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pepsicup · 3 years

Text

The Boob Thing

Bucky Barnes x Reader 1.5k words

Summary: There are things we do that they will never understand, especially a man like him. (semi smut, breast play, slight body worship, we love tiddies here)

Author note: this concept is from my vault that I wrote with a friend for a different fandom, I decided to repurpose it since it got archived. Not my best work since I'm trying to get back in the groove after writing Problems Of A Spaceman but whatever, enjoy! (I have the attention span of a cube of sugar so there are probably mistakes, I re-read my work all the time so it will be fixed)

Bucky cleared his throat to break the comfortable silence he came home to, attempting to gain her attention as subtly as he could. She was curled up on their bed with a small book, almost in the exact place where he left her, but...not completely the same way as before.

It was one of those quiet days where they could do absolutely nothing if they so wanted, but he did slip out to take care of a few things so he could spend the rest of it with her undividedly. She was so engrossed in reading that she hadn’t even notice he left and came back all in the same hour. Though he wasn't gone long, he found her in an even more natural lounging position that caught him off guard at the very sight.

"Doll?" his words were stunted by something hidden in his voice.

She hummed back in response, not registering his presence until the next thing he ask tore her focus away completely.

“Are you...feeling yourself up?” she peeked around her book at him standing in the doorway.

Bucky had an amused expression from the moment he walked in and while he’d been watching her for the last couple of minutes before speaking up. He's not ashamed to admit that he waited to announce his presence to see if it was going to end up becoming another thing he liked to watch, but it sadly wasn't. She was...well he had no clue what she was doing.

All that matters is it was something that was happening without him.

She wore a loose-fitting shirt, but had one of her hands slipped inside and resting laxly on her right breast. As Bucky stood there unnoticed, she unconsciously squeezed every few moments like it was no big deal. To him, it wasn't normal unless he was involved or if she had her other hand in her panties, luring him over with those pretty eyes.

It seemed like she was doing it just to do it.

She put her book down, marked the page so she could get back to it later and shifted so she was laying against the many pillows littering the bed. Her other hand came to sit on her abdomen as the other remained in its place.

“Just pla—” her fingertips dipped under the bunched-up hemline of the shirt, leaving her underwear on full display.

“You playin' with yourself without me, sweetheart?” Bucky walked over to the end of the bed and crawled up to her.

Once he was hovering over her, he didn't make any moves to touch and watched with an adorable curiosity, though adorable might not be the right word to use while he raked over her skin.

“No!” she giggled, trying to explain herself to a man from a different time, "it's just...entertaining?"

“Entertaining...?” he licked his lips, trying his best to pay attention. She ran her foot up the side of his thick thigh and hooked it on his hip lazily. This type of intimacy was normal for them, but there was that one thing that wasn’t.

Bucky rested his forehead on hers as they exchanged glances from her chest, where he could just see the outline of her hand, and back up.

"Yeah, they are nice to play with," she said innocently.

She placed her free hand on his beside them that pressed into the mattress. He pulled their interlocking hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles to hide a smirk at the words, keeping his lips against the soft skin.

“I know...” he wiggled his eyebrows.

She couldn’t help but laugh this time, "Not like that you dummy,"

Bucky snickered against the back of her hand as she continued to ramble on, “It's just something I do when I'm comfortable or relaxed...most of the time I don't even notice I'm doing it"

There wasn't a clear reason why she did it, sometimes it was sexual but it was also comforting to have something to hold or be held – it could even be the result of boredom. The mounds of flesh are coincidentally very squishy and anyone who owns a pair knew what she was talking about. Bucky did have quite the chest himself, but it wasn't as authentic as the real deal enough to understand.

“I still don’t get it” he said sheepishly, a humorous edge in his voice.

“Tell me what you don’t get, baby” She sighed, shaking her head at his ability to listen with any other organ except for his ears.

While he is distracted with the question, she pulled her hand out and unravelled theirs swiftly. He was pondered as she maneuvered her next movements carefully and made her move before he could even comprehend what was on his own mind. She positioned her hands to rest on top of his and slid them up her shirt to the untouched side of her chest. Her hand stayed firm on his as her bust filled his palm, he gaped down at her like it was the first time she’d ever done something like that.

"You're just asking for it, aren't ya?" he mused, the smirk kicking up the side of his mouth.

Bucky leaned in far enough that she witnessed his eye shift at the close proximity. She could tell he wanted to kiss her so badly, but his demeanour made it feel like he wanted to do a lot more. It still wasn't the priority, she was only trying to make him understand. She ignored the charming attempts to sway her and focused on urging his lower body with her leg to lay down beside her.

“What are ya tryin' to do now?” he planted himself like a tree so she couldn't move him.

“Shhh, let me show you what I mean... and behave yourself for once" she cocked her head pointedly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, all in good fun.

"Please...?" she added softly.

He grunted, “Alright”

Bucky plopped down in the crevice of her arm, halfway on top of her and remaining tangled between her legs where you could most often find him in one manner or another. He shifted until he found the right spot to lay his head and tuck his face into her neck without causing her discomfort, then slumping down on her anyway.

"How come've never seen ya do it before?" his warm hometown drawl melted into his muffled voice. That was the tell-tale signal that he was getting riled up and it went right over her head every single time. Not everyone is a hyper-observant supersoldier with a sensory reception level equivalent to a herd of African elephants during mating season. Once the accent comes out, it's game over.

"Because you usually have your hands up my shirt anyway, now shush"

He was already grinning like an idiot even before she encouraged him to squeeze the first time, and it only got wider from there. As she attempted to demonstrate what she meant, she closed her eyes to clear her mind so it would happen sincerely and without his influence. They laid there together, hands hidden by the fabric of an old shirt he let her pick from his closet, mimicking each other's movements until they inevitably synced up.

It wasn't even five minutes before he got impatient and started to place kisses where ever he could reach a few at a time, even getting to softly suck despite her warning. She had stopped guiding his hand after a while, letting him do it on his own and enjoying it in the process, it was so relaxing that she almost dozed off at one point.

He, on the other hand, was thinking the exact opposite because after he realized he had all the control, things went downhill fast for her. It could have been the crossed wires in his head or the miscommunication, he concluded that she was teasing him regardless of which it was.

"Do you get it n—"

Bucky popped his head up out of nowhere and surprised her with a kiss, laughing against her lips as she jolted at the sudden contact. He took the chance to move back over her and in between those legs where he belongs.

He pulled back once she ran out of breath and held her still, “I'm sorry, doll...it's jus' turnin' me on”

"Bucky…" she giggled

"You feel that...?" he ignored her as she ignored him, grinding his half-hard bulge against her inner thigh instead of listening. He showered her face with his lips while she squirmed under the covered thrusts, “I know ya like it, look…you love it”

“Bucky!” she broke into an even bigger fit.

He bit his beautifully full bottom lip as he looked from her face to her chest devilishly. He acted on the impure intent running rampant through his body before his cock could betray those thoughts with every pulse.

"I can’t help but get hard when you touch yourself like that…” he ran his hands up her torso. He pulled the shirt over the spot of his heated fixation and wetted his lips with hers again, “...I can make it even better”

He rushed out his whisper, “…we do it anyway, but it’s so fuckin' hot when you do it alone and try t’hide it from me...”

Bucky lowered his face to her chest and nuzzled thoroughly between the two mounds he pushed together. As he took in the scent of her skin, he fumbled his hand to squeeze one of them as he attacked the other with his enthusiastic mouth. Her top half was soaked from the progression of his sucking, licking and groping, but the feeling of it finished the job elsewhere.

“Bucky…” she whined.

That seemingly innocent, on her part, situation turned filthy in a matter of minutes. He hummed around her nipple at her changed tone and back to her lips to feel the noise against his.

"... you’re not gettin' out of it that easy" his muttering sentence escaped through the gaps in his kisses.

When he leaned up to take off his shirt, he gazed down at her flushed face beaming a smile. Her body was still begging for attention even when she tried to get away, but she didn't stand a chance. As usual, his influence diminished her willpower and he was able to claim another part of her entirely.

"Shhh..." Bucky lightheartedly moved his knees to either side of her to keep her pinned down, "...let me show ya how it's done, doll"

Even if he didn't fully understand what that thing was or what it meant, he sure knew how to use them.

#mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #sebastian stan #sargent daddy #sac writes

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Draw your swords, pt. 10

Summary: Haunted by her own mind, Y/N isn’t sure what to do with the information she uncovered. On the other hand, the Darkling felt a growing distance between them, allowing himself to admit something he never thought he’d say.

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff, sexual innuendos

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine

=================================

A long time ago lived a young boy with the power of saints. He held the darkness at the tip of his fingers, capable of forcing the day into an eternal night. Back then, he made all the wrong choices for all the right reasons. To protect the ones he loves, he allowed the shadows to consume him. Cursed with immortality, he walked the earth ever since. Forever alone, hurt and betrayed, the Darkling's heart no longer beat as it turned to stone. No longer did he suffer, no longer did he feel pain or anything at all.

Until now.

There was no escape from emotions when he looked at her. Even in the darkness, she had the ability to set his world on fire.

A single badly made decision in a moment where everything feels more important than love can make your entire life feel like a failure. He would never make the same mistake again.

This lifetime he gives to her – wholeheartedly.

When they stopped for the night, he had felt uneasy as Y/N conversed freely with everyone but him. It seemed like she’s on edge and not knowing why gnawed at him. Once night came and they settled in their tent, the Darkling couldn’t contain himself.

"I sense some...hostility."

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, how observant of you."

"What happened?” He asked, “Did someone at the Palace do something to you? Was it Genya?"

"And what if she did?” Tilting her head ever so slightly, she neared him. “What would you do?"

Without thinking, he answered, "I'd protect you."

Inhaling sharply, she raised an eyebrow. "And what if it was you?"

Pausing, his eyebrows furrowed as he unclenched his jaw. "Is it me?"

"If it was you who upset me, would that bother you?" Y/N pushed further, genuinely wondering if he cares for her as much as she thinks. After all, who’d believe the Darkling has a heart? She was still trying to convince herself it’s real when he kisses her temple when he thinks she’s fast asleep.

"Immensely."

With her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him. "So, how would you protect me from yourself?"

Letting out a heavy sigh, Aleksander ran his hand through his hair. "I'd let you decide."

Closing her eyes in frustration, her lower lip curled inwards as her front teeth sunk into the flesh. A part of her wanted to ask him about being the creator of the fold, but it was an advantage that would be unwise to let go of.

"Why are you being so agreeable? Is it because I spread my legs for you now?"

"I've never known you to be so crude." The muscles in his jaw tighten as he squints at her and it’s taking everything in her not to smile because she absolutely loved when he’d look at her like that. It felt more natural than the soft, wistful looks he’d send her way.

"And I never realized you could be so easily tamed”, she remarks, her voice louder than before.

Chuckling in disbelief, the Darkling shrugs off his kefta without breaking eye contact. "You believe that you've tamed me?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shut her eyes. Her face is flushed, her head spinning and she has nothing concrete to tell him. She can’t make sense of anything anymore, the image of him in her head changing with every passing minute.

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

In two strides, Aleksander found himself before her. Cupping her cheeks, he tilts her head up to face him and when she opens her eyes, she’s lost in the universe that’s captured in his eyes. She loved the night sky littered with stars, but she never truly knew what it means to stargaze until she met him.

“I’ve discovered I love you.”

Raising her eyebrows, her jaw slacked. “When have you discovered that?” Her voice is high, tone defensive, but his smile grows because it wouldn’t be her if she didn’t fight him even when he’s trying to admit to something he long forgot exists.

“When all my decisions started to revolve around keeping you safe.”

Shaking, her eyes widened. “That’s impossible! You hate me!”

Placing a hand over her mouth, he used his other to press his index finger to his lips. “Shh”, he chuckles, “You’ll wake the others.”

Rolling her eyes, she licked his hand.

“Really? I’ve touched you in a way that made you scream long into the night”, he deadpans, “Your tongue can’t possibly disgust me.” Smirking, he leans in, “On the contrary.”

Slapping his hand away, she turned away from him. Grabbing her head, she sat down with her thoughts running so fast, too fast for her to pick one out to decide what she thinks, feels, wants.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back flush against his chest. “I know you hate me now, but I’m a patient man. I won’t give up on you.”

He held her for a while, too long for either of them to realize the night had slowly trickled away from them and given way to dawn. Their journey wasn’t quite as long anymore. Soon enough, they’ll be at the fold and Y/N didn’t know what to do.

Should she tell him? Ask him for an explanation?

Would he kill her even if he said he loves her?

She still felt his kisses as he laid her down beside him. For the first time since they made love, they didn’t initiate any physical intimacy. Instead, they simply stared at one another.

She’s not for feeble minded people, there’s no doubt about it in his mind and if anything, Aleksander was more determined to love her because of it. She tested him in every way possible and while she was incredibly frustrating to argue with, Aleksander refused to give up on her. She’s difficult to understand to ordinary minds, but he isn’t ordinary.

His love will conquer in the end, he truly believed that. He could have continued on like nothing changed between them, but he could not be silent any longer. After all the time he’s spent in vein, all the years he wasted and lives he’s lived, Aleksander never found someone who gave him a reason to believe. Not until he met Y/N.

While she remained silent, stunned by his admission, he spoke of the day he first met Ivan and Fedyor. He spoke of their adventures, of their silly mistakes and she found herself smiling at first. Soon, she was laughing with him, and though she had no courage to admit it yet, she fell asleep thinking about him. Their knees were touching and her heart was racing, but the world never felt so right as it did when she was next to him.

Once on the road, she took the reins once again.

Kirigan ignored the whispers about her riding his horse, choosing to glare them into silence. No one dared to speak of it after.

Stopping a few miles short of their destination, Y/N drew a shuddered breath. The sight is hauntingly beautiful, a nightmare come alive. Swallowing thickly, a faint line formed between her eyebrows as they furrowed.

How could Aleksander be the Black Heretic? How is it possible for him to live so long?

“I’m here”, he whispers in her ear.

Goosebumps rise across the back of her neck as his warm breath dances across her skin. And there he is again, with her when she’s looking for solitude, offering his hand to hold and shoulder to lean on even when she least expects it. The worst thing is that she’s actually becoming dependent on his help and that scares her most of all, because what is she supposed to do when he decides he never did love her and all of it was simply an obsession fueled by her rejection.

She’s still a novelty to him, that will wear off eventually.

“I’m not afraid”, she remarks, “I’m-“, she pauses in an attempt to find a better word, “Admiring it.”

“Admiring”, he repeats in surprise. “Most people find it absolutely terrifying.”

She wondered if it frightened him. What would happen if he went in?

Turning her head to the side, she caught a glimpse of his parted lips. She felt ashamed how it caused her heartbeat to quicken, how it ached for a taste.

“I’m not most people”, she reminded him. And he knew that well. The Darkling would never fall for an ordinary woman.

“What I want to know is what went through his mind”, she grips the reigns tighter.

“Of the black heretic?”

Feeling his hands tighten around her waist, she nods. “I wish I knew what led to the creation of the fold. Why did he do it?”

“Maybe he just couldn’t help himself”, Aleksander’s voice is strained, “Maybe he’s just pure evil.”

Leaning the back of her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him. She longed for him, for an earnest conversation with their souls laid bare, but would she live long if she unveiled what her mind’s been tormented by?

“I don’t believe that”, she says softly.

Their eyes meet in an instant, the closeness forcing them both to hold their breath and look at each other silently. Looking at her, he touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand.

“Why give him the benefit of doubt?”

Aleksander’s free hand gently moves along her arm, finding its rightful place at the side of her neck, touching her skin so tenderly she felt blissful and it reminded her of that night where he unraveled her, made her scream in pleasure she never found before.

There was no denying it, Y/N had a weakness for his hand on her neck and his words in her heart, neither of which she had any willpower to refuse, especially not when she couldn’t breathe when he looked at her with such longing, shameful lust and indisputable passion and understanding.

It took everything in her to find the strength to speak again without her voice cracking under the pressure of her own emotions.

“Because darkness doesn’t equate evil, just as light doesn’t equate good.”

Without a warning, he kissed her fiercely, violently, leaving her raw. She didn’t move away, she didn’t make a sound. All she did was close her eyes and part her lips and in that fraction of a second, she allowed herself to get lost in the beauty of a lover’s touch for when his lips claimed hers, nothing mattered anymore.

When he broke away, she was breathless and undeniably his.

“What was that for?” She raised an eyebrow, a shadow of a smile forming on her bruised lips.

She shuddered, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip ruthlessly as Aleksander’s breath caressed her skin. It felt so right, too right to resist his advances. She lived for those long nights in their bed, those thick with lust and romance and naked kisses.

Aleksander shrugs, “I wanted to.”

Lips parted, she didn’t know what to do with that. He told her he loves her, that he’d wait for her to love him back and most women would fall at his feet. Something inside her refused to do so. To admit her feelings out loud would be the end of her.

If she allows herself to love him fully, how could she possibly be the cause of his downfall?

What would be left of her if she took his love and used it against him in the most cruel way possible?

She’s losing who she is around him, but it hurt so much more to reject his love. Hating him, pretending her heart isn’t a feeble muscle where he resides is exhausting.

Truth is, he doesn't make her feel safe or comfortable as she once believed a man should. He makes her feel like she's teetering at the edge of a cliff and she's getting addicted to that feeling. She’s getting addicted to him – his scent, his touch, his handsome smile and devilish smirk and most of all to the way his darkness drives away her demons.

Love has to come at once, with thunder and lightning like a hurricane that wreaks havoc on your life, to shake you up and break the heart like leaves off trees, to drag it into the abyss - abyss he created.

She used to fear the dark, but now she found herself running into it.

In that moment, she smiled.

Perhaps the darkness is not so bad if he’ll be there, holding her hand.

=============================

A/N - So, I literally wrote this in about two hours and I’m about to pass out. I wanna thank you for Eid Mubarak responses and especially for the feedback, I was just reading through them and they made my day so much better. I’m seeing some interesting theories too, some paragraphs you loved or just thoughts about the characters and IT GIVES ME LIFE. I’m so, so grateful for it all.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl

PART 11

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #shadown and bone

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bokugaos · 3 years

Text

piece by piece.

pairing: kuroo x reader

length: 3.1k

tags — sex work/prostitution, semi-public sex, oral sex, alley blow jobs, rough sex, creampie, violence, abuse/assault, jealousy, possessiveness, angst.

summary: The first time Kuroo fucks you is your first ever. The second time he fucks you is also the last time.

The first time is in a dirty alley behind the bar, Kuroo’s pants around his ankles and you are fumbling awkwardly down to your knees.

He’s drunk and angry, too pissed off at the world to care who’s sucking him off in the dingy shadows beside the garbage bins. It’s not a bad blowjob by far—certainly not the worst he’s ever had—mouth warm and tight as he grips your hair and shoves his thick cock down your throat. You gag a little until your pretty eyes start to water, though you don’t try to pull away; you just let Kuroo fuck your mouth until he comes with a grunt, and swallows every drop before wiping your lips absently with a delicate hand.

Kuroo doesn’t look up as he tucks himself back into his jeans, though he can hear you get off your knees and lean against the wall with a sigh. The orgasm has taken the edge off his simmering rage, but he’s still drunk as fuck and anxious to get home and crawl into his lumpy bed. He digs into his jeans for twenty bucks and hands it to you without a word, and is surprised when you stuff it into your pocket and then grabs his arm before he can walk away.

“Do you…want me to do that for you again some time?” you ask, and look up at him with wide, hopeful eyes like he is the fucking Santa Claus. “I can meet you here? Or at your place?”

The words are on the tip of his tongue as he shrugs your hand off with a sigh; that he’s not picky about who sucks his cock and pretty much any mouth will do. Instead, he looks at your earnest face and the slightly desperate expression you’re trying to hide and finds himself saying the last fucking thing he ever expected.

“Yeah, here. Same time tomorrow.”

—

He doesn’t even learn your name until the fifth time you suck him off, still panting slightly after taking the load down your throat with a pleased smile.

“My name’s y/n,” you say, staring up at him through those lashes like you’re expecting a fucking pat on the head. He has no idea how he’s supposed to respond so he says nothing, shoving the money at you with a grunt before walking away.

He doesn’t need to know your name or what you do when he’s not around. And he does not spend any time wondering where you stay or why you’re out on the streets in the first place.

It’s none of his fucking business.

—

The first time Kuroo fucks you is also your first time ever, though he has no clue he’s dealing with a virgin until the deed is done.

You’re in his bed, and on your hands and knees, face pressed into the mattress and your hands clenched so tightly on the sheets. If he had bothered to, he might have guessed at the lack of experience; would have known from the wild look in your eyes and the nervous gnawing of those plush lips as you strip hastily and crawl onto the bed.

Instead, he’s too distracted by the show of your skin and his own painful erection to do much more than a perfunctory prep before he’s pushing in. you keen, high and wounded and clench down, and it takes every bit of his willpower not to just shove his cock all the way in and start thrusting his hips. As it is, he barely gives you a few moments to get used to being filled, before he starts hammering that pretty hole like his life fucking depends on it.

You groan, back arching against every thrust, sounding pinched and breathless every time he sinks in and bottoms out with a forceful grunt. You feel damn good around his swollen prick, and he finds that he can’t get enough of the way your skin bruises under his rough and calloused fingertips. It drives him wild when you grit your teeth and try so hard not to whine, which only tips Kuroo to haul his hips back and fuck you even harder.

He’s so pent-up that it doesn’t take long before he’s on the edge, and then he’s dragging you up onto your knees and spurting hard, biting down on a bare neck as he comes and comes inside that tight flesh. When he finishes he pulls out slowly, almost gently, though it still makes you cry out like you’re being punched in the gut.

“You okay?” he asks, as you just lay there on the bed, head cradled in your arms as you stare blankly at the far wall. “Did you come?”

“No,” you say, so quietly he can barely hear you. “I didn’t think I would the first time. Maybe once I’m used to it, and it doesn’t hurt.”

Kuroo stiffens, and slowly climbs off the bed. “What the fuck? What do you mean first time?”

You turn to look up at him and shrug, though your eyes are red and a little wet. “Everyone has a first time, right? This was mine.”

He pushes the bills into your hand hesitantly and leaves you on the bed.

He doesn’t see you again for a month.

