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last-words-ofashootingstar · 8 months

Text

Moll

❥ Choi San x fem reader

SPOOKTOBER SPECIAL

➯a/n: i've been watching waaaaay too much 1920s drama sooooooo (i went way overboard, i feel liek i wrote a movie)

✃ moll; a mobsters girl, circa 1920s

✫彡wordcount: 6.2k

(✯◡✯)(>ᴗ•)genre: 1920s mafia au, plot heavy smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: mentions of drugs, violence, threatening with a gun(safety was on lol), kidnapping, forced marriage, forced affection, stockholm syndrome, pregnancy, murder(not descriptive at all), NSFW; virginity loss, unprotected (NO DO THAT🫵🏻), possessiveness to the max, breeding kink

not proof read

✩ index: dope; drugs, specifically cocaine or heroin. bent; drunk. bump you off; murder. bearcat; a feisty woman. vamp; an aggressive flirt. flat-tire; a bore. punch the bag; talk. dame, doll, bunny, water-proof; a (attractive) woman. holding a torch; having a crush. get in a lather/ get lathered up; get worked up or angry. skin; condom. get a wiggle on; leave quickly.

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

"Where's the money?"

"That's all of it! Please, Mister-"

The echoing slap across the room makes you cringe from your hiding place in the pantry. It's nothing new. Your family had been mixed up in all kinds of shenanigans and you had witnessed a great deal of them. But it always hurts when they come back to haunt you.

You cup your hand over your mouth to muffle your scared breath, trying desperately put your mind in a better place. Anywhere but here.

"I gave you more than enough time. Don't you think?"

"Nobodies buying, please Mr. Choi! You have to understand, I tried. I went from corner to corner to corner," your older brother pleads.

He isn't lying either. The drugs that the mafia had provided him to sell- well, they weren't selling. No body had the money. If they did, they only bought the smallest amount and resold it at a higher price.

It wasn't his fault the country was in a depression.

"It- I still have the dope stored away! Just in the back shed, you can have it back! May-maybe someone up North can have better lu-ah!"

A dull thud.

And another.

A crash. Your brothers body hitting the floor no doubt.

"You gon' tell me how to peddle my own product now? I don't think so! Are you bent? Huh?" His voice gets louder with each insult hurled at your brother. "You skim a little of the top, is that it? I oughta bump you off!"

You can't help the small gasp that exits your shaking lips, and you immediately recognize your mistake as it goes silent in the home. Only your brothers ragged breathing and the thrumming of your anxious heart reaching your ears.

"Mr. Ch-"

"Shut your kisser! Who's here with us?"

"N-Nobody! No! No, no, wait-"

Light floods the small room you've sought safety in, and that false sense of security shatters the second you see the man attached to the threatening voice.

He's a cop.

He's got a badge and a gun and authority. He's supposed to be someone safe. Instead, he's got knuckles blooded with your kin and a smirk on his stubbled face.

His wide shoulders block the light, casting his silhouette over you like a storm cloud.

You've cowered into the corner, skirt pulled over your trembling knees as you scoot further away. Wide eyes looking up at him, silently pleading.

"Why you hidin', vamp?"

"Please, Mr.Choi, she don't know from nothing!"

You glance past the man -Mr.Choi- 's neat slacks, and see your brothers face messed with blood, dripping onto the floor from his nose. He's pulling himself up slowly, kneeling on the hardwood.

"Get up," Mr.Choi nods his head at you, and you immediately follow his order, afraid to test his nerves further. "Help this goof up." You lower your head, slowly approaching the man who stays in the doorway. "Now, we ain't got all day!"

You rush past him and kneel, wrapping your arms under his and pulling him up with a grimace, "c'mon, Bub, get up."

The man watches you heave him up, leaning against the wall with his hand on his hip holster in case you decide to get brave. "Bub's done got you mixed up in something real risky, girl. What do you know?"

"Don't know nothin', Mister. Mind my own." You feign some semblance of calm. You lower your brother onto a chair, and he nearly falls onto the dinner table before you catch his head. "You had to knock him on the head?"

He chuckles, slowly stalking around the room, "don't get mouthy, Bearcat." He takes a seat at the head of the table, pointing to the chair opposite of him. "Sit."

You lower his dizzy head to rest on the table before taking the seat he pointed to, folding your hands in your lap and lowering your head. "I never touched your dope, I don't mess with that."

He slowly places his gun on the table, fingers lingering over it. He studies you- eyes never leaving. "How much of the beans has he spilled to you?"

"I don't know what you mean-"

"Oh, sure."

You look up, and you regret floods your veins. He's sizing you up. Face completely void of emotion. Shoulders slack and relaxed like he isn't ready to shoot you at a moments notice. "Punch the bag, now. Before I shoot off your Bubs knee cap." He cocks his gun.

"Okay! Okay, listen-" you gulp, looking back down, "all he's ever told me is that he gets some products and sells them, gives you the money and you give him a cut. That's it! That's all I know, really. Don't know where you get it or nothin'. I can keep my trap shut."

"You don't go to the corners with him?"

"Nev-"

"If I show your face at the station, nobody gonna recognize you?"

"No," you look up again, "everyone knows I'm a good girl, Officer."

He lets out an amused chuckle, rubbing his brow. "You tugging my leg?"

"No. I'm not a drug peddler. I'm a secretary. I volunteer at the soup kitchen. I babysit-"

Your anxious babbling to get yourself out of your brothers trouble is interrupted when Mr.Choi, suddenly behind you, grips the back of your neck and pushes your head to the table. Your eyes meet your brothers drowsy ones, tears quickly filling up in both. "Please, she's tellin' the truth! I ain't even tell her I was selling till you called last minute! She's innocent!"

"I don't like liars!" He shouts, making you jump under his harsh grip, "I asked you if we were alone the moment I walked in this dump! You're a little sneak, aye? How do I know you didn't hide her to gather intel on me? Get me fired and kicked out? Get yourself a little raise? How do I know she's even your sister? She could be a snake! Tell me the truth, now!"

The cool metal of his gun touches your temple, and the sobs you've been holding back fall out of your lips loudly. "Bub, tell him!"

"Tell me, Bub!" He mocks you, pressing the barrel deeper into the back of your head.

"That's the truth! I sell your dope by myself and she doesn't know nothing about it! Please, she's all I have!" He's growing more and more frantic, head heavy as he lifts it to look Mr.Choi in the eyes, "I'll find a way! I'll go up North myself, I-I'll take a dimebox to Iafeild o-or," he himself is crying now, watching helplessly as he tugs you out of your chair. "Please, she's all I have!"

He pushes you to the floor and watches you scramble, kicking your knees out from under you, albeit gently, it makes you fall face first. He lowers himself in a squat, watching you with a certain amusement you curl up on yourself. "Well why didn't you just say so!" He clips his gun back on his hip and smirks as you both let out a sigh of relief.

Mr.Choi doesn't leave just yet, however.

He straddles your back and flips you over, gripping your chin as it trembles. Pulls your face close to his and inspects you. Your tears wet his fingers. "Hmm, can't blame me for being suspicious. She's water-proof and you," he looks over at the table and chuckles, "well you're just a dog."

He stands and extends his hand for you, rolling his eyes as you ignore it. "Get up, Doll." He groans, pulling you to your feet, "go pack a bag."

"W-"

"She's not goin' with you," your brothers brief bravery is shut down the second the copper reaches for his gun again, "I- I mean why?"

"You," Mr.Choi points to him, "are gonna go to Iafeild and sell all of the shit I gave you like you should have done two months ago. And she," he wraps his arm around your shoulders with a cocky grin, "is gonna be your encouragement to get me my money. If you aren't back with all of it in... three weeks, say? Little sis' here is gonna take the big sleep." He ignores you as you cry harder, simply glaring at your brother. "Capiche?"

He nods frantically, looking away as you look to him with pleading eyes. There's nothing he can do. This is bigger than him. He's got messed up with the wrong crowds and now you have to pay the price as well.

"Put a pep in your step, clock starts tonight."

❦

He opens the car door, watching silently as you peek your head out before your body follows.

You clutch your bag close to your chest, still sniffling and sobbing quietly. Your kitten heels click on the cement, messed curls blowing with the October winds.

"Follow me," he guides you by the small of your back, shockingly gentle with your shaking form. "Don't pull any tricks, Doll." He leads you up the stairs of the secluded farm house, opening up the screen door and ushering you in.

"San, Finally!" A voice booms from inside the home, making you squeak. When you turn to go back out the door, you collide with Mr.Choi, who you gather must be San, 's chest. "Was starting to think- oh! Who's the dame?"

"This," he turns you by your shoulders and tilts your head up to face the man who's descending the stairs, "is Mr. (L/n)'s sister. She's staying for a bit while her brother sorts out some business upstate." You can almost feel his smirk in the way he speaks.

The other man, who's finally come face to face with you, seems a great deal less threatening than San.

"Tsk," he rolls his eyes at San, "sure thing, fella. You just went and found yourself a Moll."

"A Moll? Sure, she's cute but she seems a bit flat-tire, no? Not exactly the type of woman I go for."

"She's exactly the type you go for, you're trying to get her in the bag! Lost bunny is your type."

"Oh, take a hike, Hwa!"

You go back and forth looking at them in confusion as they bicker, hugging your bag to your chest tightly. You don't know what a 'Moll' is but you do know you don't want to be Mr. Chois. You simply tune them out and stare at the floor blanky, tears still flowing.

"If you're not holding a torch, why didn't you kill him like we planned?"

"Well-" His words die on his tongue as he looks over at you. You do look like a lost bunny. Making yourself small between them and letting your tears flow as a defense mechanism. He won't admit it, especially aloud. But you are exactly the woman he's been looking for. "Oh, hell," he pulls a blue handkerchief from his pocket and shoves it into your hand, "stop crying so much. Not gonna hurt you."

Very hard to believe after his threats, but you try your hardest to stop the onslaught of warm tears. You wipe your face with the fabric and sniffle quietly, coming back to your own body as Seonghwa extends his hand slowly.

"I'm Seonghwa, 'can call me Hwa if you like. I'll be lookin' after you when San here is busy. Let's get along well."

You shake his hand gently and croak out a simple, "(Y/n)."

❦

The rest of the day passed quickly, locked up in a bedroom while San and Hwa could still be heard downstairs, which only served to add to your anxieties. It felt as if at any second they would change their mind and come up to bump you off.

You busied yourself doing what San told you to before he locked the door behind him. 'Unpack and get cozy.' Though that latter wasn't as easy as hanging your few dresses in the oak closet and putting your hairbrush in the nightstand, awkwardly placing your products in the corner of the attached bathroom. Especially after you pieced things together.

There was an array of suits and slacks hanging in the closet. Shiny loafers on the floor. A clip of bullets in the nightstand. A roll of condoms. A stash of cash in a duffle bag on the hook behind the door. A pack of cigarettes and matches on the window sill. A bottle of cologne that smelled suspiciously like Mr. Chois car.

This was Sans room they had locked you in.

You had long took a seat on the windowsill and dangled your legs out of it, debating how badly it would hurt if you decided to fall and try to make a run for it. You came to the conclusion that it was useless. It took fourty minutes to get here from the city. The last home you passed being 20 of those away.

The lock on the door clinked loudly, and it opened slowly. You turned and looked over your shoulder, and it wasn't a surprise that San was the one you faced.

"Hungry, Doll?" He shuts the door with his foot as he carefully enters with a plate in hand. He doesn't seem alarmed by your hazardous seating choice, probably because he doesn't take you for a fool that will break their ankles trying to jump from the third story.

"No," you mutter, turning back around and facing the setting sun without another word or pleasantry his way.

"Don't let it get cold, I reheated it just for you."

"Too bad. Not hungry."

He comes behind you and rests his palms on either side of your hips, chest pressing to your back as he looks out at natures expanse. "Pretty, ain't it?"

When he doesn't get anything resembling a response, he tries again. "It's my own property. Worked in that barn everyday until I became a cop."

He's met with silence. "Plan to share it with my wife one day."

Nothing. "I know you think I'm a monster but I am just a man."

"A man who had a gun to my head..."

"A man who's just trying to survive a war and a pandemic. You'll get that one day. I don't mean no harm until harm comes for me."

A silence washes over you both for a moment.

"Will you shoot me if my brother doesn't sell all your dope?"

"No."

And again. His soft breath, your anxious ones.

"Then why am I here?"

It's his turn to be silent. He backs away from you and sits on the bed, watching you as you sit still like a statue. You watch the sun disappear like a motion picture of art. A certain peace overcoming you for the briefest moment.

"Because you will be that wife that I share with."

And peace shattered by Choi San once again.

You head snaps in his direction, falling back into the house from the windowsill with a thud. You both stare at one another. San stares with an unreadable expression. Yours of pure horror and confusion. "What?!"

"I'll drop business with your brother for good. Clear all his debt with the boys. Give him all of the cash he gets from this last... adventure. He'll be well off and so will you. I'll make a good, honest woman of you."

"Y-" Yours brain is officially thrown into a panic, an overdrive of emotions, and it all tumbles out before you can stop it. "You have to be off your rocker! You're insane! I already am a good, honest woman! Go chase yourself, I'm not marrying you- you- what? No! No!"

"You 'aven't got much choice in the matter, Doll. Don't get yourself in a lather."

"Don't get- oh, I am lathered up, Mr.Choi! I oughta smack some sense into you, demanding a girls hand in marriage like it's still 1890! It's nineteen-twen-"

He smacks the sense into you before you can to him.

"Oh God," you sob, holding your stinging cheek as tears build up in your waterline. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," you lower your head. Thinking, surely, you just dug your own grave. "Please-"

"This is exactly why I chose you," he crouches in-front of your crumpled form and tilts your head up, "a dame who appears like a lost bunny but has the soul of a beast."

You simply stare up at him, deathly afraid to move or speak in fear of letting your anger and sadness slip again.

"Got somethin' to say?"

You gulp before nodding your head in his hold.

"Go on."

"I don't w-want to marry a mobster... I don't want to be involved with dirty money! A corrupt copper..."

He chuckles softly, rubbing his thumb over your untainted cheek. "You should be thanking me, Doll... That dirty money? Been putting a roof over your head for three years. Corrupt copper? Well, he even had the decency to have the safety on his gun while pointing it at your pretty head. Mobster? Willing to put a ring on your finger and give you a nice home."

The tears start free falling as your situation fully sinks in. There really is no way out. You'll end up in the ground if you don't let him put a ring on it.

"So, I'll say it again," he grips the back of your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, "you should be thankin' me."

"T-thank you."

"Attagirl," he lets go of you completely, letting you fall back to the floor, "now eat."

❦

He let you be that night, and you didn't see him the next morning either. It was Seonghwa who came to the door, and you didn't know if you should feel relieved or not.

"Hey, Miss," He spoke softly, staying just outside of the doorway. "I heard what happened... I'm sorry."

He seemed genuine enough. You sat down your hairbrush and turned on the small stool. Your eyes puffy and red from the lifetimes worth of crying you did last night.

"Uhm, so San wants us to go to town and pick out some fabrics for your weddin' gown. If you aren't up for it, I can pick them out myself."

"Will he be going with us?"

"No, just you and I."

You were sick and tired of smelling San every time you tried to take a deep breath, and that's how you ended up here.

It's less overwhelming than being in that farmhouse that seems to be your prison for now and for forever to come. But overwhelming nonetheless.

Hwa is talkative. But you don't mind. He treats you well. Like an equal. He doesn't talk down to you like many men do. And that, you very much appreciate.

He tells you of how he feels it's unfair you have no saying in your future, his heart is heavy with sadness that he cannot help you. And he tells that to your face. He will not help you. He is loyal to San. But that doesn't mean you can't be friends.

You seem to share life stories with one another the entire car ride there. And then he already feels like an old friend as he holds up fabrics to your skin to see which compliments you best. You, admittedly, aren't as into it as he is. As much as a bride should be. But then, how could you when you were picking things out for the day that would solidify your future with a mobster?

You both settle on one that, you will admit, made your heart flutter when you imagined yourself in. And then you're on your way, but Seonghwa stops the vehicle halfway through town.

"What are we doing?" You look out of the window and your heart stops in your chest as you see that he's parked infront of the police station. "No, Hwa! You promised I wouldn't have to see him."

"I'm sorry, Miss (Y/n)... he said he wanted to see what you picked afterwards. It will be quick."

You take a few deep breaths without San's cologne smothering you, then you swing the door open and follow after Hwa.

Sans broad shoulders aren't hard to pinpoint in the semi-packed station. "Ah, my beautiful fiancée!" He perks up immediately as he spots you and his friend.

What he does next absolutely floors you.

He cups both of your cheeks, and kisses you deeply. Right out in the open. Hot lips on yours.

You grip his wrists, face flushed with heat as he pulls away, bending down slightly to rest his forehead on yours. "Did you pick a pretty fabric for our special day?"

The look in his eyes seems almost innocent from far away. He's already got everyone in the room convinced that you're a willing participant of this relationship. But you, up close and personal, can see the glint of silent threats in his eyes- telling you to keep up the act or face the consequences.

"Uhm, uh-huh," you move slight to the side and look to Hwa, who's head is down slightly for a spilt second before he smiles at you and San and holds out the roll of fabric.

"Oh, Doll, what a good choice! No doubt you will look jaw-dropping," he runs his fingers over the fabric, imaging the pure beauty that you will be. "You'll make it extra good, right, Hwa? Only the best for my girl."

" 'Course, San. We're gonna work on some sketches when we get home." His smile is genuine, like he looks forward to it.

"Officer Choi! Hate to interrupt but we got a hold-em-up at the bank," another officer passes in a hurry, stopping briefly to congratulate you both.

"Ah," he clicks his tongue, rubbing his hands on your side gently, "wish me luck?"

"Good luck..." He looks like he's waiting for more. You gulp and force a smile, almost gagging on the words you conjure up, "good luck, Baby."

❦

The days after that first one passed almost like groundhog day. You awoke with San nearly laid ontop of you. Bathed and made breakfast. Worked with Hwa on your gown until it was completed. Walked around the farm and conversed with the farm-hand. Cooked and had a semi-awkward dinner with the three of them. Talked and became closer with San, slowly becoming happier with your situation.

