm to his. He doesn’t want to confuse the sounds of night with someone right behind him. If there were.

“Oh, my God, please” a woman shrieks. The same woman rushing to get home, Matt thinks. Matt focuses on the sound of her voice, since it was louder than the first hiss he heard.

“Don’t you fucking move!” the first voice shouts louder. A man. The man moves something that makes a tingle–the man with the silver chain.

“Please, please!” the woman cries, “I’ll give you anything!” She’s a young woman, Matt identifies by hearing her voice more clearly now.

“Shut the fuck up,” the man spits. He’s older. 35. Thick New York accent.

Matt turns around. Their voices were coming from outside the campus gates on the other side of the street. A block down.

Matt gasps. He’s trying to think quick, but he doesn’t know what to do. He’s frozen. Numb. A bystander.

“Hey, man,” a voice right next to him startles Matt, “you good?”

Tall, strong voice, young, clasps a hand on Matt’s shoulder that Matt nearly hits off out of habit. Frat boy. Matt’s age.

“Yeah,” Matt mumbles, “just taking a breath.”

“Okay,” the guy chuckles. “You need–er–help getting to your dorm?” He asks Matt, noticing Matt’s cane.

“No, I’m–“

A loud bang rings in Matt’s ears which causes him to stop his sentence short. Matt takes a step forward and momentarily forgets the frat guy is still there, and bumps into him.

“Hey, man, seriously, you good?” He asks again. Matt is speechless. He hears the woman cry out in pain. At least she was still alive. But severely hurt.

“Listen, I’m fine, just–“

“Wait a sec, are you–are you high. man?” The frat boy starts to laugh, “Jesus, you go, dude.” His voice was booming in Matt’s ear, which made it hard for Matt to listen to what was going on beyond the campus.

“I’ll leave you to it dude, jeez,” the frat boy laughs his way off, walking away from Matt.

Matt finally takes a deep breath and listens for the woman, who is still crying. Unfortunately, from her cries and people coming to her help, it seems like the robber got away.

“I saw him go down 95th,” she cries to a stranger who had called the police.

“The police are coming, okay, miss?” a man who was helping the woman said. He was about 65, Matt could tell.

“Dammit,” Matt mutters under his breath. You could have done something.

But, could he have really?

Matt may have heightened senses, but he doesn’t have super speed. Even if he wanted to help, he wouldn’t have ran out of campus fast enough. Plus, he was still in his street clothes. He can’t be recognized for trying to disarm a robber, or, whatever you wanted to call it. People would think it’s crazy… he’s crazy. What’s a blind man doing to stop a New York robbery and shooting in the street?

LATER, 12:32 am. SATURDAY.

Matt arrived back to his dorm to a snoring Foggy. A comforting sound to end the night with, Matt thinks.

In bed, Matt is restless. Matt is getting trapped in his own thoughts. When one thought makes sense, another comes in uninvited crushing the whole thing.

He’s thinking about you and how he lied to you tonight. He’s thinking about how close the two of you were in danger tonight from those two men who followed you. Matt shivers at the thought.

He’s thinking about the woman he could have helped if he just decided to do anything–but that was the thing, what could he do?

The man who shot her walked off so easily. Without a doubt, without an ounce of fear. Not any fear that young woman could have felt. That man felt no remorse walking off with, what, an extra fifty bucks in his pocket?

It disgusted Matt. It infuriated him. And there’s no way he was staying in this bed knowing that he could find that same man and teach him his own lesson.

1:15 am.

New York City sure is much, much colder at night. Even if it’s not winter yet, somehow that brisk autumn air has just enough crunch to make Matt shiver even in his black sweatshirt, black long sleeve, black pants, and even black hat.

He creeps along the street outside Columbia University and makes his way down to where the crime scene happened not even two hours ago. He hears police tape rustling in the wind.

Matt backs himself up against the brick building near the crime. The police were still there questioning the man who helped the young woman. She had already been taken to the hospital for her wound. She was shot in the side of her stomach.

“I didn’t even see the guy,” the older man said, “but the young girl, like she said, he went down 95th. Took off like no one’s business, so casually.”

“We are going to Metro-General tomorrow to ask her questions. But thank you for your help sir, and sorry this happened so close to your convenient store,” a police officer said.

“Hey, what cannya do? That’s New York,” the man said. It shouldn’t be New York, Matt thought to himself.

“Have a good night, sir,” the police officer said.

Matt cursed to himself. Well, the only piece of information he has is that the man went down 95th, but then, where else? What then after that?

The only thing Matt could do was go and figure it out on the way. He couldn’t hold himself back even if he wanted to. It was as if this whole thing was drawing him in even more as the seconds went by. He craved to find that man like a predator hunting its prey.

Matt creeps up along side the building before he slips into darkness, slips into the less busy side of town and walks onto the pavement of 95th.

It’s quiet. That’s the first thing he notices at the apartment building he has stopped in front of. People are shutting their televisions off. Someone is putting a cup of noodles cup in the microwave–Matt has to pick more up for him and Foggy–someone else is organizing their closet and–someone else is… Matt tunes that out. All of this is useless. All of it is just white noise.

Maybe if he had just immediately thrown his shirt over his head and dashed for the crime, that woman wouldn’t have to be getting stitches in her stomach. That man would not have got away. Matt wouldn’t be freezing out here.

Something fills his nose. A thick smoke that wafts from around the corner. Matt, for whatever reason, is drawn to it and follows the scent.

It is cigarette smoke, one of the worst smells for Matt to come in contact with. Too much of it around him can cause Matt to become so dizzy, he’ll have to stop whatever he’s doing and sit down. But not this time.

“Yeah, man, I fled the scene so fast. I was smart this time, just shot, won, and then went,” a thick New York accent brags.

“Really? Did you get the money still?” another asks.

“Nah, I’m picking it up Wednesday. Tony said the next game of Texas Holdem will be then. But the guys was so mad I won, that’s why I left. Never know with those punks from downtown.”

Matt hit his palm to his face and sighed in frustration. It was too good to be true.

Crestfallen, Matt begins to walk down the street, feeling defeated. He really had as much information as the police did.

It wasn’t enough. This all felt like a crossword puzzle with a million words to solve.

It was late, Matt thought. If he stayed out any longer, the chances of Foggy waking up and noticing Matt not there would go up and up. Matt decided to call it a night and headed back to Columbia University.

SUNDAY.

It’s late again. And Matt is back in his black clothes, lingering on a fire escape of an abandoned building on 95th street.

He felt crazy going this length. He’s now stalking the city on a ledge waiting to hear something that could lead him to the robber from the other night? Yeah, he felt crazy. But the drive inside of him kept him up at night and he would never forgive himself if he didn’t at least continue to try.

Turns out, this part of the city isn’t quite so noisy on a Sunday at 11 at night.