—

Kuroo finds you there the week after, in the alley behind the same bar, in your usual spot at the usual time. But it’s obvious that you’re not waiting for him tonight, because you’re on your knees again in the shadows, sucking some other man’s dick like you were born for it.

His first impulse is to turn around and leave, to get away from the vivid image of your lips wrapped around someone else’s dick, licking and swallowing like you’re eating a goddamn ice cream. It’s followed by a second impulse to grab the guy and break his fucking nose, the rage welling up fast and violent when you start choking on the cock that’s being unceremoniously rammed down your throat.

Instead Kuroo just stands there and watches, frozen as the man in the cheap grey suit shoots his load inside your mouth with a satisfied grunt. You barely have time to swallow before you’re being hauled onto your feet and kissed within an inch of your life, roughly and messily like the guy is trying to inhale you. Kuroo is practically seeing red with the way he’s manhandling you like so much meat, grabbing and sucking and bruising you like his measly twenty bucks gives him the right to touch every inch of your body.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” the guy yells, when he finally notices Kuroo looming just a few feet away. “You her pimp? Or her next client?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t mind him, he’s nobody.” You interrupt, and Kuroo can’t disagree, even if the words stick in his craw like so much bile.

The tone of your words manages to surprise Kuroo, if not the invitation; he knows full well that you can’t possibly live off of the measly few dollars you make off of Kuroo alone. No, it’s the way you sound when he makes the offer—all fake happiness and a sultry smile, knowing exactly which strings to pull to get a man’s groin to pay attention.

There’s none of the vulnerability and shy air that you usually carry when you’re dealing with Kuroo, and it makes him feel nauseous, like he doesn’t know which version of you is the real one.

He watches as you follow the cheap suit guy to his small green car parked just a few feet away, ignoring Kuroo as you climb into the passenger seat. He continues to watch as the man grabs you by the back of your neck and crushes his lips to yours, like he wants to take you right there, spread your legs wide and fuck you on the fake leather seats. He watches until the car tears out of its spot and disappears down the road, leaving him standing in the alley alone, his mind filled with images of you on your knees.

Kuroo doesn’t sleep at all that night.

—

Four days later you show up at his apartment unannounced, sporting a split lip and red marks over your arms, and finger shaped bruises around his neck.

Kuroo lets you in without a word.

You flop tiredly onto the couch, pulling your legs to your chest with a sigh as he heads into the kitchen to fix you some food. When he returns, you take the plate and cup of coffee with a grateful nod and a quirk of your cracked and not quite bleeding lips.

“Really? Coffee? Do I look like I need coffee?”

Kuroo snorts. “Just do me a favor and tell me who that guy is.”

“It’s fine, I don’t really know him anyway,” you shrug, and start to wolf down the meal like it’s the first food you’ve had in days. Which is both a relief and a sting to his heart, because you don’t know that much about him as well, and neither does he.

So he doesn’t ask for any further details, and you don’t offer, though he does ask you to stay the night and sleep on the couch. He tries not to think too much about the relief that flashes briefly across your face, or what he wants to do to the guy who put his hands on you and made you look this way.

You are not on the couch when Kuroo gets up the next morning, and he tells himself that it’s just as well.

—

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

He doesn’t know why he asks the question; has received no indication from you that any inquiry into your affairs is either wanted or appreciated. But since you showed up at his place last week ago, bruised and obviously in distress, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what happened, and when—not if—it might happen again.

You arch an eyebrow at him and frown. “Why do you think I’m in trouble?”

Kuroo shrugs. “You’re not at your usual spot anymore, behind that bar. I thought…maybe you’re avoiding the guy that hit you.”

The smile that blooms across your face is wholly unexpected, those eyes bright with amusement and something that looks a little too much like softness.

“Yes, but it’s fine. I moved to a different spot and I don’t think he’s going to come looking for me anyway. Not after what I did to him.”

You are grinning now, practically begging Kuroo with the barely contained glee on your face to ask for details. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d you do?”

You shrug, swallowing a mouthful of your food before you answer, “I waited until he fell asleep and took nude photos of him in his bed. Then I texted them to as many people as I could find on his contacts.”

“You did what—?” he starts, and then, “I’m quite pleasantly surprised. He’s such a good guy.”

“Right?” You say with a laugh, and then your expression changes, smoothing out into a mask of carefreeness that he doesn’t quite buy. “I left after that. But not before cleaning his wallet.”

—

“You can stay here, if you want,” Kuroo says to you the next morning, his arms around your waist as you lay together in his bed. “Just…I don’t know where you live but if you need a place to go you can crash here.”

You turn in his arms until you’re facing him, your face graced with a shy smile and asks, “Can I suck your cock in exchange for rent?”

“No! It’s not…I don’t mean you have to give me any…fuck,” Kuroo swears, as you tilt your head to the side in realization. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“Yeah,” You agree, “same goes for you.”

—

It takes Kuroo almost an entire week before he realizes that you have taken him up on his offer to stay, your comings and goings unpredictable and your actions often completely unexpected. There are days when you don’t leave the apartment at all; where you spend hours cleaning the living room and wiping furniture, or doing all his laundry. Other times you will disappear for an entire day and night, and return stinking of alcohol and covered in other people’s seed and sweat. Those nights, he watches as you limp into the bathroom and quietly locks the door, and spends hours in the shower, long after the water turns icy cold.

He never asks, but he never says no either, when you climb on him on the couch and unbuckles his pants with quick and steady hands. It’s not just lust that makes it so good when you lick him sloppily from root to tip; it’s also the shame bubbling just under his skin, watching you swallow him down with those perfect cock sucking lips. Kuroo can’t stop staring at your swollen mouth sliding up and down his cock; can’t stop bucking his hips and fucking your throat, relishing the noises you make when he shoots his entire load in your sinful mouth with a groan.

You always lick your lips after you suck his cock, like it’s the best damn thing you’ve ever tasted.

And you only smile afterwards when you do it for him.

—

One day, you come home in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday, carrying shopping bags that you dump unceremoniously onto the floor. You’re wearing a brand new outfit that looks more expensive than what he makes in a week, gleaming bracelets adorning your wrists and a diamond necklace sparkling on your neck. Gone are your loose worn t-shirts and baggy, low-rise jeans; you look like a model in one of those designer catalogues, or the A-list celebrities going to get coffee in sunny L.A.

Kuroo hates it.

He hates it, because of how right you look in your expensive new outfit; like these are the clothes you’re meant to be wearing.

Like you belong in them all the time, and in a world far, far away from him.

He makes you take all your fancy jewelries off, and then fucks you roughly with two fingers until you come all over his couch.

—

You still show up at the apartment smelling like sex, with bite marks on your collarbone and your lips swollen from kisses.

But you also come home with bags and bags of groceries too, and make sure to stock the fridge full of his favorite beer.

He tells himself that he appreciates your thoughtfulness, and isn’t at all jealous of whoever the hell it is that’s giving you what he needs.

Giving you everything you deserve and could never get from a guy like him.

—

The second time he fucks you is also the last time.

You ask him to go out for dinner one night, to a place with neatly folded cloth napkins and dimly lit candles on the table, and you order the most expensive dish on the menu. You spend the evening devouring a mountain of food and making fun of the pretentious staff, and Kuroo pretends he’s perfectly fine with the fact that some rich asshole he doesn’t know is paying for this good time.

But he bites back the festering resentment and gives you a genuine smile, because he’s never seen you so damned happy and relaxed, laughing and smiling as you make your way back to Kuroo’s apartment. He lets you lead him into the bedroom and shut the door behind them, and grins into the toe curling kiss that follows as you move to the bed.

This time, when he’s got you naked on your hands and knees, he takes care to be gentle and thorough, spreading your legs wide and working you open. He slips his tongue and licks your wetness all over, and tastes every bit of that pretty cunt while you clutch the sheets and writhe and moan.

“Tetsurou,” you pant, as he slides in slowly, inch by excruciating inch. “F-feels so good! Oh, please, please fuck me, god I want to feel you, please..!”

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he says, groaning as you arch your back and clench around him. “Gonna make you scream my name.”

And he does, relishing every sound he can wring out of you as he sinks to the root, and every breathless sigh as he starts rocking his hips. Every stroke makes him want to push harder and thrust deeper, as he watches his cock disappear over and over inside that pretty pink hole.

He fucks you for what feels like hours that night, stopping whenever he gets too close to wring every ounce of pleasure possible from your sweat soaked bodies. He fucks you on your knees and then flips you over onto your back, and drives himself inside you like he wants to own him; be the one to break you apart and put you back together again.

“Is it good like this? When he fucks you?” Kuroo snarls, throwing your legs over his shoulders and sinking even deeper. “Do you tell them that you want them so bad? Beg them to ruin you too?”

You don’t answer, spurting all over yourself as he keeps drilling you into the bed. He follows a few rough strokes later with a groan, fingers biting deep into soft flesh, every part of him howling with possessive fury as he paints your tight walls with his come.

“No,” you whisper, much later, with Kuroo’s arms wrapped around you and his nose pressed against your neck. “It’s not like this at all.”

—

The space beside him is empty by the time he wakes the next morning, and there’s a neatly folded note on the nightstand.

He ignores it until he can’t anymore, and then crumples it in his fist and tosses it into the garbage can.

He’s always known that this is how it would end.

Still, he wishes he knew more than just your first name, or how your smile—the real one, soft and genuine—was the best thing he’d ever fucking seen.

He doesn’t see you again for a long time; days and months and years until there’s nothing left but a memory of you and a dull, aching hole in his chest.

#kuroo smut #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #tw sex work #tw prostitution #kuroo angst #.kuroo!#.fics!

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ficforce · 3 years

Text

Cold Season

I wrote this whilst I was ill… It’s likely awful. Hinawa: No one even realised that Hinawa was sick until after he had collapsed in the break room. He had been quieter than usual and didn’t seem to take notice of the chaos that Arthur and Shinra were causing whilst Maki tried to stop them, Y/N had made him tea earlier but he had barely touched it… then he just passed out. Y/N had been closest after Obi and they laid him out on the couch to check his vitals, she noted right away that his skin was hot and with his hat removed she could see how pale he was. Why hadn’t she noticed? She was his girlfriend for goodness sake! “I’ll carry him to bed, Y/N, would you mind looking after him for a while?” Obi lifted the other man like it was easy and she followed after him quickly, “He’s real stubborn when it comes to his health, he’ll tell others to take a break or rest but when it comes to himself…” “He’s like any mother hen, he puts the chicks before himself – it’s one of the things I really love about him, Captain.” Obi threw a smile her way as she opened the door for him, “But you still wanna punch him for not saying anything, right?” “That’s correct, right in his dumb face.” They got him on the bed and Y/N unzipped his orange jumpsuit, “I’ll take care of it from here, would you mind sending some cold water and a flannel down, maybe some painkillers?” The man gave her a nod and headed out, Y/N pulled his arms out of the sleeves and tried to lift him a little to get it off; why did he have to be so heavy? Hinawa let out a soft groan and his eyes opened groggily, realising what was going on he sat up and made to get out of bed, “You’ve got a temperature, Takehisa, don’t you dare get up. Captain told me to look after you.” “… Then at least let me get out of these clothes.” Her eyes widened as she realised he wasn’t going to argue and she moved so he could change into a loose pair of pants and a tshirt before he laid back down. Y/N brushed her fingers over his jaw and then removed his glasses to set aside, “You should have said something sooner.” He let out a sound that was either denial or agreement to her words, “You got a headache?” “A little.” He hadn’t wanted to cause trouble for anyone, he wasn’t good at asking for help in the first place and now he had taken a member of their team away from duty to look after him, “I figured I would be fine.” “You’re just not used to being looked after, you have me now, Takehisa, you have Company 8 too, we’re your family and we can’t have our Mother running himself into the ground.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and spent the rest of the day looking after him. Obi: Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin when the sound of metal crashing down onto the floor startled her. Turning her head she was surprised to see that Obi had dropped one of his ridiculously heavy dumbbells, “…You forget to chalk your hands or you just didn’t like the floor?” “Felt like all the strength left my arm…” his muscles had been aching since he’d gotten up that morning and felt out of breath, he hadn’t felt great the night before but he had hoped it would go away. “I think I’m gonna go lay down for a while.”

The woman got up from her seat and reached for his forehead, “You’re a little warm, you did sound a little raspy at breakfast too – you could have caught Vulcan’s chest infection.” His eyes seemed a little glazed over and he was swaying ever so slightly on his feet, “Come on, I’ll get you some medicine and let Lieutenant Hinawa know you’re not feeling great.” Obi went with her obediently, they passed by Iris and Tamaki, the two girls sympathetic at their Captain’s condition, they agreed to let Hinawa know so that Y/N could look after Obi. “Wow, you’re fading fast, Akitaru,” his pace was slowing and he had to stop to lean against the wall as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, “Easy… come on, we’re nearly there.” He practically fell onto the bed when they got there, he hadn’t felt this weak since last time he was ill – it was a rare occurrence but when he was hit he went down hard, “I want the mascots at my funeral, make sure Hinawa wears something normal… tell my girlfriend I love her.” “I love you too,” she ruffled his hair a little, “And you’re not going to die… it’s just a cold.” “Will you feed me soup and rub that gross stuff on my chest to help me breathe?” Obi caught her wrist and brought her down for a hug; who knew he would be such a baby?

Rekka:

Rekka was either too stupid to stop or too stubborn, Y/N wasn’t sure which and she exhaled loudly when the man hunched over to cough almost violently. He was trying to finish his morning laps despite being told he was too sick, he’d come down with a cough a few days before and thought he could burn it out through sheer willpower and prayer. “Rekka,” she called and began uncapping the bottle of water she had brought, “Oi! If you start running again I’ll kneecap you! Rekka!” He waved her off with a dumb grin and made it a few more paces before he fell onto his hands and knees. “Nuisance is gonna be a nuisance… what a nuisance.” Karim had come out after Burns had told him to fetch the moron on the running track – he figured that the Captain meant Rekka. “If he’s not listening to you, Y/N, I’ve got less of a chance.” “Leave it with me, I didn’t come all the way across Tokyo to watch him run; he’s such an inconsiderate man at times.” “He’s hot-blooded, probably burned right through his fever. Want me to freeze him?” Y/N looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he looked vaguely serious so she shook her head and wandered over to her fallen priest. Her hand stroked his back and she handed him the bottle, “You’re setting a bad example for the kids, you tell them to rest when they’re ill but you’re out here trying to literally fight a cold.” Rekka looked up at her, his expression forced as he tried to tell her he was fine but then he slumped into her arms, “Rekka!” He was out of breath and when she cupped his cheek to bring his head up a little he pressed into it with a mumble of her being cold; perhaps he hadn’t burned through his fever. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll make you something good to eat and even bring it to you in bed, how’s that sound?” “My stars…” it was a little mumble but he sounded somewhat happy for her offer. Foien Li: Foien was a sensible man, as soon as he had felt himself coming down with a cold he had signed himself off for a few days, he stayed in his room and tried a few home remedies. There was a day when he felt terrible, he hoped he could sleep it off and start to feel better… A knock on his door alerted him to a visitor and when it opened a little he smiled at Y/N peeking through at him, “You’ll get sick too.” “Then you can take care of me,” she placed a tray down on his desk, patiently waiting for him to sit himself up before handing him a mug of hot honey and lemon, “I brought you a couple of books to read, It can’t be any fun locked up here… Did I see you at the back of the Cathedral this morning?” “I wanted to attend prayers but I didn’t want to get anyone else sick,” Foien gave a sigh as she pressed her hand to his forehead, it felt cooler than his skin and he pressed into the touch, his eyes opened a little and Y/N gave him a bright smile – she always said he had the prettiest eyes. He was grateful to her for looking after him and even though he risked making her ill and having to confess later, the man leaned over to kiss her cheek, “What would I do without you, Y/N?” Y/N adjusted her habit a little to hide her flushed face, “You’d have to rely on Karim to look after you and he’d complain the whole time…” “It would give me more of an incentive to get better.” His answer made her giggle, the sound made him feel better already. Karim: “I told you to go to bed,” Y/N walked toward the back of the Cathedral where the Lieutenant was leaning his head on the pews in front of him, his slumped over form didn’t move even as she poked him in the shoulder. “Karim, come on, you should be resting…” He raised his head and she sighed at him, he looked all stuffy and his eyes were watery, it was amazing he was even able to walk there in the first place. He never missed her choir practice, it was sweet that he would come even though he had a headache and Foien’s cold from the week before. Y/N took his hand and pulled him up slowly, “Come on.” Karim followed her obediently, no smart comments or sarcasm escaping him as they made their way through the large hallway, they reached his room and she reached

into his pocket for his key, “Should get your own key.” “Imagine the gossip,” She followed him inside and helped him with his clothing, “Though they already talk about us like we’re committing a criminal act, couldn’t you just quit being a priest and then it might be better?” “How about you stop being a nun?” He knew she was kidding, they both took some odd joy out of upsetting the really pious followers of Sol with their relationship, “If you did that though I wouldn’t get to hear you sing anymore…” Karim laid down on top of his covers and coughed, he didn’t understand how he seemed to be worse than Foien was with this, the other Lieutenant had given it to him in the first place. “So sick of being sick.” Y/N pet his hair gently, “Only two repetitions? You must be ill,” Karim gave a half shrug and pulled weakly at his pillow, “Want me to get you anything?” “Just stay with me, Y/N…” Burns: She couldn’t figure out if he was running a fever or not, the Captain retained a large amount of heat at all times, Y/N gave a sigh and offered him an apologetic smile, “I never was a very good nurse, how do you actually feel?” He hadn’t complained about feeling ill but she doubted he would be too verbal about it, the fact that he was wearing his jacket properly and looked like he was cold was really her only clue. “It’s just a bug my kind Lieutenants have gifted me – I’m a little chilly but otherwise I’m sure I’ll survive. You don’t have to worry about me, Y/N” He wasn’t used to being coddled and Leonard felt somewhat pleased by her attention, “I’ll make sure to rest a little.” “It’s hard to imagine you would ever feel cold, you can stay here for a little while and rest, I’ll make you something to eat and you can use the phone to let your Company know. It’s nearly a full hour back home for you, besides, it’s getting late.” He had only come out because she had asked him to visit on his day off, if Y/N had known then she wouldn’t have. Y/N took his hand and gave it a squeeze, “Please, Leonard, let me look after you just this once?” She was looking at him so sincerely that he couldn’t find it in him to say no, the man gave in and nodded, “Just this once.” Konro: “Konro’s dying!” Hinata tugged on Y/N’s sleeve whilst Hikage nodded alongside her. “Konro’s not dying, he’s got a cold.” She shooed the girls away toward the door and told them to go play, it was hard enough looking after her boyfriend without the twins trying to help. Y/N heard him coughing from the hallway and she couldn’t help but wince a little at how painful it sounded – his lungs were already shot from the tephrosis. There was no doubt he was suffering but he was pretty stubborn in keeping it to himself. “I brought you something to hopefully help your throat,” she knelt beside his futon and helped him sit up, Konro gave her a weak smile and once more insisted he just needed to nap it off. “Drink this, then you can take a nap… it’ll probably help you sleep better too.” He wasn’t getting much rest as it was, the coughing would wake him up and then he wouldn’t be able to settle down again for a long while. Konro hated feeling like a burden, he felt like that most days and now he was knocked out by this… it was irritating how he could fight most things but a cold simply wasn’t one of them. “You know you’re gonna get sick too, right? It’s probably too late to stop it from happening now.” “If I get sick, will you look after me?” As if she really had to ask. The man reached out and gently cupped the back of her head before pulling her close and pressing his forehead to hers, “Course I will, I won’t be as good as it as you are but I won’t let that stop me.” Benimaru: Benimaru reverted into a small child when he got ill, he had ignored it for so long that, one day, every symptom hit him at once and the Captain went down. His eyes watered, he couldn’t hear out of his left ear, his throat hurt, his chest hurt, he was cold and there was nothing he could do about it now. He’d bundled himself up in a large blanket and huddled against his girlfriend as she had sat

minding her own business. Y/N had moved the blanket a little to peek under the hood he had made with it and glassy red eyes looked at her almost pleadingly. Benimaru wasn’t clingy. He especially didn’t come into the main room, wrapped in a blanket cocoon and nestle into her side like a sad, oversized toddler. “Good Luck moving him.” Konro sighed as he entered the room, he was fully aware of the Beni Bio-hazard Blanket, “I’ll get some medicine for him… you’d better just accept you’re not moving from there without him.” Y/N looked back down at her boyfriend and reached in to stroke his hair, “You can’t fight a cold, huh?” He wriggled a little closer to her and rested his head on her shoulder, content for her to pet his hair and when Konro returned with the medicine, he made her feed it to him; his excuse being that he was cold and trapped in the blanket. She figured he was just craving the attention and felt needy from being so poorly. For the rest of that day he communicated in differently toned whines, grunts and ‘tch’, the only time he left her side was when one of them needed to pee.

#shinmon benimaru #hinawa Takehisa #obi akitaru #rekka hoshimiya #foien li #karim flam #leonard burns #sagamiya konro #reader #sick #HC

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years

Text

Protect You

August Walker x Reader

Summary: You discover August is working with Lane and it crushes your heart, but he’s not about to let you go any time soon. He’ll do what he must to prove that you are more important to him than what he wanted before he had you.

Warnings/Notes: Fluff, some smut, cursing, maybe slight angst if you squint (like super hard), Sort of breeding kink (kinda hard to say (it’s like one sentence)).

The details of this story, with Lane and August and their plan/how their relationship worked, are not 100% accurate. There are slight changes, but I just did it for the sake of plot. And dear lord, there are questionable writing choices, but after writing and rewriting this idk how many times, I can’t tell what’s good and what isn’t. So, sorry in advance :’]

Words: 4k…Way too many (my bad).

You ran as fast as you could through streets and back alleys, your steps disturbing the settled water puddles on the cobblestone. Escaping where August had tied you up proved to be much simpler than you were sure he imagined, and he unintentionally gave you enough of a hint to know exactly where he was going.

God, you felt so stupid. He deceived you, fooled you, bound your wrists around a bedpost and gagged you, leaving you behind like trash while he went after your friends; your team.

