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harrysgoldenbum · 2 years

Text

Don't Blame Me for Falling - pt. 2

sorry for the delay! something came up and I was away from my laptop all day.

Part One

word count: 6.8K

warnings: smut, cursing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people), and somewhat exhibitionism

Y/N had texted Annie the moment the cab dropped her off at the main entrance of the hotel. She figured that she would be the soberest out of the group and would be able to meet up with her and get her up to the room. But to her surprise, all four girls came pouring out through the lobby to where she stood by the grove of palm trees.

Jessica eyed her critically, and Y/N struggled to keep a straight face. It only took seconds, before Jessica’s hazel eyes glinted and she grinned.

“Holy Shit, way to go bitch! You already bagged your vay-cay fling!”

“What?” Y/N tried. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jessica elbowed Marie in the ribs. “Look at her face. She can say whatever she wants, but her face doesn’t lie! You look freshly fucked, babe. Spill the details! Did you get your Mile-High card punched?”

“Jesus, Jessica, let her get her stuff into the room,” Ameena interjected. “Then we can get her to spill all her secrets over margaritas.”

It didn't take long for Y/N to drop off her suitcase and bag in their suite, which already looks like a tornado swept through… twice. She ignored the taunts through the bathroom door while she stripped and changed into her bikini. After a half-assed job of slathering herself with sunscreen, she let her friends lead the way to the pool, where they had claimed a cabana earlier in the morning.

“Talk!” Jessica commanded once they ordered their first round of margaritas.

Y/N lowered her sunglasses and rolled her shoulders back as she sank back against the plush chaise lounge. “I didn’t fuck anyone,” she started, raising her hand in protest when Jessica, immediately called bullshit. “But yeah, I might have met a guy on the plane.”

She licked the rim of the glass and took a long sip of her marg, relishing the sting of the tequila as it mingled with the salt on her tongue. Then she continued to describe her entire flight, with Jessica, Ameena, Annie, and Marie hanging onto every word.

“You have to do it Y/N! You have to go to him!” Delly exclaimed as soon as Y/N finished telling about the searing kiss Harry planted on her just outside the gate.

Jessica slurped her margarita noisily. “You’ve been handed a gift on a silver platter!”

Y/N glared at all her friends, “You guys really were serious about that stupid pact?”

The whole idea of their retreat had been born while they were lounging around the living room in their off-campus house on a Tuesday night, drinking and chatting. Marie had been out of sorts, having been dumped by her longtime boyfriend the week earlier, when Jessica had gotten the brilliant idea that they all go to Cancun. And then she raised the stakes by suggesting that, with the exception of Annie, who had gotten engaged over Christmas, she, Marie, Ameena, and Y/N should all have a fling while in Mexico. Marie had eagerly agreed and eventually, with persuasion Ameena and Y/N hadn’t dismissed the possibility. But Y/N hadn’t fully agreed to the idea if she was being honest.

She had never been one for casual sex. She wasn’t one of those girls who needed every sexual experience to be candlelight and soft music and rose petals, but she was fairly picky when it came to whom she went out with. She didn’t feel the need to waste her time; once she realized she wasn’t compatible with a guy, she didn’t need to go out with them again. And up until today, when she met Harry, she had never had such an instant attraction to a man to the point where she would ever consider a one-night stand. She’s only slept with two guys (and fooled around with a couple of others). She had sex a grand total of eleven times, which was less than Jessica’s entire tally of sexual partners.

“Of course we’re serious!” Jessica scoffed. “Marie has been working on the cabana boy since ten this morning.”

Y/N frowned. “I just don’t… I mean… isn’t that kind of using him?”

Annie brought her brows together. “Well… wouldn’t you be using each other? It’s not like he’s asking you to marry you, Y/N. He wants you. He wants to fuck you, and feel good for a few days, to forget about that see-you-next-Tuesday who broke his heart… it’s a fling he wants too!”

Y/N ran her finger along the rim and brought it to her mouth, sucking the salty tip thoughtfully. Annie had a point. A very good point. Harry wasn’t looking for something serious. She was as much a means to an end for him as he was for her. She needed to stop overanalyzing the way that Harry proposed their potential hookup. He was drunk. He said sweet things, that made her feel special, but the bottom line was his motives were just as self-serving as hers.

And that kiss… a man who could stir such desire in her from one - okay two - passionate kisses… God, she couldn’t imagine how the sex might be.

“But I just got here… you guys won’t be mad at me for going off…” Y/N pressed her lips together. She slurped what was left of her marg and glanced around at her friends. “I mean, he said he wanted me to spend the whole time I’m here with him… are you guys okay with that?”

“Go grab your suitcase and get the hell out of here!” Ameena cried.

“Are you sure-?”

“Go!” they all yelled in unison.

Y/N exhaled, said bye to her friends, and headed back up to the room to change. She considered leaving her bikini on for a moment, but she opted for the sexiest underwear she packed and threw a sundress over it. Spying Ameena’s cosmetics bag open on the bathroom counter, she grabbed a tube of Ameena’s expensive lops gloss, smeared it on her fingertip, and applied it to her lips.

She got a cab outside the main entrance, nervously gave the driver the name of Harry’s resort, and though she knew she butchered the pronunciation, fortunately, the cabbie seemed to comprehend. He started the meter and pulled away from the curb. Her heart raced. Her hands felt clammy, and her stomach flipped throughout the drive. It felt like the drive was going on forever.

After she paid the cabbie and retrieved her bags, she strolled into the tropical oasis that passed as the lobby of the Playa. Her eyes widened as she looked around, searching for the concierge desk. She had no way to contact Harry; he hadn’t given her a cell phone number. She only had the name of the resort, and his name, to go on.

It took her a second to realize that she didn’t even know his last name! Sudden panic took over her body, he is a stranger. She was about to go into a hotel room with a total stranger, and only her friends knew she was there… shit, does her cell phone even work here? What if there were some kind of emergency…?

“Y/N?”

She spun around at the sound of his voice. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. He was wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts that sat low on his hips. It drew her eyes right to the defined core muscles that made up his lower abdominal region. She saw a lot of Vs in her course works and in her clinical experience. But Harry’s torso, decorated with tattoos, was a thing of beauty. Her eyes traveled along the two black-inked ferns that outlined his hips. His muscles were lean, not bulky, and fuck, his navel was perfect. She had the compulsion to put her hands on him.

Holy fuck, she was going to get to put her hands all over him.

“You came,” he murmured, striding toward her, a pleased smile tugging at his lips.

“Not yet I didn’t,” she whispered, and almost automatically she cringed, annoyed with herself for such a lame double entendre.

But Harry seemed to approve. He curled one hand around her waist, lowered his mouth, and sealed it over hers, possessing her lips with an urgency that had her knees locking and her thighs clenching.

He released her, his chest heaving, eyes darkened with lust. “I was just on my way to the pool… good timing I guess.”

“I guess,” she echoed, trying to catch her breath.

“C’mon… The pool can wait… I can’t.”

The tone of his voice poured over her like liquid. It had her pussy tingling again and her body heated in anticipation. He smiled down at her, took her suitcase from her, and arched a brow.

“Does this mean you’ll stay with me…?”

She swallowed, “If that’s what you want.”

He nodded deliberately and tangled their fingers. “That’s definitely what I want.”

The fact that there were other people in the elevator when the doors gilded open didn’t seem to bother Harry. Once inside, he brought her flesh against him and dropped his mouth to suck on her earlobe, teasing the soft flesh with a gentle scrape of his teeth. His hands roamed over her hips, his fingers gathering the fabric, and she had to suppress a moan when she felt him harden against her belly.

“Fuck, I want you so bad.” A chill raced down her spine, brought on by the intermingling sensations of his hot breath and the damp trail of saliva he left on the shell of her ear. In response, she rose onto her toes and ground her pelvis into him.

The elevator seemed to take even longer than the damn taxi ride over. When the door finally parted and Harry led her down the short corridor, she scanned the brass placards mounted on each door in the wing. There must have been eight honeymoon suites, all given different names. Harry stopped in front of one that read La Perla. Even her horrific retention of high school Spanish allowed her to translate that with ease: The Pearl.

She paused and stared at the sign; for a split second, she felt a little odd, about to head into a room designated for newlyweds, with a guy she had barely known for twelve hours - a guy who, she remembered, she didn’t know his last name.

It only took Harry gathering her hair to the side and butterflying his lips over her spinal cord to ease her back into blissful ignorance. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her stomach tightening as he continued pressing kisses to her neck with slow sensational brushes of his lips. It took him four tries before he finally got his electronic key into the slot. Frustrated, he gathered her in his arms and leaned over her to open the door. His hard body pressed into her from behind, urging her to cross the threshold. Harry kicked the door closed behind them and set her things down.

Y/N didn’t have the chance to take in the luxurious suite. Harry whirled her around and rooted her in place with a feral stare. His eyes raked her body; wide and aware, they showed no sign of his previously intoxicated state. He obviously sobered up considerably in the three hours since she last saw him. The tip of his pink tongue peeked out as he wet his lips, just before he descended on her.

This kiss was equally as demanding as the one in the lobby. His hands skimmed down to cup her ass, bring her against him, and Y/N gasped into his mouth as she made contact with his erection. He was completely hard, and lord, he was big. It was impossible to miss. She rubbed herself against him, the material of his swimsuit offered little resistance. When he parted his lips to groan his approval, she swiped her tongue along the lower swell, daring him to accept it. With another growl, his tongue shot out and captured hers toughly. He sucked it into the wet warmth of his mouth, massaging it fervently, until she met him stroke for stroke, becoming a game of dominance.

As they continued kissing, they started staggering toward the bed, she let her hands explore the bumpy plane of his toned back, kneading the muscles of his shoulders, and rolling her knuckles along his vertebrae. Harry’s hands were still firmly planted on her ass, his fingers teasing her as he got closer to slipping under the short hem of her dress.

Harry broke away, panting when they reached the foot of the massive king-size bed. It was then Y/N noticed that the comforter was already turned down, and the sheets were askew, and the pillows were no longer in that neat linear arrangement. She wondered if he had taken a nap when he arrived at the resort; it would explain his improved condition.

It seemed as if there were a hundred things they should be discussing, now that he wasn’t drunk, but her tongue was heavy, paralyzed from their kisses, and her entire body was begging for him to possess it- every nerve, every muscle, every inch of her skin.

It didn’t matter, because the movement of Harry’s hands to his waist commanded her attention. He shed his swimsuit and kicked it aside. Y/N couldn’t help herself, as her eyes wandered.

He was glorious.

She was at a loss for words and she admired him. Her eyes kept going back to his erection, there was no denying that she had been right about his size. She even underestimated him. His cock was thick, though well proportioned for his solid body, and if she was honest with herself, it was a little intimidating.

He grinned, almost shyly this time, and stepped towards her, his cock bobbing. He kissed her hungrily but briefly. His eyes were glittering when he pulled back. His fingers danced up her arm, settling over her sundress strap. He eased it off her shoulder and kissed the exposed skin. “How do you want to come first, Y/N?”

Oh, God.

His lips climbed the slope of her neck, his tongue traced her jugular. “Should I use my mouth?” He paused to suck on her pulse point, hard enough to elicit a jolt of pain that quickly melted into pleasure. It felt so good she didn’t even care if the evidence would be visible tomorrow.

His hands snuck under her sundress, ruched up the hem, and his thumbs started to toy with the sides of her thong. “Or maybe I will start with my fingers.” He bent his knees and dragged the panties down her legs, just barely brushing his knuckles over her calves as he rose to stand again. He raised her skirt with one hand and her teeth clamped down onto her bottom lip when his finger traced the length of her slick core. Slowly he raised the digit and sucked it into his mouth.

“Mmm… so good. You’re so wet already. You’re ready for me to make you come, aren’t you?”

She nodded mutely. She was so aroused, yet he really hadn’t done much to her. She feared when he finally put his mouth or his hands on her, she was going to implode, like a stick of dynamite.

“Or should I go right for my cock?” He took himself in his hand and stroked his shaft several times. The sight of him touching himself was almost more erotic than the things he had been saying to her, and she whimpers and bucked her hips toward him. He laughed softly. “I’ll bet you’ll feel absolutely amazing once I’m buried inside you. You’re going to take every inch of me, aren’t you?”

“Oh, god!” Y/N moaned. Another low, throaty chuckle from him led to his hand tugging the other strap of her dress down.

“So, what will it be?” he whispered, easing her dress over her breasts. His cock jumped and she felt it graze her thigh as he stared at her tits. Y/N’s nipples had been hard since they started kissing, and the chill from the air-conditioned room and the ceiling fans made them tingle even more. She ached for him all over.

“You mouth,” Y/N pleaded. “Use your mouth, please.” Sad as it was, none of the guys she’s been with had ever gone down on her. She was dying to know how it felt to be eaten out, and she had the feeling that Harry would be insanely good at it.

“I was hoping you would say that.” He gently eased her up onto the bed, and she laid back, sprawled diagonally across the comfortable surface. He coaxed her down to the edge of the bed. Harry knelt and appraised her hungrily. She tried not to be self-conscious, lying completely naked, exposed -- her thoughts came to a screeching halt when she felt the first pass of his tongue through her wet folds. Rendering her mute and she wasn’t sure she could scream it. She knew this wasn’t going to take long. That tingling behind her navel had grown to a steady buzz. He was going to undo her, fast.

He licked up the length of her a second time. She arched her back and flailed her arms out to the side, grouping for the sheets. His fingers gently urged her to spread her legs wider. Obediently, Y/N bowed her knees flat against the bed and granted him the access he sought. After feathering a few kisses to her inner thighs, he resumed lapping at her, his tongue swirling through the damp heat, coming close to where she wanted him but never directly touching her clit. She squirmed, trying to force him into contact with the bundle of nerves. He soft chuckle vibrated through her.

“Patience, love. I want to savor you.”

Y/N contracted her ab muscles and raised herself up a little. Sucking in a breath as he locked his half-lidded eyes on her. He held her gaze and finally circled her throbbing clit, pressing the pad of his tongue to it.

“Yes! Yes… god, yes, Harry… right there, yes!”