He hears the same people that he did the other night. Television, soup, all the same. He’s not suspicious of any of those people in the building but he needs to listen, in case of, well, anything. Anything that could lead him to his target.

People down below on the street walk smoothly and quietly. Cars pass by on the main road. Rain begins to fall lightly. Matt doesn’t mind.

“You’re crazy for comin’ back here,” a man’s voice is heard from down the street. Matt tilts his head to where the voice comes from.

“It’s smart. I blend in. Nobody saw me that night except for her. They don’t even know what I sound like,” a thick New York accent replies.

Matt moves from the top of the fire escape he’s on to one below him. He leans over the railing with two fists. He holds his breath.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy man. And so close to a Ivy League.”

“That’s where I wanna go next. So many rich bitches, I don’t give a fuck.”

The man grunts and tugs on a chain around his neck uncomfortably. Matt recognizes the sound and almost leaps over the ledge, but stops. A car pulls up quickly.

“My ride’s here. Gotta bring this all to the boss downtown,” the man says.

“You be careful out there, buddy. But I know you won’t be.”

And with one swift motion into the car, the door closes. And just like that, Matt’s threat is gone.

LATER.

Walking back to his dorm, Matt feels slightly hopeful. And slightly unsure about this whole plan. Or, lack thereof. What was he planning on doing once he was able to get to that man? He had no idea. He just wanted to catch him.

The law hasn’t found this guy yet, but Matt is so close on this guy’s tail that he can feel the anticipation rise in his chest, like an inflating balloon–slowly, until it grows so big, all that anticipation pops and–Matt doesn’t know what he’d do.

He could leave an anonymous tip at the police station. But what good would come of that? The police will get the guy, he’ll get a lawyer, and get a shitty sentence that won’t last more than 3 months. That’s not enough. Not enough for Matt, not enough for that woman. Not enough to put an end to things like this.

And who was that boss that the man was talking about?

There was something bigger going on here. Matt had to find out.

Lavender. Vanilla.

Matt’s head jerks up to the pitch black sky but right in front of your dorm building.

Oh. Shit.

Okay, it’s not like Matt forgot about you per say… just with this crime he overheard and his growing obsession with getting this guy, it might have slipped his mind. It’s nothing personal, maybe he should have called right when he got home after the fact but… he witnessed–er, heard?–a woman get shot. It was a lot for Matt to process, especially since he didn’t do anything about it. Especially after his crazy date with you.

It’s complicated, Matt thought.

But that wasn’t fair to you.

He wonders if you have noticed his absence. It’s been, what, two days?

Well, he is curious to see if you’re up…

“What’s wrong, boo-boo?” Marci’s cheerful voice asks.

“It’s…”

Matt has to compose himself after hearing your voice for the first time in what feels like forever. Something nice to hear, rather than the violence and blood on the streets of New York. Comfort.

“Matt.”

Matt freezes when he hears his name, and then it slowly dawns on him that he should not be eavesdropping and now he suddenly feels like a real stalker but he can’t help but–

“He still hasn’t texted me yet. And I’m totally not about to text him because, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Marci agreed.

“I just don’t get this. We went on one date and I’m already getting these mixed signals and–and it’s not good and it’s not what I signed up for, Marc. Mixed signals should be like, the third date, right?”

“Wrong. If the person really likes you, there shouldn’t be any mixed signals at all. Maybe Matt’s just a douchebag.”

Matt winces. Way to sell me, Marci…

“But he isn’t. That’s the thing. Matt is genuinely a nice guy,” you say back. Matt smiles.

“Oh sure, they’re all nice in the beginning. Until they have you on a leash and do whatever they feel, whenever they feel,” Marci argues.

Leash? These are not Matt’s intentions at all. How could Marci assume all of this about Matt? He would never do this to you. He would never just treat you like a doll.

“I don’t know,” you say. You sound sad. And it’s Matt’s lack of actions that are causing it.

“Listen, boo. Don’t call him. Don’t text him. If he texts you, give it a day. Or call him out right away. I don’t know, you’re a journalism major, aren’t you supposed to be confrontational?”

“Actually, objective. Confrontation are for lawyers, like you. Apparently Matt hasn’t learned that, yet, however,” you giggle. Matt smirks, only because it’s coming from you.

“Seriously, though. I know it sucks but, you can’t be weak for him.”

“I know.”

Matt tunes out after that. Maybe he will text you tonight… but he’d only be doing it because he heard your conversation with Marci. And that’s wrong. And doesn’t feel genuine. Fuck, he really fucked this up, didn’t he?

Matt’s been needing to get his shit together his entire life. And he’ll do that for you.

Tonight is not that night.

10:30pm. FRIDAY.

While Matt’s been gathering as much information on this suspect of his all week, by sneaking out past midnight and overhearing conversations, he’s learned enough that this guy is not as smart as he thinks. Or, Matt just has an advantage here.

The man who Matt learned his name, Neil, is working for someone that he only refers to as “The Boss.” He uses people like Neil to collect certain things from certain people–so, he targets them and sends people like Neil to do the dirty work for him. Standard, crime king stuff, Matt supposes.

Matt can’t take down an entire mob. But he can send a message to one of them.

Tonight, Neil will be on his way to visit some family a little more uptown. Matt doesn’t think he’ll be arriving on time.

Actually, Matt knows he won’t be arriving on time.

Because just as Neil is about to turn the corner on 98th and hail a cab, just as he’s about to tighten his grip on the lasagna he brought in a paper bag, just as he thinks he can get away with anything, Matt comes swooping down from a fire escape and kicks Neil down, wrapping an arm around his neck and dragging him into the nearest alley.

“Ay, get the fuck off of me!”

Matt grips him as hard as he can with his arm. Neil kicks and jerks back but Matt stays put as he continues to drag him away.

When they are finally deep enough in the alley, Matt hurls him down and presses a knee on his chest, holding his arms above his head.

“Admit it,” Matt seethes between his teeth.

“Admit what, you asshole?!” Neil spits. Matt can hear Neil’s heart beating rapidly in his ears. He’s scared.

“You shot that woman, took her money and left her to die.”

“She didn’t die!”

Matt crushes his knee on top of Neil’s throat, “Why did you do it?”

Neil coughs, “Why da fuck do you care? You psycho!”

Matt only presses his knee harder on Neil’s throat.

“Fuck!” Neil cries, “the goddamn chain, the-the charm!”

Matt is confused momentarily. While tightening his grip on Neil’s two hands together, Matt quickly lifts his knee and reaches down to rip off the necklace Neil was wearing.

Neil takes a shot at Matt’s jaw but Matt throws the chain to the side and punches Neil in the face.

“Okay, okay! I did it! But I had to, it’s my job! I didn’t have a choice,” Neil chokes out.

“That’s bullshit. Who do you work for?”

Neil laughs, a cryptic laugh that fills Matt’s ears, that only enrages Matt more.

“You couldn’t even punch it out of me if you wanted to know.”