You shoved through the side door of a parking garage and sped down the stairs. You paused before the last door that opened to the basement floor, inhaled deeply then peeked through the small window. Your vision went red at the sight of your team, their hands raised and weapons scattered at their feet.

“Take them--” August began, his voice devoid of all emotion as you ran in.

“Stop!” You shouted, only slowing your pace once your body was a small barrier between your friends and the crowd of armed men with August at their side. One of many masked men in vests immediately turned his gun your way, ready to pierce a bullet through your heart without a thought, but you didn’t care, your heart was already broken anyway.

“No!” August snapped, his face twisting at the sight of you. He was instantly pissed, you could see it in his body, in the way he now stood. No one else would be able to tell, but you weren’t just anyone else. You knew what every stance, every lip quirk, every flash of emotion in his eyes meant.

He looked away from you for a moment, then shook his head with a curse on his lips. “Not her.”

Masks or not, you knew the men seconds away from killing you had surprised looks plastered on their faces. “Sir?”

“Bring her,” August looked at you. “Inform Lane you have these three,” He said, and you darted your eyes to the panicked faces of Ilsa, Benji, and Luther. “And find Hunt.”

Another man grabbed you around the waist at his order. You kicked at legs and clawed at the arms around you as Benji shouted your name, his voice falling farther and farther away with every step you were dragged from them.

August walked ahead of you, not daring a look back.

“August…” You growled, ready to tear into him, but a needle was shoved into the side of your neck and your vision was quickly blurring the form of his body.

----------------

Your head jerked up and your eyes burst open. You tried to rub the haze from them but couldn’t.

Tied up again…wonderful. This was not something you enjoyed getting used to, at least not in this way.

As your vision cleared, you saw him sitting across from you, his shoulders hunched forward, elbows on his knees, and hands clasped as he stared at the floor. You had no idea how long you’d been out or how long he’d been watching over you, but by the look of him, he hadn’t slept much in the time since you last saw his face.

“August!” You wiggled in your chair, trying anything to loosen your binds.

August’s head shot up. He looked relieved despite the furious way you hissed his name, but his annoyingly handsome face quickly succumbed to irritation. “I told you to stay put,” He said, a certain grit to his voice. “Why couldn’t you just listen?”

“You tied me up and left me in a room so you could kill my family, you asshole. What did you expect, huh? An obedient little girl? I figured by now you’d have learned I’m far from that.”

“Y/N—”

“How could you do this to them, to…me?” Your voice broke, and god, if your hands were free you would’ve slapped yourself silly. Letting him see a crack in your rage was not a power you needed to give him.

“It’s not what you think. At least, not anymore.” August stood from his chair and crossed his arms. “I didn’t betray you. It’s just complicated and, believe me, you are the last person I wanted to get caught in the crossfire,” He said. “I wish I didn’t anymore, but I have a vital role in Lane’s plan. I don’t just get to back out because I met you. I can’t say ‘sorry, I don’t want to work with you anymore because I have a thing for the girl on the other team.’”

“That’s pathetic,” You spit out. “You’re pathetic, and your loyalty to him is disgusting.”

He hummed, seemingly unaffected by your outrage. “Loyalty is not something I have the luxury to hand out like little candies, sweetheart. It goes to whoever I benefit most from.” He paused. “I get something from Lane believing in my loyalty, but it’s not real, baby.” He leaned down and cupped your jaw. “Every last scrap of devotion I have in me truly goes to you.”

You hated the thought of you and him. You grew more nauseous with each memory you replayed in your head. They were lies. Every move you made while he infiltrated your team he’d observed with a sharp eye. Every kiss you gave him he dissected to discover exactly what to do to make you melt in his arms. The way you spoke, what it took to make you smile, what he needed to say to get you into bed; all of it he must’ve stored in the back of his mind to use against you later. It was all fake; every loving gesture he made, a complete ruse. It had to be.

“What do you mean it’s not real?”

“Lane doesn’t know how I really feel about you,” August said simply. “He thinks I’ve been manipulating you for information.”

A scoff left your throat that you couldn’t help to hold back. As far as you were concerned, he was.

“And he needs to keep believing that, because if I suddenly decide not to finish this,” He continued. “Lane will find a way to make me regret it. And I fear if he gives it too much thought, he will realize the truth; that the only way to break me is to hurt you. So, I tried to separate you from it. I tied you up and I told you to stay there!” His words grew harsher with each one that passed his lips, and by the end of his rant his frustration was more than palpable.

“And what, August, starve to death?”

“I was going to come back for you!”

“Why should I believe you?” Tugging at your ropes again, you groaned. Clearly, he tied this knot better than the last. You looked at him again. “My friends could be dead because you handed them off to Lane, so spew all the pretty words you want but nothing will change that. I may never see them again because of you. You might as well have shot them yourself!”

August was in front of you in an instant, his large hands gripping the arms of the chair you were bound to as he leaned down to look you in the eyes. You glared back at him.

“I don’t give a fuck about them! I give a fuck about you! I don’t care who dies as long as you don’t!” He yelled, scolding you like a child. Then he straightened up. He was so tall, hovering above you. “When this is over…when Lane gets his revenge on Hunt, then I’m done. I will have held up my end of the deal, and that is all he cares about. He has no interest in how I choose to spend the rest of my life, a life with you, as long as he gets what he wants. If the bombs go off and Ethan goes down, you and I can--”

‘A life with you.’ Those words made the steady pounding of your heart stumble, but you shook it off. “I won’t help you find Ethan. I won’t help you pin a massive bombing, the loss of so many lives, on him.”

“No, you won’t,” He agreed. “Because you won’t be doing anything. You are going to stay here, out of harms way, while I make sure everything else goes to plan. I killed one of Lane’s men, the one I told to bring you, so we could get away, and that is all the complication I can afford right now.”

Get away to where, you wondered and looked around. You hadn’t taken to time to process where you were, but as you scanned the room, it was not what you expected. It was something of a small apartment. One common area; A small kitchen that was really just a stove and a fridge, and a couch that pulled out into a very uncomfortable looking bed; A single window carved into the wall to your right allowed just enough light seeping through to tell the time of day. “Where are we?”

“My place…temporarily, anyway.” He mumbled. “But, Y/N, I have to go back. I have to play the part until Lane wins this.”

He’d been playing a part, alright, but you weren’t so sure who he was trying to manipulate anymore. You or Lane. Lane or you. The training in you told you it was you, it was always you. His goal, the reason he planted himself in your team, involved taking you down and you had no reason to believe otherwise. But if there was a chance he wasn’t lying, if he really wanted you to be his, you weren’t sure you’d have the willpower to turn him away no matter what horrible things he may have done. He had that unforgiving power over you, unfortunately.

“Don’t do this, August.” You said. “Lane is a villain, he—”

“I know what he is.” He shut you up.

“If you know what he is, then why would you ally yourself with him?”

He sighed. “Y/N…”

“Tell me the truth,” You pressed. “You want me to believe you? Then be honest with me. You owe me that much.”

He paced once, an agitated look marring his beautiful features. At war with himself. You’d seen that look before when you laid in bed together. Now you knew why. “You don’t understand what I’ve been through, and one day I will explain it to you, but I was angry, and working with Lane presented me an opportunity to change things in my own way. To create a better world.”

“Then why give it up? Why bother dropping that fucked up dream of yours? What, have you suddenly seen the error of your ways, August?”

August’s eyes softened as he took a breath. He studied your face in a way that made the last ounce of your tenacity shred to bits. “I’m giving it up because if I don’t, you won’t want me anymore, and I can’t have that.”

“If you still plan to help Lane then it doesn’t make a difference…and I don’t want you.” You lied. Two big, fat liars. Perfect for one another.

“You did a couple days ago.”

Yes…a couple days ago you were kissing him in the early morning before joining the team, musing over the idea of that life together. The idea of being with him, being happy, you craved like nothing else before. He made promises he said he intended to keep. ‘No matter what happens,’ He’d said. ‘One day, you and I will have everything we want.’

He continued. “Y/N, you are all that I care for. I’d give up anything you asked me to. But I’ll also do whatever I have to in order to get us a chance to be together. If that means working with Lane a little longer, then that is what I’ll do.”

“So, to avoid raising suspicion you just had to give my friends over to him, is that right?”

He grabbed the chair he was sitting in earlier and placed it in front of you before taking a seat. “Look, baby, I don’t care about your friends or if Lane kills them, but I know you do, so after I put you in the car, I created a tiny diversion, an advantage over Lane’s men.”

He brushed a few stray hairs behind your ear. You savored that touch, brief as it was.

“Getting you away from there was my main priority, and I didn’t stick around to see the outcome, so I make no promises as to their fate. But…I wanted to do this for you.”

Your eyelids fluttered as you pushed yourself to focus more on his words than the feel of his fingers on your cheek. “So, Lane doesn’t—I mean…they could be fine?” The thought that August spared your friends, or at the very least, gave them the opportunity to escape, made your chest swell. That was the man you had fallen for.

“As long as they took advantage of my generosity, then they could be alive, yes, and might remain so if they don’t run headfirst into the war zone.”

“You know they will.”

“That is not my problem.”

“And Ethan…”

August shook his head. “I won’t give you hope when it comes to Hunt,” He said. “To get what I want with you something must be sacrificed.”

Something? Someone; Anyone, you realized. August clearly didn’t care who. “Then help us take down Lane before he kills all those people. Ethan could get him, and we could escape before Lane even realizes that you aren’t on his side any longer.”

“What?” He rose an eyebrow. If it was anyone’s idea rather than your own, you knew he would have dismissed it without a thought. Assisting Lane was the path of least resistance.

“If all you want is to be with me, for Lane to not cause us any trouble, then why does it matter who you ally with? If something must be sacrificed, why not him?”

----------------

Four Months Later -- Scotland

“Goddamn, baby,” August growled around your nipple in his mouth. He lightly bit down, and you yelped, the sting of it only adding to your desire.

Roughly thrusting into you once more, he pulled out and crawled off your body to stand at the base of the mattress. You whimpered at the loss of contact. Without him on top of you, your internal temperature dropped to unsafe levels.

With his arms under your thighs, he yanked you to the edge of the bed. He kneeled and placed his warm mouth on your cunt, licking and sucking until you were writhing around, clutching the sheets for dear life. God, you loved what he did to you. You loved the feel of him. You loved the way his beard scratched your inner thighs until angry red marks remained long after he left you sated.

He had grown out his facial hair; kept it neat and manageable to avoid the homeless, mountain-man look, but it was no longer close shaven like it was when you were first together. Warm water didn’t exactly make it to shabby, man-made shacks on the abandoned, cliffside beaches of Scotland, and if August didn’t have warm water, he wasn’t shaving. Without a proper hot water system, the hard and frigid ocean was your only source. You only ever bathed together; your combined body heat the one thing that saved you both from freezing to death.

You came with his name tearing from your throat. You could feel his smirk as he lapped at you two more times before kissing his way back up your body to your swollen lips. He placed his mouth on your own, forcing you to taste yourself, then slid himself in you again, thrusting deep until he filled you with his cum.

You knew you were being stupid; that choosing to have sex without protection while hiding from a man that could kill you at any moment was one of the worst choices you could make. But with each day that passed, you cared a little less. The thought of carrying August’s baby turned you both on like nothing else.

He collapsed next to you then tucked you into his side and sighed.

You looked up at him and he smiled back at you. “I fucking love you,” He said.

“I fucking love you, too,” You chuckled as August ran a hand up and down your arm.

He hugged you to him one last time, kissed the top of your head, then untangled his limbs from yours and hopped up from the bed.

You stared at his ass with a grin on your face as he strutted to the kitchen.

“What do you want for breakfast, babe? Oatmeal or…oatmeal?”

“Both,” You called back, sitting up and stretching.

You followed him to the kitchen a moment later, snickering at the small apron he’d tied around his naked waist as he started up the portable camping stove. They weren’t meant to be used indoors, and the breeze from the open windows for airflow chilled your skin.

“Don’t laugh at me, Darlin’. We can’t have sex again if my dick gets burned off.”

Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you placed a feather light kiss between his shoulder blades and said, “Well, I can always find someone else to fuck.”

August tensed on spot and spun around in your arms with a scowl. “That’s not allowed,” He growled.

“The having sex with someone else, or the mentioning of having sex with someone else?”

“Both!” He snapped but all you gave in return was an innocent grin. “Though, secluded, misty beaches are hardly tourist spots. I don’t know who you think you could find to fuck you around here.”

He suddenly made a face as if a bitter flavor coated his tongue.

Your eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong?”

“Having ‘fuck’ and ‘you’ in a sentence without the words ‘I’m going to’ in front of them just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“You’re a dork.” You slapped his chest and pulled away from him, then nudged your head toward the water starting to boil in the pot. “Now pay attention or you’ll burn the water.” You winked.

Just as August was turning back around, his secure phone on the table flashed red and began to buzz. Both sets of eyes darted to it then you looked at one another. Your breaths hung in the air. August quickly took the pot off the burner and tossed it in the sink.

“Get dressed. Get your stuff,” He said sternly, and you jumped into action as he untied the apron and hurried behind you. You both threw clothes on your bodies, then you went to grab the emergency bags from under the bed while August punched some numbers into the small gun safe. Who the fuck knew you were here? You prayed it wasn’t who you thought it was. You knew Lane hadn’t succeeded in his original plan, but that didn’t mean he had been caught. He was resourceful. Regardless, the alarm was tripped so you needed to get the fuck out of dodge. You’d only have minutes.

“Passports.”

“Got them,” You said, running into the bathroom to grab a couple things.

“The cash.”

“Yes.”

“What about—"

Your eyebrows scrunched together at his pause and you dipped your head around the corner. All of the blood drained from your face.

“Drop the gun,” Ilsa’s deep, feminine voice demanded as she held her own gun to the side of August’s head. His lips thinned but he did as she asked. A loud thump sounded through the room that matched the beat in your chest. “And do not move,” She snarled.

With a smirk, August casually put up his hands. “Don’t worry.”

“Where. Is. She?”

You rushed into the room. “Ilsa!”

She looked at you, her confusion evident, then pushed the gun harder into your boyfriend’s temple as if she thought the image of you in front of her was an illusion meant to catch her off-guard. She didn’t trust August, and you couldn’t blame her.

“Ilsa, please. Just put the gun down.”

Her eyes narrowed as they grazed you up and down. You knew she was wondering how it was that you had not a scratch on you, how you had all of your limbs still attached after months of being held captive by the man she considered an enemy.

“Benji, she’s here,” She spoke into her earpiece.

August stared at you, unconcerned despite how close he could be to death. Your fingers twitched. You wanted to run up and yank him away from Ilsa. You wanted to lock him in the bathroom, out of harms way so you could talk your friend down.

Benji came crashing through the front door not a minute later and all tension in his body visibly released at the sight of you. “Oh, thank God.”

“Guys—” Your trembling voice began.

“You’re alright.” Benji blew out a breath. “I gotta tell you, we weren’t sure we would find you there for a second. This asshole is clever,” He said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder in August’s direction. “We have a chopper a couple miles south, so let’s go. Ilsa can deal with--”

“Guys! Stop.”

Ilsa’s lips parted. “Y/N…”

August chuckled at their obliviousness and you glared at him. “We should’ve moved last week,” He said.

You rolled your eyes. “They clearly aren’t Lane, August.”

“I don’t like them any better.” He crossed his arms in defiance, ignoring the gun at the ready to blow his brains out.

“Y/N!” Both Ilsa and Benji shouted at once, drawing your attention to their bugged-out eyes.

“Look,” You made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “There’s a long story and I will explain but put the gun away. You don’t need it.”

Dubiously, Ilsa lowered her weapon, and with every inch it traveled further away from your boyfriend, the easier it became to breathe.

You reached your hand out and August tried you walk your way, but Ilsa put her arm up, blocking his path. He halted though he could easily snap that arm like a twig.

“Someone needs to speak…now,” She said.

“Where are Ethan and Luther?” You asked.

“Reykjavik,” She replied. “We had two potential leads of your whereabouts.”

It had been easier to track you than you hoped. You’d just left Iceland a few weeks prior.

August looked at you smugly, but his eyes held their usual hint of love that no expression could erase. You knew what he was thinking. ‘I love you, babe, but you should’ve listened to me. If we kept moving, we could be having sex right now.’ He was right. You’d been moving every couple of weeks to throw anyone who might be tracking you off your trail. If you stayed in place, Lane had a better chance of finding you, but you were tired and you liked Scotland. August, soft as was with you, hesitantly agreed to one more week before packing your bags again.

You didn’t notice Benji’s eyes examining the two of you like a hawk honing in on his next prey until it was too late. “Holy shit,” He said, almost stumbling back. “He actually loves you.”

Your head snapped to the left. “Benji—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! He took you because he loves you! All this time, we thought this asshole was torturing you, maybe even killed you, but he took you because he wasn’t lying about being in love with you?”

You only nodded. He summed it up so eloquently there was little left for you to say.

“Oh, Ethan is going to lose it. This might actually be the thing that does him in.”

You opened your mouth to speak but Benji continued his rambling, now looking to August.

“So, was that the only part of your undercover bullshit that was real, or were you secretly planning to save the rest of us as well?”

“No, I didn’t care if you got killed. Still don’t, actually.” August retorted with a sarcastic smile. “But she does.”

“So, you weren’t with Lane or…?” “Ilsa asked.

“I was, but not since I left with Y/N.” August nudged his head in your direction.

Your friends turned to you. “You should’ve told us,” Benji said.

“I know. I’m sorry, but once we tipped you off about Lane, we had to hide. If he found out it was us before you guys could get to him, then he would’ve killed us both. We didn’t want to take that chance.”

“You tipped us off?” Ilsa’s eyebrow quirked and you could tell her mind was shuffling her thoughts.

“Yes.” August had given you all information he had on Lane and you hoped, after anonymously sending all of it to your team, they’d find a way to take him down. You considered seeing them once more and explaining everything in person, but August wanted to leave immediately and demanded there be no paper trail with your name on it.

Benji sighed. “Well, it worked.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lane is dead,” Ilsa said. “Last month.”

“What?”

Lane...

…dead?

Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

He was gone.

No one was coming after you.

You could go home, wherever you and August would decide that be. You could live the life you promised one another without a threat at any wrong turn.

August rose an eyebrow at you, and when you let out a breathy laugh of relief, he shoved his way past Ilsa.

“Come here, baby,” He whispered only for you, then pulled you to him and kissed you hard.

Benji roughly rubbed his fingers along his forehead, creating wrinkles that were sure to last. “This is so not how I thought this day was going to go.”

---------------------------------------------------

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fandom-monium · 3 years

Text

For the Holidays - Part 4

Summary: In which Spencer doesn’t want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “You know, I don’t remember you being able to run this fast back at the academy.”

WC: 2.4k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), fluff, defensive Spencer, more angst but not from unnecessary trauma, more emotional-support Reader, reunion arc, song fic, emotional/physical intimacy (to the max)

Don't think we fit in at this party Everyone's got so much to say, oh yeah, yeah When we walked in, I said I'm sorry, mmm But now I think that we should stay

Not a lot of things shake Spencer. It’s a very short list; his knowledge is expansive, he reads studies and scientific journals for fun, knows the most random statistics and facts just for the slightest possibility of it being useful. There're the rare occasions where unsubs catch him off guard, but at this point he's hardly phased. Nothing surprises him.

Although, this⎼this has made it to the top of that list.

“You’re sorry?” Spencer repeats, not sure if he heard correctly. His body cements in place and he holds his breath, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for one of them to jump him, for someone to say, ‘LOL jk’ like Garcia does when he doesn’t get the joke.

Because he doesn’t like this joke. It wasn’t funny back then, it’s not funny now.

But they don’t. Seconds pass and his tormentors, like him, are just as frozen, just as breathless, just waiting for his reaction.

They’re serious?

Spencer’s lips curl as his nose wrinkles. “You’re sorry? You think saying sorry is going to make up for everything?”

“God no, of course not. But over time, we’ve come to realize,” Alexa’s voice trembles, like she’s holding back tears. She exchanges glances with Harper and the football team before taking a tentative step towards him. “You deserve a real apology at least.”

Spencer recoils, the words jostling his brain. Alexa, Harper, and the few members of the football team all nod in agreement, as if they discussed this beforehand.

She adds, “We don’t expect you to forgive us now or ever. But we hope to try and⎼”

She’s preaching, something about regret and forgiveness and bridging gaps, but Spencer barely registers her voice⎼the words drowned out by the thrumming Christmas music. It becomes more garbled and muffled. Like he’s under water and he’s sinking.

He struggles to catch his breath. His brain reels until the only thing he can focus on is…

Anger. Familiar and hot and so loud that it rings in his ears. Against the storm, it’s a buoy in a rumbling ocean, the clearest, safest, most tangible thing he finds as he’s caught in the undertow.

Just like that he breaks the water’s surface.

And he latches on.

“You’re not sorry,” Spencer lets out a dry chuckle. Alexa and Harper open their mouths to protest but he continues, “You want to know how I know this? Because I have several degrees, one of them being in psychology.”

They shake their heads. “We are⎼”

He cuts them off, his tone rising above Santa Tell Me as it bellows overhead. “No, you're not. You don’t feel remorse. You don’t blame yourselves. You feel guilty, and your attempt at apologizing for what you did tells me that you can’t live with that guilt. That’s why you’re apologizing. You want a clear conscience. You want me to⎼to just act like what you did was okay, to act like nothing happened. But it did and I⎼” Spencer’s vision blurs and his eyes burn. He squeezes them shut.

He will not cry. He will not cry. He’s wasted enough tears on these people.

Spencer meets their gaze, and he knows they have to strain their ears when he rasps, “⎼It wasn't okay.”

“Reid,” Harper’s calls, her voice wobbling. For a second he sees it; Alexa, Harper, the football team backing them up as gold and white spotlights roam over them. Their eyes glisten with worry, and he sees the pain, the honesty, all the signs of truth and genuine regret with a profiler’s accuracy.

A small part of him hopes maybe they are. Maybe they do regret it the pain they caused him.

The concept is jarring. And Spencer doesn’t have the capacity to process it. Not now.

So he turns away, clearing his throat. “Excuse me.” Without thinking, he slips his hand out of yours, startling you, and pushes through the throng of people.