Each rhythmic flick of his tongue over her clit was pure bliss. She gripped the sheets tightly, so tight that a bot of pain shot through her knuckles. When he sucked her swollen button into his mouth, the precipice was suddenly right there, and she called his name in a breathy cry as she soared over the edge. Wave after wave ecstasy surged through her.

“That’s it,” he murmured against her skin. He gave her a few more lazy licks around her still throbbing clit, and then he stood. Through dazed eyes, she watched him walk across the room. Y/N drank in the sight of his back. His spine was beautifully curved, surrounded by the wall of muscle, and she couldn’t help herself as her gaze dropped lower. Stopping at the firm, round ass. Her inner muscles clenched as she watched him bend down at the waist, rummaging through the pile of clothing on the floor, looking for something. Straightening, we sauntered back towards her, his erection protruding, pointing right at her. He quickly tore open the foil packet he had retrieved and wrapped himself with the condom. He carefully cradled her, climbing atop her as he shifted their bodies farther up the bed.

“Watching you cum, got me so fucking hard. And you taste like heaven,” he whispered, his palms caressing her shoulders as he dipped down to kiss her. She could taste her arousal on his tongue when she slipped it inside her mouth. His tongue swept around the warm crevices - her cheeks, the roof of her mouth, he took his time exploring her and tasting her thoroughly.

He used his nose to nudge her chin upward, licking down the column of her throat, his breath fanning over her breasts. His expert tongue went back to work, flicking over one taut nipple. She felt a renewed throbbing between her legs as he sucked and nibbled on her tits.

Without warning, he reached down and rubbed his cock through her slick heat, and she felt the head of him graze her clit as he lined himself up with her entrance. He drew back his hips and thrust into her, hard, and in spite of how wet she was, god it hurt.

He pulled back and thrust again, more gently this time, but he drove inside her, and he leaned down to kiss her, a slow, soothing brushing of his lips over hers.

“I know, love… you’re so tight… I’m sorry…”

“No…no…” she choked out, screwing her eyes shut, as the pain faded and she felt the coil tightening in her belly. “It’s fine… you… you feel good…”

“You feel fucking incredible,” he said thickly, pumping in and out of her steadily. He tucked one of her legs up against her stomach, allowing him to drive deeper into her. She nearly lost her breath when he hit that spot inside of her that had her vision blurring and white light dancing before her eyes. She was virtually unaware of the second climax rippling through her until she heard Harry whisper, with pride lacing his words, “Already, sweetheart?”

As her orgasm continued to wane, he braced his weight on one arm and used his other hand to draw her arms, one by one, above her head and pin them at her wrists. He increased the pace of his thrusts, fucking her faster, with quiet whispers of her name and soft grunts of pleasure. Occasionally the head of his cock would catch the cleft of her clit just right and a faint jolt of pleasure pulsated in her core. She was so delirious from her first two climaxes that she wasn’t sure how she was going to keep up with him to do this again later.

She felt him swell inside her a moment before his eyes shut and his hips jerked. He pulsed inside her, and it seemed like he came for a long time. She laid still, letting him bask in the same aftershocks that had rocked her earlier, and she noticed his arm trembling.

“Y/N… fuck… fuck” he whispered softly, rolling them over so that he was half sprawled across her but his weight didn’t crush her. “Oh.. fuck…”

And that was the last thing she remembered before her eyes closed.

~~~~

A while later, Y/N stirred awake. Her limbs felt heavy and her cunt was sore. Harry’s chest rose and fell against her check, his heart beat was strong and steady. There was something comforting about it. His arm was draped in a perfect curver along her hip, he was hard beneath the leg she had haphazardly thrown across his groin.

The room was flooded in gray, she blinked several times, trying to get her bearings. It had to be evening time by now. Y/N tried to look at the clock without disturbing Harry, but his arm tightened around her and hip lips found her forehead.

“Not ready to move yet,” he growled, his voice rough with sleep.

But her stomach rumbled loudly, causing him to laugh. Hauling her atop his naked body, he reached between them and rubbed her belly gently.

“Give me a few minutes to work up an appetite of my own… then we’ll clean up n’ go to one of the restaurants… unless…” He planted his hands on the small of her back and urged her to straighten her spine. “...Maybe you’d rather we order something in n’ eat out on the balcony… your choice, love.”

He lifted her hips and they both gasped as Harry lowered her down on his cock. Y/N sucked in a greedy breath of air as he filled her. He felt impossibly bigger in this position, and he seemed to sense her mild discomfort.

“Your choice, love,” he echoed, though she knew the intentions behind the word were different this time. He was allowing her to set the pace of their fucking this time. His fingers grasped her hips as she started to swivel them. “That’s it… good girl… fuck… your pussy… its like it was made for me…”

Y/N stifled a moan by trapping her lower lip between her teeth. She had never had a guy talk to her like this. How was it that she felt such intimacy with a near stranger, such an immediate level of comfort that with each revolution of her hips, she felt her inhibitions slipping away?

Emboldened by the way Harry was gazing up at her, she rocked her hips harder and palmed her breasts. She kneaded them, throwing her head back, and when she began using her thumbs to rub her nipples, a guttural groan ripped from Harry and he shot up on the bed. He buried his face between her tits, then shoved her hands away and suctioned his lips around one aching nipple. His touch was electric, sending sparks shooting through her core again. It spurred her to move on him faster.

She came even harder than before. Her inner muscles quiver and clench his cock, and with a strangled cry, Harry followed her into oblivion. It was only the hot flood of moisture between her legs that stunned her into the realization that they had been so caught up that he hadn’t put on a condom this time.

“Fuck,” he panted, grathering her hair in his palm, using the leverage to tug her mouth down to kiss her roughly. “Oh, god… how is it this good?”

“Harry, we didn’t…”

His eyes rounded and he gazed down at where their bodies were still joined together. “Shit, I’m sorry. I-” His face flushed and he kissed her slowly. “I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone since my ex, and we always used protection. Are you… I mean… are you protected?” Y/N could hear the edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“Um, yeah, I’m clean and I’m on birth control.” She bit her lip. “But we should probably make sure the other times -”

He nodded his head adamantly. “Yeah, I agree. I’m sorry I was so careless - but Jesus, you felt so fuckin’ good… I’m sorry.

Y/N silenced him, accepting his apology with a soft, brushing kiss. The gentle kisses continue until their bodies cool down.

“Come on,” he whispered, nuzzling her nose. “Now I’m famished.”

He told her to shower first. She had kind of hoped he’d join her, but he promised her that there would be more than enough time for that over the next few days. Before she climbed into the generously oversized stall, she assured him that whatever he ordered from the room service menu would be fine with her.

Once they both cleaned up and threw on the resort robes hanging in the closet, Harry opened the sliding-glass door and led Y/N onto the balcony, leaving the door ajar to listen for the knock that would signal their food's arrival. He pulled her down into his lap as he settled in one of the chairs. He caressed her cheek lightly. A smile playing on his lips as he stared into her eyes.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered.

“What for?”

He swallowed, and she saw his lips twitch faintly. “For making me feel wanted again.”

~~~~

“You can’t be serious with this,” Y/N whispered.

Harry came up behind her and placed his hands on her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Looks like heaven, doesn’ it?”

She shook her head in disbelief, her eyes sweeping over the little thatched building. Soft clouds of white gauze billowed in the breeze. Inside the hut, she could see the two massage tables facing the turquoise sea.

“I definitely need some loosening up,” he teased, kissing her neck. “Someone got me all worked up last night - and again this morning.”

She felt heat travel to her face. Her own body was achy all over, exhausted from their repeated lovemaking. Y/N paused, her mind hanging on that last word. That wasn’t really an accurate description of what they had been doing. This was sex, plain and simple. They have an arrangement. She had to keep reminding herself of that, because when Harry’s tongue was between her legs, or his cock was deep inside her, like it was half an hour ago, when her fucked her against the bathroom counter, it was easy to succumb to thoughts of being with him beyond this fling. She was being foolish. It had been a day. No one can fall in love in one day. Her orgasmic haze was clouding her logic.

“Y/N.” His teeth tugged on her earlobe. “They’re waiting for us.”

The two masseuses were both women, and Y/N didn’t miss the dejected look that flitted across the taller one’s face when she learned Harry belonged to the shorter woman.

“You can take off everything but your underwear and get comfortable on the tables. Sir, you’ll be on the left. On your bellies, both of you.” Her heavily accented English was flawless, and she had a soothing voice, Y/N thought. She and the other masseuse both stepped out of the tent, lowering the rear wall curtains. Three walls of privacy were now what surrounded them.

“Allow me,” Harry murmured, stepping toward her. “Hands up, love.” Y/N obeyed, raising her arms, and he slid her tank over her head. His thumbs traced the cups of her bra briefly then freed the front clasp of her bra. His tongue darted out to tease one hardening nipple.

“Harry!” she squealed. She lowered voice and hissed, “They are right outside!.”

“I know,” he chuckled against her breast. “But you can’t expect me to behave, knowing you’re going to be almost naked just a few feet away from me.” He teased her other nipple to a peak and his hands fumbled with the button on her shorts before he managed to ease the zipper down. She hid her smile when he peeled them down her legs, and he straightened back up, the large bulge in his own shorts tenting the fabric.

“Down, boy,” Y/N giggled as he took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly.

The massage was a completely different kind of bliss. Y/N was unable to steal glimpses at Harry while lying prone, her face cushioned in the pillow ring, but once the masseuse ordered her to turn over onto her back, she met his eyes, and he pursed his lips at her.

“I already miss being inside you,” he mouthed, arching his eyebrows at her suggestively. Her own mouth twisted into a reserved smile, and she closed her eyes to avoid the temptation of engaging in lip-reading dirty talk.

At the end of the hour, she was wonderfully calm, her muscles relaxed - aside from her vaginal muscles which still bore the effects of Harry’s impressive girth. He fished some pesos out of his shorts pocket and offered several to each masseuse, shushing Y/N with a firm look. He intertwined their fingers together and suggested a stoll on the beach. She kept her flip-flops off and let them dangle from her fingertips as the powder fine sand sifted between her toes and warmed the bottom of her feet.

She couldn’t say she was surprised when Harry let her quite a ways down the beach to a secluded cove, pinned her to the smooth stone wall, and captured her lips in a bruising kiss. She responded eagerly, their hands roaming, torsos colliding, and it was only a second before she felt him getting hard against her.

“It took all my willpower not to tell those women to get out and not take you right then and there, on your massage table.” He dragged his tongue down her neck and along her collarbone, kissing the swells of her breasts above the neckline of her tank.

“Yeah, well, mine was eyeing you up. I know she wasn’t happy that she got stuck with me.”

“Mmm… I would have been happy to put my hands all over you.” As if to prove his point, Harry slipped his palms past the waistline of her shorts and squeezed her ass.”And your hands feel so much better on me.”

“Oh?”

Suddenly provoked by his words, Y/N flashes him a teasing smile and undid his belt. He helped her work his shorts down his legs, and then carefully rid him of his briefs. Harry’s erection sprang free, she licked her lips, keeping her eyes trained on his awestruck face.

She had only given a blowie twice before, and she has been kind of indifferent to the whole experience both times. But there is something about Harry that made her want to please him. He had been so generous with his mouth thus far.

Y/N crouched down, wrapped her fist around his stiff cock. He groaned and tangled his hand in her long hair. Gazing up at him, she licked the tip of his cock then ran her tongue along the ridged head, circling it again and again, before taking as much of him in her mouth as possible.

“Oh-oh fuck, baby, yes.”

His hands in her hair helped to set a rhythm, and she cupped his balls, massaging them tenderly as she worked his cock over with her tongue and gentle suctioning of her mouth. She gagged once or twice, taking him too deep, but Harry’s moans coupled with the motion of his hips compelled her to keep going. She ignored the ache in her legs and the one in her jaw, determined to get off with just her mouth.

She paused to take a breath and ran her tongue up and down her shaft, tracing a vein that pulsed near the end of her head. He jerked a little and grunted his approval. She did it again, and then sucked him with renewed vigor.

“Y/N, move,” Harry commanded, his voice raw. She continued to suckle him, and he gripped her hair. “Y/N…love… I’m gonna…” His words died on his lips as she felt his cock stiffen and his release in her mouth. It was definitely an odd sensation, and the taste was kind of unpleasant, but she figured out how to use her tongue to keep from gagging as she swallowed, until she licked him clean and let him slip from her lips.

Harry’s eyes were closed and his chest heaved. His fingers now moved lazily against her scalp, and she watched his cock defate. Then she stood up and kissed him. His eyes lifted halfway, and she could see his pupils were still dilated. He managed a grin and tugged her lips to his for another kiss. She felt his hands glide down her back and around the button of her shorts.