Matt’s senses overload him. The sweat from Neil’s forehead, Neil’s blood filling the air, his cries, the chain that Matt threw to the side of him, even the lasagna that’s spilled over the pavement. Matt punches Neil smack dab in the middle of his face, he punches his jaw, his eyes, his cheek bones, and Matt begins to lose count of how many times he’s hit Neil, but he doesn’t care.

“Please, stop,” Neil barely speaks, “I’ll run.”

“You won’t,” Matt replies, “because I will find you again and I will beat you the same. Unless you turn yourself into the police.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Neil says.

“We always have a choice,” Matt whispers.

Neil doesn’t respond because, well, he simply can’t anymore. His lips are bloody and his eyes are swollen shut. Matt hears him slowly fall asleep.

For a moment, Matt stays kneeling on Neil’s chest. He’s out of breath as well. It’s quiet again. The noises of New York now fill his senses.

Matt stands up slowly over Neil’s body.

He gathers his thoughts. Matt is cold. And suddenly it feels like his mind is unwrapping itself of its black twisted thoughts.

What would have happened if Matt didn’t stop punching?

Cold. Brisk, Autumn cold. Stinging on the open wounds of Matt’s hands. Stinging? What’s that metallic smell? His cut up knuckles. Bloody.

White noise. Matt can’t focus on anything but Neil, beaten to a pulp that lay in front of him, suddenly coughing up blood. Matt’s shaking. How could he have done this? Did he just do this?

Yes, he did. The fact that it came so easy to him frightens Matt. It was so easy to attack the man, so easy to wrap an arm around his neck–not so easy to get him on the ground and to confess what he has done, no. It wasn’t easy to hear the first plea to stop, and most of all, it wasn’t easy for Matt to listen to him.

But here he was, and Matt was shocked to feel so accomplished… unsettled, about this, but why? Was he wrong? Was he the devil in this?

Was he?

Who is Matt Murdock?

11:30pm. LATER.

Matt slowly walks back to campus. He dragged Neil to the side of the curb, leaving him for someone to call the police on. Matt really didn’t know what else to do other than that. He brushed it off.

There was not much information Matt could get out of Neil, but he couldn’t worry about that. There are hundreds of gangs in New York–Matt can’t get to them all. At least this serves as a message to whoever he works for and everyone else that, he knows what happened, and he won’t let it happen again. And if it does, Matt will find them. Again. And again.

Was beating Neil up going to heal that woman’s wound? No. Matt knows that. But he hopes that it brings some solace to her that her attacker was found, and justice was served. There was nothing the police, or the city of New York could do to make that happen. But Matt was able to. Matt did. And that’s all that mattered to him.

But, now Matt knows what he is capable of. It surely frightened him, but at least he now knows the lengths he will reach now. And the line he won’t cross.

He remembers the chain he grabbed from around Neil’s neck. It was always bothering him. It must have been a gang token or something. Something “the boss” gives to his workers that signifies they are a part of his crime. Matt pulls the chain out and feels for the charm: cheap silver, no wonder it bothered Neil so much. The charm itself feels to be a circular charm with indents of another circle, and the initial R.

Matt sighs deeply. Now that Neil was taken care of, he could focus on other important things.

Matt knows he’s back on Columbia turf as the sound of partying and music grows louder. The smell of fresh cut grass and slick pavement and the sound of lamps buzzing along the path to the dorms.

The smell of lavender, the smell of vanilla.

The smell becoming stronger and stronger.

Hesitation in your voice. Uncertainty in your movements.

“Matt?”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #archive of our own #marvel #matt murdock x reader insert #marvel fan fiction #daredevil fan fiction #library series

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fyeahbecachloe · 5 years

Text

the one where beca doesn’t like dogs (4/4)

Beca/Chloe Rating: T Word Count: 2885 Summary:What looked like an emaciated wolf was currently lying on her floor glaring at her. Eyes wide, Beca stood there frozen afraid it would attack her.

Beca doesn’t like dogs but she’s dating a veterinarian so she’s pretty much screwed.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

READ ON AO3

Weekends used to be days to go out, hang with friends, go to the beach, or have date nights. Now weekends to Beca is lying on the couch doing close to nothing except watch TV and spend as much time with Chloe doing minimal activities. The exhaustion from their week only allowed them to do so much movement. The only strenuous activities they participated in was sex.

Beca was lounging on their couch, watching a Chopped marathon while Chloe cooked them lunch. She was helping earlier until Chloe kicked her out because apparently kitchen knives were not to be played with. MJ was watching her cook and hoping she’d drop a piece of food on the floor. Every once in a while Beca could hear Chloe talking to him.

“Such a good sous-chef!” Chloe praised and MJ barked. “So much better than Beca.”

Beca scoffed and lifted her head to yell at Chloe. “I heard that!” She returned back to watching but could already hear MJ running from the kitchen and into the family room where she was. He quickly jumped onto the couch and laid his entire body on top of Beca’s. His head was lying on her chest and he looked at her expectantly.

The first time he ever did that, Beca nearly pushed him off but now she’s so used to it. MJ has been in their house for about 6 weeks and he has been completely transformed. His fur has fully grown back and he was the appropriate weight. His one paw was no longer red and raw abut covered in his normal white fur. The fur on his damaged ear grew back as much as it could. He’ll always look a little funny with one pointed ear and one half an ear but Chloe said it made him that much more special. He still looked grumpy though but Beca kind of really liked that about him.

“What’s up, dude? You help Chloe cook my lunch? Am I going to be eating mouthfuls of fur?” Beca reached over and scratched behind his ear. MJ let out a little howl that sounded like he was almost talking. Another thing Beca found out while he’s been there. Huskies are talkative.

“Baby, food’s ready!” Chloe called from the kitchen.

MJ jumped off of Beca and quickly ran into the kitchen. Beca followed him, shaking her head, and sat down at the island and watched as Chloe set MJ’s food bowl down on the floor. “You do know I’m ‘baby’ right?” Beca said to MJ as he waited patiently for Chloe to give him his command. “She was telling me food was ready, not you.” But MJ wasn’t paying attention to her because Chloe had given the command and was already wolfing down his food.

Chloe laughed and set hers and Beca’s plate of food on the island. “You are ridiculous, you know that?”

“He’s ridiculous,” Beca muttered and twirled a large quantity of spaghetti on her fork and took a huge bite.

Chloe shook her head in the amusement and began eating her lunch. “So MJ is pretty much ready for adoption.”

Beca swallowed her food and took a sip of her Coke. “Oh yeah?” MJ had already finished his food and was doing his normal sitting/begging for scraps.

“Yup,” Chloe took a bite of her spaghetti before continuing. “We’re going to film one more update at the clinic, finishing the editing, and then post in on our youtube. Then MJ is going to do a little photo shoot for the adoption website. I’m sure he’ll be adopted super quickly.” Chloe grabbed her iPad that was next to her on the island and opened up the notepad that had a long paragraph written on it. “This is what’s going to accompany his adoption post.” She handed the iPad to Beca.