“Um,” You hesitate as your gaze switches between watching Spencer and his (ex?) bullies. Then his back disappears in the crowd and you start after him, “I’ll be right back?”

Not the smoothest exit, but it’ll have to do.

You quickly weave between party-goers, rushing towards the exit. By the time you burst through the doors, Spencer is gone.

You’ve lost him.

⎼

Okay, you didn’t lose him.

You’re not even surprised, catching your breath at the gaping doors. Light spills from the hall, casting a long shadow as you scan the room, your footfalls muffled by the old carpet. It takes a little browsing until you realize you’re in the fiction area.

You find Spencer in the deepest corner of the library. He sits on the floor, slumped against the shelves of the classic literature section. You bite back a smile; his legs are too long for the small aisle between the bookcases, so his knees are bent and his hands rest in his lap.

He barely notices as you carefully pad over to him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Spencer mumbles, staring vacantly at the rows of worn books. They’re dusty, mostly 3rd and 4th editions. He’s fairly certain they’re the same ones he read when he attended⎼damn, the American education system is underfunded⎼and despite the comforting presence of you and his old friends, he can’t bring himself to look at you, ashamed of his outburst.

“You know, I don’t remember you being able to run this fast back at the academy,” You let out an exaggerated wheeze, an attempt to lighten his mood.

It sort of works. Spencer huffs out a laugh, but he sobers quickly. “Sorry for running out on you like that.”

You squeeze yourself into the small gap, mirroring him against the adjacent bookcase, legs tangling with his. “I told you, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Maybe but it’s still not fair to you,” Spencer swallows the lump in his throat. He hears you snort and he looks up, seeing the wry smile on your lips. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course you still manage to think of me, even though this whole thing is for you. Reid, if I wasn’t so concerned, I’d feel touched.”

He flushes, and while it's too dark to see each other clearly, Spencer still ducks his head.

You smile shyly as you nudge the toe of your shoe against his. A question.

A second later, he nudges you back. An answer.

Satisfied, you don't say another word as you both find comfort in the silence and in the musty scent of used books. If you strain your ears, you can hear Snowman faintly echo down the empty hallways. It's hauntingly peaceful.

Then Spencer breaks the silence.

It starts with a sniff and you shrug it off. Probably dust, allergies. But there's another and another until all you hear is his breathes, unsteady and wet and⎼fuck.

Spencer is crying.

He bites his lip as he clasps his hands tightly in his lap, trying to pull himself together. Scrape together whatever semblance of pride he’s got left. He's been humiliated enough today; he doesn't need to fall apart in front of you too.

Tears well in his eyes. A whimper escapes him, and because you’re alone⎼no music, no loud guests to cover him⎼you feel the brunt of it, rattling your bones.

Your willpower snaps.

Touch is a powerful thing. There are people who simply don’t care for it but others, they’re uncomfortable with the intimacy behind the sensation. Many underestimate the tremendous courage it takes to let others into your personal bubble. And for you⎼

Touch is... personal. It’s giving a spare key to your place. It’s confessing your sins before you face Death.

It’s sharing your sweaters with Spencer because he thinks they look cool. It’s cooking and cleaning the failed trials afterwards, standing at the sink and flinging soap bubbles at each other. It’s sharing the blanket when heading home after an exhausting case.

Touch is comfort. So that’s what you give him.

Spencer's breath hitches as you crawl over to him. On your knees, you settle between his legs and he freezes, terrified if he moves you will leave. Or disappear. He’s not sure. But you’re so close that his breath puffs against your chin. He tries to hold them in. It makes him hiccup.

To his surprise, you pull out a handkerchief.

Though his body trembles, he doesn’t protest as your hands gently push back his hair. He follows the movement, his head falling back against the bookcase as he watches your dark silhouette hover over him, softly outlined by the streetlight seeping through the windows. He lets you take the tears and the hurt, dabbing them away from his tear-stained cheeks.

Every teardrop is a knife. Every droplet you don’t catch, it's a cut.

Spencer wonders if he's dreaming. Maybe he tripped and knocked himself out? Or did the football team clock him so hard it put him in a coma? Or maybe he fainted?

Because if the universe is rewarding him after all the bullshit he's been through, all the work he’s done, he hopes this is it. This is the closest you've ever been⎼you’ve hugged and comforted each other before but this is so much more intimate than any other moment you’ve shared. And given the chance, he knows he would spend the rest of his days like this. His face in your hands as you wipe away the misery and despair.

The thought sends him into a new wave of tears. If you mind, you say nothing.

Spencer shuts his eyes, leaning into every touch, every caress. It’s too dark to see, so he tries to memorize what his eyes can’t. Your hands are cool against his skin and your soap smells good (or maybe that’s just you?). And as much as he appreciates your mindfulness to his germaphobic tendencies, he wishes you'd come closer. To keep touching him.

But it’s odd, Spencer thinks as you smooth back his hair. You offer no words of encouragement. No words of wisdom. No motivational speech that’ll prompt him to bounce right back. You simply wait, brushing away his tears as he hiccups and sobs.

It just… doesn’t seem real. Attending the reunion like Morgan suggested (and the fact you're kneeling between his legs, but he's trying not to think too hard about it). The idea sounded so simple and terrifying at the same time. He planned to show off⎼peacock, if you will⎼and you even helped him practice. Spencer was prepared to bring them to their knees (okay, not really but he was willing to try).

And now years later, they decide to apologize?

The audacity.

They didn’t spend years pushing past the pain. They didn’t hope the memories would erode with time. They didn’t have to pretend everything was okay, like nothing happened, like they didn’t do anything wrong.

So excuse him if a little ‘sorry’ doesn’t make him feel any better.

Is it⎼is he weak for feeling like this? It’s been too long. They shouldn’t have this sort of effect on him.

“I don’t think that matters.”

Spencer frowns at you. After his tears dry up and his hiccups subside, you settle beside him, your handkerchief, moist with his tears, fisted in his hands now. He tries to ignore the way your shoulders and thighs brush against each other.

“I-I’m not invalidating you. But I don't think this is about being weak or sensitive. What they did to you… cut you deep and you never got closure and-and you’re still hurting. Even if it’s just a little,” You speak low, gazing at the bookshelves across from you as you stumble for the right words. He sees you angle your head towards him. Feels you shift next to him. “It's been years, but time and space doesn’t make your feelings any less valid. So no, I don't think this is about strength. It was a prank gone wrong, and you were just a kid.”

That’s putting it lightly. Spencer bites his tongue.

You don’t need to know that.

He folds the handkerchief in his hands as he murmurs, “Easy for you to say.”

He feels you stiffen, and he considers the possibility that he said something wrong.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“It’s not bad or anything,” Spencer sits up, hands waving about as he rushes to assure you. “You’re always so composed. Even during the worst cases, you hardly lose it. In terms of stoicism, you’re basically on par with Hotch.”

Spencer cringes, the words out of his mouth before he realizes.

For a second you don’t respond, but his heart stalls as he practically feels you pull away from him, even though physically you’re still there. You turn away, pulling your knees to your chest.

“Is that what you think of me?” Fuck, you sound betrayed by his assumptions.

“I⎼well… ” Spencer wrings his hands together. He’s at a loss for words, afraid he’ll say something wrong again. He wishes he had night vision; your body language is closed off, protective, and he knows your expression is pained.

Oh god, he did that. It hurts knowing he did that.

“Believe it or not, Reid, I’m not exactly the poster child for calm and collected," You unfold as you look back at him, voice laced with vulnerability. "I've got cracks of my own."

"... Eh,” Like you, Spencer attempts to brighten your mood, elbowing you, “I need to conduct an observational study to back that up."

He knows you're smiling as you huff, “Is that your roundabout way of saying I can go to you? When I need a shoulder to cry on?”

I'd literally drop everything if you came to me for no reason but okay.

Spencer shrugs, grinning as you push him so hard he topples over. And as you laugh and shove at each other like teenagers, Spencer concurs. You both have your cracks. You're cracked and chipped and if you take the time to look there's damage in places hidden away from the naked eye.

You're cracked but it makes you all the more perfect.

AN: 4/5 whoops

yall don’t kink shame me but i’m a slut for emotional and physical intimacy 😳 and not to be toxic but Reids hot when he mad 😳

what kind of student were/are you in school, middle/high/college?

i think i got the hang of the angst now im quite proud of my writing here :) i bummed myself out writing these scenes you dont even know

small background with Mysterious!Reader and Reid yes they were in the FBI academy together :)

fun fact: when i was writing part 3 and 4 i had to go back and watch the elephants memory episode after realizing i forgot the names of Reids bullies. i was already halfway done before i noticed i wrote Harry instead of Harper gdm

when i started FtH, i cackled at the idea of Reid confronting his bullies. just seemed funny to me to have him be pissed and ready to shank his enemies with words and just lose that chance bc his bullies are human too and realize their mistake so they want to make up for it lmaooo now here he is angry and he can’t really express it the way he thought he would

(also if you noticed the lines ref to @idmakeitbehave’s fic cracked perfection, just a little thingy bc they inspire me and i love their everything <333)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg x y/n #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #mgg fic #mgg imagine #criminal minds x oc

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johnnycranes · 3 years

Note

63, Goro x female V? 👀

63. Stop running from this. I know I'm not the only one who feels it.

Warning/s: language and slight spoilers for the ending

Prompt masterlist here

"What are you doing here?" V's first thought when she sees Goro sitting on her couch in her apartment is 'fuck I should've cleaned up more' but then she realizes he's in her apartment.

Goro puts down the probably expired NiCola can on the table. V hasn't seen him since that night 'Saka got Hanako back.

Since he almost died.

"You have been avoiding me, correct?" he asks, standing from the couch and approaching her like a predator does their prey.

V almost trips backwards but is saved by the closed door behind her. She's got half a mind to delta and maybe hide out in a fast food place til he gives up. He'll never look there!

The other half that tells her she'd probably die before that happens is the one she listens to though. "I've been busy, Goro. Saving my life and all that." she says rather rudely.

Goro is inches away from her now and V hasn't felt this nervous since she first saw him in Konpeki Plaza.

He shakes his head. "Hanging out with rockers counts as saving your life? Do not lie to me."

Oh right, he put a tracker on her.

V sighs heavily before glaring up at him. He looks surprised, good. "You were the one said you were gonna lay low. Isn't it you who's avoiding me?"

Goro chuckles without humor and V feels his breath touch her face. "I have been hiding in this city and 'laying low' as they say, for quite some time. That has not stopped you before from communicating with me. So why now?"

V's heart starts beating faster. She couldn't tell him. She didn't even wanna acknowledge it herself. "Why does it matter?" she asks in a low voice.

Goro sighs deeply and it makes her tremble hearing him like that, so close to her.

Stop it, she tells herself.

"Because I have missed you, V."

Fuck, don't blush. Don't cry. Don't fucking throw yourself at him.

She pushes away from the door and maneuvers around him to stand by the window instead. "Give it a few more hours in your probably snazzy new apartment and you'll forget all about me." she says, trying to sound cheery.

Goro stands still by the door, arms crossed in front of him. Only now does she take a good look at the man, in a brand new white suit and with his hair impeccably fixed up in that signature bun of his.

He really is the most gorgeous man V's ever seen in her life.

And her heart aches at seeing him so close yet still so damn unreachable.

"V... why are you doing this?" he asks suddenly and V swears there's a hint of desperation there.

It takes all of her willpower to not run over to him. "You should leave, Goro. I'm meeting with Hanako soon and wanna rest up befo-"

In a few short strides he's beside her again, his face so close to hers that all she has to do is tilt her head up a bit and she could finally know what his lips taste like.

"What happened to the woman who saved my life? To the woman who recommended restaurants to me, who asked if I was ok. Why is she avoiding me?" he asks, staring at her intensely, pleading, it seems like.

V knows she's shaking, but at least she isn't crying.

Yet.

She knows Goro won't give this up, though.

"She's scared, Goro." V says, breathless and without daring to look up at him. "Scared of getting into... whatever this is."

Goro places a finger on her chin, tilting her head up and V gasps as she feels him touch her skin and sees his pretty eyes. "She- You are one of the strongest and bravest women I know. What is there to fear?"

That I fucking love you but I'm probably gonna die soon, and it's unfair to you.

Is what she wants to yell out.

But all she says is "The future."

His lips ghost over hers and she knows he's teasing her now, seeing how far he can push her. "And what of the present? Will you still run from what is happening now?" he asks in that husky voice of his that she's missed hearing.

V gulps, her eyes darting between his lips and his optics. "And what is happening now?"

He chuckles and V feels the finger on her chin tilt her face closer to his. She doesn't fight it.

"This." is all he says before he finally closes the distance between them.

All those dreams V had of this moment didn't do justice to the real thing. Feeling Goro's soft lips together with his rough beard, his hands gently touching her face...

V parts her lips and moans when she feels Goro's tongue.

His hands move to her hips and he crushes her body to his. Part of V wants to give in. They've been skirting around each other for weeks that it finally feels good to act on it.

But V suddenly remembers Jackie, T-Bug and Evelyn.

And how they're all dead.

She opens her eyes and pushes Goro away. Already missing his warmth.

It crushes V when she sees the look of hurt in his eyes. But he is a warrior and it is gone quickly, masked by a stern yet gentle expression.

"I can't." V says, shaking her head and moving to sit on the couch. "I can't do this, I'm sorry."

She sees Goro shift but he doesn't walk towards her. Hell she wouldn't blame him if he stormed out right now.

"I will not force you." he says, because Goro is one of the only gentlemen left in NC and he's not even from NC. "But if I may ask... this 'future', it concerns your current condition?"

V can only nod quickly, afraid of breaking down in front of him.

Goro crosses his arms again. "You will not die. I promise you. Arasaka will do everything to help you."

V feels a shiver down her spine. She wants to believe him, she really does. But it was still Arasaka.

She doesn't know what to say, doesn't trust her voice won't crack.

So she is thankful when he continues talking. "When this is over, I will bring you to my favorite restaurant in Japan."

V nods again, imagining it already. "Sounds like a date."

She realizes too late what she said, and when she looks up at him, she sees a smile on those wonderful lips that she just kissed, and his pretty eyes a little brighter.

"Good night, V. I will see you soon." he leaves without touching her and she's a bit grateful. She didn't think she'd be able to stop it again if he leaned in for a kiss. Or hell, even just a hug.

"He's right, ya know." Johnny appears beside her on the couch as soon as Goro is gone.

"If there's one thing that 'Saka scum said that I agree with, it's that you ain't dying. We're getting the chip out so you can have all the sushi you want and finally be able to fuck the man of your dreams."

V blushes furiously but she's learned there are some things not worth arguing about with Johnny. "Optimism? From you?" she says instead, playfully.

"Hey what can I say, ya might be starting to rub off on me. Plus, one of us has to be."

She thanks him before heading off to bed.

The next day she enters Embers with a renewed sense of hope after dreams of cooking lessons and dinner dates.

#goro takemura #goro takemura x v #my fic #answered #cyberpunk 2077 #my writing

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

Text

Season 1, Episode 12: Code Breaker

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader

Warnings: two very justified character deaths

Notes: I feel like I blacked out and now we’re somehow on the last episode. Not sure how that happened so fast but here we are. Just prepare yourself bc this one is entirely too long but I didn’t want to do two parts 🤷‍♀️

Does anyone want me to continue with Season 2? Please let me know bc I won’t do it unless people are actually interested.

I also wanted to give a shoutout to everyone who has sent me nice comments and showed love on this series. It’s meant the absolute world to me!

Okay now let’s get some closure!

————————

I walked through the hallways of the high school, using every ounce of willpower I could muster to keep my eyes firmly planted in front of me.

The pressure of dozens of curious stares weighed on my back as I made my way toward the lockers briskly. From the moment I walked through the doors a few minutes ago, all eyes had been on me. I squared my shoulders and forced my head to remain up high.

If people wanted to gossip, they could go right ahead.

My pace quickened as I heard the unmistakable sound of judgmental whispering behind me. I pinched my eyes shut tightly and tried my best to block out the irritating noise. I just wanted to get my books and go to class. At least there, I would see Scott, Stiles, and Allison.

Once I reached my locker, I shakily dialed in my code and popped the small metal door open. I instantly stumbled back, my eyes going wide as a shit ton of dirt came spilling out. I stood still for a few seconds, blinking slowly as I tried figuring out what the hell just happened.

With a frown, I wiped my hands against my jeans, which were now covered in the stuff. My eyes flickered down toward the pile of soil on the tiles in front of my feet, my brows furrowing in confusion.

How the hell did that much dirt get into my locker? How did any dirt get into my locker?

I glanced around the hall slowly, anxious to see my classmates reactions. I was already the weird girl after everything at the dance. I didn’t want to be the even weirder girl who keeps dirt in the locker.

A surprised breath left my lips as I saw that the halls were now completely empty. I turned all the way around, peering in both directions, but there wasn’t a single soul here with me. My head started pounding and I winced at the unexpected sensation before rubbing at my temples gently.

I swiveled back toward my locker, wanting nothing more than for this day to be over. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this yet. I instantly froze at the sight of a single purple flower sitting in the middle of the dirt pile. I was almost certain it hadn’t been there a moment before.

My heartbeat thrummed loudly in my ears as I reached a trembling hand inside the small space. I tentatively plucked the plant, which I easily recognized as wolfsbane, out of the soil. My eyes flickered around the purple leaves and long, green stem as my confusion only grew.

Just then, an ear piercing scream echoed through the halls. I whipped around, instantly going rigid when I saw that I was no longer in the school, but standing in the middle of the lacrosse field.

I glanced around the empty stadium, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Did I suddenly develop the ability to teleport? Or was I losing my damn mind? My eyes trailed downward as I felt cool air brush against my legs. My breath hitched as I saw that I was wearing my formal dress. The navy fabric was covered in blood and dirt, the strap on my left shoulder torn to shreds.

A bolt of fear licked up my spine as I heard rustling directly in front of me. My gaze slowly swept upward before landing on a pair of glowing red eyes that were illuminated in the shadowy distance. My eyes pinched shut as terror coursed through me when they started moving closer.

“It’s not real.” The mantra was a shaky whisper as my body trembled. “It’s not real. It’s not—”

Just then, my eyes jerked open on their own accord. I bolted upright with a harsh gasp, my throat constricting painfully as I sputtered and coughed a few times. One of my hands came up to clutch at my chest as I tried desperately to catch my breath.

Only a split second passed before Stiles flailed into a sitting position beside me. He whipped his head from side to side with wide eyes, as if searching for the cause of my panic. Once his attention landed back on me, he instantly pulled me into his chest and began murmuring lowly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” One of his hands rubbed at my back while the other cradled my head against him.

“Lydia...” I gasped, my breath coming out in quick, trembling spurts. The dream had been some sort of vision or clue...it just had to be.

“Lydia’s alright, okay? They’re gonna find her.” Stiles’ fingers threaded through my hair and massaged my scalp soothingly.

“What? What is it? What happened?” Scott’s head suddenly popped up at the foot of my bed, his hair so messy it looked like he’d been hurled through a tornado.

“Another nightmare.” I breathed, feeling my heartrate dropping back down to normal as Stiles’ hands continued rubbing against me gently.

Scott sighed from the floor, his shoulders sagging in relief. One of his hands came up to massage the back of his neck and he grimaced uncomfortably. “Cool. Is it my turn on the bed yet?”

“You can curl up down here if you want, like a good puppy.” Stiles smirked at his own joke as one of his hands left me to point toward our feet.

“Scott, just go sleep in your own bed. It’s literally right there.” I gestured to my window, which faced his, and slowly pulled away from Stiles.

As much as I would love to stay in his arms forever, I had to learn to get ahold of myself on my own. They couldn’t keep babying me. Both of them had done nothing but obsess over my health from the moment I was discharged out of the hospital two days ago.

Scott had refused to leave my side since I’d gotten home, other than the brief moments he made appearances in his own house so that his mom knew he was still alive. He insisted it was to keep an eye on me, and that was partially true, but he was also basically in hiding right now.

Jackson, being the wonderful friend that he is, somehow found the time to tell Mr. Argent that Scott is the beta they’ve been looking for, kindly adding on to our reasons-life-is-currently-terrible list.

“And let you guys have all the fun without me?” Scott mumbled sarcastically and leaned back to lay on the pillow and blanket I’d set up for him on the hardwood floor.

This had been our routine for two days. Mom banned me from having any visitors while I recover, but that hadn’t stopped Scott from staying or Stiles from sneaking in after school. Each night, I could barely make it through a few hours of sleep at a time before jerking awake from yet another nightmare. Or maybe they were visions. I honestly had no idea.

My days had also been...weird, to say the least. Most of the time, it was hard to tell whether or not I was awake. My sense of reality was seriously fucked up. I was having almost constant visions and dreams, and they never made any sense. It felt like my subconscious was trying to tell me something, but in another language I had yet to learn.

Lydia was still missing, and I was beyond worried sick. Sheriff Stilinski and the entire police department had searched every square inch of Beacon Hills over the course of the last two days, and hadn’t found a single trace of her.

Aside from that shitshow, I also hadn’t spoken to Allison since the last time I’d seen her at the dance. No one had, actually.

Scott—when he wasn’t fawning over me—was losing his mind because apparently while I was being a dumbass and getting myself bitten, Mr. Argent somehow made him shift in front of Allison. Then, he shipped her and Kate off to an undisclosed location until further notice.

I’d sent her a few texts since being home, but she only responded once. The words had replayed in my mind over and over for several hours after reading them as I tried figuring out an acceptable response.

You knew the whole time, didn’t you?

I eventually decided not to answer at all. What could I say? I’d kept something huge from her, although it was never really my secret to tell anyway. She had every right to be pissed off. I wanted to address it in person and, honestly, didn’t have the mental capacity to worry much about it right now.

I blinked a few times, feeling myself come back from my dazed thoughts as Scott and Stiles’ voices fluttered back to my ears. I’d been doing that a lot, too. Getting lost in my mind for several minutes at a time, if not longer. I felt a curious gaze on my face and took in a slow, deep breath before lifting my head to meet Stiles’ eyes.

My heart clenched uncomfortably in my chest at the look he was giving me. It was the same expression that had been etched into his face ever since I’d woken up in the hospital. It was like he was afraid I would try to kill him at any given moment, while simultaneously worrying that I’d suffer a mental break or croak on the spot.