And then all too suddenly...

It's two days short of three weeks since you've been 'brought home', as San likes to say. Which means one very big thing.

You are to be married.

It's a small affair, but beautiful nonetheless.

You can quickly tell that only one side of San's life is invited. There is not a badge to be seen as you peer out of the window, only gangster after gangster taking their seat.

Hwa finishes buttoning up your gown and steps back, smiling at you like a proud family member. "Ready, Miss?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Hwa walks you down the aisle.

And then it's a blur.

How did your get back in your bedroom? Was the ceremony already over?

It seems to have happened in a flash.

You stand infront of the window again. All of the guests have either left or have taken up in one of the many guest rooms in the home. San no doubt offered them up so that he could have witness to what was about to happen.

Your wedding night. Oh, how special and magical a day.

San slides his hands up your back, landing on your tall collar and skillfully unbuttoning it. Slowly, almost teasingly. His words send a shiver down your spine, they set your hairs on edge: "you are so beautiful, my Dear... it took everything in me not to take you right there in the aisle. I've never wanted anyone, or anything, as badly as I want you."

Your breath hitches in your throat as his soft lips come in contact with your now exposed neck. It not the first time he's left adoring kisses on your body. But somehow it feels different as husband and wife. "San..."

"Yes, Doll?"

"I... I'm a virgin."

"I know, Doll. Tell me to stop and I shall, but... I want to make you feel good like only a husband can. I want to show you my love in physical form." His hands slide into the now open back of your dress, around to your breasts. "Only I can touch you. Only you can touch me. Do you understand that?"

A breathless 'yes' trembles out of your lips as he cups your bosom. The little moan that follows has his hard member throbbing, so ready to finally claim you. He presses it to the round of your ass, and you have to hold back a gasp, simply letting your mouth gape as you look out at the dark night sky. But when his calloused finger tips roll over your hardened nipples, you can't bite back the curse of pleasure that bubbles in your throat.

"Oh, you poor bunny," he whispers in your ear, "you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into." The warmth of him slowly dissipates, and the tell-tale sound of the stool in the room dragging on the floor makes you turn around. "Drop your gown, let me see my wife in her full glory."

Heat burns on your cheeks, of embarrassment or arousal you can't quite tell at the moment. He's shed his fanciest uniform jacket and is now working on his button up, his cock straining against his slacks.

"You ever seen a man's prick?" He smirks as he catches you staring. Your eyes don't leave his lap as you take off your white kitten heels. That is, until he calls you out.

"No," your eyes drop to the ground as you neatly arrange your shoes, "never..."

"Mine will be the first? Mm, first and only," he half hazardly tosses his shirt, leaving his chest bare. Scars and toned muscle on full display for you. "Catch up, Dollface."

You step out of your gown carefully, holding it to your chest to hide yourself. "What if I'm not... pretty enough?"

"Oh, my wife can't possibly disappoint. I've seen that silhouette while you shower." He tilts his head and smiles, a soft smile. "You'll be my first as well."

You swear your eyes have bugged out of your head the way he chuckles at your expression. "Really?"

He stands, gently unraveling your fingers tight grip on the white fabrics. "Really, and I don't want to wait any longer. I want it to be with you. It will be with you." You let him take the fabric, and he drapes it on the stool carefully without ever taking his eyes off of you.

"W-what about the skins in our drawer?"

"So I don't make a mess while I fuck myself thinking about all of the dirty things I want to do with my wife."

"Oh-" You swear you're running a fever. You've never felt this way before- but then, you imagine you'll be feeling many firsts tonight.

"Would you like to hear about them?" He grins, his signature shit-eating-grin, as he guides your hands to his belt. You fiddle with it with a small nod, slowly pulling it off of him as he speaks. "I've got you laid down on our bed, legs spread..." You unbutton his slacks. "Touching, exploring what's mine." His zipper is undone next. "I take my time, make you nice and wet." His bottoms are gone. "I hold your hands." His boxers go after them. "And then I fuck you on my cock."

And he did exactly that. That's how you got here.

Hours of teasing later, his member is finally buried inside of you, stretching you like your fingers never could. He interlocks his fingers with yours as his hips withdrawn. Squeezes your hands tightly as he slowly sinks back in.

"Oh God," you whisper, heels digging into the mattress as you arch beneath his built frame, "ah, Sannie."

His hips stutter, mind overheating as the nickname reaches him. You feel... oh, you feel amazing. Like heaven on Earth. Your gummy, warm walls suck him in, so wet and inviting. He wants to bury himself in your cunt and never leave. "Fuck, Bunny, you feel fucking godly."

Only a moan is his response, your head tossed to the side in embarrassment. "D-don't stop," you pant, squeezing his hands tighter as you gather the courage to- "please go faster." Oh, nevermind. Your mind has left and only your pussy's logic remains. And it's logic is- "Sannie, faster!"

His thick, veiny shaft feels otherworldly as it drags against you. You need more. And he is happy to oblige. He quickens his pace, keeping his strokes languid and tender so as not to hurt you. But by God, he goes faster.

"Ah! Ah, my God!" You cry into the night, uncaring as your pleasure echoes in the houses thin walls.

Your noises, your facial expressions, your divine warmth around him. San feels that familiar coil tighten quickly, winding up. "Fuck, (Y/n), I'm gonna bust," he bites his lip, a loud moan vibrating his chest.

"C-close, I'm close, Sannie," you squeeze his fingers in yours, looking up beggingly, "please don't stop, ah- ah! Just like that! Nngh!" Your eyes roll back into your head, cunt clenching down on him like a vice, a gush of heat tells him you've just came around him, so he no longer holds back.

He hooks one of his legs around yours and pushes himself deeper than before, making you yell out in overstimulated ecstasy. And that primal yelp as he buries himself as deep as possible sends him over the edge, coil in his gut not only snapping- but burning to ash as he fills your womb with his release. "Fuck, fuck," he whines, rutting into you unable to move as your core clenches more than ever, refusing to let him go. "Mine," he growls out, leaning down and colliding his lips with yours passionately.

Your body goes limp beneath him, your soft breaths fanning against his sweaty face as he pulls away from the kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly and your jelly like arms wrap around his broad shoulders. "Mine, all fuckin' mine," he lowers his weight onto you slowly, and it makes his hard cock feel heavier than before. He ignores your whiny moans, resting his head on your chest. "My wife, filled with my seed. Mine, mine, mine," with each of his possessive proclamations comes a thrust of his hips. "Say it, say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whimper under his weight, blissed out beyond belief and in shock that -despite having filled you less than five minutes ago- he is already rock hard again and thrusting into you, slowly building his speed back up.

"Louder," he demands, head pressed firmly to your chest and listening intently to your drumming heart beat.

"I'm yours," you speak more confidently.

"Louder," his pace has passed where you reached before, he's nearly drilling you with his cock.

"Ah! Fuck!" You screech, nails digging into his skin, legs wrapping around his wildly thrusting hips instinctively.

"Say it," his voice rumbles on your chest, sending vibrations through you as his thrust shake the bed, "fucking say it, tell everyone who you belong to."

"I'm yours, San! Oh! San! Sannie! Baby!" Your brain has shut down, you're putty in his arms, babbling loudly. "Cumming!" You can't help but announce it to the farm, your pleasure has set you ablaze and everything is pointless besides San.

He follows shortly after, his second release flooding your stretched walls and pushing his first out, making a mess of your sheets and pelvises.

When he doesn't show any sign of slowing, you slap his shoulders repeatedly and let out a loud whine. He stills deep inside of you and pants into your chest, cock still throbbing inside of you.

He's become insatiable.

"Break, please," you slur, hands finding purchase in his disheveled hair. He melts into the drunken affection, eyes peering up at you with love and adoration... obsession in the comfort of your own home.

He slowly pulls out of you, watching in awe as the pearly white of his love seeps out of you. He rubs your thighs in a soothing manner, taking a moment to catch his own breath.

"D...do you feel good?" He looks up, almost like a lost puppy. You've never seen him so vulnerable.

"God, yes," you smile at him dopily, propping yourself up on your elbows with a groan. He sits back, immediately locking his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. His scent blankets you, and you welcome it. Taking a deep breath.

His member is messy with a mix of your juices, resting against your lower belly like it knows that's where it belongs. Showing you both how deep he reaches.

The sight alone lights the fire in you again, now just as insatiable as he is.

"I love you." The words that slip past your swollen lips shock the both of you, eyes meeting in an instant.

The crickets outside chirp their song, stars and moon casting light through the window. A shooting star flies by.

"I love you."

❦

There's a knock at the door. Strange. Anyone who needs in can get in. You trot down the stairs and stop halfway as your eyes meet your brothers through the screen door. "Bub?" You nearly trip over your feet as you jump down the rest of the steps, slinging the door open and wrapping your arms around him tightly. It been long past those three weeks San have him. Almost a year past.

"Bub! Bubby!" He spins you around in his arms, nearly falling off of the porch.

"Oh, thank God! You're alive!" Both of you have wide smiles, blissfully unaware as San turns the corner in his farming overalls. "Let's get a wiggle on, before Mr.Choi knows I'm here." San stops in his tracks, eyes trained on you.

"Oh... Bub."

"Let's get, c'mon." He goes to drag you by your arm to the awaiting car.

"Stop! I'm not going with you."

A smirk grows on Sans as a frown grows on your brothers. "N-not going? Don't be silly!"

"Let go of me," you slap his hand away and when your hand falls back to your side, that's when he sees it.

Your belly. Swollen with child.

"(Y/n)..."

You wrap your hands around your stomach protectively as his concerned look turns to a glare. "D-did he rape you? Dear Lord," his hand flies to his mouth in shock.

"What!? No, no, nothing of the sort. San and-"

"Hurry, before he gets back."

"Before who gets back?" San grins wide as he joins your side, wrapping his arm around you and purposefully showing off the ring on his finger. "Long time, no see... Bub."

His face so that of a ghost, backing away until he hits Hwa, who forces him to kneel.

"You really left your poor helpless sister for dead?" The words that San speaks knocks the reality back into you. He did leave you. You'd been so happy with your new life that you'd forgotten entirely about what lead up to it. "I doubt you've even got my cash, huh?"

"Mister, please! Surely you've forgiven me?"

"I don't hold grudges... my wife is a different story, however." He turns to you with an innocent smile. "Honey?"

"Sissy... Tell me you didn't."

"I did." You dead pan. "You left me!" You land a slap harshly across his cheek. "Bastard!"

"Alright, Miss, don't put too much stress on the baby-" Hwa tries to calm you, but you've already gone off the deep end after being reminded of your life before San.

"I hate you!! You left me all alone! You threw me to the wolves! Where were you?!"

"Sis, just- just come home, you aren't thinking straight."

The cicada chirp loudly, nearly drowning out your next words.

"This is home. This is all I have. This is all I want."

"Sis, what has he-" Tears are welling up in your brothers eyes. And it pisses you off.

"I hate you! I never want to see you again, I hate your coward guts!"

San squeezes your shoulder gently and it brings you back to reality. Your brother is shaking as all of the realizations come crashing down on him. Hwa knows what's about to happen, he and San have talked about it a million times. He takes the gun from his belt and hands it over.

"My Moll has spoken."

Bang.

❦

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez au #ateez fic #choi san smau #choi san x reader #choi san #choi san smut #smut fic

893 notes · View notes

him-x-her · 12 days

Text

Vee is For Vampires - Chapter 6: Foreverlost

Author: @sinnysioux

AO3: SinnySioux

Vamp!Ville x f!reader

Warnings: Definite smut. 18+

Read on AO3

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I wake up at noon and hiss at the sunlight threatening me from the side of Ville’s velvet curtains. My head is pounding; I can’t be hungover after three cocktails, surely? I ponder last night’s inebriation and realise I haven’t eaten properly for days. Ville doesn’t eat and I have really been neglecting myself. I get out of bed, looking for something to wear, and realise I left my bag of clothes in my car.

“Ugh, I do not wanna do the walk of shame again!” I moan aloud to myself. Elias must think I’m such a skank. I glance at the mirrored black wardrobe at the end of the room. I’m sure Ville won’t mind if I borrow a shirt. The wardrobe has jackets and dress shirts and trousers hanging up. There are some drawers below and I tentatively open the top one. Underwear. I think about Ville finding me in his underwear and wonder if he’ll find it sexy. I steal a pair of his boxers and slide them on. They’re black, of course. I open the next drawer and find t-shirts. “Perfect!” I murmur as I unfold the first one I find. It’s an old Black Sabbath shirt, circa the time where Ozzy was accused of biting a bat I assume, and pull it on over my head. It’s oversized and baggy; perfect boyfriend fit. I look at myself in his mirrors and smile. He might be a vampire but, aside from our nocturnal dates, it feels like a fairly normal relationship… as normal as an all-consuming, incredibly sexual, relationship can be.

I wander downstairs, hoping Ville has snacks to silence my growling stomach. I stand alone in the hall, suddenly feeling very small in Ville’s large home. Where is his kitchen? Does he have a kitchen? Fuck. I wander into what appears to be a large living room. There are shelves of books, a liquor cabinet, and a grand piano in the corner.

Dusting the piano is Mari, who looks up and greets me with a smile. “Good morning, dear. Sleep well?” She asks politely.

“Uh, yeah, kind of. I’m just wondering… does Ville have a kitchen? I keep forgetting to eat.” Mari scolds me for not looking after myself and leads me through a dining room. The tall walls are covered in paintings. They are dark paintings. One is of a woman serving a bleeding heart on a tray. It has an Edgar Allen Poe feel. I am rushed through to the kitchen. It’s surprisingly modern, unlike every other room in The Haunted Mansion, which I now decide to call it. The floor is laminate light oak. The worktops are a grey marble granite, with a matching island in the middle. Mari ushers me to perch on a stool at the island as she runs around rummaging in cupboards. She refuses any help and whips me up an omelette, toast and a pot of tea. She truly is an angel. She loves cooking and says she will cook more things and leave meals in the fridge for me, though I try to tell her I am happy to cook for myself. Whilst she is putting things away I notice multiple bottles in the fridge. Red bottles. Blood. I shake away the unease and finish my warm tea. Suddenly I have a stroke of genius. Maybe Ville and I can make use of the dining room. Maybe I could cook for him using the blood in his fridge? My mind goes into overdrive thinking about all of the “normal” things we can achieve in our vampire-girlfriend relationship.

I realise I am still in last night’s makeup and could really use a hot shower. I’ve stayed the night a few times now, but I barely even know where the bathroom is. Mari offers to give me a tour and I gladly and desperately accept. She leads me back through the dining room, in what I am told is the East Wing, and into the hall. She leads me into the West Wing, through some sort of entertainment room. There’s a pool table, darts, bookcases full of books, and so on and so forth. There are small tables and Crystal decanters. The walls are a damask grey and black.

We briskly walk through into glass, mirrored room. “It’s a pool room”, says Mari “And over there in the corner you have a jacuzzi.” she smiles.

“A hot tub? Vampire Ville has a hot tub?!” Mari laughs. Aside from being pissed that he kept this from me, I’m feeling quite optimistic about filling my days whilst he sleeps. Mari informs me there is a shower room, steam room and bathroom round the back. She then leads me upstairs and we bypass the master bedroom. I’ve spent many an hour screaming Ville’s names within those walls; I hope they’re soundproof. Mari shows me her bedroom, Elias’ bedroom, and the master bathroom. The master bathroom has a huge wide bath on four legs; the perfect cure for a hangover. She also opens two large wooden doors into a room with a large screen. I’m told it’s a home cinema which Ville never uses. I make a mental note to talk to him about this. There is a door at the end of the hall which Mari warns me never to open, and instructs that they are “Ville’s sleeping quarters”. I wonder how many coffins he has stacked up in there. I thank Mari for the tour, and make haste downstairs. I run to the car, grab my bags and run back upstairs. I’m sure that Elias is probably judging me, but with my toiletries now in the house I plan to never do the walk of shame again.

I have the longest, hottest soak in the bath and use this time to reflect on the last few weeks. It’s been a month since I first met Ville, and our relationship has progressed so quickly. We’ve both admitted we’re in love. We can’t go a day without seeing each other. I’m currently on long term sick from work with little desire to go back. I haven’t moved in but I might as well… the list goes on. He has never once asked if I want to become a vampire. I ponder on this. Maybe he wants me to, but doesn’t want to ask? Maybe the guilt of turning me into a vampire would be too much for him to bear? Do I even want to change? To survive on the life of others? To never again see the sun? These are impossible questions. Beyond being underneath Ville’s muscular body, I have no idea where I want to be or what I want to do. I sigh. After last night’s drunken mess, I take time to wash, moisturise and dress. I slip on a dark emerald green dress with sleeves. It’s simple but clingy, and I know it’ll make Ville salivate. I charge my phone, which has been dead for hours. There is a missed call from Larissa, followed by a text: “Your boyfriend was right about my date. Tell him I’m sorry. I miss you.” I scoff. Larissa can absolutely get fucked. Cruelly, I find myself thinking she would have deserved to have had her drink spiked, but I then dismiss the unkind thought from my head.

The day goes quickly and I soon realise it’s 6pm. Ville will be up in around an hour. I head to the kitchen and conduct a haphazard search though his groceries and appliances. I decide to make him a blood and tomato soup, with garlic bread for dipping. I laugh out loud thinking about serving garlic to my vampire boyfriend, but he did say it was safe… I start by chopping onions and other veggies; adding herbs and spices. I take a bottle out of the fridge and mix it in, trying not to think about what I’m cooking. Stirring the soup in the pan, two pale arms make their way around me. I gasp but the shock is over quickly as Ville starts to kiss my neck lightly.

“Something smells good…” he whispers into my neck.

“You don’t really eat…” I say, leaning into his touch, “…but food is my love language and I wanted to make you something”.