“Your turn,” he mumbled against her mouth. She trapped his lower lip with her teeth as he pulled back and sank to the cave floor. Her head tipped back against the wall, and she lost herself in the strokes of Harry’s long fingers and tongue, working her in blissful tandem.

~~~~

“So, how old are you?”

He grinned, and as he blinked, the droplets that clung to his eyelashes like jewels plinked into the water. Reaching past her, he took a long sip of his cocktail, and then set the plastic cup back down at the pool’s edge. He slid his arms around her waist and coaxed her to wrap her legs around his waist. She wound one arm around his shoulders and the other rested against the swallow tattoo on his chest. He began to drift through the water, holding her intimately, their faces inches apart.

“Why?”

I mean… just curious.” She angled her neck to the side and her eyes slipped shut as his lips migrated over her wet skin. “You know how old I am.”

“Do I?” He raised his head and gave her a playful waggle of his brows

“Well, you know I am a senior in college.”

“So you’re 21 or 22,” he reasoned.

“I’ll be 22 in June.”

“Happy early birthday then.” He kissed the tip of her nose, and a strange fluttering took flight behind her ribs. He had turned her insides to jelly more than once since they had met. But thinking about her birthday, two months from now, when Harry would be a distant memory. It was a different kind of feeling roiling through her. She pushed the thought away as quickly as it had descended on her.

She tried to keep the mood lighthearted. “You’re not gonna answer my question? What, are you hiding something? Like… you’re 40, and you just have some pact with the devil where you get to look eternally youthful, and be virile enough to fuck nonstop?” she almost blushed at her last statement.

“I’m 27,” he replied, laughing. “My birthday was in February.”

“Well happy belated birthday then.” And she kissed the tip of his nose. His smile widened.

“So you’ll graduate in a couple of months… what do you plan to do?”

And so for the rest of the afternoon, they float through the water, trading simple questions and answers about their lives. After she explained her plans for the summer and her impending program, she learned that Harry graduated with honors with a degree in English and Journalism, and he currently worked as an editor for a food magazine. She was equally impressed by his ambition and turned on by his obvious intelligence.

“That sounds glamorous.”

He smiled, but she didn't see much genuine happiness behind it. “It’s okay. It pays the bills. I had other aspirations, but-” he stroked her hair, and she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to purr like a content cat. There was something about his fingers in her hair that gave her such a quiet thrill. It was simple, but familiar gesture, and it seemed to tether her to him.

“What did you really want to do?”

The smile spread, and his eyes sparkled a little, reflecting the sun bouncing off the pool’s surface. “What I really wanted to do was write. And technically I’m doing that, I know, but I wanted to be a writer. My own things. A novel or maybe young adult stuff.”

“Why haven’t you been doing that?” she asked. He looked puzzled. She hitched herself a little higher in his arms and shifted her legs around his waist. “Couldn’t you be working on your own writing in your free time, like after work or on the weekends?”

His fingers moved gently along the nape of her neck. “I don’t really have a lot of free time. At least, I didn’t, not leading up to…” he looked almost embarrassed as he cleared his throat. “And I put in long hours at the magazine, and well, when I would get home at night, my ex didn’t really want me on my laptop all the time. And our weekends were always crammed full of things. Dinners with friends, wine tastings…”

It was the first time he brought up his ex since the flight down.

“We don’t have to talk about her, you know, if it makes you…” Y/N hesitated.

Harry shook his head. “I’m going to have to get used to explaining things to people. A lot. Our guests all knew the wedding was off, but the casual acquaintances and all… work associates… I’m not looking forward to rehashing it a hundred times,but it’s gonna have to be done.”

She cleared her throat and dared to ask him how he has met his ex-fiance. His eyes grew a little wistful as he reminisced, and she felt guilty, but he admonished her with a firm press of his lips to hers. He guided them over to one of the secluded alcoves and trapped her body against the side of the pool, where he proceeded to give her the shortened version of his history with his ex, Y/N was surprised to learn that he and his ex had been together since they were nineteen.

“I’m kinda a long-term relationship guy, I guess,” He offered, when she made the comment that seven years was a long time.

His admission caused a lump to rise, unbidden, into her throat. Once again, she found herself shaking off thoughts that she has no right to be thinking.

It was when he told her how he had proposed that a different unwelcome sensation rippled through her. She had suddenly had enough of the conversation, and she silenced him the only way she knew how. She rocked her hips against him, and he tightened his grip on her. His arousal met her next thrust, and his mouth found hers.

They didn’t last much longer in the pool.

And she took a little bit of sadistic pride in the way he screamed her name when she sucked him off again.

~~~

let me know what you all think! please reblog and like if you enjoyed :) please be kind.

Part 3 // masterlist

#harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fandom #harries #one direction smut #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #dont blame me for falling #my work

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hops-hunny · 3 years

Text

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 1

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: None for this chapter!

A/N: Nothing major happens in this chapter, this is sorta just like the beginning stages.

(Y/n) let out a load groan, hand searching aimlessly for the alarm clock on her side table. “Where is it?!” she continued to slap her hand around on her table, many objects falling to the floor before her hand finally landed on the right one, the rooster noises ceasing as her hand collided with the big snooze button. She rolled over, sighing as she stared at her speckled ceiling. “Perhaps I really should take the time to learn how to use the alarm on my phone.” it wasn’t that she was bad with technology persay. It’s just if it was produced after the year of 2008 you could forget it. Could you really blame her though? During all her years at Hogwarts, she had never made the switch her fellow classmates made with modern technology. Sure she had a smart phone but the only thing she could manage to do with it is call, text, and make notes in the notes app (something she had just recently learned as well).

Unwillingly, she crawled out of bed, stretching as she let out a large yawn, bones snapping and cracking like a New Year’s firework. She made her way to the bathroom, looking into the same mirror she always did, watching the light in the center flicker the same way as always. Life for (Y/n) was seemingly unchanging. Day after day, month after month, was spent exactly the same. She’d wake up, get ready for work, and then travel a few blocks down the street to open the bakery. Her bakery.

It wasn’t that (Y/n) didn’t enjoy what she did. She happened to enjoy her job very much. All her friends at Hogwart’s had encouraged her, giving her the push she need to travel the journey of opening her own business. It was something she had always wanted to do but her parents begged her not to. In their words they didn’t want ‘an over zealous and unrealistic’ daughter on ther hands. However, their rude words simply were fuel to the fire. During her 5th year, she began to busk tables at various shops in Hogsmeade. It was hard work, balancing long shifts at 3 different shops and still maintaining decent scores in each class. But, she knew if she couldn’t handle that then there was no way she’d be able to handle running a bakery. So day in and day out she’d work, and work, and work and by the end of her 7th year she had a decent amount of money saved up!

The first issue had been finding a place in a good area that would gain traction and attention while the second one was finding someone willing to sell to someone fresh out of school with no prior business experience. She’d spoken to many people in various different places, some good, and some bad before she finally had been blessed with the chance of meeting Mary and her wife Denise. It was a miracle really. (Y/n) was short on the money, exponentially so however, Mary had sold to her anyways. She said she saw a passion in the girl that she hadn’t seen for a very long time and that it was something she wanted to help foster considering she had had her time to live her dreams and explore passions of her own. So with that, a handshape was exchanged for a beat up envolope filled with the entirety of the girl’s life savings. She had invested every nickel and dime she had ever earned into the place and she prayed it wouldn’t blow up in her face.

Which brought her to where she was today: a proud owner of a highly successful business. And of course, with great business comes a nice chunk of money which caught her parents’ attention. They had began to call her everyday but when that they didn’t work, they showed up at her shop unannounced. At first, she had felt warm inside. Her usual cold and distant parents had come to visit her! However, when they started crunching out numbers and percentages, that short lived happiness was replaced by irritation in which she quickly kicked them out, placing a charm on the building that when they’d attempt to enter (if they really, truly, had the balls to come back), their bodies would be flung right back onto the sidewalk into the heaping piles of trash on the city side walks. Now, (Y/n) was by no means wealthy, but she made a nice amount of money to be engaging in something she enjoyed so heavily, which is why she was confused where they had gotten the idea she had money to share with the main two people who were the cause of her insecurities. Plus, every extra dollar she had she put right back into the shop. Paying her workers, building maintenance, ingredients. She wasn’t a fan of having too much money, her family had shown her what that could cause (and how easily you could lose it all).

Yet still sometimes she found herself wishing she could live the lavish lifestyle her parents once did. She mainly dreamed more so of the more engaging parts instead of the status and power that came with it. As she frosted various different cakes with thick buttercream, her mind would wonder to vivid imagery of beautiful hotel rooms, with breath taking views. Michelin five star meals, coated in delicious cream sauces. Endless adventure waiting to be discovered.

And yet here she was, sitting at a table as she stuffed her face with a raspberry marzipan cupcake. It was a Wednesday, first one of the month and as per usual, her and Twyla were set together, sampling cakes, chocolates, and other treats for the upcoming days. Wednesday had been the official day they had chosen due to the slowed flow of people that would come in. (Y/n) liked to have a different theme each day of the week. The customers lived for it and she had massed a group of frequenters who came each day, wondering what the theme would be that day.

“You know boss, I’ve gotta say it. Working here and sampling all these cakes with you is giving me quite the ass!” Twyla said, turning around as she wiggled her ass in the girl’s face for emphasis. (Y/n) giggled, rolling her eyes as she swatted at the girl, missing as she jumped away from her last minute. “Hey! You gotta take me out to dinner first for that.”

“Just because we’re sampling cakes doesn’t mean that the store is closed! Anyone could walk in at any moment and would you really want that to be their first experience here?” she asked, eyes scanning the silver platter in front of them. She decided on the new dessert flavored chocolates she had been working on. Popping it into her mouth, she let out a moan of approval.

“I mean, I dont’ see why not! We’d definitely make a lot more money with a cake like mine!” the blue haired girl said, sitting down as she grabbed a chocolate as well. “Besides, I don’t think those little noises you’re making would help the scene.” she stated, snickering as the girl across from her tensed up.

“It-it’s not like that! The chocolate- it just- I just- ugh!” she stuttered out, huffing as she crossed her arms over her chest, pouting at the girl. “If you’re gonna keep being mean we can end this process. Just tell me what you think of the blueberry pie chocolate so I can know if we’re adding it to tomorrow’s spread.”

“Oh come on (Y/n) it’s good! Every first Wednesday we sit here, you overly critique yourself, then me and Tiana end up picking out our favorites for the next day!” Twyla was right, even their patterns for trying new things remained the same. (Y/n) wiped her messy hand on her aprons, sighing as she stood up to go back to her position behind the counter. Her employee followed, grabbing the platter to put back into the kitchen before joining her boss behind the counter.

“You’re right. I swear everyday is beginning to feel the same.” She opened her notepad, beginning to take inventory of the sweets they had in the display counter. “I’m grateful for everything I have, I really am. But sometimes I just wish I could have something, anything….”

“New?” the green eyed girl added, catching the (h/c) haired girl’s attention. She nodded, looking at the girl who had snuck a cookie out of the glass case. “I feel ya, girl. Everyday feels the same. Sometimes even when new people come in, I can already tell how they’re going to be. How they’ll act, what they’ll order, what method of payment they’ll use.” (Y/n) eyed the girl up, raising a brow.

“Are you sure you’re not just using legilimens?” she questioned, watching as the girl shifted on her feet, scratching the back of her neck.

“Okay so maybe I do sometimes. But a lot of the times I don’t! Like the other day this weird guy came in and- woah. (Y/n) I don’t wanna freak you out but I have a feeling those hotties in suits across the street are going to be walking in here soon.” Twyla said, in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. The shorter girl followed her friend’s gaze, looking out the glass doors across the street. Three unfamiliar men were crossing over, all in suits that she could only assume cost as much as four months of rent. However, the one in the middle really caught her eye.

Before she knew it, the bell chimed and the three of them made their way in. They looked very out of place in the brightly decorated shop. The one in the middle looked the most important, towering over the other two men. He had dark slicked back hair, an eyebrow piercing, and tattoos that were visible on his neck and hands (which had a few beautiful looking rings on them (none of which were a wedding band…)), yet his hazel eyes held a soft look to them. To his left was a redhead boy, freckles danced all along his face. His eyes were bloodshot from god knows what. He had tattoos as well (not as many as the middle man) and a few unique ear piercings. The guy to the hot tall guy’s right was attractive too but not nearly as serious looking as the other two. In fact, he was humming a song under his breath, a smile causing the tattoo on the right side of his face to crease.

As she went to open her mouth to greet them, the man in the middle eye’s grew wide, his mouth gaping as he stared at her. He walked closer, examining her face closely which caused her to grow confused.

“I’m...I’m sorry. Do I know you?” she asked.

“(Y/n)?” she gasped at the sound of the familiar voice, her notepad and pen dropping from her hands. She made her way around the counter, staring up at the tall man.

“Neville?!”

NEXT||

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @beewitchedlou @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically

#neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader #Neville Longbottom #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #mafia #mafia!neville #mafia!au

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lewdbabies · 3 years

Text

Part 2

~my pet~ Sukunaxreader smut

Dom sukuna

warning: 18+ MDNI, raw sex, breeding, degradation, praise kink, choking, BDSM

part 3 posted on my page enjoy 🥵

“I refuse to wear such a thing” You huff.

The small elderly woman stares up at you with tired eyes pleadingly.

“Please mistress My lord has ordered me to make sure you wear this robe specifically” you look down at the slinky red floral robe with dread. This seemed highly inappropriate you ball your fist crushing the material in your hands. You nod slipping your arms into the silk sleeves. The servant woman walks circles around your body tucking and tying as she goes. You can barely breath as she pulls tighter around your waistline creating a hour glass shape and hoisting your breast up. Just yesterday he was breathing down your neck about you being a threat and now he is forcing you to dine with him. Your eyes roll at the very thought of him, the servant woman ties a final bow on your robe before slipping a gem Incrusted hair clip into your wild mane. You turn to the mirror and there you stood glistening with beauty from head to toe. The light makeup complemented your natural features making them stand out, the red tight fitting robe accentuated your curves, the long red silk fell in a pool around your feet while leaving a gapping slit to see your legs beneath, your breast sat perched struggling against the fabric,You nearly didn’t recognize yourself.

The woman runs a delightful oil on your skin engulfing you in the scent of wild flowers and lavender. She nods motioning for you to follow her down the hall. This is the first time you’d been anywhere in the temple apart from the room you were held in. Each footstep bounced off the large walls and pillars, The ceiling was an artistic vision of heaven, paintings of tales you’d only hear in religion,Angels, beast, and Demons.

You play with a loose string on your gown nervously, keeping your focus away from your awaiting fate.

“My lord” The woman bows her head.

“ You may go” she turns immediately swiftly walking down the long corridor.

You are alone now, the only thing separating you is a grand dining table which Sukuna sits at the head of.

“Sit” he swirls the wine in his glass watching you intently.

He takes a sip never taking his eyes off you as you slide hesitantly into your seat. His bottom lip is stained a bright red he licks the remnants his stare glued on you. Your legs cross tightly in a attempt to calm the throbbing in your clit.

‘I want a taste’ you think to yourself before you realize what you’re doing. The thought was intrusive a pure surprise, you begin to eat in silence.

“You look Delicious “

“Excuse me?”

He smirks “ I asked if the food is delicious...” Your eyebrows wrinkle in suspicion.

“ the food is delicious thank you” you bow your head.

Glancing up you’re met with his piercing gaze you begin to squirm.

After a while of nervous eating and silent tension Sukuna speaks finally.

“ Would you like dessert as my guest I’ve ordered the kitchen to prepare an array of sweets for you “ what could you say you had a sweet tooth.