I heard the rumbling sound of snoring from the floor and knew that Scott was already out cold again.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” I sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table, noting with a regretful wince that it was three in the morning. He had school in only a few hours.

Stiles’ eyes inspected me tenderly, rounding with concern as he reached out to tuck a stray clump of hair behind my ear gently. “I wasn’t sleeping. You stole my pillow, so...”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He apparently couldn’t sleep without the thing and had brought it with him each night. It was quite possibly the most adorable thing ever.

“I’m still sorry.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I looked down toward my lap and fidgeted with my fingers.

Ever since I was bitten I’d felt...different. Like a burden. Out of control. It was as if my mind was warring with itself all day, every day. I had a constant nagging fear that I was forgetting something important. It was like it was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn’t remember.

Stiles leaned toward me slowly and cupped my cheek before placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. His fingers trailed down to brush against the side of my neck before tangling in the hair at the base of my skull. His free hand came up to the other side of my head and he pulled it down against his chest. My eyes fluttered shut as a sigh left my lips.

A sense of peace always washed over me when he was near. Despite everything going on, all it took was a small touch to quiet my racing mind. I felt myself relaxing, if only slightly, in his arms. A moment later, I leaned back to look at him again, my stomach fluttering at the intense gleam of worry shining in his caramel eyes.

“There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” My voice broke and I furrowed my brows as traitorous tears filled my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself. I wanted to get better.

Stiles glanced fleetingly at the place where Peter had bitten me, but jerked his attention back to my face quickly, probably hoping I hadn’t noticed. “Whatever it is...we’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, his response wasn’t all that comforting. I didn’t doubt for a second that he’d be there for me every step of the way as I went through whatever this was. I’d watched how he helped Scott during the early stages of his transformation, and it was admirable. But I didn’t want there to be anything wrong. I didn’t want there to be anything different about me.

I just wanted to be normal.

“C’mere...” Stiles opened his arms and I couldn’t help but instantly fall into them.

He pulled me tight against him and leaned back, snagging his pillow from my side of the bed on the way down. My eyes fluttered shut as I laid there on top of him, my legs between his and my head resting above his heart.

I listened to the steady rhythm of his pulse, feeling it lull me to sleep within seconds.

————————

I leaned back against my headboard, adjusting the book that rested atop my knees. My bottom lip was tucked between my teeth anxiously as I flipped another page. I narrowed my eyes as they swept over the words, urging my mind to comprehend them. I just couldn’t. I was way too distracted.

My eyes flickered up to find Scott lounging in my desk chair across the room. He was playing some game on his phone and it was making this annoying boing sound every few seconds. It was starting to drive me crazy, but it wasn’t the only thing causing my jitters.

I glanced away from him to look out my open window and sighed heavily. It was already dark outside, and Stiles wasn’t here yet.

It wasn’t usually like me to jump to conclusions, but considering the state of our lives right now, it wasn’t a stretch to be worried. At this point, though, I was moving toward a full on panic attack. School ended six hours ago. What could he possibly be doing?

I opened my mouth to voice my concern, but never got a chance as Scott interrupted me before I could get even a single word out.

“He’s fine.” He said absently, his eyes never leaving his phone’s screen.

My eyebrows twitched up in surprise. “How did you know...”

“I can hear your heart racing.” He sighed and finally dropped his phone onto my desk before lifting his eyes to meet mine. “You either just ran a marathon, or you’re worried about something. That something is usually Stiles. And he’s fine.”

I rolled my lips into a tight line at the way he’d just read me so easily. “But it’s already—”

Just then, something thumped outside my window loudly. I stiffened at the sound, and Scott perked up in his chair, instantly on high alert. There was a low groan before a figure clambered through the opening. I instantly knew it was Stiles as I caught sight of his red flannel. He flailed to the floor spastically with a yelp and I slammed my book closed before bolting to my feet.

I rushed to his side, my arms wrapping around him as he struggled to get up. His chest heaved with ragged breaths as if he’d run the whole way here.

“Where were you? Are you okay? What happened?” I couldn’t stop the panicked words from tumbling past my lips.

My eyes trailed over him quickly to assess for any damage. His freckled cheeks were flushed and the top three buttons on his flannel were undone, exposing his white undershirt. He looked a little roughed up, but not hurt.

He finally stood up straight and his eyes widened when they met mine, as if only just then realizing that I was beside him. He gripped my upper arms sternly before walking me backward.

“What are you doing? Get back in bed.” I had no choice but to plop down onto the mattress as the back of my knees ran right into it.

“Don’t change the subject, Stilinski.” I frowned up at him and his eyes twitched in warning.

“Oh, God. Please don’t make me listen to another who’s more worried about who fight. I might seriously puke this time.” Scott practically threw himself onto the bed beside me, a look of feigned disgust taking over his face.

My eyes swept toward him and narrowed into a glare only briefly, as my attention moved back to Stiles when he started talking again.

“Moving on.” He sent a pointed look Scott’s way before continuing, his hands gesturing quickly in front of him. He was anxious, that much was obvious. “I had a uh...talk with Chris—”

“Who?” I interrupted, thrown off by the unfamiliar name.

Stiles’ eyes twitched at me in annoyance as he flailed one of his arms in a circle, signaling that we didn’t have much time. “Argent.”

“You call Allison’s dad Chris?” My voice rose in disbelief. Since when was that a thing?

“Oh my God. This is important, okay? He tried to get me and Jackson to tell him where Scott is and—”

Scott sprang upright on the bed, his eyes wide with alarm. “Why were you with Jackson?”

“Can I just finish? Is that alright with you two?” Stiles’ voice rose in frustration, his eyes pinching shut for a brief moment after he shouted.

Both Scott and I froze and he sighed before running a hand down his face. His gaze flickered to Scott as he extended a hand out apprehensively. “He’s literally planning to kill you. Tonight. Okay? So you can’t—”

Scott suddenly rose to his feet, his face tight with determination. “I need to find Derek.”

Stiles’ fingers curled into a fist, still hanging in the air, as he pursed his lips when Scott brushed past him. “Why do we keep going back to him? He’s like your abusive ex, okay? You have a problem. And did you miss the part where I just said you could be murdered by werewolf hunters at any given moment?”

“If the Argents are after me, he’s the only one who can help.” Scott braced his hands against my windowsill and turned to glare at Stiles over his shoulder.

Before either of us could ask him what he was doing, he doubled over with a low groan. I realized he was shifting and tentatively slid back on my mattress, not sure what was going on. I knew he would never hurt me, but I hadn’t seen anything supernatural since being bitten. It instantly had me on edge.

Then, he jerked upright and howled loudly into the dark sky.

I winced at the deep, rumbling sound, feeling a painful twinge in my head. One of my hands came up to cradle my temple as my lips parted in a silent gasp. The noise was vibrating all the way in my bones, overwhelming every one of my senses. I felt myself slipping away from the present, my eyes wide but unfocused. I faintly registered an arm wrapping around my back as Stiles rushed to kneel in front of me.

His free hand cupped my face, his lips moving rapidly as he tried to bring me back. I suddenly had the strong urge to close my eyes, so I let them flutter down slowly. Instantly, my breath caught as an image of Derek’s house popped into my mind. There were way too many things happening to decipher any of it. My brows furrowed as I tried making sense of what I was seeing.

The clearest picture was the most gruesome. Blood. Everywhere.

A painful spasm in my left shoulder had my eyes jerking open. They met Stiles’ wide, panicked gaze as he hovered only a few inches away from me. With a snap, his and Scott’s voices rushed into my ears.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Stiles practically yelled, his voice tight with anxiety and a hint of anger. His hands were clutching my arms as he jostled me awake.

Scott appeared at his side above me, his face crumbled in horror. “I-I didn’t do anything! I didn’t mean to...”

“I think I know where to find him.” I interrupted breathily, blinking a few times to focus my eyes. I sat up with a groan, my head pounding harshly. Stiles tightened his grip on me as he tried to keep me steady. “His house. I saw it.”

Scott’s face dropped from beside me, his brows furrowing as his lips pulled into a frown. “So did I.”

We shared a long, curious glance. I had no idea what that meant, and judging by the glint of wonder reflecting in his eyes, neither did he.

“So we’re just not gonna talk about whatever that was?” Stiles asked incredulously. He e took a step away from me and shrugged sarcastically with a tilt of his head.

“We don’t have time.” I pushed myself up to my feet and strode toward my closet hurriedly.

It was freezing outside by now, and I wanted to be prepared for once. I rustled through my sweaters until I found one I didn’t mind ruining. My shoulder protested each movement as I wrestled it over my head, but I tried my best to ignore it. I turned on my heel to face the guys and froze at the looks they were giving me.

Scott seemed hesitant, but didn’t look like he was going to argue, while Stiles was very much unimpressed.

“That’s funny.” He laughed humorlessly and pointed at me. “It looks like you think you’re going somewhere.”

I frowned at his demanding tone. “I’m sorry, are you my mother? No? Okay. That’s what I thought.”

I brushed past him to find a pair of socks in my dresser. If he thought he was going to start telling me what to do just because we’re dating, he had another thing coming. My eyes flickered up to meet his in the mirror as I heard rustling behind me.

“You can’t seriously—” His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to find the right words. I pulled out a mismatched pair of socks and turned to lean against the dresser as I slid them on. “Scott, tell her how stupid this is.”

“Hell no. I’m not getting involved.” He glanced between us with wide eyes, lifting his hands in surrender.

“If we don’t go now, Derek is going to die.” I forced the words out through clenched teeth, growing impatient. Somehow, I knew that’s the future we were up against, despite not having actually seen it happen. I just knew.

“Since when do we care about that?” Stiles swiveled his head as his eyebrows rose in question.

Scott stepped forward, suddenly looking pensive. “I’m not going to just let him die.”

“I’m the only sane one left...” Stiles muttered to himself, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

After several more minutes of pointless arguing, a very disgruntled Stiles finally agreed to drive us to Derek’s. The three of us had barely made it a few steps outside the Jeep before he came barreling from the house, looking unpleasant as ever.

“What the hell are you doing? None of you should be here right now.” His angry voice echoed through the trees as he continued stalking forward until he stood right in front of us.

“Finally, someone’s making—oh my God!” Stiles didn’t have a chance to finish his thought as an arrow came out of nowhere and embedded itself into Derek’s shoulder.

My eyes widened in shock and I whipped around just as another arrow came from the trees to land in his thigh. He crumpled to the ground with a groan, clutching at his injuries.

“Close your eyes!” He shouted and tucked his face into his elbow.

Long fingers clasped around my bicep and I was jerked to the side before another hand shoved my head into a warm chest. I screwed my eyes shut tightly, a quiet boom sounding beside us. Stiles and I separated quickly to see what it was, but my eyes landed on Scott instead.

He was crouched down on all fours, blinking rapidly. He hadn’t been fast enough. He squinted into the distance and I followed his line of sight, but came up empty.

Derek grunted lowly as he broke off the shafts of each arrow that still lay inside him. He stumbled to his feet and grabbed Scott by the collar of his jacket. “Get to the house!”

Stiles and I didn’t hesitate to obey as we bolted in that direction, our hands tangled together. We only made it about halfway before Derek slumped to the ground behind us, exhausted. I staggered to a halt at the sound and nearly lost my balance when Stiles continued moving.

His eyes flickered from me to the place where Scott and Derek lay crumpled on the ground in a moment of hesitation. With a grimace, he let me go and we both jogged their way.

“No! Go!” Derek’s head popped up and he tried waving us off, but it was too late.

I froze, partially crouched beside him, as a thin figure emerged from the darkness. She was stomping toward us with a huge bow slung over her shoulder. The dim light from Derek’s porch illuminated her face as she neared us, and my breath caught in my throat. It was the last person I expected to see.

“Allison, I can explain—” Scott immediately stammered desperately, still trying to get his bearings after being stunned by the flash bullet. I realized at then that it was the same type she’d tried out with me and Lydia the week before formal.

“Stop lying.” She barked, her voice tight with built up anger. Her eyes flickered up to meet mine, my chest tightening at the intense betrayal swirling inside them. “All of you, for once, stop lying.”

“I was gonna tell you the truth. I was gonna tell you everything at the formal.” Scott rushed the words out in a panic as he shuffled backward to match each step she took toward him. “Everything that I said...everything I did...”

“Was to protect me.” She finished with a humorless scoff, fingers tightening around the arrow she held at her side.

“Yes.” He instantly confirmed, pleading with her to understand.

I knew exactly how she felt. Being kept in the dark sucked, no matter which way it was spun. Maybe she had been safer this whole time because she didn’t know. Or maybe all his secret did was create an irreparable wedge between them. She was bound to find out eventually, considering who her family was, and this whole mess was probably the worst way it could’ve happened.

Allison’s eyes glistened as she peered down at him, her hardened mask of hatred cracking just slightly. Her voice trembled as a few tears escaped down her cheeks. “I don’t believe you.”

“Thank God!” I jumped at the sudden voice from the darkness, and watched as Kate stalked out of the tree line with a roll of her eyes. “Now shoot him before I have to shoot myself.”

My heart leapt into my throat at her words. With Scott dazed and Derek seriously injured, there wasn’t much we could do to stop her from killing either one of them. The reality of our situation hit me like a ton of bricks. Stiles and I were utterly useless.

“Y-you said we were just going to catch them.” Allison sputtered, head jerking toward her aunt in surprise.

“Yeah, and we did that. Now we’re going to kill them.” Kate raised an arm absently and shot a bullet right into Derek’s chest as she passed by, not even sparing him a glance. “See? Not that hard.”

I gasped at the unexpected act of violence, my jaw going slack. He instantly fell against the damp ground, motionless.

Holy shit. Oh my God. Is he actually dead?

Allison’s horrified expression matched mine, more tears coating her face as she stared at Derek’s lifeless body. She stiffened when her aunt joined her in front of Scott, who was still gaping from his crouched position.

“Oh no, not that look.” Kate mused, not sounding the least bit genuine. “That’s the you’re going to have to do it yourself look.”

She raised her gun toward Scott’s chest, a manic grin pulling at her lips. I moved without thinking, taking a big step in their direction. Allison instantly started freaking out and tried to put herself between them, but Kate shoved her away harshly.

She tumbled to the ground just as a hand clasped around my wrist to stop me. I yanked against it, my chest tightening with panic. I had to get over there. I had to help.

“Y/N! Y/N, stop!” Stiles yelled frantically from behind me, his hold falling loose as I continued struggling against him.

I ran forward and staggered to a halt beside Kate, who was still pointing the gun at Scott, having no idea what to do now that I was here. She glanced toward me and sighed with a disinterested roll of her eyes. Before I even fully registered that she moved, I was already on the ground. She’d whipped the gun against the side of my face harshly, white hot pain instantly rippling through my head.

“No!” I heard Allison shout in horror.

A groan trembled past my lips as I shakily pulled myself up onto my elbows. My vision blurred as Scott jerked upright, about to rush to my side before Kate aimed the gun at his chest again. He froze, his wide eyes never leaving me. I brought a hand up to my temple and hissed when my fingers landed on a warm trickle of blood.

“Ah, ah...” Kate tutted, amusement shining in her eyes as she glanced behind me, gun following the movement.

I turned my head and saw Stiles freeze mid-sprint toward me. His eyes narrowed into an angry glare as his jaw clenched tightly, but he didn’t move an inch. I let out a huff, growing frustrated by this whole stupid situation, and swept my gaze back to Kate.

“Just shoot someone already.” I barked, annoyed with her games.

Was it stupid to taunt the person with the weapon? Yes. Did I give a fuck? No. At this point, I was more angry than anything. We’d spent months fighting and tracking the alpha—Peter—as he went on a bloodthirsty rampage through Beacon Hills. We’d nearly died in the school, and at the movie store, and in these very woods. Several times.

Lydia and I had been bitten, and Stiles’ dad was close to a nervous breakdown because nothing in this town makes any goddamn sense unless you’re risking your life everyday just by knowing about the supernatural. And now, we had to deal with Allison’s batshit crazy family, on top of everything.

I just wanted it to be over.

Kate huffed out a surprised laugh and pointed the gun at me again. “What poetic last words.”

“No! Leave her alone! I’m the one you want.” Scott shouted desperately, stumbling upright from his position in the dirt.

An evil smirk twitched at her lips as she ignored him. I watched her pointer finger tighten on the trigger and held my breath as I waited for the inevitable.

“Kate!” A deep voice boomed from behind me, making her pause. I instantly recognized that it was Allison’s dad. “I know what you did.”

The amusement dropped from her face at his words and her eyes flickered up toward the house for a brief moment.

“Put the gun down.” Mr. Argent ordered, dried leaves crunching beneath his shoes as he walked toward us.

“I did what I was told to do.” Kate jutted her hand toward me as she enunciated each word curtly.

I stiffened, very aware that her finger, which still rested against the gun’s trigger, could set it off at any moment. My pulse hammered in my ears loudly and my entire body began trembling as my fear suddenly caught up with me.

“No one asked you to murder innocent people. There were children in that house.”

My mind raced as I slowly pieced together what he was saying. The fire. It was Kate. But why? Why would she murder an entire family?

“Ones that were human. Look what you’re doing now, you’re holding a gun at sixteen year old kids. No proof they’ve spilled human blood.” He continued, his voice harsh and unfeeling. “Now, put the gun down...before I put you down.”

My eyes widened at his threat. Would he really kill his own sister?

Kate stared at him for a few long moments, her face crumbling in disbelief. Finally, she lowered her arm back down to her side. I let out a heavy breath of relief, but didn’t move from my crouched position in front of her. A loud creak from the house had everyone’s attention jerking toward it.

The front door swung open slowly, nothing but darkness behind it.

“Kids, get back.” Allison’s dad ordered gruffly as he cocked his gun and aimed it at the decrepit structure.

Scott stumbled to his feet, but didn’t make a move to run and hide as instructed. Allison joined his side a moment later, her bow and arrow cocked and aimed at the house. I heard quick steps behind me a moment before strong arms wrapped around my waist and hauled me to my feet.

Stiles whipped me around to face him, and I winced as my head throbbed in protest. His hands came up to cradle the sides of my face, his fingers turning red as my blood smeared onto his skin. His wide eyes flickered around my body frantically, as if not fully believing that I was right here in front of him.

He suddenly jerked me toward him and smashed his lips against mine, pouring every emotion he’d just gone through into the kiss. I responded instantly, my hands fisting the warm material of his flannel as I pulled him closer. It was over much too soon as he pulled back with a shaky breath of relief.

“God, I’m so mad at you right now. I could literally kill you.” His eyes twitched as he continued inspecting me for any hidden injuries.

“Wouldn’t that be a little counterproductive?” I chuckled despite the situation, and he just glared at me.

“What is it?” My attention jerked back to Allison at the sound of her panicked voice. I’d nearly forgotten what was going on outside the peaceful bubble that was Stiles.

I turned back toward the house and saw Scott’s eyes flash bright yellow as he peered through the opened front door. “It’s the alpha.”

At his declaration, a huge black mass raced out of the house, moving impossibly fast. It dashed around the area in a big circle before turning abruptly and knocking Mr. Argent right off his feet. He flew into the air before landing heavily, instantly passing out cold as his head slammed against the dirt.

Allison cried out and made a move to help him, but quickly found herself in no better shape as the alpha rammed into her next. Only a second later, Scott was groaning as he lay in a heap beside her on the leaf covered ground. My heart slammed against my ribs painfully as my head whipped from side to side, trying to see where he was now.

All the air rushed from my lungs as a powerful force shoved against mine and Stiles’ sides. His arms instantly wrapped around my waist, and mine around his shoulders. We held onto each other tightly as we flew several feet through the air. At the last second, Stiles shifted us so that he would take the brunt of the fall. He hissed in pain as his back slammed onto the dirt, and I quickly scrambled to get off of him.

“Come on!” Kate’s angry voice echoed through the trees as she jerked her gun around in a circle. She was the only one left standing.

I wrapped an arm around Stiles and helped him sit up. He waved me off, muttering something about being fine, and I huffed in annoyance. At this point I was convinced that he was physically unable to help himself from downplaying his own struggles.

I was about to argue with him, but froze when Peter emerged from the darkness to stand threatening behind Kate. He snatched the arm that held her gun and wrenched it behind her with ease. She grunted in pain as he twisted it with a snap, two shots firing into the sky as they struggled.

She had no choice but to release the gun. It landed on the ground with a dull thud as he gripped her by the throat and tossed her in the air like a ragdoll. She crashed onto the porch, a cloud of dust rising all around her as she shakily pushed herself up.

Peter wasted no time in striding up the broken steps. He bent down and grabbed Kate violently before pressing her back to his chest, holding her in place with his claws at her neck.

“No!” Allison suddenly shouted and sprinted toward them.

My eyes widened in horror. What the hell did she think she was doing? I made a move to follow her, but Stiles wrapped both arms around my waist tightly. I pulled against him for a few seconds, but stopped when Peter’s voice echoed toward us.

“She is beautiful, Kate. She looks like you, only not as damaged. So I’m going to give you a chance to save her.” My breath hitched as he addressed Allison and I started thrashing against Stiles again. I couldn’t let her get hurt. I couldn’t let anyone else I care about become one of his victims. “Apologize. Say you’re sorry for decimating my family, for leaving me burned and broken for six years. Say it, and I’ll let her live.”

A tense moment of silence passed as Kate seemed to weigh her options. Finally, she choked the words out the best she could. “I’m...sorry.”

A small, satisfied smile tugged at Peter’s lips before he ripped her throat out with his claws. My jaw dropped as blood splattered across every nearby surface, my stomach churning at the violence of it all. Allison screamed, practically doubling over in horror as Kate crumpled to the porch with wide, empty eyes. Peter’s shoulders sagged as he let out a long sigh, a look of relief washing over him.

“I don’t know about you, Allison, but that apology didn’t sound very sincere.” His amused gaze bored into her wide, glistening eyes as he stalked down the steps.

By the time he had one foot on the dirt ground, Scott and Derek were crouched in front of her protectively. I hadn’t even noticed that Derek was still alive, let alone completely healed, but I was more than grateful.

“Run.” Scott grunted over his shoulder, and she didn’t hesitate to listen.