“Take a break”, he murmurs, tracing his lips along the skin on my collarbone. I sigh, and do as I’m told, turning the hob off, desperate to feel his touch. I back into the kitchen island in the middle of floor and, pressing with my hands, perch myself on the worktop. My gothic prince stands before me. Skinny jeans… and nothing else. I choose not to fight the lust, and run both of my hands down his pale toned chest. I glance up to take in his beauty. He stares down at me with light, sea green oceans for eyes, a sharp jaw that could cut through diamond, and blush pink lips. My eyes fixate on his mouth, hungry for his kiss, lustful for a bite on his plump bottom lip. As if he can read my thoughts, his lips crash down onto mine so aggressively that my fingers dig into his shoulders, pressing my body to his to avoid falling backwards.

My mouth agape in surprise welcomes Ville’s warm, wet tongue. Orally claiming me; my senses consumed by him. I know I am drenched with desire already and shiver with the anticipation. Noticing, he pulls back and asks “What is it, beautiful?”

I blush furiously, avoiding his gaze “My panties are wet just thinking…” I trail off, biting my lower lip.

“Don’t make me fuck you in this kitchen, baby…” he growls in his deep trademark voice, commanding my attention. He stares into my eyes and we both breathe heavily, the sexual tension loudly lingering in the air.

I wrap one leg around his waist and pull him towards me, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Valo.” I purr, and he loses it. He runs one hand through the hair on my head as the other gropes at my hip. His tongue exploring my mouth, my jawline, my neck. I start to moan and he stops to lean back and admire his handiwork as I pant and my chest heaves for air. He runs his hands up my thighs and I gasp as his fingers glide closer and closer.

Without warning he pushes my panties to the side and drives his index finger into my tight pussy. I cry out, practically cumming into his palm. “Ville…” I moan into his mouth. His middle finger joins his index finger as he pushes in and out, kissing me deeply. I brush his belt with my fingers, reaching lower to caress his cock through his jeans. He pauses for a moment; he moans and closes his eyes, enjoying the movement of my hand. Suddenly, his eyes snap back open and something has changed. They are red. My heart starts to beat outside of my chest.

“Ville?” I say, shakily. He removes his fingers; they are blood red. I look down, “Shit!” I curse, realising I’ve started my period. Ville moves his fingers to his lips and sucks my blood.

“You taste so good…” he moans, closing his eyes in ecstasy. When he opens them again, his eyes are back to their usual dreamy green. “I’m sorry… I… please don’t be scared. I just…” he runs his hands through his hair, visibly stressed “You smell so good and it wasn’t hurting you and…”.

“Shh, it’s okay.” I soothe, taking his shoulders in my hands. “Do you want to…?” He blinks.

“You’re asking if I want to drink your blood?” He says in disbelief.

“Yes… do you want to?” I repeat, softly.

“Are you sure?” His eyes begin to darken again.

“Yes, baby.” I lean back on to my elbows and move my legs slightly apart, “Drink me.” In an instant, Ville falls on one knee, slips my lace panties off and dives inside me, tongue first. I gasp at the feel of his warm tongue and the sound of him lapping between my thighs. I look down at him and am drawn into his crimson eyes. Our eyes meet and I watch him flick his tongue up and down my clitoris. I throw my head back and moan. Never in a million years would I have dreamt of this, but I am beside myself with arousal. I feel him tongue the opening to my vagina all the way to my clit; back and forth, torturing me in the best way.

I prepare my best Finnish accent and reach down to grasp his hair aggressively between my fingers. When I have control of his gaze, I beg “VITTU MINUA, VEELUH!” With a quick intake of breath, he stands, unbuckles his belt, frees the beast and shoves his hard cock inside of me. I scream in response as he pounds me aggressively and noisily. I imagine the sounds of our moaning and the quick sharp slaps of his skin against mine echoing through the halls.

“Please, God, HARDER!” I beg. He wraps his strong arms around my waist and lifts me off the kitchen counter. He slams me into the kitchen wall and thrusts aggressively. Up close I see his wild, hungry red eyes and the sharp fangs he is trying to conceal. I know what he wants…. “Bite me, baby” I whisper, gasping as he obliges immediately, sinking his fangs into the tender flesh of my neck, drinking my life, as I come undone.

“Oh my god!” I whimper as my walls tighten around him. He continues the aggressive assault until I hear him moan loudly.

“Vittu! Oh, fuck!” He slows to a halt and holds me tightly, both of us shaking with the comedown from our respective orgasms.

I unwrap my legs from his waist and attempt to stand, but my legs are weak. He senses my imbalance and holds me close as he catches his breath at the nape of my neck.

“I’m sorry, sometimes I forget which language I’m speaking.” he smiles. I smile weakly, my abdomen throbbing with pain. I am unsure if it is because of my typical monthly woe, or because of the unusually, but absolutely welcome, rough sex. He bites into his wrist and then kisses my neck with his bloody mouth, healing my bite wound.

“What does it mean when your eyes turn red?” I whisper. “It’s, uh, hunger, lust, maybe a bit of both?” He muses.

“Bloodlust.” I correct.

“Yeah…” he smiles, sheepishly. “I, um, that was amazing.” He says, beaming.

“Life-changing.” I blush “…but now I don’t think I can walk”. His eyes widen.

“Oh God, did I go too hard?” He asks, remorsefully.

“Um, yes, but I asked you to… and I enjoyed it.” I give him a reassuring smile.

“Well, I can carry you!” He fireman lifts me in his arms. “Where would you like to go, my love?”

I giggle, “Well, my boyfriend forgot to tell me he has a freaking hot tub, so let’s start there!”

He hesitates, “Do I? I’d forgotten about that!” He chuckles.

“How could you forget you have an entire spa in your home?!” I laugh, but Ville’s smile fades.

“Luxuries are senseless when you have no one to share it with.” I wonder how much pain he hides behind those eyes. “Anyway, your spa retreat awaits!” he forces a smile and whisks me to his pool room.

By now, I have regained the ability to stand despite the crippling pain in my cervix. I pull my dress over my head.

“Did you bring a bikini?” He asks.

“No…” I smirk, unclasping my bra and letting it fall to the floor. I slowly lower myself into the hot tub. The warm water soothes my aching, swollen lady parts: this is bliss.

Ville walks to the corner of the room to flick a switch. The spotlights fade. “Mood lighting.” He grins, and I watch him slide off his jeans, noting there is no underwear in sight, as his manhood once again looms free, still somewhat erect.

“Down, girl!” I scold myself mentally. I will need at least a day to recover. Ville climbs in and positions himself next to me, one arm around my shoulders.

“Ville?” I turn to him. “You seem so sad… talk to me”.

Ville takes a deep breath, “Is it that obvious?” I nod. “I’ve made some poor life choices, and I’m scared I will end up alone. There was a dark time in my life where all I did was abuse my body. I drank myself stupid. I tried very unsuccessfully to kill myself. I never expected to be happy again. I was so full of hope. I wanted a family. I wanted kids. Sometimes I feel like I’ve wasted my life.”

I put my arms tenderly around his shoulders. “You haven’t wasted your life, you have a brilliant musical legacy. You won’t be alone: you have me. Always.” I soothe.

He closes his eyes. “I want to believe that so badly…” he sighs “…but you and I both know you deserve better. How long before you meet someone who can take you for dates in the sun…”

“Fuck the sun.” I interject. “You forget I can take myself out into the sun.” I reason.

“Yes… but I won’t have you for long, after you reach the limits of your mortality I will be forever alone.” He avoids my gaze, looking down, like he is doing everything to mask his emotional pain.

“Ville… nothing is going to stop me being with you. I don’t need to see the fucking sun.” He looks up in disbelief; his lips parted in shock.

“No… I can’t ask you to do that.” He whispers.

“It is my decision to make, and I want to. End of story.” I say harshly, not entertaining his pity party. “I’m not ready yet… give me time. I will be. I promise.” I cup his cheek in my hand and he turns to kiss my palm.

“I can’t help but feel guilt… taking you away from the light, from the life you know.” He looks up at me with puppy dog eyes, round and bright and beautiful.

“Before you, I was floating through life, never feeling rooted, never belonging anywhere.” I say, earnestly. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m home… and home is wherever you are.” I feel the tracks of warm tears down my cheeks. He cups my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away my tears.

“Olen sinun ikuisesti, rakkaani.” He smiles.

“You are…?” I try to translate.

“I am yours forever, my love.” He says, leaning his head to one side to look at me. He is adorable.

I pause, translating English to Finnish in my head, desperate for it to sound perfect. “Olet minun ikuisesti, rakkaani.” Proudly I tell him that he is mine forever.

“You’ve been practising”, grins Ville, pleasantly surprised.

“I’ve been on Duo Lingo constantly.” I laugh. “Fuck, the soup!” I curse, as I realise I’ve left Ville’s meal half cooked in a pan on the stove. “Oh goddamnit, my panties as well…”

“It was very sweet of you to cook for me. I can’t say I’m hungry, though, as you know I’ve already eaten…” he raises an eyebrow suggestively, dragging my mind back to our deliciously depraved encounter on the kitchen island.

“I am WEAK, Ville. Who told you to sneak up on me shirtless?!” We both giggle.

“I couldn’t find my Black Sabbath shirt!” He becomes aroused and suggestive at the mention of it being on the bathroom floor having been worn by his girlfriend.

When my fingertips wrinkle, we wrap ourselves in towels and head up to his bedroom so I can get changed. Ville suggests some of his shirts. He sits on the edge of his bed, watching me try on his things. I steal a pair of black boxers from his drawer and peruse his collection of band merchandise. I borrow a Jane’s Addiction crop shirt.

“I can’t believe I’m borrowing a crop top from my boyfriend…” I laugh, rolling my eyes.

“You look better in it.” He grins, reaching and grabbing the shirt hem to yank me forwards into his arms. He starts kissing my bare stomach.

“Mmm, stop…” I say begrudgingly, stroking the curls on his head “I’m sore, baby, I need time to heal.” Ville pouts, his bottom lip protruding in frustration. “Don’t make me bite that lip, Valo!” I glare at him, jokingly.

“What was that thing you said earlier? Don’t threaten me with a good time?” We laugh together; teasing and enjoying each other’s company. “I promise I’ll behave myself. Just tell me when you’re ready, again.” He pulls his skinny jeans on and leans against the wall. He crosses his arms waiting for me to finish blow drying and brushing my hair. I steal glances at his smooth toned chest and force the less than holy thoughts away.

I grab a shirt from his drawer and throw it at him. “Put on a shirt, Valo! You’re too distracting!”

He walks up to me and puts his hands on my hips. “Hmm, you seem to be getting far too comfortable with disrespect…” he smirks. “One more ‘Valo’ and I will have to spank that beautiful ass.”

Impossible to hide my arousal, I close my eyes and steady my breath, “Pencil me in for a spanking when I’ve recovered.” I say, huskily, and quickly pull on a pencil skirt.

I think about going out for a date, but my memories of last night surface and I decide I need time away from the world outside of Ville’s home. I realise I have grown weary of the drunken London crowd; I am tired of trying to fit in where I don’t belong. Ville as always is understanding and supportive. He leads me down the stairs and outside. Behind his home is acres of grassy land. He lays a picnic blanket down so that we can lie in each others’ arms and look at the stars. I lay my head on his solid chest and nuzzle close to him. The night is romantic and my heart is full. We spend the night talking about our hopes and dreams; our plans for the future, which now involve each other. We talk about going back to Finland so I can meet his parents. Ville is close with his parents and hasn’t seen them for a year; he feels awful about it. They know he is a vampire and they worry. We talk about marriage. Marriage is sacred to him; he gushes about the loving relationship his parents have, and how they are the epitome of a happy married couple. He tells me he has never experienced a romance as close until now. He kisses me sweetly under the light of the moon. We talk about children and his heart is heavy; I suggest adoption and he brightens. There is hope. Ville has felt lost ever since the band broke up and says he has been thinking about starting a solo venture. He tells me he has started writing a song for me. I beg to hear it but he tells me it’s nowhere near finished; it’s working title is ‘Foreverlost’. I pout and he responds by leaning in and biting my bottom lip gently.

His beautiful light eyes burn a hole in me, like he can see right into my soul. “What?” I ask nervously as he looks at me.

“I am forever lost in you.” He says, dreamily.

“That would make a good lyric.” I smile.

“It would”, agrees Ville.

The sky is lightening, preparing for sunrise, yet we remain still, not wanting to let go of each other. Ville’s legs shift, and he stands. “Come”, he commands, holding out his palm. I look up, mildly irritated and cross my arms defiantly. “I’ll sing you a song?” he offers, and I jump up excitement. We hold hands and walk slowly back to the house.

In his room, I kick my shoes off and sit on the bed, ready to be serenaded. Ville pulls off his shirt and begins to tune his guitar. “You need to be shirtless to play?!” I roll my eyes, mildly annoyed by the audacity of this man, parading his sexy body around. Who the hell does he think he is?!

He grins, “It helps the artistic process… and makes my girlfriend wet.” He winks in my direction and the accuracy of his words borders on ridiculous. He sits in front of me on the bed and begins to play an acoustic, slow, heart-wrenching tune. He purses his lips and takes a breath, ready to sing…

We're drifting apart,

But I want you to know

Wherever you are I belong

Love's singing our song

But we fail to sing along

Wherever you go I will follow

So please don't let it

Please don't let it go

Cause if you won't let it

I won't let it go

You try to be strong

But you're always so alone

Whatever I do I do you wrong

Death sings our song

And we eagerly sing along

Whatever you do I adore

So please don't let it

Please don't let it go

Cause if you won't let it

I won't let it go

Don't let go of life

Let go of love

Let go of all we have

Don't let go of trust

Let go of lust

Let go of all we share

So please don't let it

Please don't let it go

Cause if you won't let it

I won't let it go

“I will never let you go.” I whisper. We embrace as he places soft kisses on the top of my head. The sun is rising and I know he has to sleep soon.

“Stay with me?” I plead.

“You know I can’t, baby” he whispers back, morose.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m too delicious, whatever!” I chide, folding my arms and facing away from him, hiding a wry smile.

He kneels on the bed and crawls up behind me. He leans in, his lips millimetres from my ear. “You get very bratty when all you need a good fuck.” I gasp and turn to look at him. “I will be happy to fuck that attitude out of you, when you are ready.” He purrs.

“You are evil!” I pout.

“I am… but you love it.” He knows I can’t argue. “Good night, rakkaani” he says as he slips out of the bedroom door.

“Better hope I don’t nail that coffin door shut, Valo!” I yell after him, hearing him giggle like a schoolgirl down the hall. I lie back on the bed and smile, feeling truly and utterly content, before succumbing to sleep.

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

#ville valo fanfic #VV fanfic #HIM fanfic #ville valo x reader #HIM #VV #VV x reader #heartagram

10 notes · View notes

oomfvia · 6 months

Text

⛧i'll fight for your life chapter 1: heaven is a place in my head

pairing: astarion/gender-neutral half-elf paladin tav/reader (second person)

spoilers for patch 5 epilogue

sfw, friends to lovers :)

1,975 words (3 chapters, 6,097 total words)

you can also read this work on ao3

likes/comments/reblogs always appreciated!

❥ chapter 2 ❥ chapter 3

preview:

Your moral compass looms heavily over your head, and it declares that the beauty of Astarion’s vulnerability was not to be indulged in. Instead, it was meant to be nurtured and protected. In this moment, you remember your vows. Tenets of honour and duty, tracing back from your gallant predecessors. What is love, if not the desire to shield?

The words tumble out of your mouth a touch too quickly. It’s merely an observation, although an admittedly astute one.

“Maybe what you really need is a friend, not a lover.”

Astarion responds stiltedly, with an awkwardness that you find refreshing. Endearing, even. “I — I would like that.”

Tentatively, he brings his hand to yours. Then, another. You bring your gaze upwards and peer into his amber eyes. Upon further observation, they were trembling ever so slightly.

You realise that at this moment, you’ve doomed yourself to a future of dishonesty. Unbefitting of a truly good ally, you like Astarion so much you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your group was traversing the shadow-cursed lands, facing death at every turn. And yet, here you are, your heart racing over the touch of a hand like a virginal nun.

That same night, you sigh into your pillow. Despite your attempts to stifle the protests of your heart against your head, they haunt your thoughts, mixing together with other internal arguments about the so-called ‘greater good’. The greater details are lost on you, with the only resounding conclusion in your head being that you’re a dirty, dirty liar.

Raising your upper body, you resign yourself to a restless night. You turn to peer into a mirror perched upon the sparsely-furnished table in your tent, your own reflection staring back at you in a way that feels hilariously accusatory. Sighing, you remember the feeling of Astarion’s palm under yours, cool to the touch. You remember how in stark contrast, his eyes seemed uncharacteristically warm. He trusts you. Only you, perhaps. And what did you have to show for it? Lust? Love?

What is love, if not the desire to shield?

Surely, this is for the best. A half-elf’s life, while still terribly long, seems like hours compared to the eternity Astarion was decidedly sentenced to. Sighing again in resignation, you toss your back against the bedroll, staring into the ceiling of your small, unremarkable tent. Look at me, dwelling upon decisions that can’t be taken back.

At least there’s one thing you can be certain of: You hate Cazador Szarr. Sure, you were already eager to sink your blade into the monster just from Astarion’s anecdotes alone. But within minutes of meeting him in this decrepit dungeon, your blood is left positively boiling. It’s hardly befitting of a paladin to be motivated by personal vengeance, but Cazador seems to test your patience to no end. You unsheathe your blade, muttering a guiding prayer under your breath: “Bright wit, clear thought, keen sight.”

When Cazador is brought to his knees, you do your utmost to maintain razor-sharp focus. It was far from over, and in the back of your mind, you worry that this part may be harder to endure than the battle itself. This is a scenario you’ve played thousands of times in your head, but at this moment, you lose every single prepared line. You’re left with nothing but a twisting sensation at the centre of your chest.

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

Astarion was asking you for help. You. The same person he had mocked and ridiculed for their naïve righteousness. And yet, you knew from the moment that you flung open the doors to this dungeon that you were going to disappoint him.

“I…I shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this.”

You frown at how your voice wavers. It doesn’t do much in the way of persuasiveness.

“I won’t have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I’ll be free — truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

In comparison, Astarion’s argument lacks any logical flaw. It goes without saying that you want nothing more than Astarion’s freedom. He’s been deprived of the power to break this never-ending cycle of abuse he was thrust into for centuries. You would be cruel to fail him now.