Hi! I’m MJ, a Siberian Husky. My rescuers estimate me to be about 2 years old. I’m 55 lbs of pure fluff. I know I look grumpy but I can assure you, I’m a big love and cuddle bug. I’m already house trained and know all my commands. I’m very good on a leash and love to stick close to my humans. And while I get along with other dogs, I prefer to be the only dog in a house. I’m also good with small humans too! I’m very active so I need daily exercise so a house with a yard would be a perfect furever home. I’m also a good listener even though I only have one ear! Please consider adopting me, I’ll love you furever!

Beca finished reading with a smile on her face. “Did you write this?”

Chloe grinned. “No, MJ did, duh.” The smiled fell from her face as if she was just realizing something. She looked down at MJ sadly. “You ready for your forever home, buddy? We’re going to have to say goodbye soon.” MJ walked over to her side and put his head on her lap and let out a dog sigh.

Even though Chloe was looking down at MJ, Beca could tell that she had tears in her eyes. She put her fork down and slid her plate to the side and turned in her chair so she was facing Chloe fully.

“What if this was his forever home?”

Chloe turned her head so fast she felt the wind from her hair. Sure enough, her eyes were filled with tears. “What?”

Beca smiled and took Chloe’s hand. “I’m saying, what if we adopt him and he becomes our dog?”

Tears were now falling down Chloe’s face. “Beca, are you serious? You want to keep MJ?” Beca nodded now only realizing the tears in her own eyes as Chloe pulled her into a kiss. She could see MJ’s tail wagging from the corner of her eye. Chloe pulled back only to stand up and pull Beca into a full body hug with her face in her neck. MJ jumped on them and started barking wanting to be a part of the hug.

“You hear that, buddy?” Chloe asked, pulling slightly back from Beca while still having one arm around her. “Mama wants to keep you forever!” MJ titled his at head both of them before jumping up to stand on hind legs while his front paws were on Chloe’s leg.

Beca watched the exchange with a tearful smile. She never told Chloe but whenever she heard her talking to MJ, Chloe always referred to Beca as “mama” and herself as “mommy.” At the time, Beca knew that Chloe was already dangerously attached but a part of her really didn’t mind having that title. MJ was practically the dog clone of her. Not that she’d ever admit that to Chloe.

“So what’s next, mommy?” Beca quipped. “When do we sign the adoption papers? Or like do a gender reveal or whatever it is that straight couples do?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’ll fill them out on Monday and I’ll change all the information on his chip. Still gotta film the last update and tell our audience that we decided to keep him.” She looked at Beca curiously. “What changed you mind?”

Beca took a deep breath and looked down at MJ who was still looking at them like something was about to happen. “Partially you, partially this stinky butt. When he’s not annoying the crap out of me, he’s so…” She stopped not really know how to describe a dog she never wanted made her feel. “Warm.” She looked back Chloe who was looking at her like she was the whole world. “Like you. You both feel like home.”

Chloe was crying again as she softly kissed Beca. “I have a confession to make.”

Beca grinned. “What? You knew I would want to keep him the entire time?”

“Actually no, after all these years, you still surprise me.” Beca smiled at that. “No, I wanted to say that I named him at the clinic when we first got him.”

Beca squinted at her not quite sure where she was going with this. “Okay?”

Chloe let out a laugh. “MJ stands for Mitchell Jr., I named him after you.”

If Chloe wasn’t already holding her, Beca would’ve pulled back from shock. Her mouth was open in offense. “You named a mangy dog after me? How very dare you!” MJ let out an annoyed grunt at Beca’s outburst (proving Chloe’s point more) before going back to his spot in the family room.

“Babe, please, you’re exactly the same. First, he looks grumpy as hell. He has blue eyes, (“You have blue eyes!”), he seemed to only like me and not anyone else, he doesn’t really like playing with other dogs, but once you get to know him, he’s the softest, sweetest dog in the world. Just like you.” She finished by tapping Beca on her nose.

Beca grumbled. “I’m not the dog.” Chloe laughed and pulled her back for another kiss.

“I love you, thanks for letting us keep MJ.”

“I love you too, please don’t tell anyone you named him after me.”

Chloe’s laughter filled the entire house. “I promise.”

Beca was working on a remix at the studio when she got a notification on her phone from youtube. Unlocking her phone, her lock screen was now a picture of Chloe with MJ, she smiled when she saw that Chloe had finally posted MJ’s rescue video. Pausing what she was doing on her mixing program, Beca went to her laptop and opened up a browser to youtube and clicked on her subscription notifications.

The thumbnail on the video was of MJ smiling and Beca couldn’t help her own as she clicked the play button. A black screen with the text WARNING: GRAPHIC WOUND PICURES CONTAINED IN VIDEO. PLEASE ADVISE appeared. Beca frowned because she knew that she’s probably going to be seeing MJ’s damaged ear.

“Hey guys, welcome back to Scrappy Little Pawbuddies, I’m Doctor Chloe.” The video started with Chloe walking outside while filming herself. “I’m here with Xavier.” The camera moved behind Chloe where one of Chloe’s coworkers waved. “We just received a call about an injured husky that’s been frequenting an old shed. The local neighbors are not quite sure how long he’s been there but they have been leaving food for him. We’re here to see if we can get him back to the clinic.

The camera turned so Beca could see where they were walking to. The shed was located on an old lot and she could see MJ coming into view as Chloe and Xavier got closer. “There he is.” Chloe’s voice was a whisper and they stopped about 10 feet from where MJ was. He looked awful laying on the ground like that. He looked just liked when Beca first met him but a lot dirtier and his ear was bleeding. MJ definitely noticed them approaching because he quickly stood up with his tail between his legs. The camera was set on the ground but still had a good shot of the dog and she saw Xavier slowly approaching with a hamburger and a soft snare.

“Hey buddy, you hungry?” Xavier said as he stopped and knelt down a few feet away from MJ but he was already baring his teeth and was growling quietly. Xavier ripped a few pieces off the hamburger and threw it towards MJ. MJ sniffed at them but didn’t eat any pieces. Text appeared on the bottom of the screen. Xavier realized that the dog probably didn’t trust men so we waited a little while before Dr. Chloe tried.

There was an obvious time jump in the video as it cross faded so now Chloe was sitting in front of MJ and was trying to coax him out of the shed.

“Are you sure you don’t want any food? It’s really good.” She too threw some pieces of burger to MJ but this time he ate a few. He very slowly walked out of the shed and approached Chloe. Beca has watched enough of these videos but it still made her worry every single time Chloe would be this close to a stray especially if it was a bigger dog. Chloe had gotten her fair share of bites from scared dogs. But this time, Beca actually knew how this rescue was going to end.