“That sounds...lovely” you say cautiously afraid to turn down any of his Generous gestures. He stands walking slowly like a predator sneaking up on its prey, you feel so small under his gaze, so fragile compared to his power. He reaches a giant hand out to you, you place your small hand in his rising from your seat. He walks you down the hall holding your hand firmly. You struggle to keep up with his pace being that your legs were extremely short in comparison to his.

He leads you to a luxurious room covered in satin and Golden treasures. He leads you to the edge of the bed.

“Rest your feet, my pet” he coos staring hungrily at your exposed chest.

You sit on the soft bed crossing one leg over the other exposing your thighs. He rolls a cart in front of you a silver platter covered by a sterling top sat before you. Sukuna reveals what is inside, a platter of ingredients?

Strawberry’s,black berries , fresh cream, sugar cane, cherries, And molten cocoa. It looked mouth watering you begin to salivate.

Sukuna picks up a bright red strawberry dipping it slowly into the cocoa maintaining eye contact, your body trembles as he approaches you. His free hand slides behind your neck his thumb massaging the soft skin as he traces your lips with chocolate. You’re going insane blood rushing through your veins as the sweet taste invades your tongue. He pushes the berry between your lips gently urging you to bite into its sweetness. Red juices run down your lips as you bite down savoring the taste invading your senses. Sukuna’s eyes light up his grip on your neck firming, he leans down trailing his tongue along your chin lapping up the spilled juices.

His tongue is long almost serpent like it swirls across your lip leaving a warm tingling in its wake. You moan softly leaning into him, he responds by crashing his lips to yours in a fervent greedy heat. It was senseless you didn’t know him at all and yet your body ached for his touch.

Your hips swirled as you tangled your hands in his blazing red hair pulling him closer. He grunts slipping his Eager tongue between your lips, he leans forward placing his knee between your legs you lay back pulling him slightly on top of you. Your gown is bunched up around your waist your breast barely contained, he’s hovering over you panting quietly. He pushes his knee deeper into your core spreading your legs further apart, the pressure against your clit causes you to whimper. He smiles devilishly down at you soaking in your lust drunken face, he can feel you throbbing against him making his cock twitch in excitement. He captures your lips again, grinding his knee gently into your pleading slit. You’re soaking wet and gasping between kisses He is intoxicating, all reason and logic were gone there was one thing you wanted no, needed in this moment. Your hands reach down blindly, your finger tips graze the tented material of his robe his length twitches in response. He groans pulling away from your lips only to attack your breast with his mouth. He rips the fabric from your chest with ease exposing your yearning hard buds, he waste no time suckling your sensitive spot . Your back arches, your hands pull him closer playing in his hair.

“Please ...”

“ please what, use your words like a big girl “

“Ah, fuck, I-I can’t “ your words are choppy almost in coherent

“Yes you can Doll ,cmon tell me what you want “ he moans.

“Touch...me...more Ah ah”

“ Ask nicely or I might just have to punish you” he nibbles lightly on your aching nipples.

“P-Please touch me My lord” you cry out eyes rolling back.

“Good Girl” he growls fingers pushing past your thighs in search of your wet entrance, he slides his middle digit along the length of your slit brushing lightly over your throbbing nub.

“Oh my god Ah-!” You we’re losing your mind, you’d touched yourself there many times before, waking up late nights to play with yourself in secret but this...this was different it was a pressure that resided deeper than you’d ever experienced, Like a volcano waiting to erupt.

Your hands impatiently work to try and free his Hard member but he pulls away from you suddenly leaving you laying there a heaving mess.

“Did I say you can touch me “ he growls in your ear you wither beneath him.

He grabs a piece of torn fabric grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head. He wraps the satin tightly around your wrists rendering you helpless,You’re at his mercy.

He trails kisses all the way down your body, kissing every stretch mark and scar in sight. You’re quivering and bucking your hips impatiently, he reaches your thighs pushing them up digging your knees lightly into your chest. You’re folded in half your wetness completely exposed to him, he blows lightly on your hot swollen labia causing you to squirm and clench your insides. He chuckles at your excitement soaking in the sight of you.

“Mmmm such a pretty little pussy” he spreads your lips apart running his tongue over your pearl. He waste no time devouring your satin folds, he sucks desperately on your clit slipping in two fingers stretching you so much you almost cum right then and there. He pumps into you filling your walls with pleasure, you clamp down on him as you grind into his tongue. It’s too much to take you’re about to explode , he pumps faster your juices flowing down his fingers he moans into your pussy vibrating your entire soul, it was enough to send you over the edge. Your ass arches off the bed as you reach your mind numbing climax sukuna finger fucks you harder riding out your orgasm with you. Your juices sprayed soaking his lips and the sheets beneath you, he smiles licking up the mess you made.

He slides up shoving his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“Mmm desserts is always better than the main course” he kisses your forehead before standing up pulling you into his arms. He picks you up bridal style and begins walking down the corridor despite your obvious displeasure and silent protest. How dare he make you cum like that and send you off to bed!

He lays you in your bed pulling the covers up to your neck. He kisses your lips as he unties the makeshift handcuffs with your hands free you reach up pulling him closer desperate for more. He humors you grabbing your throat and pulling you deeper into the kiss.

“Uhn fuck-“ he moans grabbing your exposed breast rolling the bud between his fingers.

You attempt to pull him on top of you... he pulls away.

“ Such an impatient Girl, It is time to rest” he kisses you one last time before walking away leaving you stunned and angry by his strange behavior.

‘ why won’t you fuck me?!’

#sukunaxreader #sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #smut #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Leave Your Boots By The Bed (SPN x BtVS)

Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane

Word Count: 7350

Warnings: It’s smutty! Samhandling, the jockey is MJ’s favorite sex position, lots of discussions of trust and consent, unprotected sex, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, and dom/sub themes. Wee bit o’ feelings but in a nice way with a happy ending. Mostly just a whole bunch of marathon, athletic, probably-not-OSHA-compliant banging.

A/N: This is the Sam/Faith side-quest (idk what else to call it) to Big Damn Heroes, but you don’t really need to read that to understand this. You can also read just the scene where these two meet over here.

This is my entry for @idabbleincrazy and her “What Do You Mean This Is Classic Rock?” Challenge! My prompt was “Girl All The Bad Guys Want,” by Bowling For Soup, which 100% gave me Faith vibes. It’s quoted/referenced a couple times in the story.

It’s also my (second) entry for @stusbunker’s Jam Basket fic exchange. This one’s for @thoughtslikeaminefield, who deserves the world on a silver platter. I cannot give her that, so instead I offer Faith smut. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords for prodding and lotion-related reality checks, and to @fangirlxwritesx67 for the read-throughs and for reassuring me that if I ever write Sam smut without a little psychoanalysis thrown in, she will worry about me.

Title from the Jason Isbell song “Cover Me Up,” which I listened to on repeat while writing certain chunks of this.

“What’s so funny?” Faith asks, looking at him sideways as they walk.

“I just told you I come from another universe and your response is ‘cool.’”

“Am I supposed to be impressed? I like it this way. No chance of you gettin’ all clingy.”

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.”

“Monsters, huh? You ever staked a vamp before?”

“Stakes don’t kill ‘em in my world. But… beheaded a few,” Sam says mildly.

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkle. “So if we take the shortcut through the graveyard, you’re not gonna slow me down or get yourself killed?”

He gives her an unimpressed look. “What do you think?”

“Let’s go, then,” she challenges, pointing to the cemetery gate up ahead. “Bet I can dust more before we get to the other side.”

“You’re on.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Heads up,” Faith shouts, and tosses him a stake. Sam whirls and punches it through the thing’s ribcage, sending dust swirling just in time to turn and watch Faith launch herself at another vamp.

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Sam wonders out loud, a little bit enthralled by the cocky grin on her face as she sends the vamp stumbling with one of those showy spin-kicks.

“This is not a date,” she snaps, between solid punches. The last hit decks the vamp, and she stakes him before he can hit the ground. She struts toward Sam, brushing dust from her skintight jeans with a Cheshire cat smile. “I like my job. Fuckin’ sue me.”

“Not complaining,” Sam says, sincerely. “Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages.”

She looks up at him suspiciously, like she thinks he’s making fun of her, and Sam lets her see the heat in his eyes. The grin is back, and she’s grabbing him by the lapels and rocking onto her tiptoes, swaying into him with a little sigh and a lot of confidence. Sam slides both hands into her hair and ducks down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip and tasting waxy red.

Breathtakingly competent and moderately bitchy has always sorta been his type.

“We had a bet,” he points out, before crushing his mouth to hers again. She makes a sound like a purr and wrenches herself away, grabbing him by the wrist and making a beeline for the path.

“I’m gonna say we both won here,” she says decisively. “Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She grabs him the second the lock slides into place, backing him against the door, already tugging at his belt. He yanks her jacket off her shoulders and she lets it fall, and then he grabs her by the belt loops, reeling her in until she’s pressed against him, hips flush to his as he slouches against the door. He bends to mouth at the long smooth line of her throat.

“Talk to me,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. She shivers.

“Fuck that,” she says hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you here to talk.”

“Don’t worry, I can multitask.” Sam nibbles at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, working delicate skin between his teeth, and pops the button of her jeans. He slides a hand down, teasing her clit with his fingertips, and repeats: “Tell me what you like.”

“I like a lot less conversation and a whole lot more nudity,” Faith tosses back, but her voice is ragged, and she tilts her head to the side, baring her neck for his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ know, dude, are we doing this or not?”

He bends just enough to scoop her up, and she goes with it, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he cups her ass with both hands. When he turns them around, slamming her back against the door and rolling his hips, Faith lets out a breathy sound of surprise.

He drags his open mouth up the side of her throat and repeats, “Talk to me.”

She pulls him up by the hair, forcing his head back, rough and perfect, and Sam moans against her lips as she kisses him. It’s more like a bite, all teeth and heat.

“Bedroom’s that way,” she says huskily.

She’s so strong, rock-solid where she’s wrapped around him, that it’s barely an effort to carry her through the small, spare living space. She’s got her hands in his hair and her teeth scraping his collarbone, and Sam grits his teeth against the sting as he kicks the door shut behind them.

“Get your fuckin’ clothes off already,” she rasps, tugging at his flannel, and he strips both his shirts off obligingly, leaning back against the wall to balance as he discards them without putting Faith down.

She lets go of his neck to help him, holding herself up with no support other than her abs and her thighs. Sam’s just as turned on by that casual display of strength as by the sight of bare skin — no bra — when she peels her tank top off. He hoists her a little higher, until he can flick his tongue over one hard pink nipple. He blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin and she shivers, thighs squeezing his sides as she arches her back.

“What do you want?” Sam whispers, and laves his tongue over the other nipple.

“Fuck, anything, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Anything?” He scrapes pebbled skin with his teeth, savoring the way she squirms.

“Want you naked. Now.” She twists out of his grasp like a cat, sliding down his front and landing gracefully on her feet. Gracefully but loudly, that is; she crouches to deal with her big chunky boots, and Sam toes off his own.

He grins down at her as she tugs on his belt, admiring the way her mouth looks: bright red from his teeth, now, with the last smudges of lipstick smeared down her chin.

Sam bats her hands away from his zipper. He picks her up before she can argue and tosses her bodily onto the bed, and she bounces on the mattress, her hair spilling across the sheet like a dark glossy halo. She lifts her hips to get her jeans off, her torso bowing up in a long elegant curve.

Neither of them hide the way they check each other out when the clothes are finally out of the way. Sam kneels on the bed, looking down at her, and she bites her lip, tracking the movement of his hand as he strokes himself lazily.

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Ask for it.”

Her eyes sparkle, mischievous and defiant, and she moves so fast that Sam’s taken by surprise when she grabs him — he can’t remember the last time that happened to him, let alone in bed. She pulls him down on top of her and rolls them over, switching their positions, and Sam laughs breathlessly as she pins his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head.

“I don’t like takin’ orders,” she says smugly.

“Is that true?” Sam counters. “Or have you just never met anybody who knows how to give orders?”

She looks startled by that, but instead of responding, she straddles him — sinks down on him wet and tight and perfect — and Sam has to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a moment, adjusting to all that sudden slippery heat around him.

There’s a gratifyingly breathless note in her voice when she says, “Does it matter? Point is, I can take care of myself.”

She’s not fucking kidding about that part.

She arches into a spectacular back-bend, supporting herself with one hand and zero visible effort. Her other hand is between her legs, rubbing her clit hard and fast as she bucks her hips up in little jerky rocking movements — and there’s an image that will (hopefully) be seared into Sam’s memory until the day he dies. For a moment all he can do is watch and try to memorize it. Then he presses the heel of his hand into her lower belly, grinding into her as best he can, and she clenches around him, soaking and squeezing in pulses so intense it almost hurts as she comes with a rough, husky moan.

“This is gonna be fun,” Sam breathes, and he tugs her upright for one searing kiss before flipping her onto her stomach.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Sam offers to wash her hair, she reacts like he just proposed marriage, except instead of an engagement ring, he’d offered her a grenade pin — shock, disbelief, and more than a little fear.

“Please tell me this is a kinky thing,” she says warily, and Sam laughs, tilting his head back in the spray and sluicing water from his face with both hands. When he looks down at her again, she’s still got her lip curled and her defenses up.

“It’s not a kinky thing,” he says, rolling his eyes.

She can’t get far in the shower stall, but she turns her back to him, and Sam’s forcibly reminded of a cat, licking her paws dry after accidentally stepping in a puddle.

“I can wash my own damn hair. Shit, don’t get all touchy-feely on me.”

Sam’s had a lifetime of practice at remaining earnest in the face of someone who’s determined to pretend they don’t want his kindness. He knows better than to give up that easily.

“Come here,” he says, smoothing his hands up her sides. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she doesn’t shy away. “Faith. Different universe, remember? Not a romantic thing. I just want to touch you.”

She takes a reluctant half-step back, settling against him without a word.

Sam squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, tilting her chin up so that her head falls back, and he massages her scalp with his fingertips, rubbing in firm circles.