Except, when you meet Astarion’s gaze, in place of hope you find desperation. A chill runs down your spine at the thought of what that desperation could spell for the future. Silently, you pray that he will forgive you when this is all said and done.

“But what I want is for you to stay…you. For you to live a life you can be proud of. Please.”

You feel wet tears pricking the corners of your eyes, and when you blink, they slowly roll over your cheekbones. You’ve survived nautiloid crashes and fights against the Chosen of gods. And yet, this is the first time anyone’s seen you openly weep. It’s embarrassing — mortifying, really, how your heart bleeds for Astarion.

But when the aggressive, uncontrollable flame in Astarion’s eyes starts to yield, you feel nothing but pure relief.

Astarion stabs Cazador repeatedly, in an almost manic show of violence. It’s all gore and blood, and you should find it abhorrent. Instead, there’s an almost poetic sense of beauty to it as you watch through teary, glistening eyes. While his old master’s blood pools onto the floor, Astarion sobs, chest heaving as his emotions peak. It reminds you that no matter how highly you thought of the man, in Cazador’s palace, Astarion was always reduced to a mere boy.

Thankfully, the spawn are all spared, none of them sacrificed to the Black Mass. Astarion leaves his siblings to help with the aftermath, as the spawn begin their journey to the Underdark. Rather short, as family reunions go. But considering how dreadful the place is, the last thing you want to do is complain.

When you push open the doors back to town, you’re surprised to see that it’s only late afternoon outside, the sun still in the middle of its descent. The dungeon was so ominously dark, as if shrouded in a permanent night. It reminds you of the Gauntlet of Shar, in that sense.

“It’s a bit early, but…”

You inhale deeply, taking in the fresh air of freedom. Glancing towards your right, you notice that Astarion does the same.

“Let’s rest for the day.”

Unsurprisingly, no one objects. The sombre atmosphere doesn’t leave your group immediately, the journey back to the Elfsong Tavern remaining quiet. However, when you push open the doors, rushes of laughter and merrymaking pour out. It helps, even if only by a margin, to calm the deafening silence.

“You know, you ought to speak with him in private,” Shadowheart says, twirling a night orchid between her fingers. Upon further inspection, you notice that it’s the one you had plucked for her back in the shadow-cursed lands, its petals starting to wilt at the ends.

You raise your eyebrows at her, to which she does the same. “You have a soft spot for him. It shows.”

“My people claim what they covet,” Lae’zel chimes in. “It would be wise for you to do the same.”

It’s so incredibly in-character for the warrior to say so, and it makes you laugh for the first time since dawn broke. How stoic, and yet, how reassuring.

Your companions leave for the tavern downstairs, relenting camp to you and Astarion for the time being. Rather than reading a book, Astarion sits at the edge of his bed, seemingly lost in thought. His fingers are loosely interconnected together as he stares off into the far corner of the room. It’s as if time has stilled around him.

“Copper for your thoughts?” You ask, imitating a familiarly husky tone.

Astarion laughs weakly, and you internally applaud yourself for your successful attempt at humour.

“Karlach could have your head for that terrible impression, my dear.”

You smile, your eyebrows firmly lowered. “Thank you. Now, do you need someone to talk to or not?”

“Need is a strong way to put it, but since you’re already here to listen…”

When your friends, pleasantly buzzed, climb up the stairs to return to camp, you and Astarion have somehow gotten comfortable on the floorboards. The two of you sit with your backs against the bed frame, with only your heads lying on the mattress. Your shoulder is pressed firmly against Astarion’s as the two of you stare off into the ceiling blankly.

“Astarion?” You call out softly, your eyes unmoving.

“Yes, dear?”

Dear. Darling. What was it with Astarion and these terms of endearment? For what seems like the hundredth time, you tell yourself not to read too much into it all. You roll your head to the side, gazing at his profile. You clear your throat, trying and failing to ignore how delicately crafted it is.

“I’m proud of you.”

Your statement, in all its honesty, is far from imaginative. And yet, Astarion’s mouth hangs ajar, as if at a loss for words. From your place beside him, you can see the faintest glimpse of a sharpened fang.

“I...Thank you.”

You let out a throaty laugh at this rare example of awkwardness from Astarion, who always seems to make an effort to appear suave. It’s charmingly amusing, and your shoulders raise as you continue giggling, waking up a mid-nap Scratch in the process. Scratch dashes towards your side, and you smile lovingly as you give the good boy a good series of pats on the head. In your reverie, you miss how Astarion’s gaze follows you, a faint trace of affection flickering in his amber eyes.

When everyone is preparing to go to bed, you ask Gale about how you could possibly procure a certain item. You ask him plainly about whether there was any magical item that could allow a vampire to walk under the sun’s rays. He tells you about the Ring of the Sunwalker, about stories that seem more like urban legend than fact. As for its whereabouts...

“If I had any ideas, trust me — you’ll be the first to find out.”

You inhale, ready to ask why, but then the wizard’s smile spreads into a knowing grin. Shadowheart’s words echo in your head.

“You have a soft spot for him. It shows.”

Instead, you simply rub at your temples, your ears slightly tinted pink. You're grateful, despite the slight embarrassment you had to ensure. You thank Gale for his helpfulness, and bid him a friendly goodnight.

Weeks after, you defeat the Netherbrain, but with no sunlight-shielding ring to show for it. Your face contorts in horror as you're forced to watch Astarion’s skin start to sear under the sunlight. He runs away from the unrelenting rays, presumably to crawl back to the shadows.

Becoming the saviour of Baldur’s Gate felt odd, more than anything. You were no hero. You were merely a servant. A daft one, even. Who else but a complete fool would leave their other companions without a word, instead opting to chase after a doomed vampire spawn?

Before your mind can even take a second to react, your body lunges forward. Ignoring how your chest heaves and your calves ache, you sprint desperately along paved roads and between alleys, expertly weaving past crowds of celebrating citizens and buildings waiting to be rebuilt. Astarion couldn’t have run far, surely.

Realistically, it's for the best to just let Astarion go, allowing him to dissolve into the dark. You can forget all about silver curls, hands that run cold, and how each piece to the puzzling elf made your chest tighten. But this can’t be the last time you see him. You don’t want it to be.

Of course, you realise just how futile your chase was when you hit a dead end, coming face-to-face with a brick wall. You’ve overestimated yourself for even hoping that you could catch up to someone with centuries of experience of living among the shadows.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #oomfvia.txt #oomfvia:\bedtimestories

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the-coffee-fandom · 9 months

Text

Thanks to @abyssal-ali for the tag! This took so long to compile lol

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

Uh oh 😅

❥ My first fic was actually a disgustingly long word doc that glitched out my computer and someone deleted 😔 just for a fun fact ✨

❥ My first fic would be Will you be my fairy tale?

𓍊𓋼𓍊 Agents of SHEILD 𓍊𓋼𓍊

❀ Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa

✐ Set in 7x07, beginning of 8. Daisys in the healing chamber and Daniel Sousa decided to stay there with her. Just a cute little snippet of what he was up to while he was waiting for Daisy to arise from her slumber/healing.

❥ Last fic published was Dreaming Of Anemone (though my last work published was HaiBOO but it’s an original work)

𓍊𓋼𓍊 Maribat 𓍊𓋼𓍊

❀ Bio dad au

✐ The Wayne's might have been public figures, but there's a lot of mysteries behind those grand closed doors. Mr. Wayne for one was quite suspicious. They were hiding something and Marinette would figure out what. Even if it exposed a secret or two. Identities weren't the only thing they were hiding.

Flowers can kill after all.

❥ A fic with a ship I’ve only written once is Coming Home To Peaceful Disaster

𓍊𓋼𓍊 Maribat 𓍊𓋼𓍊

❀ Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Damian Wayne

✐ Damian is so tired, all he wants to do is come home, have a cup of his girlfriends famous hot chocolate, and fall asleep in his loves arms.

But this isn’t too bad either.

❥ My favorite fic. That’s a hard one. I think it have to be Dreaming of Anenome despite its incomplete status but since that one’s already on this list I’ll promote another: Death Bouquet

𓍊𓋼𓍊 Maribat 𓍊𓋼𓍊

❀ Cassandra Cain/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

✐ It's hard to figure out whom your heart longs for when you've spent so long ignoring it. Letting the flowers bloom in your throat as you struggle to breath always left wondering.

Marinette lived her days in Pairs, her eyes on Adrien. But...was that truly what her heart wanted? Or was it a face she hadn't seen in a long time but still haunted her thoughts like the scorch marks left after a fire.

❥ The fic I wish more people would read is Rose Gold Eyes

𓍊𓋼𓍊 Maribat 𓍊𓋼𓍊

❀ Selina Kyle/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

✐ The rooftops were often silent at night, the streets were where havoc rained. The rooftops were often silent at night, a cat endlessly chasing darkness. The rooftops were often silent at night, and so that’s where she lay. The rooftops were often silent at night, so was her suffering.

❥ The fic I agonized the most over is literally any fic in my Flowers Aren’t Always A Love Language series (especially Dreaming of Anenome) because I always try to put as much flower language in as possible to put a story within the story. Otherwise it’s An Angel With Demons Wings. I wrote that to get back into writing after a tough time and put a lot of pressure to get it perfect for my wonderful friend @tylindel whom I love. I did a lot of dancing research and made art to go with it.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 Maribat 𓍊𓋼𓍊

❀ Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

✐ “They call you a demon but all I’ve ever seen in you was an angel.”

“Even in my worst moments?”

“An angel with anger issues.”

❥ The easiest fic is From Your Favorite Chaos Gremlins. I was spouting ideas like a sprinkler and was really ahead of my writing partners to the point they couldn’t keep up with me. I got overexcited and wrote all but one line of the second chapter. Of course this fic has ended early despite all the ideas left over as authors split so it remains forever unfinished.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 Maribat 𓍊𓋼𓍊

❀ Platonic Marinette Dupain-Cheng & Tim Drake & Damian Wayne

✐ Family is defined as a group of people related to one another by blood or marriage.

None of them were related by blood nor marriage nor any magical force, only their own love for one another.

Family to them was each other.

And all it takes is a pinch of coffee and a whole lot of chaos.

On the streets of Gotham, the chaos gremlins reign.

❥ A work I’m proud of is Hold Me Tight Till Morning Light. Originally written for the lovely @tylindel ’s birthday, I wasn’t sure how much I liked it though but @tree-reads really helped my confidence in it with her appreciation of it and it makes me love it too. Otherwise it be Dreaming of Anenome or anything in my Flowers series because I work hard on them and I love hanahaki so much.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 Maribat 𓍊𓋼𓍊

❀ Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

✐ Sometimes your demons take control of your body and mind, you never had full authority over yourself as your plagued with memories time and time again, filling your head with thoughts you'd rather rid. Sleepless nights were always in the cards. But that's why there's always your rope, your light, your love, your life, that will be there to pull you back from the darkness.

3 times Damian helped Marinette with her demons and one time he didn't have to.

❦ My Ao3: The_Coffee_Fandom

❦ My Insta: the_coffee_fandom

✮ No Pressure Tags: @tylindel @tree-reads @tim-drake-is-underrated @timinette-is-best @velveteenshadow @verymuchimmortalcat @the-witches-you-couldnt-burn

#maribat #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #miraculous ladybug #tim drake #maribat marinette dupain cheng #timari #agents of shield #fics #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic rec #ask game #writing stuffs #the coffee fandom #watch me mention the same fic over and over #clearly I don’t like that fic /sarc

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sourbinnie · 1 year

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22:40

[ te pido perdon (todo fue mi culpa) ] angsty thoughts #1 ✉

[what is #thoughts? a series of short imagines where i have fluffy, angsty, wild (+18) or alternative thoughts]

❥ ✉

(y/n) you made me a better person while i brought out the worst of you. (y/n) i think you know why i think about you every day and why i can't stop calling. (y/n) i just wanna hear your voice and for it not to be your voicemail audio again. (y/n) i feel like floating when someone talks about you again but then reality comes crashing down that i don't have you anymore. (y/n) i think i'm going insane without you, would you please pick up?

"please stop calling me, i'm at work right now and i can't deal with this." they say and all i can think about is that they got the job that they were working so hard for and how proud i am of them instead of the harsh words they just spoke. "hello? seonghwa are you there?"

"i am here (y/n)." i say not falling for the words that were coming out of my mouth so smoothly when the constant breakdowns that i kept having were pulling me down. "we need to talk." i repeated my last message out loud.

"there's nothing to talk about, you said it so clearly how i'm just a stain in your life, how clingy and awful i can be right? fuck off and leave me alone." they said, my heart breaking slowly but knowing that theirs was far more broken after what i've said. i could not take back my words anymore and i didn't know what i was gonna say in the first place after hearing that. i knew i was guilty of putting them in a dark spot.

"please let's just talk like we always do." i insisted but they laughed, a broken one. as if the damage didn't matter anymore, as if the pieces were slowly putting themselves back together and leaving me in the past. how selfish of me, how could i even think that? this isn't about me in the first place.

"it's too late to talk, that's all i wanted to do but you had to cut me off like that didn't you? you and your perfect idol life thinking you're above me because of your job." their words were like daggers to me, the fact that i made them feel that way made everything inside me boil. but i wasn't mad at them or at the world, just mad at myself for digging so low. "listen i don't know who you think you are but we're done for, there's no us anymore and definitely nothing i wanna work out with someone who treated me in such a cruel way".

"i didn't mean to do any of that! i don't know what the fuck i was thinking okay? please..." i didn't know what i was pleading for in the first place but i was slowly breaking down like nothing mattered anymore. "i cannot lose you, i simply cannot do it without you (y/n)".

"funny how you weren't thinking that before you told me to get out huh? now that i'm not there anymore it's all making sense isn't it?" i could feel my throat building up like i was gonna choke and die with a torn up heart. i didn't want to be doing this because i know i'm in the wrong at the end of the day, i do not deserve them. "what do you want me to say? what do you want me to do? to come crawling back? fuck no".

a silence so deafening fell. realizing that i have no chance on this argument, i truly moved my pieces in the worst way when i talked to them. i made them feel so small and haunted, like i was the worst thing that ever happened to them when i was supposed to be the one who protected them from those kinds of thoughts. how am i so pathetic? how did i fall so low?

"listen, i gotta go and please don't call anymore." they said for the last time and i found myself nodding at nothing. letting the tears stream down slowly like they were the only real thing left inside me to show that i truly cared.

"one last thing, please." i said with my last chance to make it right.

"what is it?" they asked and with no strength anymore, i gave up.

"i'm sorry (y/n), everything was my fault."

#ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez short imagines #angst ateez #ateez drabbles #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #sourbinnie

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protecterfromafar · 2 years

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trapped in a spider's web | chapter 1

❥ Childe X Cis!Female Reader ❥

you find yourself trapped in a spider's web...but you don't really want to escape

or, you are a vampire hunter, sworn to defeat and kill any vampire you may come across, but one fateful night will forever haunt you, as the vampire who's life you saved won't seem to leave you alone...and why do you want him to stay?

❥ 18 + only | rated e | explicit sexual content

❥ enemies to lovers, oral sex, fingering, submission

❥ read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38471695

With glistening golden chandeliers and the cool evening breeze sifting through the main ballroom, it was supposed to be a magical evening. Grand parties like this weren’t held very often; so many representatives from other nations were supposed to meet under a haze of fine wine and soothing music.

But you knew it was merely a front: a lure for the enemy to grasp with sharp fangs.

You were on edge all night, not even bothering a sip of wine; the taste was never to your liking, and neither were the effects it had on your body. You need to be focused all night, for you knew a threat was lurking in the dark shadows, out of sight.

Just when you thought that there would be no unwelcome visitors, a familiar scent caught your attention. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight as you felt a whisper of a kiss upon your skin.

“Hey, princess.”

That taunting voice you knew so well caused you to whirl around, a hand on your hip where a knife under your dress sat snugly against your skin. “Tartaglia.”

The enemy stood before you, a few feet away, but close enough for you to quiver slightly at the sigh of his sharp smile and red eyes. He was dressed for the occasion, yet his black suit and deep red accents were so stark against the pale gold of your own attire. You could only describe the handsome creature as one thing.

The enemy, you repeated in your head over and over again.

But every time you tried to brandish your silver weapon at him, flashes of an old memory keep pouring into your mind.

You remember Ajax laying against a damp tree trunk, whimpering as an open wound bled profusely around the ground around him. A silver nail pierced his nearly invulnerable skin, pinning him helplessly to the rotting trunk, killing him slowly.

A vampire: an enemy you vowed to kill for the safety of humankind, something evil and undeserving of kindness.

Yet why did your heart beat madly on that cold, foggy night?

“Aw, I prefer it when you call me by name.” Ajax’s words brought you out of your head, the ballroom dancers swaying in a trance, unsuspecting of the danger a vampire presented. How no one could notice Ajax amongst them, you were unsure. “You look stunning tonight.”

You scoffed slightly. “Don’t try to flatter me. You won’t stop me from my cause.”

Ajax shrugged as he took a step closer; however, that step was so blurred and fast, he was suddenly right in front of you, a finger under your chin. “I’m not trying to stop you, my butterfly.” He grinned wide, his finger trailing down your neck, over your collarbones, and along the edge of the bodice of your dress, barely grazing the side of your breast not covered by lavish fabric.

You couldn’t help the reaction that tumbled from your lips despite your training; a small whine might have gone unnoticed by a human, but Ajax…he heard everything.

“I came to see how you were faring…it’s quite lovely to see I still have an effect on you…”

His intense smile and gaze were so alluring; your shaky hand could only shakily hold the hilt of your knife. Even Ajax knew you would never strike…especially not now. “D-don’t try to flirt your way out of this!”

“Oh, I think I can.” He licked his lips and leaned in close, ears just mere inches from the outer shell of your ear. “Besides…you’ve missed me, haven’t you?”

His deep, beguiling voice nearly brought you to your knees; it wasn’t as if you weren’t strong enough to resist a vampire’s charms…

Tartaglia…no…Ajax was different.

“Y-you shouldn’t be here; it’s not safe for you.”