She sprinted toward me and Stiles, taking her bow with her, and immediately crumpled into my arms. A harsh sob wracked her body as I pulled her in tight. I felt Stiles’ hand on my back as he guided us hastily toward his Jeep. A few animalistic growls and roars sounded from behind us, and I knew they were fighting.

“I’m sorry.” Allison cried, pulling away from me to wipe at her face. “I’m so, so sorry. I-I didn’t know what happened with you and Lydia, and now Kate’s gone and—oh my God. I’m the worst friend ever.”

Stiles wrenched the passenger door open when we reached the car and I shoved Allison inside before crawling in behind her. Something snapped behind us, and I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d just uprooted a tree or completely destroyed the house.

“It’s okay.” I breathed, running a hand down Allison’s back as she continued blubbering. “We’re both terrible friends, honestly.”

“Wait.” She suddenly perked up, her eyes widening in horror. “My dad.”

Damnit. I‘d completely forgotten about him.

I turned to peer out the window and winced as Peter picked Derek up by the ankle and tossed him through the air. He crashed into Scott, who was trying to pull himself upright a few feet away, bringing him right back down harshly.

Peter snarled, seemingly losing control as he hunched over and shifted fully into a huge, terrifying beast. He roared loudly, baring his claws and stalking forward. He grabbed Derek by the throat and threw him into a nearby tree before turning back to Scott.

“I have to do something.” Stiles suddenly spoke up from the front seat. My head whipped in his direction as he threw open the driver’s side door and clambered onto the ground.

“What? No!” I immediately tumbled out behind him and watched with baited breath as he reached into the trunk.

My brows furrowed as I caught sight of a huge beaker in his hand. I barely had time to register that here was a yellow liquid swirling inside before he hurled it at Peter. As it flew toward him, I realized it was a Molotov cocktail, like the one Lydia showed us how to make when we were stuck inside the school. Peter caught it easily, his glowing red eyes snapping our way with a ferocious growl.

“Oh, damn...” Stiles instantly deflated and took a tentative step back.

My eyes widened as I whipped back around to face Allison, an idea suddenly popping into my head. She seemed to know exactly what I was thinking as she reached for her bow and instantly nocked the arrow into place. After taking only a moment to aim it out the opened window, she fired.

It hit the glass bottle dead center, and Peter’s left arm erupted in flames. He roared frantically and tried shaking the fire off, only managing to make it spread across his torso more quickly. Soon, his entire body was ablaze as he staggered around and howled in agony.

After a few long, torturous moments, he slumped down onto his knees in his human form. Thick smoke billowed from his charred skin as he sputtered and gasped for air. We all stood impossibly still, gaping at him in horror. I don’t think any of us had the slightest idea of what to do next.

Derek suddenly emerged from the house, his face a tight mask of fury. He stalked toward Peter, who now lay on his back, and stood over him with clenched fists.

“Wait!” Scott rose to his feet and stopped only a foot away from them, his eyes wide with panic. Derek’s hard glare never moved an inch. “You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. If you do this, I’m dead. What am I supposed to do?”

My attention snapped back toward him, surprised at his words. There was a cure? I had no idea what he was talking about, but it must’ve been important if he was this freaked out over it.

Derek’s eyes pinched shut and his jaw clenched tightly. He hesitated for only a brief moment before raising a clawed hand in the air.

“Wait! N-no! Don’t!” Scott's desperate plea fell on deaf ears as Derek brought his hand down to slash Peter’s throat.

Allison gasped from beside me, and I just stared ahead with wide eyes. My breath caught in my throat as I watched yet another person’s life fade away right in front of me. It was almost hard to believe, that he was actually dead. We’d all been through so much. It didn’t seem possible that it could all be over, just like that.

There had to be more.

Derek staggered to his feet and turned to glower at Scott over his shoulder. His canines elongated and his eyes flashed bright red before he uttered the words we were all dreading. The ones that would seal our fate for the foreseeable future.

“I’m the alpha now.”

Episode 11 Season 2, Episode 1 (Part One)

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

Note

What would the lost boys think if you accidentally say a different mens name like from a rockbands name. While you was having sex with them

Sure thing fang baby, lemme give it a shot! I’m gonna be honest hon, there isn’t anything romantic about this scenario though, this one is gonna be a whole lot of drama. I write them according to what I think would happen based on their personalities. And let’s be realistic here- None of the boys would respond well to this. All of them are only ever going to polyamorous between each other and their s/o’s in a best case scenario. Outsiders involved in any way, shape, or form is seriously frowned upon. You could call to the great artists of the Renaissance, you could call out Eddie frickin Van Halen, it doesn’t matter. Trust me on this.

THANK YOU TO @imlostinsantacarla WHO IS NOT ONLY MY CO-AUTHOR BUT A FELLOW LOST BOYS WRITER, AND AN AMAZING FRIEND! I appreciate all the help you’ve been, dude I love ya like a sister! Seriously guys, check out her blog, she is amazing!

The Lost Boys’ S/O Moans a Rock Star’s Name During Sex

18+ CONTENT WARNING: Contains Offensive Language, Gore, Homicide, Violent Behaviors, Potential Emotional Triggers, Sexual Themes! READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

David

Any name that isn't his will infuriate him. All he knows is while he's on top of you, you just said another man's name. There's a split second where the infernos of Hades ignites his entire body aflame with pure unadulterated rage. His eyes spark white hot, it takes every ounce of willpower he has to physically calm himself so he doesn't "accidentally" kill you. It's tempting, nearly impossible to resist the urge to slice you open while he's still inside you. How dare you say anyone else's name.

There’s quite the conflict in his head. He wonders if he should pull out, and leave you there without another word. But instead he chooses to take his revenge. Your mouth won't ever make the mistake of calling to anyone but him ever again, if you’re even lucky enough to be graced with his presence once he’s finished with you. Immediately he would've grabbed you by your throat, tempted to squeeze you until you fainted as he demanded you tell him again who's name you just screamed. It's a terrifying moment, you barely choke out the words before he flips you onto your stomach

"...What was that, kitten? I don’t think I heard those lips right! You're gonna have to say that louder for me."

Make no mistake, the fact that it's the name of a celebrity as you desperately try to claim, means fuck all to him. He will punish the fuck out of you! Everything is drawn out. He'll choke your neck until you can't even moan, just barely teasing when you begin to have tunnel vision. There is no way you'll be satisfied, this is for him! He's not about to give you what you want until you're crying, pleading for him to let you orgasm. You know what he does? Just at the edge of climax covered in scratches and bites, he pulls out and leaves you. Shaken, exhausted, alone, and unsatisfied. Why the hell would he give you the satisfaction of what you want when you called another man's name when you guys were having sex?

David is one of the guys whose ego is going to be busted, and that is a very poor choice to make. He would immediately get dressed. No aftercare, he wants you to feel filthy, dirty. You didn't deserve his love that night. The guys would jump out of his way, you don't want to be in his warpath when he gets like this. As he's tearing through victims he's constantly questioning himself. Why are you thinking of another man when you guys are intimate?! He doesn't let people in, but he let you in, and you fucked it! Obliterating his trust in less than a second.

Expect him to suspect you of adultery. Give him space, because for the next few weeks he won't humor any excuses you give him. How can he be sure you aren't lying?! Maybe it wasn't the lead singer of the band you just said. Maybe it was just some fucker with a similar first name. David's trust in you no longer exists, and his respect is gone too. Afterwards he refuses to get intimate with you. Even hugs are rejected, he doesn't want you touching him- period!

Celebrity or not, don't bother being surprised when that guy winds up dead in their precious Hollywood estate a week later. David is possessive as fuck and he doesn't take betrayal lightly, no matter how big or small. You’d hear it on TV. The rock star found with his wrists and throat slashed, presumed suicide. But you already knew who was responsible. David isn’t even phased when you storm up to him on the boardwalk with a lit cigarette in his mouth. Of course he used mind control to have the bastard stab himself and slash open his throat. He only wishes he could’ve done it himself. He’ll even tell you all the gruesome details, mocking how he greatly suffered because David made him think there were bugs under his skin. David is over 110% petty. In fact, he’ll taunt you about this after. At first it’ll come off cold, passive and indifferent before it spills over into pure aggression. If you dare try to get angry at him he’ll put that to rest real fast, looking you dead in the eyes.

"You’re damn right I killed him. And you know what? His blood on your hands, y/n, not mine. You made one grave fucking mistake, you have no one but yourself to blame. I don't know why you're crying."

He's never gonna let you forget this. The likelihood of him staying is entirely dependent on how long you two were together. That also means how angry he gets will rely on that as well. He's not gonna trust you after either. In his eyes you're both done. But even then, you're still his at the end of the day. He’s not losing to a corpse, you knew the moment you two came together that you were going to be with him- whether you fucking like it or not. If you think you're gonna dare to move on, and leave him miserable in the dust after hurting him so, think again! You’ll be making it up to him for years, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll forgive you.

Dwayne

Low-key freezes at first. It’s almost an otherworldly feeling. He must have heard you wrong! Did he hear you right? No way! Was that someone else's name? It certainly wasn’t his! Dwayne will just full on stop the action, the look on his face just dropping! It’s confusion, fear, rage. There’s no words. You had said another man’s name. Not even said it- you screamed it out. The nervous expression furrowing your face told him all he needed to know. He would immediately get dressed and leave you still sprawled on his bed storming off before he’s tempted to scream at you.

But he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn't say anything, but when you look into his eyes he's pissed! His eyes are fucking GLOWING, his fangs are bared, utterly insulted! This is a rage you’ve never seen on Dwayne. You done fucked up mate. This was an intensely intimate moment with him that you just shattered by the mere mention of someone else. Rock band or not, it’s another man’s name. Period. He knows exactly who Steven Tyler is, he doesn’t give a fuck.

When he pulled out and got off of you it was with such speed you never thought was possible from him because of how big his stature is. But now he’s shaken. For a moment it doesn’t even seem possible. Dwayne is trying to calm down, but if his heart was still beating it would be tearing through his chest. He feels like he might throw up, his stomach is just twisting into hideous knots he never thought possible.

Dwayne is hurt. Utterly crushed. He loves you, or rather, loved you. It’s hard for him to understand what to do with this. He would never dream of doing something this dumb like that to you. Out on the boardwalk he doesn't even see other men or women, like that because he's with you, so for you to do that to him? He's intensely wounded. You said a rock star’s name, but what’s to stop you next time from saying someone else’s name? If you were going to be screaming other people’s names during sex, how far would you go?

When he leaves, he storms off for hours. You won’t see him again until the sun is starting to rise, and even then he won’t speak to you. Well, unless it’s to tell you to get out. Yeah, he wants you gone. Go home. When he’s ready, he’ll talk to you. For now, he doesn’t even look at you. Don’t expect to see him on the boardwalk. In fact, none of the boys are there. If they see you, it's silence and dirty looks. They’ve never seen Dwayne like this. Even when Jasper died he powered through it. This made him utterly depressed, nothing made their friend smile. Paul tried everything, even dancing in drag! Nothing!

Out of everyone, it's gonna be the hardest for Dwayne to move past this. It’s not just a major turn off, it almost feels like a betrayal. Unless you two have been together for a significant amount of time, he’d probably break up with you. If not, then he’d demand space. He isn’t ready to let go, but he’s not ready to just forgive you. He won't be able to look at you the same afterwards. How could you be thinking of another man when his dick is literally inside of you?

Are you unhappy? Are you unsatisfied? Like what's going on? Did you not want to be with him anymore?! He’d be questioning himself, questioning anything. Probably will talk it out with you but it's difficult for him to move past.

It'll take a long time before he can be intimate, if he even can be with you because the trust just isn't there anymore. For Dwayne to be with someone, to let them in, he needs there to be trust in order for him to be intimate. It’s so hard for him to let someone in his life outside of his brothers, especially if you’re human. Now? He doesn’t even know. He may try to patch things up but all he’d hear and see is just you crying for someone else. The damage done might be too much for him to handle. If you guys manage to revive your relationship it’d be an utter miracle because honestly the chances are viciously slim.

Paul

Whatever band member’s name you just called is now officially ruined for Paul forever. By the time you screamed it he was pretty much finished, and mid-climax his heart just drops, utterly falls into his stomach and any horny left inside him is dead.

That man just pulled out so fast you were winded. He won't touch you after, and if you even try to touch him he will slap your hand away! Eventually he’s so pissed he’ll try to get away from you because he's just so furious. You have to understand, he didn’t hear a band name, he hear another man’s name

"Wait what-... What the fuck-?! What the ever loving fuck did you just fucking say?!"

A switch has gone off in his head and he's almost violently shoving his clothes on. If you won’t leave then he will, and he honestly needs to get the fuck of there pronto before he’s tempted to do something messy he might regret!

Paul may come off as this cocky, goofy playboy himself, but he's serious about you! He may have slept around before, but he’s only ever in a relationship, a real, serious relationship, if he truly trusts you. Paul hates being vulnerable, it’s a foreign and risky task that could bite him in the ass. And it just did. All trust is gone and he immediately jumps to the conclusion that you're sleeping with other people. A wave of insecurity takes over. He has a fragile ego, that’s why he tends to be such a needy boyfriend- he always needs to know you love him and that you won’t leave him. Honestly, now he can't look at a picture of the band member you called out during sex anymore, it’s ruined for him now. Their music pisses them off, their face makes him enraged. Even sex is ruined for him for awhile. This boy is so possessive it's unreal, but you've made things all weird now and he can't shake that shit off!

He genuinely cares about you! He knows he's done some dumb shit before! Paul’s behavior can always come across as flirty, even when he’s in his most relaxed state. He’s gotten shit for it before, and he totally understood when you would get ticked off at him for it. But... he never expected that fucking shit to come from you!

Paul will try to patch things up, as best as he can. He doesn't really wanna stay mad at you; it's not his style. However, things are just... different after. He lost that deep, trusting connection with you he once had. It’s just back to square one now, he may even need some space for a few days. Even if you guys manage to pick up the pieces, you have to earn every ounce of his trust back. Part of him sees it as a challenge. Every time you have sex he is determined to make it the most incredible, mind melting, mouth watering fuck he’s ever give in his afterlife! You won’t ever, ever think of another guy again! Unfortunately it makes it hard for him to enjoy it, because not only is he not relaxed, he’s utterly focused on you and there’s still such a massive fear that you’ll do it again.

Part of him desperately wants to murder the guy, and he wouldn't feel bad about it. Not one bit. Gets way more possessive with you than he ever had been in the past, and frankly it’ll take years before he ever learns to relax again. He may see you as untrustworthy whenever you're around other males. His anger is uncontrollable some nights, will probably kick, punch, or throw things. His rage is fucking untamed man! This haunts him, he thought you were starting to lov-... well, now he feels like an idiot.

If you really do stay with him, Paul will be petty. He’s immature, he’s never had this serious of a relationship. So with that, he doesn’t understand how to handle the complex emotions that come with a situation like this. Even though you hurt him, he still cares about you! And that, in a way, makes him even angrier! He should be furious with you, but more than anything he just wants you to want him. Only him! He will remind you of this constantly, even with callous side comments because he can’t let go. If you guys fuck he may start call another women's name. Part of him doesn't give a shit if it makes you uncomfortable or insecure, because you did it to him!

Paul will blast his favorite bands that you didn't ruin for him, even the other guys can’t cheer him up. None of them have ever seen Paul like this. You wouldn’t expect it to hit him this hard, but it does. He was laying into you, he was inside you, and your mind wanted someone else. Your pleasure wasn’t for him! Your desire, your love, your mind was yearning someone else when he was giving you everything he had! He won't look at you, or talk to you for a good few days. Maybe even a week. He won’t let you come to the hotel, on the boardwalk he’ll openly give you the cold shoulder. The other guys might too. How could they be certain it even was a band name? Maybe Paul had just rationalized it as a rock name so he didn’t have to face the fact you called for some random guy. David is wholly convinced you were having an affair, Marko is just pissed you hurt his friend, Dwayne just doesn’t know what to think of it all. Anytime you try to talk to him before he’s ready, he just acts like you don't exist. He’s hurt, and his anger is the only thing keeping him from forbidden tears. Just give him some space man!

Marko

Marko would be the most hurt out of the group. The sound is just sickening. There he was, holding you to him, deep inside when your voice said… the wrong name? The horror makes his stomach drop, he immediately lifts himself off to look at you still lost in pleasure even as he’s stopped. He's so hard to read, you don't even realize you've hurt him until he's pulled himself out and off of you.

He wouldn’t speak, or move for a solid 30 minutes. Just silently sitting on the edge of the bed, if you tried to speak he wouldn’t even turn to look at you. His muscles are rigid, wound tight in knots. He’s imploding from the inside, it’s impossible for him to keep his vampire rage subdued, so in a fury he leaves. Marko is not fucking around right now. You’ve screwed up, majorly. He thinks you’ve been cheating on him, and if there’s something Marko takes very seriously, it’s loyalty. He needs to get to get the fuck away from you, because he’s not sure if he can control himself for much longer, and despite his suspicions he doesn't want to hurt you.

Unlike Paul or Dwayne, when he returns Marko will not talk this out. You honestly shouldn’t have stayed, you should have left when he was gone because he’s still seething when you try to explain yourself. No. You're in the fucking wrong and he's not budging. He will not be hearing any of your bullshit excuses, whatever you throw out doesn’t matter! It's a dumb move he'd expect from Paul, but not from you. Part of him is almost tempted to just try to work things out, but Marko doesn’t trust easily and you’ve not just damaged his trust, you’ve damaged his self esteem. When he heads to the caves and you’re still here he’s had enough.

“Get out…”

“Wh-What?”

Marko flares his fangs at you, blood still staining his mouth. “GET. THE FUCK. OUT.”

You will not be back in that hotel for a long time, if ever again. Marko will avoid you for a while, and I’m talking months here. It’s not just a silent treatment, if he sees you approaching he will start up his motorcycle and ride away- with or without the other guys. He can’t even look at you. If we’re being realistic here, Marko probably won't be able to be intimate with you again. He can’t look past it. All he can see is you calling for someone else, in your heated climax in his arms, utterly exposed, and you desired someone else. He has more self respect for himself than the others, so more than likely he will break up with you!

He’s hurt. It's a cluster of emotions, all of them feel horrid. Rage, pain, sorrow, betrayal. How could you do this? Have you seen him? (like bruhhhhhh where you gonna find a man that rocks a crop top as good as him? where?) He definitely went on a killing spree right after. He needs to release his rage, it’s so pent up he doesn’t know how else to handle it. There would be blood everywhere, there wouldn’t even be any bodies left behind. Everything is utter carnage. Marko would need some serious alone time from everyone, he wouldn't talk to the other boys for at least a few hours.

Paul is furious at you when they find out what you did. You're fucking dead! Marko means so much to them, and you meant so much to Marko! This was his best friend! They let you into their coven, they trusted you with their brother, and you genuinely broke this poor baby’s heart! Hope you don’t have any unfinished business. Say your prayers and make amends now, because you're packing for your funeral buddy. David even hunts down anyone with the name you called and kills them, and he’ll be sure you know. You don’t hurt his friends, you’re lucky that he’s allowing you to draw breath from this miserable planet.

Afterwards, Marko does not go into another relationship for years. Maybe even a decade. It hurts him to go back on the boardwalk. Everything reminds him of you. The ferris wheel where you guys had your first kiss, the food stands he’d take you to, the arcade where he’d kick your butt at Mortal Kombat. Even more so is the sight of you. He doesn’t want to run into you at all. Even the sound of your name, anything to do with you makes him feel down or enraged. He already had trust issues before you, now he wasn’t nearly as willing to be trusting to anyone but his brothers. The next s/o he has, if he ever decides to have another, will definitely be picking up the pieces.

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

Text

now where did that come from?

Prompt: wound reveal, ignoring an injury

Whumpee: Nick Burkhardt

Fandom: Grimm

hi this is like my favorite trope ever and i had so much fun writing it!! i hope you enjoy :)

Nick runs at full speed after the escaping suspect. She’s several hundred feet in front of him, flying through the woods with practiced ease. He’s doing his best to keep up, and a few feet behind him, Hank is doing the same. But it’s nearly hopeless - she’s too fast and knows the area far too well, and they just don’t.

Nick sees her jump over something in front of him, and as he gets closer he realizes it’s a fallen tree. He leaps over it, too, but halfway into the jump something tugs on his ankle and pulls him down, slamming his chest directly into the trunk of the tree.

He lies there for a second, the breath knocked out of him, his chest hurting quite a bit. He groans and pushes himself off of the tree, looking to his ankle and finding the source of his fall - a thick vine wrapped around his shoe, which he definitely hadn’t seen. He pulls it off and throws it to the ground as Hank skids to a halt next to him.

“She’s gone,” he says, and Nick groans again.

“I could have caught her,” he says, feeling suddenly quite stupid for having tripped.

“Did you see how fast she was going?” Hank protests. “No way. You okay?” he adds, as Nick pushes himself to his feet, wiping some dirt off his clothes.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. Just a little sore, really, and more embarrassed than anything.

“Good,” Hank says, and they begin their walk back to the car.

On their way back, Nick begins to realize that he’s more than a little sore. His chest feels about what’s expected for slamming into a hard object at such a high speed, and it hurts even more when he breathes in.

But he has more important things to think about than a little pain, such as explaining to the Captain that the suspect had evaded them for a second time; and the dinner he’s having at Monroe and Rosalee’s tonight, which they’ve been planning for quite some time.

He distracts himself for some time with these thoughts on the way back to the precinct. Getting out of the car tears his attention back to his chest, as a particularly sharp spike of pain travels up his torso when he stands. He sucks in a breath to try and ride it out, but of course that breath only makes it hurt worse, and he can’t quite hide a wince from Hank, who asks if he’s okay, again.

“Just kind of sore,” Nick admits, not entirely untruthfully. He is kind of sore. And he kind of feels like his chest is being crushed in a vise. What’s the difference?

They head back into the precinct, whereupon Nick’s luck only gets worse. It’s nearly five o’clock, and large swaths of people are leaving the building, including one person carrying quite a large stack of boxes, who stumbles in the hallway and drops a few of them. Nick, nearby, catches one reflexively, and it hits him square in the chest, sending such an intense wave of pain through him that he can neither breathe nor see for several seconds.