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he tells her quietly, maneuvering her into the spray, but he shields her face carefully with one hand as he starts to rinse the lather out, making sure the bubbles don’t go anywhere near the fan of her spiky-wet lashes. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she croaks, barely audible under the sound of the water. “S’ not so bad.”

“Speaking of kinky things,” he says casually. “We should talk about that.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you like? What’s your safeword?”

“Safeword?” She snorts, dismissive. “What, you really think you could dish out somethin’ I couldn’t take?”

Sam clenches his jaw. He’s glad her back is to him so she can’t see the expression on his face right now.

There are no more bubbles in her hair, but he keeps running his hands through it, just to have something to do as he figures out how to say this.

“I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t take,” he tells her softly. “I think you might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Damn straight,” she mutters, mollified.

Sam squeezes out some conditioner, finger-combing it through her hair.

“You don’t trust me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Fuck no,” she replies promptly. “Why would I? Trust is something you gotta earn.”

Sam’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fair enough. But… it’s not about seeing how much you can take. It’s about you trusting me to stop, no questions asked, if you say that word. You want me to take control, I’ll do it. Believe me, I’m down. But not until you trust me. If you think you can do that, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?”

She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but she seems to think better of it. She lets out a sigh, looking at him — through him — and all he gets is a subdued, “Yeah, okay.”

Sam tilts her head back gently again, working his fingers through her hair until the little crease of a frown fades from her forehead. He turns her in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and she lets him, resting her cheek over his heart.

“Poughkeepsie.”

“Gesundheit.”

“Cute. It’s a city where I — I was in over my head, one time, and I needed help. That’s my safeword.”

She pulls back, looking up at him, confusion written all over her face. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I trust you.”

“Really?”

Sam shrugs. “If somebody offered you a lot of money to kill me, I’d sure as fuck be watching my back. But… as far as respecting boundaries? Here and now, just you and me? Yeah, I trust you completely.”

Faith stares, scanning his expression for a hint of a lie, but when she doesn’t find one, her eyes soften. Her lips curl briefly into a pleased little smile.

“Didn’t really take you for the submissive type.”

“I’m not.”

She cocks her head thoughtfully, gaze calculating, and prods, “Go on, then. You’re the one who wants to talk about everything.”

“No bodily fluids.”

“With you on that one. There’s good freaky fun and then there’s just freaky. What else? Bet you’d look real pretty tied to my bed.”

“No chains. Ropes, cuffs, that’s fine — no chains. Um.. pain isn’t a big deal. I’d rather you didn’t draw blood, but… as far as pain goes, don’t worry about pushing too far.”

“Tryna be a tough guy?”

“No. Just telling you the facts. Temperature play is a hard limit. Ice, especially.”

“Okay. So… if I wanted to blindfold you, tie you up, and ride your face for a while…”

“Works for me.” She gets out of the shower without another word, grabbing a towel, all business, and he laughs. “Somebody’s in a hurry.”

“You’ve got like sixty seconds before the hot water runs out and it gets all end-of-Titanic in there.” She flashes him a grin. “Also, yeah. Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She pretends she’s asleep, for a while, but then she slips out of bed, and her bare feet don’t make a sound as she navigates the apartment in the dark. He hears the toilet flush, water run, then the creak of… something.

He gives her a minute to herself before he gets up, just as silent as she was, and follows the smell of smoke to the open window. She’s leaning on the sill, silhouetted by the filtered yellow light of street lamps, and when she takes a drag the orange ember flares in the dark.

“Jesus, fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” she snaps. The Boston in her voice comes out strong when she’s startled. When she offers him the last bit of the cigarette he takes it, grabbing her wrist with the other hand, and throws it out the window as he pulls her close.

“Hey, I was smokin’ that,” she protests, voice crackly like there’s a popping fire down in her chest.

Sam traces the curve of her cheek. He brushes one curled knuckle back and forth over her lower lip and then drags the pad of his thumb over the pillow of it, watching the soft give as he presses down. Her tongue darts out to flicker over his thumb, but otherwise, she’s motionless.

Faith takes his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth, and swirls her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Then she slides his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. They slide from her lips with a wet pop. A bolt of heat thuds through Sam’s gut — he’s only human.

“I like your hands,” she purrs, with one last suggestive lick.

“Something in particular you want me to do with them?” he asks.

She hesitates and presses a kiss to the center of his palm before answering: “I bet you have some ideas.”

“Tell me what you want, Faith.”

For a second there’s a deer-in-headlights vulnerability in her huge dark eyes, and she can’t hide the slight frown that flickers across her face.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she whispers. She’s still holding his wrist. Sam twists to lace his fingers through hers instead, letting their joined hands drop palm-to-palm.

“Because sex isn’t fun for me unless everybody’s getting what they want. Call me crazy, but…”

“I brought you here, didn’t I? You know I want it. That’d be good enough, for most guys. Believe me, if you do somethin’ I don’t like, I’ll tell you about it.”

Sam closes his eyes, thinking of a half-dozen possible answers to that question. He considers telling her about Meg and Gadreel and all the other things that have slithered in over the years and used his body without his permission. He feels a phantom pain in his palm and remembers Lucifer’s taunt — you let me in — and he considers telling her about why he can’t stand the feel of ice or the rattle of chains.

He settles for the most fundamental answer: “Because you deserve to get what you want. You deserve better than ‘good enough.’”

She digests that silently for a moment, and then she guides his hand firmly to her hip, before grabbing the other and placing it flat on her breastbone.

“Just… touch me?” she asks, and Sam smiles, shifting closer, running his hands over her skin: fingertips in the dip of her throat, thumb stroking her collarbone, palm sweeping up and down her side, gentle and deliberately innocent.

“Why does it bother you so much when I ask?” he says softly.

She grimaces, and for a second it looks like she’ll brush it off, make a joke of it.

“Not used to it, I guess. Most guys don’t ask. I think guys look at me, they make some assumptions, you know?”

“Such as?”

She shrugs. “Guess they figure I’m down for anything.”

“Faith.”

“Don’t. Anyway, it’s more than that. Most people, they only offer to give you something if they want something in return.”

“What do you think I want from you?”

“That’s what’s got me spun out. Figured you just wanted a great lay, but… you’re still here.” She drops her gaze. “Bein’ all sweet and shit.”

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Should I not be?”

“Can’t figure you out,” Faith mumbles. “You’re different.”

Sam thinks about that for a moment as he folds to his knees in front of her. He drags his mouth down the center of her chest, tasting salt, and nips at the soft skin under her belly-button.

“How do you mean?” He looks up at her again, holding eye contact as he traces her hipbone with his tongue.

“I’m not the kinda chick that sweet guys usually go for, you know?” She slides her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and Sam hums his approval. “The nice ones know better. I’m the girl all the bad guys want.”

“That seems a bit reductive, don’t you think?”

“See, shit like that. Your mouth’s an inch away from my pussy and you’re using words like reductive.”

“I just want you. All of you, not just the ‘nice’ parts or the shit you show most guys.”

“Might not be saying that if — oh. Do that again.”

“Faith, trust me when I say that whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse.”

“Jesus, can we talk about this later?”

“What do you want?”

“Want you to get your ass back in bed and quit teasing, for starters.”

“I can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“The fuck did you find in the fridge?” Faith asks hoarsely.

“Beer and pickles,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin.

She’s leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, wearing his flannel and nothing else. It’s open, baring a long slice of pale skin, from the dip between her breasts and down her stomach to a neat trail of dark hair. She looks like a centerfold, but rumpled and sleepy-eyed and real, human, in a way that makes it so much hotter.

“You went out.” She frowns at the front door.

“Are you surprised I came back?”

“Honestly? Not really.” Sam hides his smile at that answer. “Except that door’s supposed to lock automatically.”

“It does. I picked the lock.”

“Anything you can’t do?” Faith comes over and hoists herself up onto the counter next to him, eyeing the pan of bacon eagerly.

“Never been good at walking in heels.” Sam passes her the extra large to-go cup of dark roast he’d gotten her from the local coffee place, and she grins.

“Shit, you really know how to spoil a girl.”

Sam puts a hand on her bare thigh, thumb running back and forth idly as he takes her in, tracing the shape of her body with his eyes. She gives him a raised eyebrow and sips her coffee quietly. There’s none of the wariness or put-on swagger from last night. She just seems comfortable.

“No bruises,” he says, hand sliding up higher, finding nothing but unblemished skin where he knows he left marks. Every imprint of Sam’s teeth and hands and hipbones has melted away.

“Slayer healing.” She leans back on her palms, inviting him to touch more. Sam pulls his hand away — pancakes to flip — but he smirks.

“That’s a shame. They looked good on you.”

Faith’s eyes go dark. “Yeah?”

“I’ll just have to leave some more… later. Breakfast is ready.”

Faith eats with an indecent enthusiasm that reminds him of Dean, but somehow that doesn’t surprise him. Which… speaking of Dean — Sam borrows her cell as they’re finishing breakfast, because apparently other universes aren’t included in his roaming service, and a sleepy female voice picks up.

“Faith?”

“Sam, actually. Is my brother around?”

“Sam? Did you… you and Faith?” Buffy’s voice goes a little squeaky at the end. Then there’s indistinct scuffling.

Faith swipes her index finger through the maple syrup that’s left on her plate, sucking it clean, hollowing her cheeks in a way that’s pretty fucking distracting.

“Sammy?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hey. You didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

“Where are you? Who’s Faith?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Did Charlie fix the thing?”

“Uh, hang on.” There’s a muffled conversation on the other line.

Faith gets up, walking around the table to pick up Sam’s plate, her movements slinky and deliberate, her hips swaying, showing off tantalizing glimpses of skin as his flannel skims the curves of her body. He twists around to watch her go. Faith sets both plates in the sink and stretches, and the flannel rides up her thighs.

“Pretty sure Charlie’s not awake yet either,” Dean says. “Late nights all around. Go team. Should we save you some breakfast?”

“No, I’m busy.”

Dean is saying something, but Sam’s not really paying attention. Faith is leaning on the table, bent at the waist, the flannel riding up to expose the lower curve of her ass. Sam turns in his chair to raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly adjusting himself in his jeans. She smirks like the cat who got the cream.

“Just call this number when you need me, Dean,” Sam says abruptly, cutting him off. “See you later.” He hangs up before Dean can get a protest in.

She bats her eyelashes, sugary-sweet. “Sorry, did I distract you?”

“Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” Sam shakes his head, mock-scolding, and gives her a light tap, mostly to watch the way her flesh jiggles just right under his hand.

She grins, wiggling her hips and spreading her legs a little wider. “If you’re gonna do it, do it like you mean it.”

There’s a long, weighted pause.

“Are you asking me for —”

“Fuck yes I am.”

“Faith…”

She’s quiet but sincere when she says, “I trust you.”

Sam exhales sharply, and because she looks nervous, now, he quips, “Should’ve known bacon would do the trick.” She laughs at that and relaxes, so he stands up slowly and asks, “Safeword?”

“Dorchester.”

Sam smiles — equal parts amused by the word choice and touched by the trust. He runs a hand down her back and then up again, taking the soft fabric with him, rucking it up. He takes his time, drawing it out to watch the way she pouts, positioning himself behind her and flattening a palm between her shoulderblades to push her down. She braces herself on her forearms.

“Good girl.”

“Well?”

“Be patient.”

“Fucking hit me already,” she says sulkily.

“You can have anything you want,” he promises her, and he grabs a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “You just have to ask for it. Politely.”

He hears the way she sucks in a breath, ragged and desperate, and he smiles.

“Please spank me. Hard.”

“Good girl,” he repeats. He steps back and squeezes before smacking her, nowhere near hard enough to hurt.

“C’mon, is that the best you’ve got?” she teases, laughing.

“You know it’s not.” He brings his hand down with a satisfying sound, and Faith groans.

“Harder,” she grits out.

The next one makes her cry out, ragged and ecstatic. He hits her again, hard enough that his palm smarts, wrist snapping precisely so that the blows are spaced just right across her ass and her upper thighs.

By the time he pauses again she’s panting harshly. He takes a second to admire her, the pretty shade of red blossoming on her pale skin and the way she’s arching her back, putting herself on display for him.

“Fuck, you look good like this.” He kicks her feet farther apart and traces up her center with two callused fingertips. “So wet already, aren’t you?”

She tries to push back into it, to fuck herself on his fingers as she whimpers, “More?”

He lets loose, brings his palm down with a vicious crack, and he can see the way her legs start to shake.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He leans forward, grinding against her, letting her feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when he pulls back again she moans. Her skin is hot to the touch. He runs his fingers over it teasingly before sliding two fingers into her cunt, curling them, pumping and twisting as Faith curses and clenches around him.

“Need you,” she pants. “More.”

“Let me hear you,” he says. He pulls his fingers out and spanks her again, and she shudders, head bowed, pussy glistening wet.

“Please fuck me,” she breathes. He’s reaching for his belt before she gets the word out.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He rubs the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing, and when she tries to push back, his shaft slides between her lips, dragging along her clit. He bites back a groan and plants his left hand solidly at the base of her neck, forcing her to drop down with her cheek to the table, holding her in place.

“Shit,” she snaps. “Fuckin’ give it to me.”

“What did I say?”

“Want to feel that big thick cock, please,” she says. He can hear the wicked edge in her voice. “Want to feel you fillin’ me up when I come. Just fucking wreck me, Sam. Hold me down and make me scream… please.” She pauses and then asks smugly, “Fuckin’ polite enough for you?”

She could recite a grocery list in that ragged, raspy voice and it’d probably turn him on, at this point; as it is, he feels dizzy from sudden lack of bloodflow to his brain.

“We gotta work on those manners,” he says softly, and pushes into her, just a couple inches, before sliding out again. She whines.

He does it over and over again — one torturously shallow thrust after another — working her open with little rocking motions that are nowhere near enough. She whimpers, and he watches, clocking every shudder that runs up her spine, every involuntary quiver as he fucks into her a little deeper, slick spreading up the flushed-dark length of his cock with each stroke.

It takes every last shred of his self-control, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, until she’s dripping wet and slamming her fists into the table.

Finally, she caves, sobbing two syllables like they’re the only words she remembers: “Please — Sam — please — Sam — please —”

“That’s better,” he sighs, and grabs her by the hips, shifting until he finds the spot that makes her twitch and squirm. She quakes when he hits it dead-on, and he sets an unrelenting pace, fucking her so hard the table hammers against the wall, a rapid-fire counterpoint to her broken, drawn-out cries.