Ajax laughed softly. “Oh, don’t worry, I can handle myself. Besides, the only vampire hunter in this room strong enough to take me down…is right in front of me.”

A warm flush rose to your cheeks; part of you knew Ajax was trying to wiggle his way into your food graces, but you also know in the years you’ve known him, he never lied to you…not once. A vampire was to never be trusted...because they would turn on you and bite your neck at any chance they could get. They were bloodthirsty monsters...nothing more.

Yet why did the thought of him sucking your blood...excite you?

“And by the looks of it…” he spoke, gently covering your shaky hand with his own, careful not to touch the silver metal, “...you and I both know there’s a different…battle…you wish to endure.”

Before you could even retort, Ajax whisked you away from the busy ballroom, the sound of the joyful chatter and sweet violin fading into the background.

Ajax took a deep breath. “Ahh…much better. Now I can really drown in the scent of your sweet blood.”

As you started to become more aware of your surroundings, human eyes still not used to the speed of a vampire, you realized you were utterly trapped. Ajax had a hand braced on the stone wall above your head, cornering you into submission.

And yet…Ajax kept his right side rather...open. If you wanted to…you could just run away…

As if reading your mind, he gestured to the opening with his hand. “I won’t stop you if you decide to run, princess.” Ajax’s voice drew your attention up to look at him. “Promise.” He offered a cunning smile, his fangs gleaming in the nearby candlelight. “But if you don’t move, my little butterfly, I’m going to have my fun with you.”

As you gasped, Ajax leaned down to swallow it with a soft kiss. His free hand cradled the back of your head, protecting you from the hard stone as he slipped his tongue past your lips. He was so careful to keep his fangs at bay, not wanting to tear the skin of your lips.

It was the tenderness of his actions that surprised you, surprisingly different from his flirting tone. He was gentle in tearing you apart, because each time he came before you...you could just not resist.

“I can smell how excited you are.” Ajax whispered softly as he trailed his lips along your jaw. “Trembling…but not in fear…” He sucked in a sharp breath as he sniffed at your neck. “Every day I dream about sinking my fangs into your sweet, sweet neck.”

“D-don’t!” You protested softly.

Ajax chuckled weakly. “I won’t…I promise.” Yet, he never made a promise to not taste your skin, which he did with delight. He captured a soft bit of flesh between his lips and sucked hard, just the way he knew you loved the most.

As your head tilted back, a moan threatening to echo in the quiet halls, two gloved fingers pressed against your tongue. Your sounds were muffled quickly as he littered the unmarked expanse of your skin in soft bruises…surely you wouldn’t be able to return to the ballroom like this.

“Can you keep your voice down, butterfly?” He asked, nuzzling against your side as he slid his gloved fingers from your lips. “Unless you want to suck on my fingers some more…”

“A-ajax!” You whisper yelled at him, embarrassed. But he only smiled.

“Mmm…I love it when you call me by my real name…” Ajax sighed softly, sliding his saliva-slick fingers down the front of your neck, teasing your exposed skin until they came to the bodice of your dress. He then slowly pulled the fabric, careful not to tear it, exposing your breasts to the cold air.

You fight the whine that bubbled in your throat, slamming a hand over your mouth. “Ajax!”

But the vampire only smiled wide. “Don’t think I have forgotten…your favorite places to be teased.”

You hated that he was right, but you started to hate him less and less, especially when he took a nipple into his mouth. You muffled your moans as best as you could as his tongue teased your sensitive bud, your other hand sifting through orange-red locks, holding him close.

Ajax moaned softly then, pulling his lips away briefly. He aimed his red eyes in your direction, almost hypnotizing you. There was now a dampness between your legs as he watched you all the while, kissing between the valley of your chest and teasing your other breast.

Your knees nearly buckled, unable to take your eyes away from him as he sucked on your chest so intently. He was solely focused on you, kissing and sucking your favorite places…it was so hard to deny how he made you feel.

But keen as ever, Ajax picked up on all of your tell-tale signs of pleasure. A cool hand slid up the inside of your stocking-laced thigh, stroking smooth skin with soft intentions. “Whisper my name…” His words were heavy, commanding you with ease.

“A-ajax…” You obeyed, legs sliding apart as you struggled to stand.

“Good girl.” Ajax chuckled as he buried his face in your chest, nuzzling against your skin. “Slide down for me…sit on my knee.”

You followed his orders, the cool stone sliding against your back until you felt his knee press against your very…damp panties.

“Mmm, just as I expected.” Ajax teased, nudging his knee against you between your legs. You whined, hand still over your mouth to muffle your pleasured sounds. “I’d be quite the evil man if I didn’t tend to my princess’s needs, hmm?”

In just a few minutes, Ajax had you stifling your moans in a dimly lit corner of an empty hall. Your breasts were fully exposed, with his lips teasing one while the other was littered with darkening hickeys you’re not sure the dress could hide. And now you felt a hand against your inner thigh, sliding up dangerously close.

“Mmm…” Ajax hummed, lazily sucking on your nipple while his fingers pulled the gusset of your panties to one side.

Your shaky hands started to fall from your face, but Ajax was quick to slide his other hand to your lips, gloved fingers stroking your tongue just as he had before. Before you could even think, you sucked on them incessantly as he fingered between your soft slit, exposing you to his whims.

“Good girl.” Ajax cooed as he wandered to give your other breast some attention. He licked over the forming bruises, pleased with his handiwork. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you biting my fingers in no time. Close your eyes, butterfly.” His voice dripped with honey, but the words commanded you with ease.

You were petrified…scared of being discovered, melting over the fingers and lips of a dangerous vampire…but even more scared at how badly you want him to continue.

“Easy, love.” Ajax chuckled as he teased your clit, feeling how you press into him with need. “You don’t need to fantasize…I’m right here…”

But oh gods, how could you not? Ajax slid a calculated finger inside of you finally, feeling your tight inner walls as you sucked harder and harder on his fingers. He started sucking on your tit again, making your body feel light and warm.

How good will it feel when your back is to a bed and not a stone wall? Oh how you wish that finger was his thick cock, throbbing inside of you, stretching your insides so far apart that you feel like he could break you.

Break me… you begged silently, wishing he could read your mind.

Your screams would be unhindered, lustful moans echoing in a private room for no one but Ajax to hear. His wonderful hands could pin your arms above you head, locking you into place as he rocks endlessly to your womb, knocking against it and threatening to fill it with your seed.

Oh the thought had you jolt when you realize Ajax now had two fingers pushed inside of you, grazing your sensitive spot and causing your body to writhe in absolute pleasure.

“Hold still, girlie.” Ajax’s voice was deeper than before, voice hoarse from excitement watching and feeling your pleasure beneath his fingertips. “Let me do all the work.”

All you can do was nibble on his fingers, knowing that even if they were not gloved, your teeth could not hurt his nearly indestructible skin. You sat on his leg, helpless as he roughly stroked inside you, finding the perfect spot and teasing it until you unraveled before his very eyes.

It happened in a flash, tears streaming down your cheeks as Ajax fingered you to completion. You were cumming all over his hand now, slick and moist as you rolled your hips against him. The orgasm crashed through your body like lightning, the pleasure almost too hard to bear.

In your haze, you could barely make out words whispered only for you. Only as time passed did Ajax’s voice become clearer, lips kissing your ear as his words calm you down. “Good girl…you came so well.” He mused, his fingers now slipped free from your pulsing insides to palm against your slick lips. His palm was cold, causing a stark difference between your burning skin.

But it was oh so soothing…especially when his gloved fingers slipped from your mouth to gently caress your chin.

“My beautiful butterfly…there’s truly not a better sight in the world than your sweet face when you’re lost in pleasure…caused by me.” He chuckled softly, now sliding your ruined panties back into place. As your eyes start to focus on him, he brings those drenched fingers to his lips and tastes them eagerly. “I wish I could survive on the sweet nectar from between your legs…for it is much sweeter than your blood smells.”

You whined softly, lips parted as you started to fall for this vampire even harder than before. “A-ajax…”

“Now now, love,” he warned as you started to reach for his bulge in his pants, “as much as I would love to let you touch me, I feel as if I have overstayed my welcome.”

With your legs being too weak to stand, Ajax easily carried you in your arms, princess style of course. You nestled up to his cool skin, wondering why he made your insides feel so warm…

“You hunter friends are looking for you…and I don’t think it would be in either of our interests if they find out what I can do to you, butterfly.” He informed you, no doubt his supernatural hearing picking up on a faraway conversation. Ajax was now running through the halls away from the commotion while keeping you steady. You didn’t need to tell him where your quarters are…he was rather familiar with them.

“Ajax…don’t leave…” You begged weakly.

Ajax let out a pained sigh. “I must…for now, butterfly. But if you want me to come find you…you already know how.”

Before you could even protest, the soft furs of your bed caressed your back, coaxing you deeper into their firm grasp. Ajax had tucked you in before you drew your eyes towards the open window. He looked majestic in the moonlight, perched on the stone window sill, the dark grounds before him.

You knew it was not a feasible idea…but you badly craved him at your side.

A vampire and a vampire hunter…what future was there?

But a cold kiss atop your forehead opened doors to a changing fate…

“Goodnight, princess. May you rest well.” Ajax’s voice was soft then, different from his incessant flirting and teasing His words were weighty, holding truth to such a fleeting man.

As if obeying his wishes once more, you closed your eyes and let fatigue take you asunder, a single, cold tear running down your cheek.

Maybe he could stay with you one day…but it was certainly not tonight.

#x reader #genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #reader insert #female reader #reader

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huntinglove · 1 month

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i would love to hear more about Alma if you want to talk about them and your relationship!

- @canineluvz

Hi hi!! Thank you so much for letting me gush about them!!! Also, look at them stimming, they're literally the most adorable spectre ever!!!

Okay so-

In the game, Alma was a uni student who ended up staying on campus late, to work on an assignment. They got a bit thirsty and decided to grab a soda from the vending machine, but... Their hand got stuck. And while they were trying to pull their hand out, they ended up pulling the machine over themselves and getting crushed in the process... So they haunt the campus building

One night, my S/I was staying on campus during the night because she had to finish an assignment, once she did, she headed over to the elevator and got in. While it was going down, the thing got stuck, and there was no one else in the building... Except for Alma. They ended up scaring her really badly so she passed out for a while.

When she woke up again, the two decided to chat and get to know each other for a bit. After a while, Alma decided to help her out because she was nice to them, so they made the elevator go down to the ground floor so she could leave.

After that, my S/I signs up to be a night guard for the campus! She has permission to roam through the building, check the security cameras and to use the uni's computers if she'd like to study or work on assignments!

Of course, she did it to get closer to Alma, and that's exactly what happened. They would talk throughout the night and just hang out together. Eventually one thing lead to another and they ended up falling in love!

That's when my S/I had the idea to search for a way to allow Alma to leave the building. While reading about it, she figured that the reason they weren't able to leave was due to the lack of a physical form, so she offers for them to possess her so they could live with her instead!

They accept and allow her to do a ritual that makes it so they're able to enter her body and control it (for the most part)

(I'll probably finish this tomorrow fhjddbkdbd)

#✯ lovely asks #❥ haunt my heart

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seraphiism · 2 years

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kay!!! happy 1k!! omg omg, i’m glad many others have come to love you and your works, as they should because your work is so so lovely (óvò)💕

for your event, can you do twilight + ⭐️ childe + queen anne’s lace? it’s okay if not though, i’m still here to celebrate (óvò)/💕

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

( MY SOUL HAS BEEN SO FEARFUL, SO VIOLENT : FORGIVE ITS BRUTALITY. )

chara : childe fandom : genshin impact quote cr : yi lei ; louise glück a/n : didi !! thank you !!

・❥・[ dreamscape event ] ༊*·˚ ⌛ fluff/angst • ⭐️ childe • 💐 queen anne's lace : sanctuary

i. so you do not know childe's heart like he knows yours, and maybe that's alright and maybe it's not. you wish the answer would come, clear cut in its black and whites, but the world is not meant for simplicity, and you have always known this, anyway.

your heart, childe knows, shies behind the fog and mist that arrives with heavy storms. he advances forward, allows the aching to consume him, and he goes on and on until it clears and all he sees is you.

but his heart-- his heart, is muddled with black and blue and bruised with static. because in the heart of a survivor lies a twisted yearning for destruction and ruin, but in the heart of a survivor, there is tenderness and kindness all the same. how dangerous and cruel, this weight of chaos and harmony in the place you call your humanity.

you want to understand, make yourself a sanctuary for when the day is over and the crimson dries and sinks into the dirt. you want to understand if there is something that festers, wages war on itself inside of him. if there is a struggle to hold onto peace rather than ignite violence. you want to understand so badly that it hurts, crushes your chest until the pain overwhelms you and it's all you know.

"what's wrong?"

you freeze, realize how tightly you cling to the sheets. you did not know he was awake, your muscles tense as his hand rests on yours, fingers gently releasing your hold on the blanket.

you cannot find all the right words to say, so you don't. are you allowed to be the person who loves him when you cannot understand his soul?

"i'm sorry." you tell him, and you break and you break. "i'm so sorry."

( the abyss has stayed with childe, but you are not sure if it is something he chooses to carry, or if it is a haunting. )

ii. so there's a home to be found everywhere and nowhere, and you wonder where his lies. is it this place, here and now, that he deems his home? or does he find a distance, an isolation, and a longing for something that was once a nightmare turned wonderland?

"come back here." a teasing tone fills your ears, captures your attention. childe tilts his head, leans forward just a little bit, and pinches your nose. you swat at his hand, feel the way a smile eases onto your lips at the sound of his laughter. "what's so important that you aren't paying attention to me?"

your hands cup his cheek as you apologize quietly, and the smile on your face turns into one of somberness, he notices. you watch your reflection in blue hues, see the hesitance that gnaws at your conscience.

"ajax." you stop. swallow hard, hold your breath. his hands reach for yours, pull them away from his face as he holds them. his thumbs graze over your knuckles in silent support. "tell me about the abyss, please."

he freezes, and perhaps in the reflection of your eyes, his expression holds hesitance, too.

iii. so you learn the truth of the abyss that night. time blurs, seconds turn to minutes, and you wonder if this is how he felt when he was there. you are unsure if horror sinks into your mind or if it is fascination-- because to endure such an experience is a marvel, and surely it was frightening, but the way he speaks of it says otherwise. but he tells you, in full truth, and he wonders what you think, unable to read your countenance.

how long has it been since you last spoke? childe takes a deep breath, brows furrowed ever so slightly. he does not rush you, just waits.

"do you--" your lips part, but the words do not come out right. there is a numbness that settles on your tongue, a bitterness and the taste of iron. "do you miss it?"

there is something akin to devastation in your voice and he does not like it. he wishes he could answer instantly, wishes he knew the right things to say. he does miss it, sometimes-- the adrenaline that flooded through his veins, the thrill of the fight, all odds against him.

but he likes this, too-- this peace he has found with you. how dearly does he love you, to the moon and back, until the end of time. he does not think he would give it up for anything.

"sometimes i do." he hums gently, your hands still in his. "it's not where i belong, though."

"where do you belong, then?"

he forces a half-hearted smile, wonders if he's saying all the wrong words. so he presses his forehead against yours, the anxiety in his stomach abating only slightly when you subconsciously lean into him.

"with you, of course. wherever you go, i go."

you force your gaze away, feel the heat rise to your cheeks. he doesn't quite catch what you say, something about him being cheesy and ridiculous-- he's not sure, doesn't have much time to think about it when you pinch his nose. he crinkles it in response, laughs as he pulls you into a hug.

"you're my home, you know? i'll always come back to you, abyss or not. you're where i belong."

#genshin impact x reader #childe #childe x reader #tartagalia x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #.: event!fic.dream of me 🌿#.: writing

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theharrowing · 2 years

Text

❥ JIMIN MASTER LIST

❣ All lists are in order of date posted with the most recent updates at the top!

❥ JIMIN X READER

❣ Note: Sometimes there are still mem x mem relationships in my reader insert stories. If that bothers you, please do not proceed.

♡ - fluff | ☽ - smut | ☁ - angst | ✎ - wip | ☆ - personal fav

An Ghealach | oneshot, 9k words ❣ Jimin x Female Reader | ☽ ☁ ❣ strangers to lovers, speculative horror au ⚠ dubcon, use of magic to confuse & coerce, blood & gore, major character off-screen death, horror themes - see fic warnings ↳ Field Linguist Jimin Park travels to a remote island called An Ghealach off the coast of Ireland to research and document an endangered language, just in time for the community’s Beltane festivities. What he encounters is both horrifying and mesmerizing beyond his wildest dreams.

Adrenaline | drabble, 1.7k words ❣ Hoseok x Female Reader x Jimin | ☽ ❣ no relationship established, idol au, poly, porn without plot ↳ You and Jimin celebrate with Hoseok—aka Jay—after his Hobipalooza performance

The Hooksborough Demon | 14 parts, 20k words, ☆ ❣ Yoongi x Female Reader x Jimin | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ established & friends to lovers, horror au, found footage au ⚠ haunting imagery, gore, possible character death - see fic warnings ↳ You and two friends ventured into the location of an urban legend with the intention of exploring an abandoned building and having a laugh at small town lore for clout. But after a series of mysterious events, you’ve turned to a forum a year later to try to piece everything together, and to find out what the fuck happened to Yoongi & Jimin.

Sharing is Caring | oneshot, 4.2k words ❣ OT7 x Female Reader | ♡ ☽ ❣ established & strangers to lovers, porn without plot, poly ↳ Your date with Taehyung ends with a bang when his roommates invite themselves into his bedroom, one by one.

❥ JIMIN X MEMBER

♡ - fluff | ☽ - smut | ☁ - angst | ✎ - wip | ☆ - personal fav

Ghost Friend | drabble, 1.8k words ❣ Yoongi x Jimin (platonic) | ☁ ❣ friends who encounter a ghost, haunted house au, crack treated seriously, tagged as “angst” but it’s the tiniest bit of hurt/comfort ⚠ Yoongi is a ghost, and is therefore dead ↳ Yoongi’s spirit has stayed in his dilapidating home for decades. One day, Jimin and his friends Taehyung and Jungkook decide to visit the property, and Jimin makes a ghost friend. Or, the one where Jimin is totally Jean Grey.