“Good boy!” MJ was completely within in Chloe’s reach now and he licked her hand. She carefully and easily slipped a loose leash around his neck and gently petted him. The video continued showing Chloe and Xavier walking MJ back to the rescue van and he allowed Xavier to lift him into the crate in the back. The video faded again and now they were back in the clinic and Chloe was standing next MJ who was on an exam table. It looked like he was just freshly bathed and his ear was cleaned up. He was trying to lick Chloe as he she spoke to the camera

”Hey guys, we’re back in the clinic and we decided to name him MJ. We ran a few tests on him, gave him a bath, and cleaned out his ear which looks like was bitten by another dog. It had a little infection so he’s now on antibiotics. He was thankfully heartworm negative and surprisingly no fleas or ticks. Main concerns are his paw, ear, and it looked like he had some irritated skin at some point hence the patches of fur missing. It’s thankfully not mange so that hair will grow back soon. He was surprisingly microchipped but unfortunately the phone number was disconnected.”

Another text appeared on the screen explaining to the audience that the previous owner had died.

“We’re going to keep him here for a few days before he goes off to a foster. Well, actually I’m going to foster him until he’s ready for adoption.” Chloe smiled as she tried to keep MJ from trying to lick her during her entire explanation. “He’s actually already very trained so he seems like he’ll be a really good house guest. We’ll keep you updated on his progress.”

The video continued on as Chloe filmed his progress and it was really something to see MJ transform to a healthy dog. Of course Beca was there during the entire thing but to see it happen on a time lapsed video definitely showed the stark difference. Finally it got to the final update which Beca knew was filmed just a few days ago. MJ was wearing a Barden Bella scarf around his neck. Chloe’s idea obviously.

“Hey guys! Back with the final update with MJ and you’ll be happy to know he’s been adopted.” Chloe paused for dramatic effect. “By me! And my girlfriend. Yes, a complete foster fail, right buddy?” MJ licked her face. “We wanted to thank everyone again for watching and donating. If it weren’t for you, these rescues wouldn’t be possible. MJ is now a happy and healthy, very spoiled dog. Thanks for watching this video and we’ll see you again on the next rescue on Scrappy Little Pawbuddies! Say bye, MJ!” Beca let out a laugh when MJ raised his paw a few times and it looked like he was waving. The video faded to a screen with all the information on the rescue and how to adopt and ways to donate.

Beca scrolled through the comments and smiled at all the ones thanking Chloe and the rescue for all they do and the ones saying how cute MJ was. Of course she rolled her eyes on the ones asking about “Dr. Chloe’s girlfriend” and the rest of the comments telling the user that it was Beca. Sometimes she forgot she was actually a little famous.

Her facetime ringtone interrupted her perusing through the comments and her face broke into a smile when she answered Chloe’s call.

“Hey babe!” Chloe’s blurry face came into focus and Beca could see she was in her office. “Did you watch the video?”

“Of course I did, our little stinker is going to be famous.” Beca saw the phone’s camera flip and then she saw MJ’s grumpy face appear on her screen. “What’s up, dude? You’re about to go viral, please don’t let that inflate your ego.” Beca could tell he was a little confused as to where her voice was coming from so he just barked. Chloe turned the camera back to her.

“What time are you expecting to be home tonight? I’m cutting out early because it’s a slower day so I’ll probably be home around 5.”

Beca looked at the remix she was currently working on and saw she only had a few more things to tweak. “I probably could be out by 6 if I’m lucky. Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll get us take out.”

Chloe smiled. “Okay, I’ll let you get back to work so you can home early. MJ! Come say bye to mama.” She flipped the camera again and MJ did his little wave. Beca reflexively waved back. “Bye Beca, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Beca continued her work with a big smile on her face. The rest of the day flew by as Beca’s mind was filled with thoughts of coming home to her family.

#bechloe #beca x chloe #my fics

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scullyy · 5 years

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Two Sides Of The Same Street /Chapter Three

Title: Two Sides of the Same Street Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

Pairing: Clementine x Louis

Word Count: 1645

Summary: Louis and Clem have some fun in this cold weather.

A/N: This is probably the fluffiest piece I’ve written so far, enjoy :)

Clementine took another sip of her peppermint tea, basking in the warmth it provided. “Does it usually get this cold during winter?” The snow fell gracefully from the dark sky, blanketing the town in a white sheet.

“Unfortunately yeah. But it makes for some killer snowball fights,” Louis munched down onto his croissant. Goddamn Omar never failed to amaze him. “Marlon and I get really into it, I stand as the champion.”

“You do have other friends, right?” She questioned. Louis only ever talked about his wacky adventures with Marlon, the boy seemed almost as mad as Lou. Probably why they were so close.

Louis scoffed. “Of course, everyone loves me. Omar is my friend too, right dude?”

Omar turned from a happy customer and his gentle smile shifted to a glare, directed specifically at Louis. “Run while you still can.” He whispered to Clem.

Clementine hid her snicker behind her large mug as Louis threw one of Clem’s chips at Omid’s back. “He secretly loves me.”

“Right,” Her tone gave away her lack of belief and her annoyance at missing a chip. “Anyways, who’s turn was it?”

“I believe it was mine. What is the last song you listened to?”

Their bus ride game had somehow made it’s way to their lunch break, the third lunch break they had shared together that week. Surprisingly, Clementine found it to be fun. “Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey. I was listening to it on the ride to work this morning.”

Louis tipped his cup of lemonade to her. “Good choice, so your car got fixed then?” Another piece of croissant flew into his mouth, it was addicting!

Clementine giggled at how Louis ate his food. Why was it so cute? “Yes finally. No offence to the bus. So, What is your worst customer story?”

It was a juicy question. Louis’s ears perked up as a devilish smile grew. “I have the best one. I had only been working at the shop for a couple of months when this family of three walks in one day. As the parents are checking stuff out their kid goes batshit crazy, he’s running around, touching everything, trying to take stuff off the walls and his parents aren’t doing anything! I tell him to stop multiple times but he won’t listen, so I got both of my keen eyes on this little dude until the old manager calls me into the back so I can unbox some CDs we ordered. As I’m back there, we hear this fucking banshee-like scream, turns out this kid had climbed the top of one of our drum sets, jumped off and landed on his spine on our spare snare drum stand we have sitting nearby.”

Clementine’s jaw was hanging wide open like a fish.

“It gets worse. The mom marches up to me and starts going off at me, saying that I should have been watching her child. She starts talking to the manager about how incompetent I am meanwhile I’m standing there like an idiot. But my manager says to her how it’s not my job to watch her child and how she should have told him to be more careful. Eventually, the family stormed out. Sometimes I wish the shop was idiot-proof.”

“Oh my god,” She threw a hand over her mouth, trying to repress the laughter. “That sucks.”