Faith bucks helplessly as she comes, and Sam lets go a split-second later, half collapsing forward as he grinds into her one last time. He braces himself with both palms flat on the wood, and his knees threaten to give out.

His first coherent thought is amazement that the table is still standing, and while he’s trying to remember how to speak, Faith mumbles, “Shit, can’t believe we haven’t broken any furniture yet.” Sam laughs so unexpectedly he almost chokes, and maybe it’s contagious, because Faith starts giggling too.

Sam maneuvers them onto one of the chairs in a messy pretzel of sweat and skin and half-discarded clothes. A surge of pure giddy affection swells in his ribcage, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight, tickling her with his stubble against her neck until she shrieks and twists.

Faith turns her head at an awkward angle to kiss him. Then she mumbles, “Is there more bacon? I could go for more bacon.”

“Anything you want.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Faith stretches extravagantly as she gets up from the opposite end of the couch, and his flannel slips off her shoulders. She lets it fall as she pads over to the fridge.

“Have I mentioned today how good you look naked?” Sam asks.

She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and strikes a goofy, mock-sexy pose. “No, but go right ahead.”

“You look really fucking good naked.”

“Not so bad yourself.” She passes him a bottle and sprawls out with her legs draped across his lap. “Why’d you put your clothes back on, anyway?”

“Hot bacon grease and nudity isn’t a good combo. Trust me.”

“Sounds like the voice of experience talking there.”

“Not personal experience,” Sam says with a smirk. “Dean, though…”

She laughs. He tosses the last bite of bacon at her, and she catches it in her mouth.

“Not cooking any more though, are you?” she asks archly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He obliges, though, stripping unceremoniously, and Faith catcalls. She crawls into his lap when he sits back down, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like beer.

“Much better,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead to his.

“Really thought I might’ve tired you out there.”

“Honestly? Yeah, I need a minute,” she confesses, with a laugh. “Just wanted some eye candy.”

“At your service.”

She settles a little more comfortably in his lap, straddling him, and they exchange slow, lazy kisses. Sam can’t bring himself to stop kissing her. Her lips are soft and plush, and every brush of her tongue and nip of her teeth feels like a luxury, like something he should treasure, because he knows this intimacy has an expiration date.

They stare at each other for a long moment, sweet and almost shy.

Sam offers, “Want to watch a soap opera on mute and make up our own dialogue?”

Her dimples really show when she’s surprised to find herself smiling. She grabs their beers and the remote from the milk crate that serves as her coffee table, raising her bottle in a toast, and then she curls up at Sam’s side, naked and soft and bruised. She fits under his arm like she was meant to be there.

It’s the happiest Sam can remember being in a long time.

Normal, he thinks. This is what normal people do — breakfast and kisses on the couch — tenderness and softness and quiet everyday vulnerability.

Then again, neither of them are normal, not really. Maybe that’s why Sam feels so comfortable with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

This time, she passes him the shampoo without a word, sighing as he cradles the back of her skull with one hand and smooths the hair back from her forehead with the other. When he’s finished, hazy honey-colored eyes blink up at him slowly, like she’s coming out of a trance. It’s a dizzying change from the last time they did this.

They haven’t said goodbye yet and he already misses her — misses this — but he knows he’s lucky to have it for a moment, however brief.

The scalding water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to stretch, and his neck makes a series of popping noises. Faith winces in sympathy.

“Shit, man,” she chuckles. “You sound like Rice Krispies.” She maneuvers around him in the narrow space, reaching up to dig her knuckles into one of his many knots. Sam groans, exaggeratedly pornographic.

Her hands are small, but strong, and Sam’s melting under her palms, increasingly loose-limbed and pliant as she works her thumbs in circles down the muscles on either side of his spine.

“We should get out of here before I forget how to stand up,” he mutters, and Faith laughs. “I think it’s your turn.”

“I like the sound of that.”

She lays herself out on the bed, stomach down, and Sam takes a moment to stare. The way she’s put together — sleek muscle and lush curves under creamy skin — is like art. If she was anyone else, Sam might call her delicate, but he knows better; he knows exactly what she can do. She’s a hurricane disguised as a porcelain doll.

He looks down at his own rough fingers, thickly callused from pencils and triggers and punches, and grabs a bottle of lotion from the dresser before he settles on the bed, straddling her hips. His hands seem massive on her shoulders, and when he drags his palms down, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of her waist, he marvels at the way she almost fits in the circle of his grasp.

He loses himself in the pleasure of just touching her — in the glide of silky skin under his fingers — in the soft grunts and hums she lets out when he works his fingers into a particularly tight knot. He sweeps his thumbs down the pretty little dimples at the small of her back and then lower, caressing and kneading. He’s careful to avoid pressing on the dappled purple-red bruises from earlier, but he skims them appreciatively, feather-light.

“Do those hurt?” he whispers.

“Little bit. I like it.”

He was already half-hard, aroused in a distant, lazy sort of way, but his dick twitches at that.

He brushes his fingertips down the outsides of her thighs, then up the insides, watching the way she spreads her legs wider for him, but he stops just short of the apex, tracing out along the creases where her ass meets her legs instead.

This feels like a form of worship.

Sam bends to press his mouth to the small of her back, kissing one dimple then the other. He trails sweet open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her ass, lips dragging reverently over velvety skin, licking and sucking along the tops of her thighs, drinking in the way she whimpers and shivers.

“More?” she murmurs.

Sam hooks an arm around her, sliding his forearm under her hips to cant them up so he can lick a thick stripe right up her center, swiping his tongue down and up again with a slick slurping noise. The angle isn’t comfortable but it’s fucking hot; it feels like he’s completely surrounded by her, like this, and when he licks deeper, fucks her shallowly with his tongue, the taste of her arousal floods his senses, until the soapy-clean smell of freshly-showered skin is lost under salty-sweet musk and Sam’s mouth and chin are a mess of slick and spit.

She’s trembling as she repeats, “More.”

He drags his tongue in one broad swipe from her clit up between her ass cheeks, and she curses, pressing back against his mouth. He twists two fingers into her cunt, feeling her clamp down around his scarred knuckles and shudder under his mouth, a frisson of pleasure that travels all the way up her spine. He curls his tongue against tight muscle and crooks his fingers, circles her swollen clit with his thumb, and she muffles a sharp cry into the pillow as she comes.

“More — please — Sam?” she gasps, still clenching around him, so wet he can hear the sound of his fingers pumping into her one last time.

He slides on top of her, blanketing her body with his, kissing the nape of her neck as he presses into her. She reaches back and fists a hand in his hair, making a rough wordless noise that sounds like a question, and her fingers twist until his scalp stings and Sam groans. He sits up, straddling her legs, and his entire body throbs with the pulse of blood in his cock as he fucks her. With her legs together like this, pinned under him, she feels so impossibly tight — velvety-soft and steely all at once — he can barely see straight.

She’s crying out with every gasping breath: “More — please.”

Sam wonders what he could do if he could learn her body, learn what she likes, learn how to take her apart in seconds or draw it out until she’s a writhing mess… if he had just a little more time with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Faith is wrecked and gorgeous on top of him, not riding him so much as undulating: deep scooping twists of her hips, rising and falling syrupy-slow like she’s moving underwater. There’s dark sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and a hazy-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression of bliss on her face. Sam watches a droplet of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

He’s losing his grip on time and the boundaries that used to sit so decisively between them. They’re both exhausted to the point that everything seems a little surreal, dreamy, right in that sweet spot where they might be too tired to come again but languid, sensual sex still feels amazing.

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers. “Just like that.”

Faith tilts forward to kiss him, melting against his chest as she rolls her hips. He wraps her up in his arms and flips them, still inside her, still twined around her. He rocks into her, testing one angle and then another, hitching her leg up higher around his waist, grinding and swiveling until he finds the angle that makes her choke out a curse and clutch at his biceps.

“There,” she whimpers.

Heat starts to pool low in his gut, building slowly but inevitably. He leans down to kiss her, tasting salt, mouths brushing clumsily between deep ragged breaths.

“Gorgeous like this.”

“Sam,” she says helplessly, in the shredded whisper that’s left of her voice. “This — you —“

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. I know.”

Neither of them are particularly coherent, but he knows.

Gold rays of sun slant through the blinds in stripes, illuminating the amber in her irises and the suspicious shine gathering in the corner of her eyes. She smiles up at him in a way that leaves him breathless. It takes him by surprise, the trust in her expression and the heaviness in the moment, and he knows she can feel it too.

Sam wants to shy away from it, but he can’t take his eyes off her.

“Where’s that Al Green soundtrack when you need it, huh?” she manages, and it shocks a breathless laugh out of Sam. Faith giggles too, choked-up and overtired and hoarse. Sam can feel her laugh, feels the rippling clench of wet-hot muscle around him; his body reacts with this gut-punch of arousal, and he snaps his hips, driving in deep. She lets out a rough moan and writhes under him, raking her nails down his back.

From there it builds fast, wild and uncontrollable and blinding, both of them clawing at each other, moving on pure animalistic instinct, lost in each other — lost in the moment. It’s the sort of orgasm that hits like a blackout, like Sam’s out of his body for a few seconds that might as well be an eternity.

When he comes to, he’s whispering nonsense into the sweat-slick crook of her neck — babbling endearments, calling her baby — saying sweet stupid things she would never accept if she was in her right mind, but she doesn’t argue; he’s grateful. In return, Sam pretends not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyelashes.

They’re not sad tears, he knows that much. She’s beaming up at him, all this messy pure human happiness shining in her eyes. She’s beautiful.

Eventually they stop shaking, and Sam whispers, “Nap?”

“Yeah.”

She tucks herself under his chin, and he strokes her hair, counting the breaths before she drops off. She’s asleep in ten, and Sam loses count at eleven.

* * * * * * * * * *

They’re woken in disorienting darkness by a jangling ringtone, and Sam’s immediate instinct is to grab the gun he keeps under his pillow. There’s no gun, though — just a warm naked girl draped over him, cursing like a sailor as the phone continues to ring — because there’s no need for a gun here.

Faith answers the phone by growling a suggestion that sounds anatomically improbable, and Sam hears Dean’s gruff baritone on the other end. He snatches the phone out of her hand.

“S’the middle of the fucking night, Dean,” he grumbles.

“Dude, it’s nine. When was the last time you were asleep by nine?”

“Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes and fights the urge to hang up, turn the phone off, and burrow under the sweat-soaked sheets to sleep until he actually feels rested for once. “Yeah, okay, be there soon.”

Sam is about to apologize for waking Faith, but she sits up too, switching on the lamp, looking around bleary-eyed.

“Gonna walk with you as far as the graveyard,” she says, through a yawn. “Vamps don’t take a night off.”

Sam feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck, sore and achy all over, but the exhaustion goes much deeper than that. In spite of it, he’s smiling as they dress.

They’re quiet, nothing but a soft, “You see my other sock?” interrupting the heavy silence. They don’t touch as they leave the dark apartment and head down the dingy stairwell into the warm California night, and they don’t talk. They’re pulling themselves together — rebuilding the walls that separate them from normal people — putting on the emotional armor that allows them to fight the battles they have to fight.

They don’t wander away from the path through the cemetery, this time, and the monsters don’t find them. When they reach the gate on the other side, Faith stops.

“You know how to get back from here?”

“Yeah.” He pulls her in by her jacket to kiss her, deep and bruising.

She pulls away enough to mutter, “Fuckin’ figures you’re from another goddamn universe.”

“If things were different —”

“They’re not, though,” Faith says, smiling ruefully. “And that’s for the best.”

“Probably wouldn’t end well, would it? ”

“We’d never get outta bed, the monsters would take over. Every universe needs its heroes, right?”

“Right.” Sam cradles her face in his hands to give her another soft kiss and says, “Take care of yourself.”

Faith steps back. “Always do.”

She turns, pulling a stake out of her jacket as she stalks away, off the path toward the darker corners of the graveyard. Sam watches her go.

She doesn’t look back, but before she’s out of earshot, she shouts, “Quit starin’ at my ass and go save the world already. You’ve got work to do.”

Sam laughs, and then he rolls his eyes and starts walking, smiling to himself. She’s not wrong.

#1kclassicrockchallenge #sam winchester fic #sam winchester #faith lehane #btvs #spn #supernatural #spn x btvs #supernatural x buffy the vampire slayer #crossover fic #sam winchester x faith lehane

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crescentsteel · 3 years

Text

To All the Boys I’ve Loved - The Popular Guy (2)

route: Tooru Oikawa genre: fluff, crack wc: 6k

This is a collab from our server @babythotshq.

Experience other routes here.

Route masterlist.

[a/n: I love writing for Oikawa so much :(( ]

Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse, there you are, staring dumbfounded at Oikawa.

“What?” you utter, incredulous from what he just said. You must’ve been hearing things from all the chaos this morning has brought you.

“I was asking you out, y/n-chan.”

You couldn’t suppress the grimace that formed on your face. Among all the other guys you sent the letter to, it was him whom you thought would be the least of your problems. You thought that he’d be out of the scenario by default. You didn’t think your letter to him would matter. It would just be another fan letter.

By an ironic turn of events, it was him with you in this empty room, asking if you wanted to date him.

It was preposterous.

You should’ve burned those letters instead of letting them lie around. Now that you think about it, you shouldn’t have even written those letters in the first place. You and your stupid sentiments of ‘starting fresh’ led you to this.

You fix your posture, removing your forehead from resting on his back hand. Despite slouching towards your direction, he’s still towering over you.

“I don’t want to date you, Oikawa-san.”

He backs away slowly with his eyes wide, shocked by your immediate refusal. He must be. He’s the most popular guy in high school. A lot of girls would kill just to be trapped in the same room with him right now as you are. You can already hear the hearts of his fangirls being shattered if they find out that he’s interested to date someone.

“But why?”

He sounds as if something’s wrong with you for rejecting him. Can you blame him though? Other than being perfection personified, you sent him that letter that explicitly told him that you have a huge crush on him.