Denim & Strawberry | onesot, 19.6k, ☆ ❣ Yoongi x Jimin | ♡ ☽ ❣ friends to lovers, burlesque au ↳ When Yoongi gets invited to watch his crush perform, he has no idea what to expect. Jimin stripping on stage and singing a sultry little number while tugging on his hair is definitely not what Yoongi had in mind, but who is he to complain?

The Ghost of You On My Skin | oneshot, 11k words ❣ Jungkook x Jimin x Yoongi | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ established & strangers to lovers, monster fucking ⚠ illusory blood sucking & vore - see fic warnings ↳ Jungkook and Jimin travel to a remote island in hopes that the trip will allow them to unwind and reconnect. When their plans turn on them and they wind up lost in the woods, they seek refuge with a mysterious stranger who opens their eyes to a world of desire beyond anything they have experienced before.

Arcade Concessions | oneshot, 14.4k words ❣ Jimin x Taehyung | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ feat. Yoongi x Jungkook ❣ idiot friends to loves, requited unrequited, the angst is light ↳ After listening to Jimin whine one too many times about needing to get laid—and feeling the need himself—Taehyung sets the two of them up on a double date with two others. However, over the course of the date, the two of them realize that the feelings they thought were unrequited for the other are, in fact, reciprocated, accidentally third-wheeling their dates in the process.

JiKook Week Shorts ↳ A tiny collection of shorts for a JiKook Week event

red. | drabble, 1.2k words ❣ Jungkook x Jimin | ☽ ☁ ❣ established (kind of), vampire au ⚠ blood sucking & heart stopping ↳ Jungkook despises the monster he has become, but he cannot bring himself to despise the man who cursed him.

Baby | drabble, 1.2k words ❣ Jimin x Jungkook | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ fuck buddies, sex worker + cop au, no plot ↳ Jimin, aka Baby, doesn’t let just anyone have him for free. What a shame that the man he likes spending time with the most is a cop.

Mine | oneshot, 4.3k words ❣ Jungkook x Jimin | ☽ ❣ strangers to lovers, royalty au, very little plot ↳ Prince Jungkook sets his sights on his father’s new favorite concubine, and Jimin shows his prince pleasure beyond anything he has ever felt before. Rumor | 5 parts, under 500 words, social media au ❣ Jungkook x Jimin | ♡ ❣ strangers & coworkers to lovers, actor au ↳ While working on their latest film, sparks fly between Jimin and Jungkook. They try to deny the allegations, but fans, friends and coworkers won’t stop talking, forcing them to consider, “What if?”

The Magic Shop | oneshot, 15.7k words ❣ Namjoon x Jimin | ☽ ♡ ❣ feat. Taehyung x Jungkook ❣ established & strangers to lovers, partner swap, bdsm, very little plot ↳ Namjoon & his husband Taehyung visit The Magic Shop, an exclusive swingers club. There they meet a beautiful couple that likes to engage in the same kind of play, and they decide to swap for the night.

Smile Pretty for the Camera | oneshot, 11.7k words ❣ Namjoon x Jimin | ☽ ♡ ❣ feat. a hint of Jungkook ❣ friends with benefits, exhibitionist, porn au, very little plot ↳ Namjoon’s good friends Jimin & Jungkook are always coming up with schemes to make extra money, and when he learns they plan to shoot a porn he’s not too surprised. They are, after all, the hot, confident power couple of the friend group. What Namjoon does not expect, however, is Jimin confessing that he’d like to rail Namjoon while Jungkook films.

Stuck | oneshot, 4.1k words ❣ Jungkook x Taehyung x Jimin | ☽ ❣ friends to lovers, very little plot, stuck in the wall ⚠ dubcon ↳ While exploring an abandoned building with his two best friends Jimin & Taehyung, Jungkook gets stuck in a wall.

Pretty in Pink (Make Him Purr) | oneshot, 15k words, ☆ ❣ Yoongi x OT6 | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ established relationships, canon compliant, animal play, marathon sex, light angst, very little plot ↳ Yoongi—long-established power top of the group—secretly wishes he could shed all of his responsibility and allow the members to take care of his needs while he’s dressed in a frilly pink kitten outfit. Well, it was a secret until Namjoon discovers the outfit, pulling the cat out of the bag, so to speak, and forcing Yoongi to decide whether to show that side of himself to the rest of the guys.

All Tangled Up | oneshot, 8k words ❣ Jimin x Jungkook | ♡ ☽ ❣ established relationship, in the soop au, canon compliant, very little plot ↳ After a night of drinking and having fun, Jimin gets himself tangled in Jungkook’s mosquito net, and Jungkook has to take care of him.

Tendrils | oneshot, 4.6k words ❣ Seokjin x Jimin | ♡ ☽ ❣ strangers to lovers, monster fucking au, tentacle porn ⚠ mildly dubious consent ↳ While cruising the club for an easy hookup, Jimin meets a handsome stranger with a dark secret. (Or, Jimin gets spit-roasted on Seokjin’s tentacles and makes a big, sexy fucking mess.)

❥ STORIES WHERE JIMIN IS A SECONDARY CHARACTER

♡ - fluff | ☽ - smut | ☁ - angst | ✎ - wip | ☆ - personal fav

❥ MEMBER X READER

Boy Blue | 46 parts, 89 words + images of texts ❣ Taehyung x Female Reader x Yoongi | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ feat. Jungkook x Reader, Hoseok x Reader, Namjoon x Reader (kind of), Original Female Character x Reader, MxM ships ❣ strangers to lovers, college au, poly, hurt/comfort ⚠ graphic violence, dub/noncon, infidelity, drug use, yandere behavior (stalking, gaslighting, etc.) - see fic warnings ↳ While going through a painful but necessary breakup, you meet someone who is patient, kind, and understanding; everything you last ex was not. Or is he?

❥ MEMBER X MEMBER

Showstopper | 4 parts, 31.5k words, ✎ ❣ Hoseok x Yoongi | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ strangers to lovers, model & photographer au ↳ Hoseok knows the rumors. Everyone in the industry knows the rumors. Min Yoongi is a player. Min Yoongi is a snake. Stand in front of Min Yoongi’s camera, and you will be just another one of his victims—prey for him to use as he pleases and toss away when he gets bored.

Dollhouse | 25 parts, 178.3k words, ☆ ❣ Hoseok x Namjoon, Jungkook x Yoongi | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ feat. Taehyung x Jimin, Hoseok x Taehyung x Jimin ❣ established & strangers to lovers, sci-fi au, body swap, poly ⚠ infidelity, graphic violence, major character injury, unhappy ending ↳ Hoseok’s job is simple: He enters the host’s body, he confiscates or terminates the target, and he gets back into his own body by dinnertime. Easy peasy. Until a host comes along whose body he becomes obsessed with and he questions whether or not he wants to come back to the real world or leave his old life behind.

Collateral | series, 22 parts, 222k words, ✎☆ ❣ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ feat. Taehyung x Jungkook, Seokjin x Hoseok, Jungkook x Reader ❣ strangers to lovers, mafia au, poly ⚠ drug use, graphic violence, dark themes - see fic warnings ↳Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You. But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

Abyss | 5 parts, 51k words ❣ Seokjin x Taehyung x Jungkook | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ feat. Seokjin x Yoongi, mention of Taehyung x Namjoon ❣ friends & strangers to lovers, college au, hurt/comfort, poly ⚠ age gap, toxic relationships, intense sex without proper aftercare ↳ Campus fuckboy Taehyung likes to break hearts. After Jungkook falls victim to Taehyung’s games, Seokjin has decided that he’s going to take revenge by making Taehyung fall in love, only to give him a taste of his own medicine.

#jimin master list #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin scenarios #jimin x reader #jimin x member

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veianasnangel · 9 months

Text

Tags

❥love speaks ~ When I’m talking my shit.

V’s conceited! ~ When I’m living my best life and looking good while doing it

veiana with saint: after hours. ~ When Shiloh and I are up to no good.

veiana with mocha: “That never happened” receipts. ~For when Naïma’s short-term memory loss kicks in.

v’s beloved: ❥ ghost ~For the soldier that haunts my heart 🖤.

Love’s admirer: ❥ ~ For my lovers asks.

No face no case: ❥ ~ For my anonymous lovers.

Mootie booty <3 ~ for my mutuals.

Love is a freeeak 💦 ~ When I reblog my freak shit.

V’s fyp ~ When I reblog shit

[ lawyer edited ] ~ When Janalay [Mod] wants to silence my truth 🙄.

[Lawyer’s statement] ~ When Janalay[Mod] speaks on my behalf.

#❥ Veiana’s Tags #do not reblog

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heffrondriving · 2 years

Text

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Which Side Of My Heart Are You On? ❜ : ̗̀❥ JO TAYLOR × LUCY STONE┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

: ̗̀❥ RATING: T // WORD COUNT: 9,080 // CHARACTERS: lucy stone, jo taylor // RELATIONSHIPS: lucy stone/jo taylor, obligatory kendall knight/jo taylor // TAGS: one shot, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, lil lucy angstiness, romantic tension, slice of life, friendship, pining, gay panic, flirting, confusion, internal conflict, self-denial, arguing, character study(ish), femslash, girls in love, canon compliant, useless lesbians <3, rarepair // AO3

: ̗̀❥ inspired by the song Like That by Stand Atlantic and dedicated to @digitalfate 💙

❥៚ 𝑶𝑵𝑬: 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒆 (𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆) ─ೄྀ࿐

❝ Honey-coated speech and I’m overdosing It’s just like that (It’s just like that) Delicately dying for another minute It’s just like that (It’s just like that) Gold rush, what you digging out of me? This head rush, stomach’s in my neck I gotta stand still, dizzy, dumb and in between... ❞

Things have been weird. And while Lucy wouldn’t mind a dash of weirdness cutting up the basic monotony of her daily life, this was just asking for madness.

Well...there was asking for madness, and there was turning right to madness, and Lucy felt so impossibly caught up in the middle of it all that she would have given anything to feel normal again, even just for a second.

But that was also ridiculous. She was Lucy Stone, for crying out loud! She was hardly the poster girl of normalcy, and she rocked that rollercoaster ride hard and fast, no safety bars allowed. She was an up-and-coming punk goddess shacking up in the very heart of Heartless Hollywood, land of the rich and famey and batshit crazy. She had four good friends who also happened to be rowdy hockey players slash huge popstars slash absolute troublemaking hooligans from Minnesota, all of which constantly dragged her along their insane cartoonish escapades. And believe her, Lucy had tried normal, once upon a terrible time—having apple-cheeked, insidiously overwound, suburban basketcases for parents will do that to a ponytail-pulled kid.

And still, it was amazing—infuriatingly so—how none of it held a Yankee gift-basket candle towards the weirdest way Jo had been making Lucy feel lately.

So maybe that was Lucy’s own fault, a slow undoing by her own personal hubris a-la Ajax tragedy—after all, she was the one who chose to move back to the Palm Woods, despite the rocky not-quite-history she had with the place. With the way things were going for her flourishing career, she could’ve gone all-out and holed up in some nice ultra-luxury condo elsewhere in LA, preferably somewhere far away from her old lie of a life and the pretty little faces that came back to haunt her every restless night she was all alone and running on twenty cans of Pipeline Punch Juice Monster and writer’s block. But that just wasn’t Lucy’s thing. She was never the type to just up and run away.

Well, except maybe running away from her overbearing parents and their southern passive-aggressive authoritarian neuroses that got her poor older brother kicked to military school before she could get more secret guitar lessons from him, but that’s besides the point. If Lucy wanted to get over something, she would face it without flinching and confront whatever got thrown her way headfirst. If there was anything she learned from her cranky whipsnap of a violin teacher (and nothing more useful than sight reading and permanently disliking classical music, to be frank), it’s that quitters never get the break.

Well, okay—she had also quit the old hag for nearly breaking her fingers off with that damn yardstick anyway despite her father’s disappointed vitriol. But it turned out to be the best decision Lucy had ever made, since now she has broken away from her stifling classical musician past and finally emerged with her big break as the rock scene’s next big rising star. Even though whoever in her idiot desk monkey PR team that had the ‘brilliant’ idea to stamp her brand as a ‘pop princess’ smack dab on the cover of Wailing Note magazine out of all places seriously had another thing coming, because that couldn’t be any further from who she was trying to be. But trying to be the next Siouxsie Sioux with kickin’ song titles like ‘Teenage Anarchy’, ‘Eat My Dog’, and ‘Cut It Off And [redacted due to inappropriate graphic nature]’ don’t sell in this modern climate, so maybe Lucy could at least try to get Avril Lavigne and she wasn’t even tossed that fighting chance.

And now the cycle of Lucy’s woebegone life seemed to have gone from broken-up to breaking out and now right on the verge of breaking down, grappling with strange feelings she wasn’t sure were even hers to feel at all. Even with her pointless selfish reminiscing, Lucy knew this wasn’t just about her, wasn’t just about her messed-up past and her breakneck future making her feel a thousand different shades of weird, but it was here and now. In the present, with a girl she doesn’t know how to feel about. There was something about Jo Taylor.

Or something else Lucy was missing entirely.

There was bound to be some weirdness between them; after all, she and Jo both dated the same boy at some point—even though dated was a pathetically generous way of putting it for Lucy, what with the whole only together for barely ninety seconds deal before those fateful elevator doors opened up to a badly-timed kiss and imminent disaster. After her previous cheater boyfriend fiasco she nearly fell prey to again, the last thing Lucy wanted to do was to get caught up in an unexpected love triangle with all signs pointing to heartbreak highway with an inbound collision, which was certainly enough to break the hardest heads and make anyone’s mangled stomach drop all the way to the pits of hell.

But if her debut album was all about being strong and doing what makes you happy, then so be it. Nevermind that she also would have been totally singing out of her ass for 80% of the tracks (the remaining 20% was for the sick guitar riffs that could shred a whole factory of Dutch gouda into fine powder and disgustingly great sound production courtesy of Galactic Records, of course). Because apparently that positive fakery and callout girlpower sells and sells and sells, so hey, well done her. Make it until you fake it, right?

Anyway, all of that annoying drama was over and done with, Lucy’s had her petty little revenge via a hit Taylor Swift-esque masterpiece that landed her a cosy place on the music charts (which, in hindsight, wasn’t the most elegant of moves, but she was lonely and dejected and filled with enough unwanted spite to boil her body from the inside out, what else was a girl supposed to do other than go all Ophelia? Yeah, Lucy was tragic but she wasn’t buying into that classic brand of fridged-lady bullshit) and earned her a pretty cool future European tour, and now she had her rightful throne back at the Palm Woods along with her old close friends and a really lovely new girl friend.

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe Lucy and Jo were only pretending to stand each other’s strained necks only to crush their heels down as soon as one let down her guard and looked away. Maybe they were only five seconds away from a slipped bitter laugh and tearing at each other’s throats with painted nails to the beat of flashing paparazzi spotlights and tonight’s E! News headlines. Lucy honestly couldn’t really tell anymore.

Sure, she and Jo were good friends now, but there was still something uncomfortable lingering in the air between them, hair-raising friction and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dispositions and an unspoken gravity that threatened to crush down Lucy’s tin can brain if she overthinks it for too long. The worst part about it was that Lucy couldn’t figure out what it was exactly—she was completely over Kendall (and any other stupidly complicated boy trouble for the foreseeable rest of her life, if she could friggin’ help it), that much was true...but why did she still feel a dull pang of something almost resembling jealousy whenever the Palm Woods star couple were together?

Lucy has tried to cut off that insidious feeling time and time again, but the indomitable hydra’s head just kept on sprouting back and multiplying twofold, poison veins and blood-red vision, suffocating her a little worse every time.

Cutting her own annoying head off would be a much easier solution.

That Sunday was one of those weird monster-brain days. Lucy and her two best friends had been meticulously planning this girls’ day out for an entire week now as their busy acting and recording schedules never seemed to perfectly align, and that day was the only free time they had to spare. Unfortunately, Camille had to be rushed back for a last-minute audition callback for the next series installment of hit TV show My Nanny is a Werewolf on Kidzie Channel. While both Lucy and Jo eagerly volunteered to entirely nix the hangout and come with her in support instead, the actress cheerily waved their offers off, telling the girls that Logan was already coming with her anyway and she didn’t wanna ruin their plans any more than she already did, despite their assurances of the contrary.

With exchanged wishes of good luck, Camille bade her friends goodbye with a well-practiced weregirl snarl-twirl-snap combo and playful reminders to “have fun and behave yourselves while I’m away!”

Lucy couldn’t even muster up a smartass quip back to promise one or the other. If anything could send her nerves instantly unwinding end to end and back around her throat next to news of her parents coming around for a visit to subtly psychoanalyse her every disobedient move and street mimes (the creepy monochrome bastards), it was having to be alone with Jo.

Shit biscuits, this was so not in the plan!

It was going to be strange for them—potentially disastrous, even—not having Camille around, since she was practically the sole linchpin keeping their friend group together. With the veteran teen actress having been really close to each girl and being a steady presence in the Palm Woods and their lives despite all the ensuing changes and confusion, she was always there to ease out the looming tension and act as an impartial mediator between Lucy and Jo, always ready with a crazy story or a fun activity to rope in the three of them together. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but Lucy’s previous solo hangouts with Jo proved to be a bit dubious after exhausting their seemingly multiple choice chit-chat options about music and work and the-eyebrows-man-who-must-not-be-named, more often ending the conversation in question marks and uneasy silence broken only by a straw scraping against the bottom of the empty smoothie cup.

But Lucy was still determined to make the best out of what might just be a good thing. Maybe even the next best thing for them going forward. This was the perfect chance to figure out what exactly was going on between her and Jo. What’s the worst that could happen, right?

(Everything. Nothing. All of the above plus one and show the equations on scratch paper. The options were limitless and if this was a test of true strength and willpower, Lucy would rather stab herself in the neck with a freshly-sharpened #2 pencil than fail hard and embarrass herself. But she wasn’t gonna be a coward and run away, not this time. Not anymore.)