He drops the box in pained surprise, biting back a yelp, and hurries to rejoin Hank, barely able to focus on anything besides the constant pain in his chest, which feels like it’s been multiplied tenfold by the recent box incident. Still. It’s fine, Nick tells himself, though he’s getting less and less sure he believes that.

Unfortunately, the paperwork and discussion with Renard about the case takes far longer than Nick had expected, and it’s already 6:30 by the time he leaves the precinct, feeling pain wash back over him as the distraction of work melts away. He’d like to go home, change, find something to bring over to Monroe and Rosalee’s, but the thought of going home sparks a strong desire to stay there, and he can’t skip dinner with his friends. And besides, even though his chest might be burning and aching with every single breath he takes, it’s really not that bad. He’s still standing, isn’t he?

He arrives at Monroe and Rosalee’s house around seven, and spends several minutes sitting in his car convincing himself to stand up. He really doesn’t want to. The pain has died down to a far more bearable level thanks to his not moving, and the thought of inviting it back stops him from moving at all.

Eventually, though, his willpower outlasts his natural human desire to make the pain stop, and he very slowly, very carefully, gets out of the car, fighting the urge to wrap an arm around his chest, because if he does, his friends will ask him what’s wrong, and he doesn’t feel like going down that path tonight. He’s just going to ignore this as best as he can and have a nice dinner, and afterwards he can go home and lay down and wallow in his pain.

He knocks softly at the door, which is quickly thrown open by a smiling Rosalee. “Good to see you, Nick,” she says, and before he can stop her, she’s pulling him into a tight hug.

Against his will, Nick makes a noise of pain, somewhere between a groan and a whimper. Rosalee pulls back, looking at him worriedly. “What’s wrong?” she asks, and Nick shakes his head, brushing her off.

“It’s nothing. I fell.”

“Okay,” Rosalee says, her tone making it clear she doesn’t quite believe him. “Dinner’s almost ready. Monroe!” she calls. “Nick’s here!”

Monroe pokes his head out from the kitchen, waving at Nick with a spoon. “Hey, Nick! What’s up?”

Nick gives him a wave, then follows Rosalee into the kitchen to help gather plates and silverware. He doesn’t talk the whole time, and he feels awful about it, but he can’t muster up the energy or strength required. He knows if he starts to talk he’ll have to cut himself off - breathing slowly, shallowly, and evenly hurts enough, never mind speaking.

A few minutes later, they’re settled down with plates of vegan lasagna, which, Monroe had assured Nick, tasted exactly like the real thing.

Nick has to agree with him - the dinner is fantastic, or it would be, anyway, if he had any interest in eating it. But swallowing causes a particularly uncomfortable sensation in his chest, almost like it’s tearing, and he doesn’t particularly want to end this night in the hospital, which is surely where he’s going to end up if his chest tears open. Not that it will, he knows, on some level, but it hurts so badly he can’t help but wonder.

“You okay, man?” Monroe asks him, and Nick realizes that he and Rosalee have both finished their plates. His own, in comparison, is still full.

“Is it bad? I knew I shouldn't have added that extra zucchini,” Monroe says, smacking himself in the forehead.

“No, no,” Nick says quickly, wishing that he could explain in some way that wasn’t going to spoil their evening. “Just...not hungry,” he finishes lamely, his voice scarcely above a whisper. He feels a grimace of pain start to come over his face, and quickly forces it down.

“Well, do you want something?” Monroe suggests, looking around the room like another dinner is going to magically appear.

Nick shakes his head. “No, really, I’m-” he says, and then he cuts himself off with a cough that turns his vision white with pain. He coughs a couple more times into his fist, trying and failing miserably to breathe through the pain.

When he stops, both Monroe and Rosalee are looking at him, concerned. He blinks at them through teary eyes and then looks down at his hand, which is where both of them are looking. It’s covered in spots of blood, and, he realizes, his mouth tastes of blood too.

“That’s not good,” Monroe says.

“What happened, Nick?” Rosalee asks, at the same time.

Nick shakes his head again, completely unable to speak. He puts a hand to his chest, spreading out his fingers like he can hold himself together by that force alone.

“What happened?” Rosalee asks again, moving so that she’s sitting directly in front of him. “Nick, please.”

Tears well up in his eyes unbidden, and he bites his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. He’s so close to just breaking, everything hurts so much and something is definitely wrong but it shouldn’t be, he should be fine, he should be-

“Hey, it’s okay, buddy,” Monroe says, sitting next to Rosalee across from him. “Just tell us what happened and we’ll figure it out.”

Nick forces himself to speak. “Fell,” he manages, knowing that it’s not a very helpful statement. But it’s the best he can do before another nearly blinding spike of pain shoots up his chest, and he shuts his eyes against it.

Someone unbuttons his shirt, then, and pulls off his jacket. “Oh, Nick,” Rosalee says, and Nick opens his eyes, looking down at himself.

His entire chest, it seems like, is bruising a deep purple. It’s swollen slightly, and Rosalee’s cool fingers provide a brief respite from the burning pain that’s been coating his chest for the past several hours.

“Youch,” Monroe observes. “You fell?”

Nick gives him a shaky nod, feeling a good deal more vulnerable than he’s used to. “It hurts,” he confesses, finally, in a whisper so quiet he doubts anyone can hear it.

But they can. “I bet,” Rosalee says sympathetically, rubbing his shoulder.

“I know,” Monroe adds, at nearly the same time, putting a hand on Nick’s knee.

Nick coughs again, then, reaching out a blind hand and grabbing onto Monroe’s shirt for support, as his other hand comes to his mouth. When he pulls it away, it’s yet again speckled with fresh blood.

“Let’s get you to the hospital, yeah?” Rosalee suggests, phrasing it like a question but leaving no room for Nick to argue.

He lets himself be maneuvered into a standing position, feeling himself start to fall as a wave of intense pain rushes over him for what has to be the hundredth time. But Monroe and Rosalee are there, and they catch him before he can fall, slipping arms around his shoulders and leading him out to the car.

The ride to the hospital is spent with his friends gently but sternly telling him off. “Don’t even think about hiding something like that from us again,” Monroe warns Nick, giving him a Look from the driver’s seat.

“We care about you, Nick,” Rosalee adds, mirroring Monroe’s Look from the passenger seat. “You know you can talk to us, right?”

Nick gives her a small nod from his position in the backseat, where he’s leaning his head against the cool glass of the window and watching it fog up with every small, pained breath he takes.

A few minutes later, they’re at the emergency entrance to the hospital, and Nick is refusing a wheelchair. “‘M okay,” he insists, knowing full well he’s not, and knowing, also, that his friends know he’s not. But they also know not to push too much, and instead of forcing Nick into a wheelchair, they both silently come up on either side of him, supporting him completely.

Just before they reach the doors, Nick feels his legs give out from under him as the pain becomes, finally, too much to bear. But he doesn’t fall, even for a second, because his friends are still right there, holding him up, and telling him it’s alright.

“It’s okay, Nick, we’ve got you.”

aaaa thanks so much for reading!!!!!! i hope you liked it :)

#whumptober2020 #no.30 #wound reveal #ignoring an injury #grimm #fic #nick burkhardt #hidden injury #broken ribs #broken bones #supported walk #coughing blood #blood from the mouth

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notgonnarememberthis · 4 years

Text

And Isn’t It Love?

Hello!! This is so far off brand but again, I blame Em. We got on a soft train and I couldn't help but write this. This is a companion piece to the story "Doesn't this have a name" (previously titled "Take it back" but I changed it after I realized I wanted these to be a series. The first involved Jessica realizing that she was in love with gil so I figured, why the hell not flip the script and write the opposite side of it? This is a HELL of a lot softer than the original but I still very much enjoyed writing it and I hope y'all like it to.

Gil is beginning to think that any case that comes across his desk is doomed to never be as simple as it appears first hand. If not the case itself, then keeping Bright within eyesight was enough to make more grey appear in his hair by the end of the day. Hell, keeping an eye on any of the Whitlys has stressed him out more than he’d like to admit.

Which is why it pained him to turn down Jessica’s invitation to be her date to the debutante of yet another New York socialite. The case got messy quickly and he didn’t have the time was his primary reason. Still he could see the guilt in her eyes, a long forgiven conversation still present in her mind. Truth be told it’s still present in his too.

Not because he holds anything against her. The thing is she’s absolutely right. He doesn’t do well in that world. He’s not a fan of small talk or any of the business that’s so wrapped in each one. Jessica, however, she thrives there. Watching her bounce effortlessly from person to person with a magnetic smile on her face is breathtaking.

And then her world fell apart.

Finally seeing her build her way back up again after so long drifting meaninglessly from place to place. It’s wonderful to see.

He hated that he had to miss it.

So when Malcolm, of all people, said he was too busy to go undercover at the debutante after they’d discovered that one of the suspects may attend the party, he grew a little suspicious. Even more so when after a long day at work he found Malcolm already inside his apartment with a tailor, of all things.

“I have a suit.”

“A suit.” Malcolm had scoffed. “This is a debutante you need more than a suit. And besides, don’t you want it to be a good surprise.”

Honestly they should’ve known better than thinking they could keep the new relationship a secret for long. Between Malcolm and Ainsley one of them would grow suspicious and fast. All it would take is a moment that is questionable to either of them. They’d immediately run and tell the other and their whole cover would be blown.

He fixes his tie for the hundredth time as he steps out of his car, the valet immediately extending his hand to take the keys. It took all of his willpower not to immediately turn him down. This was his third car in the past 2 years, he can’t help but be a little protective. He hands the younger man the keys with a polite grin before heading inside.

He’s almost immediately overwhelmed by the amount of people inside. Constant movement threatens to pull him into the waves of the motion and he suddenly feels awfully uncertain of this whole thing.

It’s for the case, he reminds himself, pushing head on into the chaos.

Finding her in the crowd is easy. He gravitates towards the sound of her laugh. It’s her flighty, fake one, but it pulls him to her all the same. He watches her from afar for a minute, unable to contain the smile on his face. Standing there in a deep green gown that probably costs more than his monthly paycheck, she looks absolutely in her element. As if the 20 years of isolation hadn’t even dented her.

The man she’s speaking to points in his direction, having caught him staring. The look on her face was absolutely worth every second of being poked and prodded the night before, and definitely worth the swarm of people brushing past him. The look of utter shock and a softness normally reserved only for Malcolm and Ainsley.

She doesn’t even say goodbye in her hurry to get to him. Her hands find his chest and he can almost see her mind connecting the dots. “What are you doing here?” She half shouts over the constant music and conversation of others. “I thought you had a case.”

He thinks about telling her the truth for a second, that he’s meant to be observing one of the patrons of the family. He doesn’t want to kill her excitement so he decides against it. “I wanted to surprise you.”

She shakes her head with a laugh. “You know I’m used to Malcolm skipping out on me, but I should’ve known something was up when Ainsley declined my invitation.” She leans forwards, kissing him lightly. “Thank you for coming.” Her soft tone barely carries over the music. His hand cups her face, his thumb stroking her cheek softly.

“Of course Jess.” She turns her head, placing a kiss on his palm.

Jessica takes his hand in hers pulling him across the room. “Come on, let’s dance.” He tries to put up an argument. He hasn’t danced in years, he’ll only step on her toes, but she doesn’t take no for an answer.

It’s far from the proper form, elegant movements swirling around them. Any time they bump awkwardly or he steps on her dress she lets out a laugh. A real one, one that makes him so bad about his lack of skills. He loosens up, allowing the movements to flow more naturally, less worried about the people around them and more of the woman in his arms.

And then he remembers why he’s supposed to be here. He glances around the room again, spying curly dark hair dipping through the crowd, he could’ve sworn… Then he spies Malcolm leaning against a bannister. The kid smiles at him flashing him a thumbs up.

He’d been set up.

“What are you looking at?” Jessica asks, turning her head to see. It’s too late, Malcolm has already disappeared into the crowd to actually look for the man that they needed to question. He shakes his head slightly.

“Shouldn’t you be socializing.” He half jokes, “Not everyday you get an invitation like this.”

“Please.” She half grins leaning in slightly. “This is hardly a debutante. They don’t even have canapés.” He rolls his eyes but her expression grows serious, if only for a moment. “I don’t care about them.” Her eyes flash over his shoulder, breaking eye contact with the weight of the confession. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here, with you.” His chest swells, a soft almost embarrassed smile crosses her face.

Catching her off guard, he gives her a spin. She shrieks surprised but to her credit, she falls into it naturally. She tosses her head back with a laugh as he pulls her back in. The moment is so small but it nearly knocks him off of his feet. He’s struck suddenly by the realization.

Love should frighten him. He’s loved and lost it all in such a short time. Much shorter than either he or Jackie deserved. Hell, he doesn’t even know if Jessica could ever even admit to being in love, not after all that’s happened to her. Love had hurt him, but it nearly buried her alive.

And yet she’s still here. Crashing clumsily into his chest and dissolving into uncontrollable laughter as they rock in place to the song. His own chuckles bubble beneath the surface as he holds her tightly.

Yes, he’s loved and he’s lost before. That’s why he’s not letting her go.

#prodigal son #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gilssica #why is the ship name so ugly #gil arroyo #jessica whitly #malcolm bright #kinda #he schemin'#honestly kinda digging this vibe change #prodigal son spoilers

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ethelphantom · 4 years

Text

white gold ring

Hey look it’s the second (and last) part of my Dickinette Valentine’s series as it’s day 14, White Day. It seems y’all are also getting more proposals. Have fun!

Ao3 | First part

This is Maribat -- Don’t like; Don’t read

____________________________________

“Do you think she’s going to say yes? No, scratch that, do you think she’s gonna break up with me after this because I’m doing something she isn’t ready for yet?” Dick asked, fiddling with the small box in his hands. He didn’t really know what to do with his hands, so this had to do.

Kori groaned and shook her head, feeling the slightest disappointment in his friend. “Dick. Try to be real. She would literally never break up with you unless you deeply hurt her — which I'm sure won't happen — if she has any say in the matter, and if she’s not ready, then she’ll tell you and you’ll keep your relationship as ‘dating’ until she is ready,” she sighed and patted Dick’s head. “Now go out there and do it already — you don’t have all day if you want the rest of us to do what you asked us to.”

Dick smiled sheepishly and shrugged as she pushed him closer to where Marinette was animatedly talking with Kagami. Kagami had a soft smile on her face as she watched Marinette excitedly talk about something. It was rather adorable. Dick wiped his hands on his pants (Alfred would be so disappointed and took a deep breath. As he exhaled again, he lifted his gaze back from the floor to his girlfriend and walked towards her with determination in his demeanour. He did look back once but continued on when Kori glared at him and pointed sharply at Marinette.

God.

Why did this have to be so difficult?

Why did Dick have to be so difficult?

Once he was out of hearing range and they were sure he wouldn’t look back anymore, Adrien and Roy appeared beside Kori. Roy laughed, clearly aware of the irony of the situation.

“It feels like I’ve done this exact thing before too, just with Marinette when she confessed. Seriously. How is neither of them able to just do the things when they’re both so confident otherwise? They know the other would never hate them or do anything to hurt them, this doesn’t need to be so difficult,” she said grumbling and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I love them both but this is just ridiculous.”

Adrien snorted. “I’m not really surprised about Marinette. She’s confident as long as it’s not about her relationships with other people. Considering what happened with Alya, it’s actually rather understandable.”

“You’re, unfortunately, right about that. If I ever get Alya or Lila in my hands…”

“Yeah, we get it, Kori. You want to get Mari justice.”

Kori just deadpanned. “Would you stop me?”

“Nope, never. I would help.”

“He had some kind of a brilliant plan and reason why today, though, right?” Roy asked, arching a brow.

“Yeah, he does. He refused to elaborate on it though.”

“Do you think he’s going to—”

“Yeah, he is. Would you please make sure he—”

“On it, Kori.”

Adrien snickered. “Consider it done.”

With a sigh and a smile, Kori watched Roy and Adrien going after Dick, Roy turning around for a second to give her a thumbs up and a wink while Adrien made a beeline for Kagami.

________________

“Hiya Teacup! And Miss Riposte, could I steal my girlfriend for a second?” Dick asked when he reached the two young women, giving them a quick salute. Marinette turned to look at him and gave him a bright smile as she fell into his opened arms for a hug. Dick squeezed her and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Her hair smelled like cherries and vanilla. The warmth of her body in the slightly cold breeze was a good reminder of just how lucky he was to have her, to have her have chosen him.

“It seems to me you already stole her away, Boy Wonder. For longer than a second, too,” Kagami said, only the faintest smile visible on her face anymore. Dick gulped, knowing she knew what he was planning, afraid that she thought it was a bad idea or anything like that. He wouldn’t back away though, he’d spent far too long trying to convince himself to do it.

Marinette detached herself from Dick and booped Kagami on the nose. “Hah, as though you mind, Yù Jiě,” she said with a laugh, making the corners of Kagami’s lips quirk upwards.

Dick was happy Marinette had such great friends but the chilling steel of Kagami’s eyes when she had looked at him was, well, it had him shiver — Clark was nothing compared to Kagami even if he was sometimes called the man of steel. Nope. It was enough to make him reconsider all of his plans for today and his life choices, consider just ignoring the burn of the small box in his pocket, knowing it would take him an irritatingly long while to muster the willpower to do this again.

Yeah, how about no, Kori and Roy would kill him after having spent so long trying to hype him up.

And then, thank all things holy and sacred, his saviour arrived at the spot, spitting off some bullshit about needing Kagami’s help with fencing techniques like, right now, and definitely not later because later would be too late. Adrien made a little chit chat with Marinette too and told her he wanted to test the new men’s wear line she’d designed a little earlier as soon as she was finished with them, which let Roy sneak up on them from behind and give Dick a light punch on the arm. While Marinette was distracted, he listed off some of the reasons Dick himself had mentioned when talking about why he should do this and then told him to ‘just get his shit together and do it already’, and ‘no, Kagami doesn't disapprove, she’s just worried for the both of you’.

It helped.

As soon as Marinette or Kagami looked like they were ready to turn their attention back to him, Roy slipped away and gave him one last thumbs up and a look that seemed to say “you’re gonna do fine if you just fucking do it.”

Typical.

Yeah, he was totally thankful for his friends, even if they were assholes sometimes.

Kagami agreed to leave with Adrien, walking to the opposite direction from Roy, and once Marinette’s back was turned to them, she made the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at Dick. He was certain she was being serious about it, too.

“Mind if we take a short walk?” he asked Marinette, trying to ignore the burn of all the eyes on them that Marinette wasn’t even aware of. Marinette smiled and grabbed the arm he was offering for her. They walked for a while, talking about any and all things trivial. Slowly, they approached the place he’d decided was the perfect place, and his nerves were all suddenly telling him to just stop and run away as fast as he could. Suppressing that thought, he led Marinette to the centre of the square.

There, on the right, he could see a flow of long, bright red hair that faded to orange behind a corner and both Roy and Jason trying to be very subtle and nonchalant about following them. Both Kagami and Adrien were just leaning against a tree and having a conversation, though it was obvious to him that both were sneaking glances at them every now and then. A mob of blue and black hair walked past them, smiling. He was the only one of them with any actual idea of what subtle meant, it seemed, as he lifted the camera in his hands a little bit before simply walking away.

So while he was glad all of them were there and he’d literally told them to get their butts over to make sure he’d have pictures of this and his friends as support, it was still nerve-wracking.

What had he gotten himself in to?

When he stopped walking, Marinette let go of his arm and turned to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips even as it was clear she was trying to hide her own confusion and nervousness from him. It was appreciated, even if he could easily see it from her. Over the years, he’d grown fluent in speaking Marinette and her body language, and they both knew it. She knew how to read him (sometimes uncomfortably) well. It was nice to know that someone would understand him beyond his actions even if his words failed him sometimes and he ended up putting up a show.

“Uh. I.” Such an eloquent start, Dick. Congratulations. “So, you remember how two years back you confessed to me on Valentine’s Day in this place and gave me chocolate cereal? It was very sweet and thoughtful of you, by the way.”

Mari nodded slowly at him, clearly confused about what was going on. She gave him a small smile nonetheless, most likely as a response to the latter half of his words.

Once he got the confirmation, he continued speaking. “Well. So, I forgot White Day back then, didn’t even think about getting you a gift in return like I feel like I should have, but I’ve got you one now. A gift of higher value times eternity, or so I hope, because you deserve that much and even more,” he said, pulled out the box from his pocket and made a show of doing a flip that ended with him on one knee on the ground. He opened the box to show her what it contained, biting his lip.

He was almost sure he could hear Kori groan because of the flip he’d done.

Marinette gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. There were tears swelling in her eyes, but the crinkles around the eyes told him she was smiling. She breathed heavily as the tears started falling down before she threw herself in his arms. Dick caught her effortlessly, stood back up and twirled around with Marinette in his tight embrace. Then he settled her back on the ground and slipped the ring around her finger. He’d tried his best at choosing one she would love — there were two jewels on the white gold ring, a ruby and an aquamarine, both with double halos decorated with small diamonds. It wasn’t the best quality ring as he refused to let Bruce pay for it, but Bruce had managed to convince him to take a part of his birthday gift (a couple of hundreds of bucks) early as it was in 6 days anyway.

After that, he just held her in his arms, pressing his face in her hair and inhaling her smell. It was nice and comfortable. Both of them were ecstatic about things going so well, both of them enjoyed physical contact, especially when it came from one another. It was like they were the only two people in the world. It was perfect — the moment couldn’t have been better.

No, except their nosy friends were suddenly interrupting it right then and there, breaking the spell. The irritated hiss from Kori, most likely, directed at Roy who lying on the ground and wasn’t this situation a little too familiar? had them both sigh and they turned around to look at their friends, all of them there. Wally had come this time, nearly looking more excited than Dick felt. Even Barbara was there with a camera in her hands now, shaking her head, along with Tim who was… wait, was he seriously standing on the rooftop with no safety measures just to get pictures of them?

God. This was not what he asked them to do. His little brothers were totally going to be the reason he went grey early. As if it wasn’t enough that Jason went skydiving with Roy and Kori a little too often and Damian loved big and dangerous animals, as well as poisonous flowers. Like, the botanical garden he’d insisted on having at the manor consisted of only poisonous flowers. He also seemed to enjoy creating antivenoms against his snakes and then tested them on himself. Well, at least Tim was only photographing them right now instead of trying to do pyrotechnics and give them a whole fireworks show. That would not even have been too surprising, just plain worrying, because where did he get them this time?