Louis brushed it off. “It was, but it’s funny to think about now,” His water helped to clear the scratch at the back of his throat. “I wanna hear your story now. Any customers you wanted to beat over the head?”

“Mine isn’t as exciting. It was a few days ago, this guy comes in wanting to return this antique Royal Doulton vase but it was way past the return date. He starts screaming but then he takes the vase and tries to throw it at Lee! Luckily he dodged it and threw the guy out.”

Now it was Louis’s turn to look shocked. “Fuck...did you use your overly expensive spoons to attack him?”

“They are not expensive!” She took a piece of his croissant and threw it at his nose, time for him to lose his own food. “Dork.”

Louis dramatically placed a hand over his heart, squeezing his dark blue shirt. “Dork? That is a declaration of love if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Since when?”

He shrugged. “Y’know, it goes alongside things like ‘less than three’ and ‘Rawr XD. That’s just how life works, so you love me.” Louis wiggled his fine eyebrows.

Clementine rolled her eyes at his gesture. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“That’s all I do,” He pushed his plate to the side and dusted off his hands of crumbs. “We still have fifteen minutes left of our break, anything else you wanted to do?”

Clementine wiped her mouth clean. “Maybe we can just go for a walk in the snow?”

That’s so fucking romantic. Louis, you marry this girl right now-

“Sounds like fun!” Louis waved at one of the waiters, getting him to come to their table. “Give my compliments to Chef Omar, tell him he has a lovely smile. Thank you!” He left the man a tip before waving at Omar. Begrudgingly, he waved back. Louis somehow manages to make his day better.

Clementine picked up a palm full of snow and threw it into the air, twirling as it fell around her. “Despite how cold it gets, I do enjoy the snow.” She looked like a winter fairy with those adorable earmuffs on.

Louis smirked as he picked up a handful of snow. “Oh really?” He hummed, his batting arm pegged the snowball at the back of her head, exploding all over her hair. Louis erupted in laughter as Clementine froze, the snow was making its cold descent down her back.

She slowly turned around, shooting daggers at Louis. “You asshole.” She quickly scooped up her own snowball and planted it right in his face, snickering at how his nose scrunched. Those baseball lessons really paid off.

He wiped the excess snow from his eyes. “This means war.” Clementine ran down the pavement as Louis chased her with handfuls of snow, their laughter filling the ears of those who were forced to dodge them.

He made an attempt to throw a snowball at her back but missed when she ran around a corner. “Just hold still!” He called out to her.

“We’re enemies now! I will never surrender!” Clementine crafted an extra large snowball just for him. She turned on her heels in one swift movement and ran back at him, slamming the ball atop his head. Amongst the collision, Clem had lost her footing and tumbled down alongside Louis.

Except she didn’t land on the snow.

The warm presence beneath her was comforting, she couldn’t help but melt into it.

“Clem?” Clementine raised her head and pushed away some loose curls from her eyes. Below her own head was Louis, at very close proximity. “I love your eyes.” He stated.

The heat radiating from her cheeks could melt the snow. “What?”

It was the first moment he could truly appreciate them. There were brown specks in them, a pool of honey and Earth. “It’s just, your eyes are the colour of gold people spend lifetimes trying to find.” He whispered only for her.

Clementine found herself brushing the snow away from his freckled cheek, they looked like beautiful constellations. She gently grabbed ahold of the collar on his thick coat and closed the gap between them.

And suddenly everything made sense.

Her heart opened like a butterfly taking flight, the fact he was kissing her had her mind reeling. An explosion went off in Louis’s own heart when he saw Clementine’s flushed cheeks as she pulled away. It was official, he had died and gone to heaven.

“You’re..uh..really pretty.” He stuttered like the smooth criminal he is.

She giggled. “You’re pretty too. Sorry if I took you by surprise, I just-”

“-no it’s great! I’m glad you did that. I’ve always wanted to kiss a cute girl whilst freezing my ass off in the snow in the middle of a busy street.” He teased.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “How specific.” Clementine moved away and got back to her feet, her legs almost becoming jelly. Louis followed her and dusted the snow off his coat.

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic,” His eyes lingered on her hands, her light purple gloves made him smile for some reason. Cuteness perhaps? Everything about her was cute.”Is it okay if I hold your hand?”

Clementine snaked her fingers amongst his own. “I like you a lot Lou.”

“As do I Clemster,” He brought her hand up and kissed her fuzzy gloves. “And if we don’t leave now we’ll be super later for work.”

“Oh shit.”

She and Louis ran like the wind down the crowded street, swerving between the judging stares of the people beside them. Clementine let go of his hand as she made her way across the street, desperate to get out of the growing winds. “I’ll catch you later Clem!” He called out, his hand waving through the air furiously.

“Run you clever boy!”

Louis stopped dead in his tracks, his shoes skidding along the snow. His head whipped up in time to catch her suave wink. With a smile that radiated good energy, he headed back into the store, punching the air once he knew he was safe from prying eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t so safe.

Marlon chucked the damp towel into the bucket. “Why do you look so...crazy?”

Louis shrugged his coat off and chucked it over the counter, sending fragments of snow flying onto the floor. “I got to know a pretty face and electric soul.”

#twdg #the walking dead game #twdgs4 #clementine twdg #the walking dead game season four #twdg louis #clouis #louisentine #fanfiction #xscullyx

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thisis4fanfiction · 5 years

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True Love (Chapter 5) by roadtripwithlucifer