Their day was a whirlwind blur; a burning rush of exciting Hollywood lights beckoning their giddiest fancies and sweltering air competing against frigid mall air-conditioning, teasing flashes of soaring blonde curls and a steadfast hand clutching Lucy’s own, and creeping close contact everywhere she turned—every moment a suspect call, ocean bruises and rubinette touches turning into downward spirals and a bleeding fleeting desperation that seemed to haunt Lucy around like a phantom as she followed Jo around, while her friend clearly wasn’t feeling the buzzkill spectre shivering and sapping her bones dry of enjoyment.

That was good. That was bad. The answers were still a mess on the page.

For the most part, Lucy figured she did a pretty good job of the whole rigmarole. Despite her brain initially going full neurotic on her, it really wasn’t all as bad as her nightmarish fantasies had twisted it out to be. As a matter of fact, it was Mr. Fox levels of fantastic.

They visited some boutiques and spreed the shops to mix and match some cool new outfits for each other, and shared some delicious food at a quaint seaside burrito and taco stand afterwards. There, Lucy listened intently to Jo’s stories about getting the part of the beautifully wise nymph-child Emily Trace and her time in New Zealand filming for Chauncey Jackson, which the actress still fondly remembered despite the whole breakup deal and the disastrous theatre-burning aftermath that came with it. Lucy managed to crack snarky little jokes and laugh in the right places, also sharing funny and zany tour tales of her own. And, upon Jo’s not-so-brilliant idea once she spotted the two-for-one deal sign as they were heading back, Lucy also begrudgingly got French pedicures with her, which was a whole other level of horrifying for the punk girl.

She swore upon all the unwise deities in the sky that she was never letting anyone near her extremely ticklish appendages again no matter how skilled they were at prettying up her nails, thanks very much.

But that was the worst brunt of it otherwise. In a spur-of-the-moment madness, Lucy even ran with this whole dumb bit of going all gum-chewing tour guide for Jo and showing her around the city, completely playing into it with awed gasping, imaginary camera clicking, and dramatic posing and pointing at every nondescript building facade and rusty fire hydrant. Neither girl cared that every rubbernecking passersby shot them odd looks and disapproving glares, they simply laughed and ran away with arms interlocked beneath the cascading firestorm marigold of the afternoon skylines, cardboard cutouts of towering skyscrapers and palm trees silhouetting the dying sun as the day drew to a more peaceful close.

So yeah, to say it went great was a massive understatement. Lucy enjoyed herself a lot, but not as much as she enjoyed seeing Jo have the time of her life. It felt like their relationship was going to continue its ascending momentum, but...friendship shouldn’t have felt this stilted, this rehearsed, this performative. It shouldn’t have been this hard for Lucy to deal with. Even with her inexplicable thoughts, Lucy really liked Jo. And the sentiment seemed to be reciprocated, counting how many times Lucy made Jo smile and crack up—and in one instance, even choke on her ice cream as the punk girl described Camille and Kendall’s short-lived stint as figure skaters in full painful detail, insane best friend code and Logan’s murderous jealousy and James and Carlos getting glued together and horrible shiny purple costume and bloody Death Spiral and all.

Jo was incredibly easy to talk to, comfortable to be around with, all prettiness and sprightly charm and that adorably wicked smile edging out a smart veneer—it made Lucy’s stomach flutter something strange—maybe from hope, or maybe from indigestion courtesy of those killer all-American beef tacos. Long story longer, Lucy wants to be with Jo.

So what the hell was she doing wrong?

There wasn’t too much time for Lucy to think it over, and she was far too exhausted and simply relieved that she made it out alive. The two girls opted for one last quick corndog snack (well, Lucy did since she was seriously starving after their impromptu street run and Jo wasn’t the biggest fan of the food, but the actress bought some to take home for their hyper helmet-toting friend anyway), before catching the last shuttle to the Palm Woods and finally making it back to their home sweet home.

Make it until you fake it...

“Thanks for the awesome day out, Jo,” Lucy said as they reached the door to Apartment 3F, a place less supply closet chic and much roomier than her old one. She only moved into a second-floor space when she first returned as step one of her terrible ‘get rid of horrible songwriting rut’ plan. And after a whole week of sleepless nights courtesy of the nonstop racket in Apartment 2J, Lucy decided to save what was left of her hanging sanity by requesting a change in rooms, an arrangement that Mr. Reginald Bitters was all too happy to agree to once he saw the growing zeroes in her bank account.

However, this also meant that Jo’s apartment was only a few doors away from hers down at 3I, an uncanny coincidence that Lucy didn’t want to think too much about.

“No need to thank me for anything,” Jo replied modestly. “And thanks as well!”

“I’m super worn-out to the bone and all, but I had lots of fun and I really wanna do this again soon. Hopefully when Cam’s free so we can paint the town a shade of red brighter.”

“Yeah, I think I’d really like that too.” Jo smiled. “And Camille better be there, ‘cause she seriously missed out today and well...I say this with all the love in my heart, but you’re also a really lousy clothes shopping partner.”

Lucy chuckled, airily shrugging in reply. “Hey, no offence taken. If it wasn’t so obvious already, I’m really more of a DIY-kinda person when it comes to choosing my fits. I mean, where’s the fun in picking up Barbie doll cutouts when you could get to run loose with scissors and trick up that haute couture perfection into something awesome and unique?”

“Yeah, I get the whole getting bored with dress-up too.”

“Yeah?”

“Kinda, with all the outfits and costumes they make me wear for my acting roles sometimes...” Jo said. “It’s all gorgeous fun and fabulous fashion shows in the dressing trailer until you’ve spent half your week on the makeup chair after your fiftieth costume change of the day and end up in a molting chicken outfit in hundred-degree LA heat for an eight-hour shoot.”

Lucy whistled low at this. “I’ve had my fair share of getting stuffed into itchy grandma dresses by my mom, but yeah, definitely nothing as bad as that. I think my worst offender was a giant pink chiffon tutu for a church recital and I sulked up a storm the entire time for the performance that my annoyed dad practically had to drag me off the stage by my pointé shoes.”

“Awww, ballerina Lucy-goosey,” Jo gushed. “Now that I would love to see!”

“You’d have to pry it from my cold dead hands first.” Lucy sternly clicked her tongue. “But hey, anytime you feel up for a wardrobe overhaul, call me, beep me, ‘cause I’m your gal. it’s a hell of a time ripping ‘em up, and that’s definitely a thing I gotta show you sometime.”

“Mmm, maybe. Daddy taught me never to run with scissors, though.”

“Oh come onnn, live a little, why don’t you?” Lucy mimed a pair of scissors with both hands and poked and jabbed her flicking fingers into Jo’s midriff, making her cry out in protesting giggles.

“Hey—don’t, buzz off—you’re—such a bad influence—Stone!” She gasped out, skirting away and whacking Lucy with a Kate Spade shopping bag to fend her attacks off.

“As if you really need me to break your halo, angel?” Lucy winked. “I’m afraid it’s far too late to save your grace.”

“And you and me and the devil makes three.”

“Well, only you and me since two of those are the same things.” With a halfhearted evil cackle, Lucy swung the door open with a grand sweeping gesture. “Feel like entering the gates of hell today?”

Jo nodded gratefully as she welcomed the invitation. “I don’t know if I could take another step without collapsing, so wouldn’t mind a little rest,” she said, dropping her bags down on the couch and comfortably settling in with a sigh. “Thanks, Lucy...fer?”

“Oh, you won’t be thanking me soon enough.”

“Why, ‘cause you’re gonna make pretty confetti out of my clothes?”

“Hey now, alright, alright. No more running with scissors so daddy doesn’t take your supper away.” The punk girl held up two hands in surrender and sat down next to Jo. “Maybe just very carefully ambling with helmets and crash pads. That sound like a plan?”

“Just as long as that plan doesn’t include you abandoning me to cause some townie trouble with high school kids and howl at the moon.”

Both girls couldn’t help but giggle at the vivid image of the elegantly gorgeous Camille Roberts transforming into a hairy scary beast by performing her signature snarl-twirl-snap cheerleader move.

“Hey, down with team Jacob,” Lucy joked. “I promise I won’t abandon you, and this is just a little precaution so we don’t accidentally riches to rags those really good florals you picked out for me, ‘cause that’d be a right shame.”

Jo frowned at this, peach-pink lower lip blooming into that dainty little pout the New Town High writers had taken every opportunity to abuse in her infamous character Rachel’s scripts. Lucy couldn’t blame them, though. It was a pretty view-cashing quirk—even she was completely mesmerised. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Luce,” she said. “If you don’t like it, just say so. I’m a big girl now and I could totally take it. And anyway, we could always exchange it for those fancy aviator jackets you were ogling over. Oh yeah, I totally saw that, even if you didn’t tell me.”

“How dare you accuse me of being a liar—‘cause I’m totally not!” Lucy insisted, adamantly waving the tropical-patterned paper bag containing the incriminating articles of clothing. “You wanna see me wear that frilly frigging halter top everyday? Girl, you got it! I’ll even dye my hair Electric Bananas yellow and wear it for my next music video complete with Daisy Dukes and red cowboy boots to immortalise it forever in my shameful name, if that’s what it takes for me to prove it to you!”

“Wow, so desperate to convince me.” Jo delightedly laughed, a mischievous wind-chime twinkle. “Hold your horses, cowgirl. I’m already impressed by the dedication alone—although I honestly wouldn’t mind seeing you in that kinda outfit...”

Lucy’s throat tightened, suddenly finding herself unable to meet Jo’s cloying coffee gaze and pursed smirk as it wryly raked up and down her pale, gawky, ungraceful form. She was so unlike her beautiful American doll of a best friend, who was like all the pretty pink princesses and gorgeous Day-Glo Pop Tiger girls she either unhealthily obsessed over or resented with a misguided burning passion (or both) in her younger days. And well, apparently now—but would Jo agree to a music video cameo if it meant Lucy also got to see her in skimpy denim and sunbeaten leather of a sizzling hot Arizona desert cowgirl outfit—was Lucy insane enough to even consider writing a song in the godawful twangy music genre she despised with a burning passion just to make it happen...okay, nope, she wasn’t telling that, either.

“Well, you said no need, so no take-backs,” she muttered halfheartedly, both arms folded adamantly to press over her churning stomach—ugh, must be those damn fried franks too, how the hell did Carlos manage to scarf down a hundred sticks of them on the daily and not get a heart attack in the box?

“...Hey, are you okay, Luce?” Jo asked worriedly as she reached out and touched the back of her hand to her friend’s feverish forehead. “You don’t look so hot.”

“Me, not hot?” Lucy waved her concerns off with a lame scoff. “Pffft, that’s impossible!”

“Oh. Now that’s weird...”

“What’s weird?”

“For a moment, I swear I was talking to James Diamond of Big Time Rush and not Hollywood’s hottest pop princess Lucy Stone...”

“Okay, A. Don’t ever call me pop princess unless you wanna get turned into a toad, and B. compare me to that conceited IKEA rug-looking nematode again and I will take you down,” Lucy snapped, but immediately regretted her default mean girl tone when Jo reeled slightly. Oh, right. Not everyone was used to her brand of poison spit. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean that.”

“You didn’t?” Jo countered. “I’m always ready for a challenge.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll save the taking down for James instead, the next time he tries to be a total pest with his stupid aeroplane-based makeout metaphors and toxic man spray fumes.”

“Wow. You really hate him that much, huh. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the boys on you.”

Despite Jo’s jesting tone, Lucy couldn’t help but feel a little bit defensive. “It’s not that I hate him, I just...” She sighed harshly. “I guess if you look past the bloated ego and the over-delusional Adonis complex and the general dramatic derangement, he seems like a decently nice enough person. A really annoying one, mind—but maybe someone I wouldn’t mind being just friends with.”

“Just friends?”

“Capital F-word Friends, period. Mark my words, Taylor, because I am damn well carving them on the gravestone I’ll rest on in my sweetest deathbed, that I shall never have a thing for James frigging Diamond,” Lucy declared, slapping the coffee table after every word to emphasise her point. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Which I will if you ever bring this utter nonsense up again or even mention a single word of it to James. Then I hope he dies.”

Jo sombrely mumbled something Lucy couldn’t quite make out, only catching the tail end of “...to know.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, just...” Jo shook her head. “Thinking about some stuff. Nothing important, really.”

“Oh? Then spill,” Lucy goaded. “C’mon Jo, you’ve seen me squirm and shriek my lungs off at that stupid foot spa torture chamber, I think that’s enough to warrant a no-more-secrets rule between us.”

“Well, it’s just that, the thing with James. Or the lack of it, rather.”

“What about it?”

“It’s not because of...the whole Kendall thing, is it?”

“What?!” Lucy’s tone rose to shrill indignation.” Why on god’s green earth would it ever be?”

“I don’t know,” Jo hastily backtracked. “I told you it’s nothing important, but I just never really thought of it this way before. Like, seeing how they’re best friends and everything...”

“Dude, come on—”

“Maybe it’d feel weird for you so soon after everything to have to see him around all the time.”

“Josephine, seriously, you’ve got a big brain on you. Don’t waste it on History Channel conspiracy theories and pointless MTV-level drama,” Lucy sternly berated. “But no, it’s because James is irritating and abrasive and keeps popping up everywhere like a bad rash.” She paused, making a disgusted face. “Okay, ew, that was a horrible comparison, but you know what James is like so you get my point. I told you I’m already cool with Kendall, and you and him have nothing else to do with anything that’s my personal business, except for being my good friends and good company. That’s all.”

Lucy wanted to mean it like she said it—but wowza, was that an Oscar-winning performance of a pretty little white lie or what? Either Camille’s extreme method actressing had been rubbing off on her lately, or it was just another one of those dirty tricks she had to learn the hard way after endlessly lying and being lied to in her last relationship. She was certainly good enough to fool hopeless hearts trying to chase her out of the friendzone and vice versa, so what’s one more lie? Laissez-faire life like this, you simply can’t have one without the other, as she found out easily enough.

That was the only easy part about it, unfortunately. I’d like to thank you with a side of choke, Academy.

“Okay. Just checking,” Jo replied after an extremely unnerving beat, dainty lips quivering as she stubbornly bit CW’s favourite thousand-dollar pout back into a serrated thin line. “‘Cause I’d really feel bad if—”

“Well don’t!” Lucy shouted in a crackwhip shock that made her friend flinch hard enough to taste blood. “I said what I freaking said—so seriously, just drop the whole annoying wounded kitty act and shut up about that for a moment already, okay?!”

“...What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oh, great. Just when Lucy thought she was about to pass with flying colours, there came the surprise back page to clock her just as the time ran out. They were due in for a catfight anytime, weren’t they?

“Nothing,” Lucy dismissed, exhaling roughly and slapping a palm on the side of her head to fend off the incoming headache. “Just forget it. Forget about everything.”

“Lucy, I don’t wanna pick a fight.”

“Yeah? Then why don’t you damn well act like it?” Hey woah, ixnay on the attitude, Stone, what the hell are you doing?!

Jo blinked helplessly. Took a step back. She appeared on the verge of something. Maybe falling tears, maybe unsheathing claws. Lucy had certainly shown her hand. Er, paw. Her own fists clenched and unclenched, leaving thin scarlet indentations on her palms with obsidian-black fingernails.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you,” Jo finally murmured. “I just want you to talk to me, Lucy.”

“What am I, using telepathy or something?”

The punk girl’s snarky response went all but unheeded. “No, I mean like...talk to me, please,” Jo begged, clasping desperately at Lucy’s marred hands. “I just feel like, I don’t know, we’re still holding some things back and the last thing I want between us is this...annoying awkwardness! Maybe it’s just me—maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I feel like there’s this sort of unpleasant tension hiding behind all the normal chatting and the joking, it’s like this weird space that I just can’t understand how to reach out to. It’s like, there’s something more going on here.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucy said evenly, trying to ignore both the sudden electric dithers from her fingertips starting to course through her nerves and the distracting fact that Jo’s skin felt so warm...

“That’s the thing, I can’t even begin to describe it. I don’t think there’s any rational way to! And I swear, I like you a lot, but if we can’t get past that—whatever that is—then...” Jo let go of Lucy and slumped her shoulders heavily, at a total loss. “Maybe there’s no point in trying to be friends anymore.”

Oh, Tony the pissing Tiger grrreat with a side of soggy cornflakes. Not only was Lucy’s worst suspicions confirmed, but it was apparently playing for both teams and everyone was damn well losing. No, really, she would rather take the hair-pulling and name-calling and kicking and screaming—she didn’t do well with pity parades, seeing how easily she could rain on it with her stupid shallow tears. Even worse than the ticklishness, it was seriously Lucy’s greatest, lamest, worst weakness ever.

“Listen to me.” Lucy startled Jo as she staggered forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, trembling touch seconds away from a good sense-knocking shake. “I chose to come back to the Palm Woods. I chose to ignite some trouble with the whole nutty song scandal. I made you believe I was still chasing Kendall just to douse more gasoline in my writer blocked-brain. Did I regret any of it? Yeah, a whole freaking lot, and I’ll never stop being sorry for being so stupidly petty...but I’m not mad anymore. I don’t regret coming back here. And I definitely don’t regret...” Being with you. “Being your friend.”

They were so close Lucy could feel Jo’s rattled breaths shaking past her lungs. Or was it hers?

“Really?”

“Well, duh!” Lucy broke into a genuine smile, which Jo hesitantly mirrored back, and Lucy’s grip relaxed into an awkward pat on the relieved girl’s back. “Hey, the whole thing with me and Mom Pants McGee was a fun little tryst while it lasted, but sweet boys give me a toothache anyway and I’m completely over him now. And I did get a couple amazing hit songs off his storky back, so hey—even stevens.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jo said regretfully. “I’m really sorry for bringing it up in the first place and trying to overcomplicate things again. I mean, you’re so pretty and talented and great to be around with—even if not in the fitting room,” Lucy shot her fond stink-eyes at this gibe, “so...I really don’t wanna lose you.”