“I don’t wanna be killed by your hoard of fans. I still want to live.”

He pressed his lips together and put his fist in front of his mouth in an attempt to suppress a laugh, but failed right after as his laughter echoed in the empty classroom.

“Seriously? That’s it?” Amusement still laced on his face.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’? You don’t even go here, yet you’re immediately surrounded by girls. I don’t want to be caught in all of that. I want an amazing college life without girls going after my throat.” You said a bit too fast which made you catch your breath. You forgot that you sprinted just a while ago to get away from everyone.

Then he smiles at you, his eyes closed in arced slits, that prince-like smile that had everyone fawning after him.

“Y/n-chan.”

“Y-yes?” You stutter, slowly losing the previous resolve you had to stand up against him.

He opens his eyes and looks directly at you. “Do you still like me?”

It should’ve been easy to say no, but you have a gut feeling that he would be able to tell if you were lying. You’re not an excellent liar to begin with.

“Well.. uh. It’s not that I don’t, but errr.” You cower in the middle of your sentence, unable to deny what he asked you. You try to look somewhere else to prevent the fluster that was about to surface on your face

He suddenly puts his hands together like in a prayer, emitting a sharp sound that made you look at him again.

“Yaay! I thought you really declined me back then, y/n-chan. That hurt.” He said with feigned pain on his tone.

“But I just did?” You could’ve been more firm, but you, yourself, sounded uncertain as you find yourself getting mesmerized again by his presence, realizing that it’s him, the one you’ve always looked at from a distance with a dreamy sigh knowing that he’d never look your way.

But you were okay with that! So it wasn’t really a problem.

He suddenly gets his phone from his pocket and looks at it for a short while. “Ah. I have to go now.”

You feel conflicted. You should feel relieved that he’s about to leave and give you the peace you wanted, but also, you still haven’t settled the issue at hand.

“Come on now.” He gets your hand and tugs you along with him to get out of the room. You absent-mindedly follow as you’re distracted with his huge hand covering yours.

Once outside, he faces you. “I’ll be back, okay?”

You summon the all willpower you have in you. “I told you. I don’t want to go” you pause when he faces you, “out… with….” You were rendered speechless from the calculating smirk he gave you, something you haven’t seen him do from all those times you silently watched him.

“Do you honestly think I’d accept that half-assed rejection?”

He lets go of your hands only for his fingers to go up to your chin. “Tell it straight to my face that you don’t like me. Then, I’ll stop.”

You had an inkling that from that night that Oikawa had this persona he wasn’t showing any one. He only showed you a glimpse of it. But right now, he’s revealing not only a glimpse, but a more concrete display of it.

There really is more to him than what he let on to everybody.

In a blink of an eye, he goes back to his pleasant demeanor, slightly pinching your chin before releasing it. “See you again, y/n-chan.”

You watch his back gradually disappear from your sight while you’re completely rooted to the ground.

The buzzer rang, signalling the end of your last subject for the day. You gather your things from your desk and start to head out when you feel your phone vibrate.

‘Miss me, y/n-chan? :P’

You gape at the short message you just received. It was an unknown number, but you have a very good guess to who it is. In fact, it’s not just a guess. You were certain it was Oikawa. You could even hear his voice as you read it.

‘How did you get my number?’

‘Have I told you what a wonderful being your lil sister is? So precious! >_<’

That witch! How much more did she tell Oikawa about you?

“Ugh!”

She has no idea how lucky she was that you moved out. If you were at home, God knows what you might have done to her.

You haven’t replied, but your phone alerted again.

‘I’m waiting at your campus gates, mkay?’

Did your wretched sister tell him about your schedule too? Did she also tell him that you have a scar on your left butt cheek? Cause you wouldn’t be surprised if she did.

Wait. What?!

You look again at what he just said, the thought of him actually being there waiting for you sinking in your head.

You double your pace to reach the gates as soon as you can just to see if he was actually telling the truth.

Like he said, there he was, gracing the area with his presence just by standing there.

Your high school uniform looked great on him. But seeing him in his casual wear is a cultural reset you still haven’t gotten used to because he looked better than he already did before.

Your university didn’t have uniforms, but even so, you could tell he was different from other students. He looked out of place because he stands out.

You weren’t the only one to notice as you can see some students buzzing around about that good-looking guy near the gates.

Your eyes meet when you look at him again. He immediately smiles warmly at you, which made you blush a little. You’re about to approach him when three girls suddenly talked to him. You were not near enough to hear their conversation, but you didn’t have to be. You already know they’re ogling at him.

While he’s distracted with them, you turn around and walk away as quickly as you can.

You scold yourself mentally.

For a moment, you forgot that he was the great Oikawa.

You don’t know why he’s after you, but you don’t want to get caught up with all of that ruckus.

If he won’t take your refusal, you’re just going to have to ignore him. You came to terms with the fact that you’re a bad liar, so you can’t tell him to his face that you don’t like him.

Because you do.

As the days go by, you don’t respond to his texts. You ignore him when he waves at you, despite the other girls fighting for his attention, as he waits for you every other day in the school gates.

He could’ve easily approached you again every time he saw you at campus. He did chase you on his first visit after all.

But you knew what he wanted. He wanted you to be the one to go to him. He’s offering himself on a silver platter and baiting you to come get him yourself.

It was irritating because you were tempted. Every time you saw him smile exclusively at you, your defenses got weaker. Each day you see him waiting is a scene straight from a shoujo manga, and you feel like you’re the dumb heroine.

Finally, on his second week of relentless visits, you gave in. You did your best not to, but you also didn’t think he’d be that persistent.

Since he visited frequently, he unknowingly built a group of followers who’d wait for him as well. Even before he sees you, you march up to him and ignore the few people who are already hogging him.

His face lights up when he spots you coming towards him and waves eagerly at you. Upon being acknowledged by him, the people make way for you until you’re standing right in front of him.

“Y/n-chan!”

You thought he’d immediately understand that you wanted to get out of here, but he just looks at you innocently.

“Let’s go,” you say in almost a whisper before turning around and walking away from the small crowd. “Bye everyone,” you heard him say cheerfully before catching up to you.

You let him follow you until you reach a cafe outside the university.

“I really thought you were going to keep ignoring me,” he said as he stirred the coffee he ordered.

“When were you planning to stop if I did?”

He sips the coffee and answers, “Today.”

You place your elbows on the table as you cover your face with your hands. You made a terrible decision. You should’ve been strong for at least one more day, and that would have been the end of it.

“Can’t believe you actually made me chase you,” he added.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I wanted to.”

Even until now, his straightforwardness still surprises you. How does someone say things like that so easily?

It must be the confidence from being such an incredible person

“So, are we dating now?”

You gawk at him. You haven’t even settled down yet from the previous conversation and there he was with another bomb already at hand.

“No! I dragged you here to talk. Why are you so persistent in asking me out? Aren’t you busy?”

“Not really. I quit volleyball.”

Oikawa saw how your expression changed all too quickly when he gave you the news. He was expecting it. He knew the reason you admired him so much was because of the pedestal you put him on. Now that he’s just Oikawa, the model, he wonders how your perception of him would change.

Instead of disappointment, you just stared at him. Your eyes pierced him like you’re prodding whatever’s going on on his head.

“What about university?”

“I won’t attend one.”

That’s when you looked away, with your eyes glazed with soft melancholy from which he couldn’t understand where it came from. It seemed like you figured something out that made you feel bad for him. When you look at him again, you weren’t the flustered mess that you usually were.

“Do you really want to date me, Oikawa-san?”

“I wouldn’t bug you for two weeks for nothing if I didn’t.”

“Then please be real with me, “ your voice suddenly serious. “Why did you quit volleyball?”

He pauses before answering, deciding which answer he’d give you, not that he’s going to lie. It’s just that the subject is lil bit too touchy for him to talk about openly. “Modeling suits me best don’t you think?”

You didn’t say anything but the way your jaw tensed up was very telling. You don’t agree with him. Still you say, “It suits you a lot, Oikawa-san.”

He became utterly confused. You were earnest. You meant every word of what you said, but the expression in your face contradicts them.

“It’s just that you looked incredibly unhappy when you mentioned you quit Volleyball.”

He froze, completely caught off guard by what you just said. He wasn’t even aware that he made such a face.

“I will always support you, Oikawa-san. I guess as a fan myself, I just want to see you genuinely happy with whatever you choose to do. I think that’s what drew me to you in the first place. You looked like you enjoyed yourself in all the things you excelled at.”

The sincerity of every single word you struck him hard. And he wasn’t prepared for it despite being the one who went after you.

He never once doubted that it was you who wrote the letter, but seeing and hearing you say what you just said, it’s as if the letter materialized into a person that is you. It was fascinating how the words in that piece of paper took your form.

“Umm..”

You both look at the sudden interruption. “Oikawa-san? Can we get a photo? It’s my friend’s birthday and…” He didn’t hear the rest of whatever the bitch was babbling about. Internally, he’s pissed. You were talking about something important. Is she fucking blind that they didn’t see he was with you?

When he looks at you, you’re gripping your cup while staring at the lady with discomfort in your eyes. You clear your throat to let her know that you were there presently, but she still didn’t pay you any attention. With a sigh, you look down in defeat.

That’s when he understood why you blatantly rejected him despite the heartfelt letter. You knew these things were going to happen. He previously thought you were overreacting about him and his fans, so he didn’t pay any mind to it. But now he actually saw how it bothered you.

That fueled his irritation even more.

“Sorry. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m on a date with her.” He said with a fake ass smile as to not be completely impolite to a fan.

The lady looks your way. “Oh,” finally seeing that he is indeed with someone. She suddenly bows down to you two. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were dating someone.” Then walked out of the scene as fast as she could.

Rather than relief, it was worry spread on your face when he looked at you again.

“Why did you do that, Oikawa-san? They might spread bad rumors about you.”

“What could be bad about dating you?”

And there it was, the adorable panic settling on your face with pink tints surfacing on your cheeks. He’s used to people blushing because of him, but yours just hits him differently. You should learn to stop getting flustered so much around him. It eggs him on even more.

“We-We’re not dating!” Your voice almost cracked from how high your pitch was when you spoke.

“Then what’re we doing now?”

Your eyes dart around, looking for an answer to his question. He lets you even though he’s still convinced this is a date.

“We’re just hanging out?” You said uncertainly. “Yes. That’s it!” You nod enthusiastically, proud of yourself for finding a label for this afternoon, other than a ‘date.’

“We’re just hanging out.” You reiterate with a wide smile.

“Okay.” He plants his elbows on the table and weaves his fingers together to form a surface he could rest his chin on. “So there’s no problem with us hanging out often then, y/n-chan?”

You, yourself, looked perplexed on how to answer his question. If you were just hanging out, then it shouldn’t be a problem. If you make a fuss out of it, then it’d be like you’re admitting that this is more than just hanging out.

“I-I guess?”

He couldn’t help the tug in the corner of his lips. You had no idea you’re playing yourself right into his hands.

“Let me know when we can call it ‘dating’, oke?”

You sighed. “I don’t even know why you would even want to date me, Oikawa-san. I really am just a fan.”

No, you weren’t. The fact that you keep insisting you are makes him even more believe otherwise. You’re completely clueless on how different you were from everybody else.

”I like you, y/n-chan. Is that reason not good enough?”

You still haven’t wrapped your head around what just happened between you and Oikawa at that coffee shop. It was too good to be true. You were actually convinced you dreamt the whole thing until you opened your phone when you woke up and saw a text from him.

‘Good morning Y/n-chan <3’

You shouldn’t be getting your hopes up, but how can you not? You’re just a regular girl. It’s hard not to feel anything when someone you really look up to is pining after you. What could he have possibly liked about you?

Maybe he’s getting lonely in life and wanted to start dating so he shuffled his fan letters and drew a lucky girl that could be his girlfriend.

You shook your head.

He’s not that shallow. Despite the sprightly, frivolous personage he has, that’s something he wouldn’t do.

You look at your phone again. Should you reply to this? Does this message require a response or he just wanted to greet you? You groan from your own thoughts. You’ve liked so many boys in high school but never actually went out with one so you have no idea this goes.

In the end, you texted back with a morning greeting even though it’s almost noon.

‘Wanna hang out today?’

You were so foolish when suggested to just hang out instead of date. That was basically the same thing, just a different label, especially to him who kept on asking you out.

Still, it works out for you because you’re not sure if you wanted to date him for real.

If you’d be honest with yourself, you actually want to.

Ever since that conversation you had in the cafe, you found yourself liking him even more. He’s shown you that he’s not the ever perfect guy everyone made him out to be. He also has a shadow behind that radiant light he emits. He’s not as unreachable as you thought.

However, you knew that that line of thinking would do you no good. Even if you knew how he really is as a person, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an incredibly great individual, and you’re not exactly that excellent to be staying beside someone like him.

Dating him would mean entering his world completely and accepting that you will have to compete with each single admirer vying for him. You’re not ready for that.

And it wasn’t just those You’d also be competing against his career. If he was going to date you, he’d have to actually make time for you. That might affect his success. You don’t want that. You’re satisfied with just cheering for him from afar.

So ‘hanging out’ is okay. He won’t expect things from you and you won’t expect things from him as well.

That means you shouldn’t cancel your plans today just for him, even though it’s not really that important.

‘Sorry, but I told my cousin I’d watch their match today.’

‘Mind if I watch with you?’

You tell yourself it’s just casually hanging out, but you look like an idiot as you smile at your phone while walking towards the gymnasium where your cousin’s volleyball match is taking place.

The match was ongoing when someone stood beside you. You look to see who it was and saw Oikawa wearing glasses and a face mask. Even with half of his face covered, you can still tell that it was him.

“Are you okay, Oikawa-san? Are you feeling sick?”

He waves his hand as a no to your question. ”I didn’t want to be recognized. I don’t want a repeat of the other day.”

You were moved. That was thoughtful of him. That incident made you upset, but you accepted right after that it was just natural since he’s him. He didn’t have to adjust for you, but he did.

You look around to see if the seats were still as unoccupied as they were when you arrived.

“I think you can remove them now. There’s not a lot of people here. There’s even fewer girls. It’d be a shame to cover your face.”

When he removed his mask, he was grinning ear to ear.