WhiJo sips on his beer as Greg recounts the date to him, smile spread wide across his face. “I thought you only did karaoke when you’re drunk, dude.” “I can like… whimsical things when I’m sober.” “You remember on Josh’s 21st we did Don’t Stop Me Now until someone threw something at us? And then you belted out that Celine Dion song… from Titanic… “My Heart Will Go On? No. I – no. That didn’t happen.” “Really glad you stopped drinking, dude. Did Celine Dion a favor.” “And my car,” Hector adds from the bar, sitting across from Heather, who shoots Greg a knowing wink. He did good. Now the ball is in Rebecca’s court. “A…cooking class?” “A cooking class! A couples cooking class. What do you think? Do you love it?” “Rebecca – I’ve never seen you cook anything. In my life.” Greg takes a brief look around. There’s six different counters, each with a sink and a stove and just a bit of counter space, and six pairs of couples, themselves included, some laughing and drinking wine. Some clearly getting to know each other for the first time. “Oh, yeah, no, I don’t cook. But. This class is called Italian Masterpieces. How could I not? Plus, you always tell me how much you miss cooking now that you’re always running things at the restaurant.” Greg gives Rebecca and inquisitive look and she curls her lips and shrugs innocently. The chef, a young woman who couldn’t be any older than the two of them in a crisp white uniform and chef hat, which Greg Serrano, being a restaurant owner, knows is not how real cooks dress, you could never keep your uniform that white, come on - but he digresses - is making her rounds, introducing herself to each couple before she stops in front of them. “Hi you two! I’m Chef Sarah. Welcome to our couples cooking class. “ “Hello, Chef Sarah. I would like to introduce you to another Italian masterpiece,” Rebecca makes presenting hands at Greg and he closes his eyes, shakes his head and covers his face with one of his hands, though there’s an undeniable smile on his face. “Greg Serrano! And I – I am Rebecca Nora Bunch! And I’d like to ask – what’s, like, the reward system here? Do you give grades or do you announce which couple made the best dish… is this like Chopped?” Chef Sarah gives them an uncomfortable laugh and brushes off Rebecca’s questions. “Well – I’m happy to have a long term couple here. This is always so awkward as a place for first dates… How long have you two been together?” “Oh – this is our second date!” Rebecca bolts out, holding on to Greg’s arm. Chef Sarah looks between the two of them, squints her eyes and pretends to be doing something with her apron. “……………Okay. Great. Well. Enjoy the class.” Rebecca’s pulling out a bottle that looks like champagne from her giant purse – but its just sparkling apple juice, who’da thunk it - and is grabbing them two wine glasses from beneath the cooking station. “You booked this class exclusively for that joke, huh?” “Best 200 dollars I ever spent.” Rebecca makes ridiculous faces as he’s boiling the mussels for the appetizer, grabbing one of the opened shells and using it as a marionette, making ridiculous jokes about seafood. Greg is in the zone at first, reducing causes, adding herbs – but Rebecca is distracting in all the best ways and it doesn’t take long for Greg to stop caring so much about the perfection of the meal and to focus on what really matters. The woman standing next to him. Greg elbows her. “Wow, its so interesting, getting to know you for the first time, on this, our second date.” “This doing anything for you?” Rebecca asks, wiggling her eyebrows and bringing the small ball of gnudi mixture in front of her face, rolling it into a ball between her two palms and sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth, like she’s concentrating deeply. Greg almost burst out laughing, the other couples, much quieter than the two of them, shooting them inquiring looks. They’re having a much harder time than Greg and Rebecca – there’s a benefit to having an actual well-versed cook in the kitchen. And not like any of these techniques are new to Greg – but he sure is getting a kick out of Rebecca trying them and stumbling her way through reducing a sauce, or throwing in too many pine nuts for the pesto… It’s the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen and the butterflies in his stomach are alive and well. That said, he sure as hell isn’t going to let that woman zest that lemon like that for the sorbet! Who does that?! She’s getting the rind… No, no, don’t do it like that, hold on.” Greg stands behind Rebecca and gently takes her hand. She leans back into him, bodies making contact. He leans down next to her ears and whispers, “Pay attention,” but he knows damn well she’s not gonna pay attention. He guides her on how to zest a lemon correctly. Just the aromatic surface part. His fingers find their way under her shirt and he quickly looks around, nobody else paying attention, to her naval, and a sneaky little finger down the side of her pants. She almost gasps at the sensation and closes her eyes hard. “Woop! Watch out for that lemon juice! It’ll sting your eyes!” Chef Sarah pipes up and Greg hurriedly removes his hand from under Rebecca’s shirt and looks up to the ceiling, innocently, as Rebecca, shaking hands, continues to zest. Greg’s apartment is almost laughably small, a 600 sq foot one bedroom which happened to be mostly kitchen. Its not entirely furnished, either, with a couch, a TV, and a TV stand without a coffee table, or a dining room table, or really much else. No art on the walls. Rebecca muses that Greg is sorely missing a giant fish. At least his kitchen is fairly large, with an island counter and upgraded appliances. Probably the reason Greg would choose one of these new complexes rather than something a little older but more homey. He doesn’t really invite Rebecca in, she just scoots in after him. He’s barely paying attention, throwing his jacket onto the couch and going towards the refrigerator before he stops and looks at Rebecca, like he’s processing what’s happening for the first time. Rebecca is standing in front of the door, holding her purse in her hand innocently, looking around. “Rebecca – I. Please. Come in. Sit down.” He motions absently to the couch and Rebecca hops up, throwing her coat off and her purse somewhere into the corner, sitting down innocently on the couch. Comfy. “Can I make you a cup of coffee? Or tea?” Greg’s already working as he’s talking, getting some coffee beans into the grinder and heating up his electric kettle. He almost doesn’t notice it as she’s standing next to him, examining the counter space. “A French press? I didn’t realize you were so fancy.” “Surprisingly, when you go back to school in your late 20s, the cheap shit doesn’t cut it anymore.” Rebecca steps behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, head resting against his shoulder blades. He pauses for a few seconds, running a thumb over her hands, before continuing to make them coffee. Rebecca takes a deep inhale of him, fingers working between the buttons of his shirt. “What can I do to help?” Greg chuckles. He turns around, dislodging her wandering hands. In one quick movement, he lifts her up, her instinctively wrapping her legs around him for balance, and walks her a few feet to sit her on top of the island counter. Her legs are still wrapped around him as he sets her down, but now she’s looking down at him. Rebecca leans in close, capturing Greg’s lips in a long, chaste kiss. “I’ve missed you….” She whispers against his lips as she leans her forehead against his. His hands are still wrapped around her back and he paints small circles between her shoulder blades with his fingers. She can feel his breathing quicken as she leans in again, kissing him on the corner of his mouth, just barely. He slots himself a little closer, body pressed against the counter, centered between her legs. He moves straight in for her neck, pressing his lips lightly against her pulse, sending goosebumps up and down her body. Rebecca is almost embarrassed at the realization that her nipples immediately get hard in anticipation. His voice is lower, husky when he speaks again, doing unspeakable things to Rebecca’s nether regions. “Tell me how much.” Rebecca feels her mouth start to water – at which moment, the kettle dings that its finished heating up the water and Greg pulls away, leaving her, slack mouthed and legs open, on the kitchen counter. “You take cream and sugar, right?” Greg asks, voice suddenly calmer and back to normal. “… I definitely take cream.” Rebecca replies, sultry. Greg brushes off the comment and brings the tiny carton of half-and-half and a coffee cup to her. Rebecca gives him a playful glare, but pours the creamer into the coffee anyway, blows