“Back at you.” Top ten worst responses to a heartfelt conversation much? But Lucy really couldn’t say it back at the risk of her twitchy eyes going twin geysers, so she squinted and blinked rapidly to get rid of the blurriness threatening to overtake her sight. “But also, you’re still right about some things.”

“Like what?”

“Us, for a start. When I said I didn’t know what you were talking about...I was just too nervous to admit the truth. Because I’ve honestly felt that weird awkwardness too, and I didn’t wanna be the one to ruin things when they seemed to be going great, so I left it alone and hoped it would go away. I tried to make it go away. But maybe that’s also on me for not trusting you enough to really talk to you.”

“Oh thank god,” Jo blurted out. “I mean, not the awkwardness, but I’m really glad I’m not going entirely crazy. Am I bad for saying that?”

“The worst.” Lucy grinned, winking at her. “And you know what? To hell with all that noise! Life’s too short to get cold feet with your cool friend, and it’s too awesome to hang out with you, today alone proved that. I swear, I haven’t had this much fun since...I dunno, my first trip to Kidzieland just after my very first successful violin recital.” She cringed a bit at the inflicting memory. “Well, the recital sucked total butt and a half, what with more frilly dresses and rows of dead-looking old people silently watching a poor six year-old screech her way through Vivaldi Concerto in A Minor, but I just meant the happiest place on Earth part.”

“Ooh, violinist Lucy-goosey, I gotta pry that out of your cold dead hands too! Just kidding. But I really hope you’re not just saying that just to say it.”

“I know I say a lot of things—maybe too many things—but like I said, I never say anything I don’t mean. I can promise you that much, cross my heart and hope to die. Or, um, not die.” There was an irritating song stuck in Lucy’s head going la-la-la-la-liar...

“Sounds good to me,” Jo said, smiling appreciatively. “Sorry for being annoying.”

“You’re not annoying, I’m just being a total queen bitch again. I’m really sorry for yelling at you, Jo. I’m not entirely used to this whole friendship thing yet ‘cause it’s all so new to me—and I guess you’ve just found out why I don’t really have many of them. God, I just need an attitude check every once in a while.” Lucy sighed. “But I really hope we’re still friends...?”

“Of course we are!” Jo said. “Besides, if you’re gonna need an attitude check from time to time, I wouldn’t mind being up for the job.”

“Hired—as long as you’re fine with being my unpaid intern slash total lackey.”

“Oh, I’ll make you pay one way or another.”

“You’ve been threatening me an awful lot today, Miss Taylor.” Lucy arched a daunting brow at Jo. “You really think you can take America’s baddest punk prodigy on?”

“Please. You’d be surprised to see just what I can do to you.”

“I’d love to see you try, princess.”

Lucy smirked and rolled her eyes as Jo lightly punched her shoulder before making a grab for her choker blouse, which she easily twisted out of. Lucy zipped to her feet and made a taunting come-hither motion with one hand while Jo surged toward her again, and she pulled a feign to the right and used it as an opportunity to try to corner Jo. But the blonde girl performed a shockingly quick complex manouevre that completely caught Lucy off-guard, as Jo twisted her by the wrist and swept her outbalanced legs from beneath, easily pushed her back down to the sofa, and ultimately managed to pin her against it, one nimble leg locked over Lucy’s knee and Jo’s forearm pressed deep into her heaving chest to keep her from escaping.

“Told you I’m always ready for a challenge.”

“Touché. Colour me a hot-pink shade of impressed,” Lucy said, not even bothering to squirm her futile way out. “You weren’t the locked-up tower damsel in distress I thought you were.”

“Oh?” Jo cooed slyly. She was clearly savouring every minute of it (not that Lucy couldn’t say the same—but never admit defeat to your enemy and all that jazz). “Did Kendall never mention that my dad’s a trained Marine and CIA employee, and that daddy’s little girl went through intense judo training from age five to get her supper?”

“Your dashing Knight in flannel armour never mentioned a lot of things about you.” Lucy’s lips curled in between shallow breaths. “I wonder why.”

“I guess that means you’re not the only one keeping secrets, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“So you and me, what’s our deal now? I thought you said no more secrets?”

“Well, maybe leave some between the devil and me.” Lucy’s brash conviction fell flat, lost to the stunning sight in front of her spinning her into mental vertigo. Jo’s perfectly-coiffed ringlets were now a tangled mess over her forehead as it freely waterfalled over Lucy’s hot-pink face, and her breaths—damn it, I should really stop staring at those bewitched lips—were so heavy on Lucy’s neck that she found herself shivering and ticklish all over. Stupid oversensitive skin. She deliriously wondered if Jo’s barred arm was also bruising from how hard her heartbeats were walloping out of her ribcage. “So...what else can you do to me, Rapunzel?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” With a promising glee, Jo finally released her captor and stood up, smoothing back her hair and stretching her body as if their tussle never happened. “But hey, I’m tired and you’re tired and we’re all fried in the brains, so that’s a girl fight for another day, don’t you think?”

“I’ll make sure to chalk up that appointment.” Lucy accepted Jo’s helping hand and handed the other girl’s shopping bags in turn. With this, they instinctively linked arms as they walked to the front door.

“So, same time next week?” Jo asked expectantly.

“Are you talking about the hanging out or the fighting?” Lucy replied.

“Hmm...maybe a little bit of both. For funsies.”

“Hey, dinner and a movie first, missy!” Lucy exclaimed all huffy, making Jo laugh and whap her with a bag again. “But seriously though, whatever it is, I’m looking forward to it, as long as it’s with you.”

Jo searchingly peered at her. “Really?”

“Totally! I know I don’t have many people around here I could talk to apart from the Big Time Gonzos and you and Camille, and there’s never a dull moment, to say the least, but...I just really like being with you the most, Jo,” Lucy confessed. She hated herself worse the more she talked, but the dam had burst and she was unable to keep herself from blabbing on. “Now that we’ve got our issues out of the way, I think I could just talk to you, like really talk to you, no supermutant telepathy needed. Somehow, it makes me hope that I’ll never have to feel like I gotta be someone else other than myself now. So...I don’t know. This sounds super weird and stupid to say, but I kinda feel like...you could be my best friend. Or maybe even more than that...?”

Woah, nelly. Can we get some lip stitcher for the TMI snitcher here??? It must’ve been Lucy’s mind getting scrambled and smeared like avocado toast under the humid evening heat. Or from too much sugar-shocked Mint Brownie Blizzard DQ’s, because why the hell was she suddenly getting all soft and sappy now? Yeah, she was more than used to speaking her mind, but it was usually sharp edges and bad decisions like Jo just unfortunately witnessed, but not this...this goopy tempur-pedic heart mess!

“I dunno, it’s whatever, but you’re cool and stuff, and it’s really nice to wind down from work without getting caught up in insane tree hat schemes or Camille’s crazy acting gigs and have some vanilla peace and quiet sometimes with someone, so like. It’s whatever! Ugh, sorry. Lame. Not you—I just, me—I’m...so lame. Yeah. Um. Thanks. Bye.”

A deafening beat of silence, Jo softening into what could’ve been a second of sympathetic uncertainty, or a thousand years of embarrassed concern. Lucy scuffed her ancient Demonia boots against the dusty carpet, wordlessly counted the dirty palm prints in dire need of a good vacuuming and an entire pricey overhaul that their cheapskate manager would never pay for, and tugged absently at her handmade Lockpicks button, picking and pressing at the black and red marker-scribbled logo until she felt the open pin pierce past her jacket and dig into her numb hammering chest. She wanted to slam the door in Jo’s face to saver her own. Or slam her dysfunctional head between the doorway just to get everything over with.

Yeah, great save there, Stone. Only made you sound like a backed-up motorcycle that won’t start. Peanut butter smooth enough to choke a three year-old. That storm’s one for the playbooks, Lzzy Fail with a capital L for Loserville—

“I don’t know what else to say except for...thank you so much, Lucy.” At last, Jo’s reply mercifully cuts into the musician’s tirade of self-resentment, her sincere voice wavering into delicate brushstrokes and painting Lucy’s face with cosmic bloom. “For this day out. For your honesty. And for everything else.”

Lucy expected a judo slap in the face more than she did gratitude. She would’ve taken it like a champ too, if it’d help her come back to her senses. What? Huh? “Whuh?”

Aaand there’s the slap from her stupid dysfunctional brain to save the friggin’ day. Girl, snap your mouth shut and get yourself together before you have a full-blown aneurysm in front of Jo, come on.

“I’m just really glad to hear that from you, is all,” Jo continued. “‘Cause here I thought it’d never stop being weird after everything that happened between us and even now, I still wasn’t even sure if you really liked me or we’re just doing this to try to be polite with each other...”

“Ohoho believe me, I’m constantly five seconds away from slipping cyanide in your blue smoothies.”

Jo chuckled at Lucy’s amused threat. “Well, thank you for not doing that, and for being an amazing friend. I’m glad that you feel safe enough to be comfortable with me now. All the things you said, I just, I feel the same way about you, I really do. I know I’m not the best with my words right now,” At least you’ve got some words in, unlike miss guppy gaper over here—“But you...um, this just really means a lot to me.”

Lucy’s breath hitched as Jo smiled gently and reached out towards her—too high to be her arm, too low to be anywhere else. Was it a handshake? A hug? A well-deserved slap? Another surprise scuffle?

Even with everything at a standstill, there wasn’t enough time left in the world to find out.

The sound of a chirpy lo-fi ringtone cut through the air, jolting Lucy into a sharp exhale and a spat profanity. Jo halted dead in her tracks to fish out her phone from her shorts pocket and check the incoming notification, her earnest countenance immediately whittling down a weary resignation.

“It’s Kendall,” Jo announced as she idly scrolled through the accursed message. “He’s asking why I didn’t reply to his text twenty minutes ago and what time I’ll be back—and if I got him the latest Hockey Action magazine with that one...sports dude on the cover from the newsstand. I think he had like, brown hair and a weird name but that’s literally all I remember...like he really expects me to tell any of them apart?” She groaned. “They all just look like blurry uniformed guys to me!”

“Oh.”

The actress tiredly laid her glowing phone screen against her scrunched forehead, starkly illuminating the stressed lines creasing her face. “I’m sorry about that, I just...I love Kendall, I really do, but he’s been really testing my patience more and more these days. It seems like all we ever do is bicker and fight about dumb things that shouldn’t matter too much, and then we make up and kiss, and then repeat the whole crazy cycle and I’m used to it by now, but...maybe I shouldn’t be?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Wow, where’d all that big talk disappear off to, big girl? You sound like a stuck soundboard, chrissakes.

“Y’know, sometimes I think I’d be better off if I didn’t get back together with him at all and we just—” Jo sighed abruptly, repocketing her phone. “Nevermind. Sorry. Don’t wanna ruin our perfect day any more than I already have with some extra boring boy friend drama.”

“Okay.” There it was again, that ferocious hydra, writhing and biting and threatening to burst from under Lucy’s taut skin, screaming ‘was that a pause in between boy and friend or did she just run out of breath???’. Apparently metaphorical mythical monsters (ten points for the alliteration skills there, Maya Angelou) can also be total tinfoil hat nutters, grrreat.

“Yeah,” Lucy scoffed a little louder, blithely crossing her arms. “Better not. Anyway, I got a warm shower soak and a Capri Blue Volcano bath bomb in here with my name on it, and you better check in on Kendork before he blows a blond gasket and rips up half the state of California just trying to look for you, so. Don’t want the poor kid thinking I’m stealing his best girl away from him, huh?” Girl, what kinda weirdass joke was that?! God, just shutupshutupshutup—

“Well, right now you have a better fighting chance than him.”

Okay, either someone suddenly decided to throw a huge (highly illegal) party in the next apartment room out of nowhere, or the popping confetti and champagne and victorious rave music and flashing strobe lights were all in Lucy’s head. Lucy’s very confused, very impossible, decidedly insane head.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around?” Jo asked. “A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, and I wouldn’t mind it at all. Kendall would probably only lay waste and ruin to Sacramento and Anaheim by that time. And if you want, I could also make you a mean grilled chicken salad.” She tilted her head and coyly lifted her shoulders. “I mean not to brag, but. Gotta keep myself busy in the tower somehow.”

Yes, please stay, please don’t, I don’t know what I want with you except for it’s a lot even if you probably want nothing to do with me, maybe you should stay with me so we could figure this mess out together or maybe we don’t just as long as we’re together and you won’t have to fight anyone for a kiss, please fucking stay or I’ll miss you around—

“Nah, I’m gonna miss those cheesy ghost tours and gastropubs if he does that, but cheers for the offer anyway.” Lucy replied with a wink—oh gross, she did that a lot, why the hell does she do that a lot? She seriously needed to call an ophthalmologist’s office sometime to get checked for uncontrollable eye spasms. Or maybe it was the home of the future’s ancient dirty furnishings giving her an allergy reaction something awful and she could sue the pants off Bitters instead. “Now beat it.”

“Awww, but we were having such a moment!”

“Well you already let your hair down, so not anymore, princess.”

Maybe it was Lucy’s imagination being a little demon again, but there seemed to be a crestfallen hint to Jo’s smile at her brisk refusal. So Lucy decided to reach out past the weird space and surprised her friend (though considerably a lot less than she surprised herself) with a gentle embrace; cold sweat palms comfortably flush against Jo’s shoulder blades to slow their descent down even for just a moment longer, silent butterfly whispers fluttering under her wispy breath to never let go.

Jo unsurely squared up a bit before easing into the gesture and matching it, and that’s when Lucy let go and playfully elbowed her away, not bothering to draw away the curtain of red-streaked hair that had fallen over her face. Had it always been a thousand degrees here, or was Buddha Bob messing around with the perpetually-broken thermostat again? It really was a wonder of the world why she chose to move back to this busted joint. But maybe it was worth it because of something else. Someone else.

Surely the princess isn’t in another castle now.

“Now take my affection and scram before I choke you with it, Josephine,” Lucy warned breathily, shaking a curmudgeonly fist at Jo.

“Oh, really? And how are you gonna do that, exactly?” Jo grinned back, a challenging tryst as she shrugged her slipping cardigan sleeve back onto her chambray shirt, all frisky static and fleecy denim, the kind Lucy hated she loved. “Because if we’re gonna have a proper dinner and a movie date soon, then you better be ready to show me sometime.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No need to beg at all. Love you too, Lucille.”

Jo simply winked back, one tender hand to touched to Lucy’s chin as the actress leaned in to kiss her on the cheek—a shy flitting gesture that devolved into vicious hummingbirds tearing apart Lucy’s chest heartbeat by paralysed heartbeat—before Jo gathered her tote bag and newly-purchased belongings, casually waved to her friend one last time, and walked away.

Lucy’s hand let go of the remaining shopping bags—taking no heed of the sound of shattering glass—as it instinctively curled towards her crimson-clashed face, the scent of familiar Velvet Rose and shared mint brownie and vanilla lipgloss dizzyingly overwhelming, trembling electric fingertips tracing what was perfectly spelled out in front of her all along but she was just too stupidly blind to see.

Shocking white blinding Lucy’s vision like intrusive camera flashes worse than hectic press releases, bitterness breaking apart upon remembering the way her heart just about crashed to her freshly-pampered toes when Jo happily embraced her by the shoulders, the phantom sensation of their sweaty bodies pressed delicately and melted together in that cramped Sears photo booth, Jo holding up a peace sign that bumped against Lucy’s devil horns as the blonde stuck her bubblegum-purple tongue out so ridiculously that Lucy hadn’t smiled that hard it hurt since forever, hadn’t felt her stomach cramp up with the kind of unfettered laughter that rang in her ears too loud and untwisted her heated guts and made her feel a little more sane despite all the haunting madness—leaving only a blurry collage of pretty memories to be stuck on fridge doors or placed under pillows for sweeter dreams.

There wasn’t just something about Jo Taylor, apparently—it was everything about her.

Click, click, click, love-laced gears in Lucy’s annoying head gnashing towards a mortified understanding, senseless steam clouding her brain and choking up her restricting throat as the excruciating realisation scribbled warning-red question marks everywhere and derailed their exquisite friendship straight into a messy, confusing, dramatic trainwreck.

Most likely it was nothing. Just a friendly gesture. Just an offhand faux flirt for an offhand faux-flirter. But then again...maybe it meant everything. Maybe Jo meant it. Maybe Jo really felt the same way about her. Maybe the whole date schtick was beginning to dance the line past an overplayed joke into a serious invitation (would his ex-not-boyfriend be pissed if they ended up dating the same girl?). Maybe Lucy just had to turn her head the right way and take Jo down like her impulse-rabid brain hydras were screaming at her to even if that meant stirring up a paparazzi frenzy of the century, alt-scene’s baddie ‘pop-princess’ gone worse with the sweetheart new town queen, to stir their sucked blood in the shark-infested waters and devastate their contract-clean reputations—who ever heard of such a thing?—who the hell could tell anymore?—and who the hell cared about all this MTV-level drama, anyway?

She was too smartmouthed for her own good, all that shammed bravado and sweetsour chit-chat, too cool for class and calculated down to the point just to push people away, too full of shit...she was Lucy Stone, for crying out loud—and that meant nothing at all when she was trying fight against, with, for a girl she’s already lost to, once, twice, a million times over.

Why couldn’t she just shut up and shut it down like she always did this time around?

Lucy couldn’t run away anymore, so the only thing left to do was to write a hundred songs about being weak and making herself miserable and throw it all in the fireplace, because she already sold her soul to the devil. Fake it until you unmake it...and hope it would also unmake all the aching weirdness, the weird overthoughts, the weird way Jo left her hanging on and falling away to snap her neck on the rope she was barely holding onto...this was nothing like the best cheek kisses Lucy had ever served to all the nevermore nobodies she’d vaguely crushed on before, and yet Jo felt like all of those at once.

And more—the kind of more that she wanted, the way she wanted Jo, would Jo want her like they’re meant to be together, would Jo even want her...friendship shouldn’t feel this desperate, this complicatedly messy, this fucking painful. Lucy really wants to be with Jo. She wants Jo. She wants...

Oh, shit biscuits.

a/n: idk if anyone will ever make it this far lmao, but if you see this, thanks for reading!! (⑉⺥˶˶̫˶⺥⑉)💗

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