Kagami had her head buried in Adrien’s shoulder, looking like she was simply done with all of them. Jason, well. They weren’t too sure what Jason was doing, and Dick wasn’t too sure he wanted to know what the Little Wing was on about. He was glad they were there though, all except for Luka. Why wasn't he present, though?

Yeah, that ‘why’ they would figure out later on.

“Well, good to see you managed to actually propose properly, and that you actually said yes instead of panicking and telling him the opposite. Nette-chan, Adrien, Luka and I booked you two a cruise of three nights, starting the day after tomorrow. Yes, we made sure to clear both your schedules. Have fun. I think the rest of us are going now,” she stated with a deadpan voice and looked at Kori before motioning at Roy. “I said, we’re going now. Do you have hearing problems?”

The last bit was clearly aimed at Roy who had, contrary to popular belief, better hearing than an average human. All of them knew it. Roy literally hurried and almost tripped over his own legs trying to get up, which was understandable because Kagami was on par with Marinette, Kori and Babs being scary when they wanted to and when they were determined or decided about something.

Marinette let out an amused laugh. “God, hasn’t like, nearly all of this happened already? On the day I confessed if I recall correctly. Either we’re too excellent at repeating history or you had all of this planned to a T to go the same way, and I’m not sure which option is more amusing.”

Dick laughed along with her, agreeing wholeheartedly. Indeed, they were far too excellent at repeating history.

Later, when Marinette and Dick entered the home they had shared for a while now, they noticed a small, white envelope with a blue rose seal taped on their door. Marinette took it in her hands and opened it as Dick let them inside and closed the door behind them. Her face heated up and went crimson which had Dick concerned. He took the envelope and what it contained out of her hands and understood immediately what that had been about. The envelope was full of polaroids, of the moment Dick proposed, the moment Marinette said yes, the moment he spun them around… And of course, there was one with the moment captured when they turned their attention to their friends with the winking and the grinning face of Luka in the lower right corner. Behind the picture, there was a short message from him.

Thanks for not noticing me when I was taking the pictures, it made them a lot more genuine. Have fun at the cruise with your fiancé(e). Don’t forget protection! Be glad he asked me to get the pictures because this way they’re probably going the closest reminder of what the moments felt like to you later on aside from your rings and your beloved.

Love, Luka

P.S. you both need to figure out how to notice me when I’m around, especially since you both are otherwise good at noticing all the small things happening near.

The polaroids, both these and the ones Luka had taken years ago, weere showed at their wedding reception half a year later along with those Tim and Barbara had taken, and then they decorated their walls for the next few decades.

_______________

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip @emo-elaine13

#dick x marinette #dickinette #maribat #maribatmarch2020 #ml #ml x dc #dc x mlb #dc #dick grayson #marinette dupain cheng #fanfiction #fanfic #ethel's writing

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galactic-melodies · 4 years

Text

I have been in love with the idea of a poor MC with Jumin Han for a while, so I decided to write a full on fiction about it. I’ll do it in parts, and maybe for the other characters routes. But I reaaalllly wanted to do Jumin. So enjoy the introduction!

Money is something everyone in the world wants, it is a huge motivator and there never seems to be enough for those who actually need it. You were no different in this situation. You had grown up without a father, and a gambling addict, alcoholic for a mother. Between the two, any money earned was immediately thrown out. From a very young age, you had to figure out how to survive. Through sheer luck and willpower, you somehow managed to attend higher education and complete the degree. Being fresh out of university, you had more bills and debts to pay than you knew what to do with, and no place to live. Perhaps it was this desperation to not move back in with your mother that led you to do what you did.

UNKNOWN: Do you mind going to the address?

You weren't sure how to respond to this. As an educated young lady, surely you were smart enough not to go to a random strangers address. Obviously this was a scam and you would be murdered… or worse. Still, there was something about this stranger. Who knows, maybe by doing a good deed some luck would come out of it.

MC: Fine… I’m leaving right away if it feels sketchy.

And so, you went. You knocked on the door and no one answered. After little convincing on Unknown’s part, you entered the apartment. It was bigger than your entire house growing up. Slowly, you peaked around the hallway, praying someone wouldn’t come out and shoot you. The apartment appeared to be upkept, despite the lack of evidence of life. The plants were flourishing and there was barely any dust. You walked around, not being as careful about your steps, to explore the rest of the apartment. The bathroom had a shower and a bathtub in it and was fully stocked with make-up and soaps. The kitchen had all the utensils needed to cook, but thankfully no food to rot away. For the bedroom, a queen sized bed sat in the center of the room. There was a walk in closet, but not much else in the room. You sit on the bed, surprised at how comfortable it was.

“This feels so wrong to be here,” you muttered to yourself.

The apartment felt way fancier than anything she had ever experienced. It was also someone else's. Oh gosh, I’m in someone else's house. Flipping your phone, you went to text Unknown back. You blinked in wonder at your screen. A chat room seemed to appear with multiple people in it, none of whom you recognized. Possibly the most perplexing part was how a chatroom got on your flip phone. Were those things not smartphone specific? You read from when you entered in. Maybe it’s a game? Skimming quickly, you caught up, realizing they were addressing...you. Notagamenotagamenotagame.

MC: Hello…

You smacked yourself on the head mentally for such a stupid greeting. They were freaking out, you were breaking and entering into a private chatroom and someone else’s house. The phone buzzed quickly as responses filled in.

JUMIN: Who is it?

YOOSUNG: Find out what it is!

JAEHEE: How did you find out about this place? Where did you download the application?

This is it. You were going to jail. Most definitely. Goodbye dreams. So much for doing a good deed.

707: I traced the IP….it’s from Rika’s apartment.

Fuck.

707: Anyways, someone must have broken into her apt.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck-

YOOSUNG: Who are you?! How did you get into Rika’s apartment?!

JAEHEE: Username “MC”, I recommend that you confess.

JUMIN: MC...who are you?

You sighed, deciding to just explain what happened. You would probably be going to jail anyway, maybe they would take pity on you. You began typing your plea for ignorance and mercy.

JUMIN: Reveal yourself, stranger. If you do not reveal yourself, you will pay.

“What!” You exclaimed, mouth agape. With a hmph, you erased the half paragraph of begging.

MC: Reveal yourself first. I’m the most confused one here…

You smiled a tad, crossing your arms happily. Your phone rang again with more replies.

JUMIN: How fierce.

That’s more like it.

After a little bit of conversation and some mentions of 707… “hacking”, they started to introduce themselves one by one. Zen, age 24 came first. He had the most striking eyes on anyone you had ever seen and was just all out gorgeous. If love at first sight was a thing, perhaps this was it. He seemed super kind and thoughtful too. Although, you had never seen him before, despite his apparent fame. 707, age 22, went next, no picture, no real name. Despite him apparently hacking something involving you, he seemed kind as well. Yoosung, age 21, went next. He was probably the most adorable boy you had ever met. High school you would’ve had a major crush on him from appearance alone. He mentioned he was a college student and you suddenly wanted to ask him about his struggles.707 took the liberty to introduce Jumin, Jaehee, and Jumin’s cat to you. Jumin, 27, had seemed rather cold right off the bat. Jaehee, 26, also appeared to be as cold. However, there was something about seeing Jumin with a cat that made you feel less hostile towards him. Animal lovers are rarely bad people, right?

Following introductions, 707 asked you some questions that you answered honestly. Afterall, you weren’t much of a liar, and something told you honesty was the only answer in this situation.

707: Lookedintoownerofdevice

707: she’scutelol

You looked around the room, squinting. Were their cameras around? How did he know what you looked like? You had no social media.

707: thohowdidyougetanapponaflipphone

MC: I was redirected from the text message...I honestly am just as puzzled as you lol.

Then, their “leader” named V appeared. He explained that the chat room was for them to discuss information for their charity organization, which explains why everyone panicked. The apartment you were in held top secret information on a lot of important people. A cold sweat broke out on the back of your neck, your breathing quickened. I’m so lucky that they aren’t just calling the police oml. The rest of the members explained who Rika was and that you were in her apartment. She had long passed, but apparently V payed the rent. Then he left, telling everyone to calm down and leaving Jumin to deal with the rest of things.

JUMIN: MC, will you join the RFA?

You could say no. Leave this all behind and go back to your normal life of struggle. You could go find a job and look for a home and wait until you either moved back in with your mother or her with you. And you almost did. It seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. All of these guys seemed rather passionate with their work. They threw fancy parties with really important people. That was a type of classy you could never hope to be. But. You could join. They would let you live her, maybe rent free. You could not worry about being destitute and focus on doing things to help a lot of people for a really good cause. You could even search for a job you genuinely liked in your degree. You could make some new friends. Perhaps you could even help people out of situations that you came from. What could it hurt?

MC: Alright. It looks fun. I’ll give it a go.

You smiled slightly, reading the responses from the others.

YOOSUNG: That’s a fast decision.

JUMIN: Ha. I like it.

JAEHEE: I wonder if you have thought this through.

ZEN: Welcome MC.

You put your phone down, laying on the bed with a genuine smile on your face. You hadn’t felt as confident in a decision in a while. You had a really good feeling about this group of people. Who knows where this had the potential to take you.

#jumin han #mm #mystic messenger #mysme zen #Yoosung Kim #707 #mm saeyoung #jaehee kang #jumin x reader

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consumedkings-archive · 3 years

Note

I gotta! 10 and 55 for John and Elliot.

(Don't worry I'll help you avoid)

HMMM YES THIS IS SO LATE I’M SORRY. so as u know i spent about 24 hours agonizing over what to do with this........... i love you dearly w/ all my heart so i’m sorry in advance for this. (❁´◡`❁)

john/ell + “things you said that made me feel like shit” + “things you said under your breath” ~ 2.5k words, no warnings! they get a lil frisky for like .000003 seconds but mostly the rating would be for elliot’s mouth. a sequel to this blurb! which makes it pre/no cult-au and christmastime.

send me a prompt + a couple and i’ll procrastinate with a oneshot or blurb!

“I knew you missed me.”

Elliot was severely regretting having uttered the words at all. Among other things, admitting to John Seed that she missed his presence anytime, anywhere, was close to a capital offense against her person—and surpassed only, she thought, by admitting that she loved him, regardless of she said it in the dark of the bedroom, half-asleep, or if she said it in the bright light of day.

John flashed his most charming grin and leaned in to kiss her; she tilted her head out of his reach, feeling the spite welling up inside of her. It was all fun and well when John liked it, wasn’t it? And that was the most frustrating part about it all—that he seemed to have no trouble breezing in and out as he pleased.

So instead of relenting to sweetness, she snipped out, “It’s nice to know I mean it, isn’t it?”

He paused and cocked his head at her inquisitively. After a moment, he said, “This feels like a mistake to ask—”

“It probably is.”

“—but what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Elliot drawled around that awful, poisonous itch that begged her to make him suffer for making her suffer, “you didn’t really miss me, you missed having a bed-warmer. If you missed me, you’d have taken us seriously the last time you had the chance.”

She could see that her words struck a nerve. His expression flattened a little, and she could see the flex of his jaw. Elliot would have been lying if she said that she didn’t regret throwing the words in his face—whether or not John had been with anyone in the lapse between their make-ups and break-ups certainly wasn’t any concern of hers, and it wouldn’t have been fair to hold it against him; but it did feel a little justified, seeing the way the words took his ego down a notch, sucked the air right out of his big-fucking-ego-sails.

“That’s real cute, El,” he snipped, the irritation visible on his face. “I’ll have you know, I’m in no shortage of bed-warmers.”

Elliot felt the heat crawling into her face at the sinking feeling of humiliation; it was as though John found himself incapable of going three minutes without saying something that pissed her off. It shouldn’t matter, she thought furiously, it shouldn’t, but it still bothers me so fucking much, because—

“Then what the fuck are you here for?” she demanded, pushing that pesky thought of her brain. John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a minute; he clearly regretted what he’d said, but it was there already, and any warmth Elliot might have felt was gone. “I’m sure any one of them would be happy to go with you to your stupid fucking Christmas family dinner, which we both know is why you’re actually here.”

“Fucking—can’t go even three minutes without picking a fight,” John muttered under his breath, passing a hand over his face.

“Excuse me?”

“Hey, I—”

“The absolute audacity,” Elliot bit out, “of you walking into my fucking house after we’ve been broken up and telling me the one thing you want is to hear that I missed you, and then you look me in the fucking whites of my eyes and tell me you aren’t in shortage of people to fuck? You are incredible, John Seed.”

John protested, “I didn’t—that’s not what I meant. I don’t have people traipsing in and out of my loft at all hours of the day and night, okay? I just meant that—”

But it was too late; the damage had been done, and it was spiraling, fast, and Elliot was doing everything she could to cling onto the last shred of control she felt like she had, even when seconds ago she had been thinking about surrendering it to him. “Baby,” she bit out, “you can have anyone you want—”

“—nobody’s like you, Elliot—”

“—why don’t you take anyone you want back to your dumbfuck Christmas dinner—”

“Elliot.” John groaned and took in a deep breath, trying to re-center himself. Elliot couldn’t fight the shame—and jealousy—burning in her cheeks, even if she’d wanted to, and she was sure that the frustration of it showed on her face. He reached for her, and one chilly hand found her bare calf, tugging until she relented and he could sidle between her legs.

She watched him warily. Despite her physical acquiescence, Elliot said, “Don’t get any funny ideas, mister I’m in no shortage of bed-warmers. What kind of fuckhead comment was that?”

“I’m sorry,” John murmured, squeezing her knee with his chilly fingers. “I didn’t mean it like that, El. You know I’d give you anything—”

“John Seed,” Elliot warned, as he slid closer and the warm, wild heat of him seeped into her bones, “you had better—”

“—and I just can’t stop thinking about you,” he continued, taking her face in his hands now. Ah, yes, finally, something in her said. She felt her lashes flutter and John nosed the curve of her jaw, his dark beard tickling her skin after the warmth of his breath.

“John,” she tried again, attempting to harden her voice, “don’t fucking play with me.”

He pulled back to look at her. He looked oddly somber; there was something unsettling about that. John, focused.

“I’m not playing. I’m serious about you, and I’ll prove it.” These were not unfamiliar statements; they were things he’d said to her before, in situations just like this, and if Joey could see how Elliot was turning into a little puddle right then and there she’d probably be completely and utterly disappointed. And ashamed, that she had crumbled so easily.

His thumb grazed her cheekbone, then slid down to her lower lip, and he sighed, and fuck if the sound didn’t just send a hollow, aching kind of want straight through her. “I want to kiss you so badly, beautiful.”

Don’t, she thought to herself, don’t fucking fall for it, don’t, you heard him, he doesn’t need you.

She said, “John,” in something close to a warning, like she thought this was a bad idea—and she did, in a lot of ways, think that, and in a lot of ways she also wanted that closeness again, an intimacy that she didn’t like to give to anyone except John; so she was less surprised and more disappointed when she leaned in instinctively and kissed him.

A tension she hadn’t realized was there fled from John’s shoulders. His hand slid from her jaw to her hair, and then to the arm of the couch to support himself. She felt his lips parting against hers, his tongue darting out and re-mapping her mouth, like he didn’t want to even get close to forgetting again.

“You taste like fireball,” Elliot complained into the kiss. “You know I hate that shit.”

He laughed. “Needed some liquid courage,” he replied, “to come over here, and that was the quickest shit I could get at the bar.” And he kissed her again, harder this time, until her lungs ached with a need for air and her hands had fisted the front of his turtleneck. They stayed like that for a minute, until she pushed on his chest and moved to straddle his hips; John’s hands immediately went to her hips to steady her and she pulled back to look at him.

“How much did you miss me?” she asked. She wanted the words to come out flirtatious, but they came out more shy and small, in the blaring truth of his easy access to lovers; John’s eyes roved over her face, and he pulled her down against him.

“More than anything, hellcat,” John murmured huskily. “I mean it when I say that I’m serious—”

“This time,” Elliot interjected, but without cruelty. His fingers dug into the slope of her hips until he’d pulled a little whine out of her, and his gaze was dark and hungry.

“I mean it,” he said again. “I want to marry you, Elliot—”

Elliot made sound, something like a mm-hmm, because the phrase was inconsequential; and she leaned down to kiss him again. This time, it was John’s turn to try and wiggle his way out of it, his hand sliding from her to his pocket, talking between kisses.

“I’m serious—I want to—El, listen to me—”

“You never stop talking,” she murmured. “I’ll come to the stupid family dinner, you don’t need to keep sweet-talking me. I mean, we’ll have to stop and see my mom—”

John shifted under her, finally getting his hand into his pocket and fishing around awkwardly while she remained straddling his lap, her hands on his shoulder. He pulled out something small, and gold, reaching for Elliot’s left hand.

“What the fuck is that?” she demanded, catching his wrist before he could snag her hand. “John—”

“I was trying to tell you,” John said, his grin boyish, “I want you to marry me. Give me your hand, El.”

Panic washed over her instantly.

“Fuck you,” Elliot snapped, her throat feeling tight. “You’re really proposing to me in my living room, after we’ve been broken up for months? You didn’t even really propose, you’re just assuming I’ll say yes—”

John looked at her blankly, as though whatever protestation she might have against this particular situation didn’t make any sense to him. “Are you saying no?”

Elliot’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. She tried not to look at the ring very long, or very much; the few glimpses she’d given it showed that the ring was gorgeous, the center gem a rich, dark sapphire color. Of course it was blue, she reasoned, fixing John with her eyes as she tried to iron out her willpower.

“Yes,” she managed out after a moment.

“I knew it. This should be a perfect fit—”

“No, you dumbass, I mean yes I’m saying no,” Elliot ground out, climbing off of his lap. John looked like she might have slapped him square across the face, the hand holding the engagement ring falling to his lap. She crossed her arms over her chest, her cheeks burning. “I can’t believe you came in here and just—just—”

“You told me you wanted me to take us seriously!” he exclaimed. He was upset, maybe more than before; she could see it in the furrow of his brows, the narrow of his eyes. If there was one thing John Seed couldn’t stand, it was being told no. “And here I am, taking us seriously!”

“You don’t think maybe we should see if we don’t break up again in a few months?” Elliot asked him tartly. “What are the odds you do something that pisses me off enough, hm? Wanted a little change of pace, to break up with your fiance instead of your girlfriend?”

“Well, we’re never going to stay together with that attitude.”

Elliot rolled her eyes, snagging the bottle of wine off of the coffee table and making her way into the kitchen, grabbing herself a fresh wine glass from the cabinet. “I cannot fucking believe you,” she said as she poured the glass nearly-full. The idea of marrying John was—

It was lovely, if she let herself think that everything would be okay and not a complete shitshow. John was a drama queen, but she knew that the entire day would be about how much they loved each other, and it was a lot, all things considered. And to call herself Elliot Seed, instead of Elliot Honeysett, to erase the last tie of her father’s claim on her; it was alluring. Joey and the Hudsons would be there, of course, and John’s siblings. Maybe her mama would even be able to make it, though they’d have to make sure that she didn’t have anything more than one drink, but Elliot thought it could be that her mama would hold herself together for one night if it was for her, and—

“Fine. Don’t say yes right now,” John said petulantly, his voice coming from behind her, his hands finding her hips again. She exhaled and closed her eyes. “I’ll hold on to the ring, and when you come to your senses—”

“What if I don’t ever want to get married?” Elliot asked sharply. “What if I don’t ever want to fucking give anyone some legal claim to me? My dad did that to my mom, dragged her credit and her reputation straight through the dirt and then left, and my mom spent her entire life thinking he was going to come back and he fucking. Didn’t.” She swallowed, hard. “It’s fucking pathetic, and I won’t let it happen to me.”

John paused. He was watching her, watching the venom, watching the vitriol; he didn’t mind it so much, she knew, when it wasn’t centered around him, when he was letting her push it all out of her system. After a second, he began, “You know that I—”

“I know,” she ground out. “I know you aren’t—him, and that you want to get married, or whatever—but it’s not—I have never once said to you that I wanted that, and that you think it’s just going to fix all of that shit you put me through—”

“That we put us through,” he protested.

“Yes! Exactly!”

John sighed and passed a hand over his face; she turned, leaned against the counter to regard him, and she could feel the hard lines of her expression digging the tension into a headache that had just begun to bloom behind her eyes.

“You can,” she started, “I mean—someone else might want—”

“I don’t want someone else,” John snapped. “I want. You.”

It was endearing and infuriating, in equal amounts. John kept trying to jam a puzzle piece where it didn’t fit, and that wasn’t to say that she thought she’d feel this way forever—because maybe, someday, she wouldn’t—but John didn’t do anything to endear her to the idea when he threw it around like it was a fix-it to everything he’d ever done to piss her off.

“I’ll hold on to the ring,” he started again, and she sighed, closing her eyes. “Listen. I’ll hold on to it. Come to Christmas dinner. I’ll sit through your mom criticizing everything about me if you do. We can...” John’s gaze flickered as he searched for a word, his hands coming up to her face. “Revisit the topic after the holidays.”

“And what if I say no again?” she asked, warily.

“Then you say no,” John replied. “And we go from there. So will you come?”

Elliot took a sip of her wine, having to move the glass around his hands, and exhaled out of her nose.

“Fine,” she replied. “But only because I know Jacob would never let you live it down if he heard you made the big show of coming all the way to my house and I said no.”

“See? It’s like you’re already one of us.”

“Thin fucking ice, John.”

He grinned, leaned in, and kissed her; slow, unhurried, luxuriating in the moment before he said, “Pick you up tomorrow morning? Nine?”

“Fine,” she said again, tired because she knew that the next few days were going to be only exhausting. Well, that wasn’t true; it would be nice to see Faith (and maybe even Jacob) again, and there was a tiny, tiny sliver of a chance her mother would stop trying to set her up on dates if she brought a boyfriend around for the holidays. “But don’t make me regret it.”

“Of course,” John agreed. “Nothing could go wrong.”

#lilwritingraven #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy #hahaha i hate it here #I'M SORRY THIS IS NOT WHAT I TOLD YOU IT WOULD BE #I HOPE U STILL LIKE IT #fc5 fic #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #fc5 #far cry 5 #ask games

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