on it, and takes a large, slurpy sip. He’s leaning against the opposite counter, them looking at each other, wordless. Rebecca finishes her cup uncharacteristically quickly, and, not looking away, picks up the carton of half-and-half. Opens it. And pours a tiny amount down her collarbone. Greg watches, wide eyed, as the milky-white drops slowly trail down her collarbone and disappear in her cleavage. “Whoops. So clumsy.” Rebecca says, arching her eyebrows and licking her lips. “You’re obscene…” Greg murmurs, but its spare seconds before he’s rushing to her, between her legs and his tongue in on her collarbone. She arches her neck back, giving him easier access. Greg’s tongue follows the line of the creamer into her breasts, fingers working on the buttons of her blouse. She’s wearing a lacy, black bra, push up, as if she even needed it, and Greg makes quick work of making his way, smoothly, under her shirt and unhooking her bra. He doesn’t take the bra off, not yet, just pulls at the cups until her nipples are exposed, just a sliver. Rebecca feels herself breathing heavier, keeping her eyes on Greg. As soon as he puts his mouth around her nipple, teeth mildly grazing the tender nubs, he looks up at her and smirks, making her go lightheaded. Jesus Christ. “This what you want?” He whispers, putting his mouth of her breast, using his spare hand to tweak her other nipple. Rebecca gasps. “… Please,” she groans out. Greg is back at her neck, hands working on the zipper of her pants, tongue slick against her collarbone. “Tell me how much.” He all but growls into her ear, husky and sweet like molasses. Rebecca’s pulse skyrockets. Her panties might as well be a waterslide. Greg isn’t stopping, though, and he slides his hands into her now unbuttoned pants, touching her tentatively over her underwear. A few circles around her clit. A light finger over her pussy. She’s quivering now, mouth watering, almost in tears. “Please… please… I want you to fuck me.” Rebecca moans, words quiet. She feels Greg smile into her neck and he slides one finger right past her panties into her. She gasps at the sensation, wrapping both arms around Greg. “Is that so?” he asks, finger slipping out of her pussy and traveling back to her clit, the wetness smoothing his passage, making Rebecca almost jump off the counter. “Please. Fuck me like I’m your dirty little slut. I want you…” She reaches for his pants, making quick work of the buttons, gripping his cock hard with her hand. His breath hitches, but the words are coming out quickly now, a little more frantic as he makes his way back to her pussy and gently inserts two fingers, arching them, pushing in and out. Rebecca moans, digging her nails into his shoulder while the other works his erection in eager, jerky motions. “Fuck me so hard I can’t walk for a week… Fuck me so hard that everyone knows I’m yours.” The last few words seems to set something off in Greg, and he pulls his fingers out. He looks her in the eyes, cheeks flushed, mouth pink and needy, breathing erratic. He kisses her, lips over hers, tongue searching her mouth. Greg grabs her belt loops and she complies, lifting her ass up and letting him slide her pants and her panties right onto the floor. He kneels down immediately, tongue on her clit and fingers in her pussy, and her chest feels like its about to explode. How he still knows her body so well after all these years is unreal – but he’s hitting all the right points, just slow enough that Rebecca’s legs are shaking and the wetness of his fingers sliding in and out of her the only sound filling the kitchen. The white hot lights starts to build up behind her eyes in another minute and she grabs onto his hair and gently wills him up. His fingers don’t stop the work but he comes in for another kiss, and the taste of herself in his mouth is driving Rebecca crazy. “Bed,” she all but whispers against his lips and he doesn’t need to be told twice. He kicks his pants that are wrapped around his ankles to the corner, grabs Rebecca and somehow carries her into the bedroom, dropping her on the bed, her hair splayed around her like some fucking Grecian painting. Rebecca’s hands are on his dick before he’s even fully on the bed and she’s impatiently trying to guide him inside her, but he pulls away, wagging his finger. Rebecca looks at him, exasperated. He shakes his head at her, reaches towards his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Rebecca groans in agreement. He uses his teeth to rip open the condom, fingers working Rebecca’s pussy. Rebecca is already putting her legs on his shoulders, making a show of tweaking her nipples in front of him and licking her lips. “Come on, Serrano. Fuck me stupid.” Greg snorts and shakes his head. He grabs his dick and slides It against her, hitting her clit, a few times before he gently glides himself inside. Rebecca’s breath hitches and Greg has to stop for a moment, his entire body pulsating with want. He turns to kiss her calf draped over his legs, grips her thighs, and starts to rock into her. Rebecca seems to be loving it and the look on her face makes him increase the speed of his rhythm until he feels himself consistently hit her walls, each thrust causing a sharp exhale of air. As the pressure starts to build up, Greg takes her legs and puts them back down on the bed, laying himself more flat, and capturing her panting mouth in a kiss. Her moaning with each thrust, deep and wet, is the best goddamn thing he’s ever heard. She wraps her legs around his back and suddenly she’s forcing him to roll over, her on top. The view is stupendous. He devours her with his eyes, Rebecca flushes, needy, grinding against him desperately, breath hitching, only tiny gasps escaping her pink lips every few seconds, her eyes closing involuntarily. Greg generally likes to close his eyes but this – this he is not going to miss. Greg sits up, gripping Rebecca’s hips, and kisses her hard on the mouth. She’s rolling her hips rhythmically, perfectly, and God, Greg is not going to last long. “Oh shit!” Rebecca exclaims, legs starting to shake. She keeps grinding against him, him sitting up, nipple in his mouth. His body, slick from her, was giving her just the right amount of friction and holy shit – she’s gonna cum. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum…” she moans hurriedly, fingernails digging into his back, making him completely lose control, start to rock his own hips, faster and faster until they’re both sweating, breathless messes. Rebecca is first, deep inhale and gasp, her legs shaking on top of him and him next, moaning her name. The two of them collapse in the afterglow, bodies slick with sweat. Rebecca is laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, a huge smile on her face as Greg runs off to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. That’s the first time she’s had sex in almost two years. Well worth the wait. “I think the standard is three dates before sleeping with someone.” Greg says, butt naked, walking back towards the bed. She taps the sheets next to her and he climbs under the covers until their naked bodies are slotted next to each other, face to face. Rebecca leans in to kiss him, and Greg complies, gentle, fluttery, eliciting an almost embarrassing sigh from his mouth. “Greg?” “Yeah?” “I love you.” Greg meets Rebecca’s eyes, but she doesn’t flinch away. She’s smiling gently, hair a mess and makeup smeared. He wraps his arms tighter around her, until her face is pressed against his chest so she could her the beating of his heart. “I love you too.” “Rebecca… why are you walking like that?” Heather takes less than five seconds to comment as Rebecca walks into Home Base. She gives her a curt look and sits down next to Hector at the bar. “Oh – that’s the signature Greg Serrano limp.” Heather nods knowingly and Rebecca covers her own mouth with her hand, trying to hide her smile. Hector looks horrified, looking back and forth from Rebecca to Heather frantically. “Is his… babe, is his… hmmm… huge? Is Greg’s penis huge? You have to tell me. I’ll never sleep again. Is it bigger than mine? God - ” Hector grips his head in his hands and scoots away from the bar, making his way to the bathroom, muttering something to himself. Heather laughs out loud and fist-bumps a suddenly very bashful Rebecca. “Is – does everyone know?” Chris pops up from behind the bar and Rebecca darts her head over to Heather, who shrugs. “He needed a summer job.” “Yeah, I already tweeted it, it’s the number 1 locally tending hashtag.” Chris points his phone towards Rebecca and indeed, #Grebecca, #sixlongyears both trending. Greg is going to fucking hate that. It’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen.

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