“Do you really mean that, y/n-chan? I look that good to you?” He asked frivolously, wanting to fish a compliment from you. But you just brush it off. To you, it wasn’t even a compliment to tell him that he’s a very appealing person. To you, it was an objective truth that you find no shame in announcing.

“Yes. You look that good, Oikawa-san.”

He seems to look extremely pleased, which was weird cause he should already know that. His fans remind him every day. Maybe good-looking people need validation at random times, so you just shrug it off.

“Is your cousin any good?”

“I honestly don’t know. He asked me to be here because he wanted to boast to his teammates that a girl is watching him play.”

“He better play his best then.”

The second set starts and you both watch intently.

Every time your cousin scores, you cheer for him as loud as you can. That's why you’re there after all, to give moral support.

“They need to calm down.” Oikawa suddenly spoke at the 23rd point of the opposing team.

“Who?”

“Your cousin’s team.”

You burrow our eyebrows together at his answer. “They look okay to me. In fact, they’re more aggressive than the first set.”

“That’s the problem. They haven’t been doing anything flashy, but they’re consistent with their attacks and receives earlier in the game. They want that break point, so they’re pushing themselves to do something to get it. At that last rally, the setter should’ve tossed the ball at the back instead of spiking it himself. He got impatient and it resulted in a misplay.”

Oikawa doesn’t hear you respond, so he looks at you.

But you were already looking at him, doe eyes gleaming with the purest form of awe he’s ever seen.

“What?”

A smile that exuded joy spreads across your wonderstruck face.

It made him wonder what it’d be like if it was him playing. What kind of smile would you give him when his team wins?

He mentally scolds himself. That shouldn’t have crossed his mind. He’s content with his increasing success due to modeling. That’s where he belongs. Not at the court, aspiring to stand with naturally gifted players who didn’t have to work as hard as he did.

“Sorry, sorry. You just looked really cool while explaining all that. It reminded me what made me like you so much back in high school.” You giggled.

That was the first laugh you ever graced him with.

He was suddenly conscious of the words he should use for flattery. He hadn’t been exactly honest with his fans when he returned their compliments. He didn’t want to use adjectives such as ‘pretty’ or ‘cute’ because he threw those words like useless garbage whenever it suited him.

He sincerely wants to let you know you looked beautiful just now.

A whistle followed by cheers of the small number of people in the gym causes the both of you to look at the match. It was over. Your cousin’s team lost.

“I’m going to meet him. Are you coming?”

The moment was lost, so he let it go. There will be other times to tell you.

You both go down from the benches and wait for your cousin. When your cousin arrives, instead of greeting you, his eyes travel to Oikawa.

“That was a good game. Next time for sure!” You consoled your cousin even though his eyes kept going back and forth to you and Oikawa.

“Thanks nee-san!”

Your cousin leans to you to whisper something which he could probably guess as something related to him from the way you looked at him after your cousin spoke.

“Ah, yes. That’s him.”

You both turned to him. “Oikawa-san, this is my cousin, Shin. And Shin, well… you already know him.”

“Yes, I saw you play! Your team crushed ours last year. It was awesome!” He said too eagerly.

Is your whole family his fan? Maybe he should meet them all.

“Are you dating nee-san?”

He saw you suddenly got stiff from your cousin’s question. “H-hey! Don’t go around asking stuff like that to people you just met, Shin.”

He raised his eyebrow from how you didn’t deny that you two were dating, even when it was you who said that you weren’t.

“Nope! I asked her to date me but she said we’re only hanging out.” He said all too pleasantly.

Your cousin harshly turned to you and yelled, “Why?! You’ll never get someone as good as him!”

From that moment, Oikawa decided that he likes your cousin. He should definitely meet more of you relatives. Your sister gives out any information about you while your cousin wants you to date him. What a blessing your family truly is.

“That’s none of your business, you high school brat!” You yell back even though there’s a faint shade of pink on your cheeks.

Your cousin ignores you and faces him instead. “Can you please come to our practice, Oikawa-san? Just once. Please.”

“Knock it off, Shin. He’s very busy.”

Although he was indeed about to decline, an idea popped in his head when you spoke. “I’ll go, but she needs to go too, okay?” His answer was directed at Shin, but he was looking at you.

Before asking to go with you this morning, their previous coach texted to meet up with him. He kindly declined. He’d be wasting both their time since he was sure their coach was just going to convince him to continue playing. And he was sure that his answer was no.

But a measly practice with you watching, that he can do. You’ll get to see him play and in return, he might get to see that special smile of yours again.

“Please nee-san!”

“W-wait. I’m not sure about-”

“PLEASE!” Your cousin was literally begging, and he couldn’t help but be delighted on how someone else was doing the work for him.

“Fine! Just get up off your knees. You’re embarrassing me.” You frantically looked around to see if anyone was staring.

“Yes!!” Your cousin laughed maniacally, and if he didn’t worry about his image, he’d join in on the laugh as well.

When the three of you settled down, you bid your goodbyes and left. It was already sunset so he decided you two should eat somewhere before heading home, which of course you refused because you said you didn’t want to impose even though he’s the one who asked.

Regardless, he did manage to convince you. ‘It’s all part of hanging out today’ was how he put it.

It was completely dark out when you got out of the diner because of how slow you ate.

You suddenly bowed. “Thank you for your time! Please stay safe on your way home!”

He wanted to laugh because you’re like one of those staff greeting their customers on their way out. “What’re you talking about? I’m walking you home.”

“Huh? You don’t have to, Oikawa-san!”

He sighs. “I don’t do things because I have an obligation to. I do things, because I want to, mkay?”

You give him a coy smile before nodding.

He asked about you on the way to your dorm. You knew a lot about him, but he knew almost nothing about you. So he used the opportunity to get you to tell him something about yourself. You were worried at first that you were talking too much because he’s quiet most of the time. But he was just listening intently because he wanted to ingest everything you’re saying.

When you got comfortable, your stutters gradually stopped and he found that you’re actually talkative. It helped that you’re looking straight ahead instead of at him as you speak.

A few minutes after, your dorm was in sight. That’s when the question popped back in his head. “How come you never cheered me on in any of our games?” He was wondering earlier but forgot since your cousin came.

“I did! I always watched your games.”

“Like how you cheered for your cousin, I meant.”

You paused before you spoke. “For starters, you already have tons of cheerleaders. My tiny voice was inconsequential.”

“But for someone who considers herself as a fan, you sure were quiet.”

“I don’t think you really needed people cheering for you. I doubt you even hear them when you play. You really lose yourself when you’re on the court. You don’t do it for the fans. You do it because you love it. Maybe that’s why I don't scream cheers for you. I, myself, get so caught up with you the way you play.”

He’s completely astounded by how spot on you were. He reveled in the glory of his popularity, but that was just a bonus he can do well without. How you were able to process all that just from watching from the sidelines, he could never know.

He’s used to the flattery and the worship from his fans, but the way your eyes light when you talk about him. It wasn’t blind adoration. You saw what’s beneath the thin surface of his fame and that’s what you came to like.

“I was also so envious of how you got the same grades that I did. It was infuriating! But also inspiring at the same time. God knows if I tried as hard as you did in any club I joined, my exams would suffer.”

You smiled into the nothingness in front of you, as if you were replaying a scene in your mind.

It didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t like how you were looking so far away. It was like you were chasing after the high school Oikawa, instead of the Oikawa that’s beside you right now. He wanted to do something. He wanted you to look at him, the person you admire so much.

“I wish I could’ve watched you model too. I wonder how you looked like during your photo shoots. I want to know how the gorgeous photos-”

He grabbed your hand and stopped walking. You eyed his hand that was holding yours before meeting his gaze.

Finally. You were looking at him. He wanted to let you know that he wasn’t just a far away image you were going after. He wanted you to acknowledge that he’s presently right there with you.

“Y/n-chan.” He let go of your hand and advanced two steps until he was standing in front of you.

He smiled at you. Being with him all day, you were starting to get used to him. So you smiled back.

“Yes?”

“I really don’t mind this whole hanging out thingy of yours.”

His eyes were intently locked on your face, but it lacked the lightheartedness that was previously just there. The air around him unexpectedly shifted into something threatening right when you were just starting to get comfortable around his presence.

“But won’t you mind kissing someone you’re not dating?”

Warning sirens ring your head, but you can’t move. You know he’s about to do what you think he’s about to do, making your heart pound wildly in your chest. The rational thing to do is to get out of the situation before he actually does it. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.

You clearly know that and yet, you only hold his gaze as his eyes filled with hunger drop to your lips while he inches closer and closer.

Right when his lips are a breath away, he diverts his eyes back to yours.

“You have 3 seconds to say no.”

Great! Now is your time to refuse.

“Three.”

You really should.

“Two.”

You open your mouth to force the two-letter word to come out.

“One.”

“Oikawa-san...” You really should’ve said no. You didn’t even know what you were about to say after uttering his name.

He cupped your cheek and smirked as he said, “That wasn’t a no.”

He crossed that tiny gap between your mouths and in an instant, his lips claimed yours.

You knew how amazing he was in everything he chose to do, and that included the way he kissed you. It was gentle, coaxing you to let go of whatever apprehension you held.

And you did. For the first time, the wrong decision felt right.

You closed your eyes and let yourself get absorbed on how his lips warmed yours in the settling cold of the night. It was soothing, but also left you wanting more.

The palm of your hands traveled to his chest and slowly made their way up to his shoulders. One remained planted on the surface of it while the other went to his nape, yielding to your urge to have more of his warmth as you softly suck his lower lip

His free arm snaked around your waist to pull you closer, just how you wanted him to.

Every single second felt incredible. You never knew a kiss could be so intense but tender at the same time.

Even in your dreams, you haven’t thought of kissing Oikawa. He was far too good for you that imagining such things is utterly absurd. But reality made you feel the contrary with the way he intricately moved his mouth against yours. You felt wanted.

You pull away slightly to grasp for air. He brushed your cheek with his thumb which caused you to raise your gaze to him. He wore a faint smile with genuine fondness dancing in his eyes as he looked at nothing else but your face.

You were starting to believe that he really meant it when he said he likes you.

It made you weak.

“Aheeeeeem~”

You pushed yourself off of him from the sudden intrusion. You harshly turned your neck to see where it came from and found two girls giggling on their way inside the dorms while glancing at you and Oikawa. You’re relieved that they did not recognize him, but that’s only secondary to the embarrassment of getting caught intimate right outside the dormitories not even a month after university has started

Maybe they even saw you making out.

Your cheeks flared up at the thought.

You face his direction and bow exaggeratedly that your body formed a perfect right angle. “Please drink a lot of water and sleep early so you won’t get acne! Thank you for today!”

You wanted to slap yourself until you could see what kind of garbage your brain was made of. You panicked so bad that you spat out the most random thing you could think of just to distract yourself from what just happened.

Without looking at him, you ran off with the worst cringe you’ve had in your entire life.

Route masterlist.

Next update on 12/22

Taglist (crossed out can’t be tagged)

@heykoutarou @sakusarights @elianetsantana @tetsujime @kweenregent @ne-kuroo @restricted-illusion @avbreyissad @kac-chowsballs @aksteldesu @justatempo @barali.k @humanitysbiggestsimp @al3xx1s @kellesvt @isentsworld @daniella-uwu @bokuakadaily @kitababie @luckypartyranchmug @melialeic @omigogames @cafetetsu @sleep3deprived @vicassa @the-writing-otaku @chibishae34 @chickennuggetthot @tsukisemi @timeturnerss @mariachiiii @spaceboitrash @dearestsuna @atsumubabe @cadenceh2o @hawkssnugget @hikari-writes @dabilove27 @isleofnajera @thathoneybee3 @tsumue @uncleirohsbobbatea @shinhiromi @solarskiesdream @greyevangeline @graykageyama @holycometz @mattsuns-prettybaby @fluffymilkbread @rogueofbullshit @turntechsquishy @tweety1501 @sunashi @stale-sandcastle @kellesvt @underratedmage

#oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa scenarios #tooru oikawa #tooru oikawa x reader

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yuta-nakamots · 4 years

Text

119 - n.jm

Pairing - Jaemin x Reader

Genre - Horror/Thriller, Angst

Warnings - Cheating, familial problems, character death, mentions of sex (though no descriptions of it), blood, violence, public humiliation (not in a nsfw way), yandere tendencies

Summary - Misfortune is all around you though you were never the true victim of it until now with Jaemin by your side. Will you make it through these troubles or die trying? Will you be killed or become the killer?

Word Count - 4.1k

Written for the #NeoHalloween writing festival hosted by @nct-writers. Check out the masterlist here.

To say that your life was rough would be just about an understatement. As a third-year student in university, you had already moved out on your own and had begun supporting yourself. Though your family was wealthy, it didn’t mean that everything in your life was handed to you on a silver platter because not everything that glitters is gold.

Your mother, who used to be a strong businesswoman who started up her own brand, was left heartbroken and devastated when she found out your father and seemingly loving husband had been having an affair for the past two years. She turned to alcohol and drugs in order to forget her sorrows and give her relief if only for a short while. You didn’t know what happened to your father after he moved out, only that he was happy with the woman he had been cheating with.

It soon became an addiction and you tried your best to save her. You scheduled and brought her into therapy appointments and followed her doctor’s orders to keep a close eye on her, but there’s only so much a college student can do. Your younger brother wasn’t helping at all either.

Chenle, only a year younger than you, has had his eyes set on taking over your mother’s business ever since he realized that special treatment he got at school from others when they heard his last name. He fed into your mother’s addictions and would reverse all the progress you made with her. “Don’t you want her money? She’s not in any state to get back in the business world so let’s just take what she has and run.” Chenle told you one night after you had finally succeeded at putting your mother to bed.

You looked at Chenle, appalled that he would even dare to say such a thing, even more at the fact that he had been thinking about this for so long. “We’re her children,” you reminded him, “she will share it with us as she wishes and she can make a comeback if you just stopped making things worse.”

“Me? Making things worse?” Chenle scoffed, mocking his disbelief. “I’m only helping things along. The faster she stops breathing, the faster we’ll get her money and I’ll get her business.” You could only shake your head at him as you pulled him out of your mother’s bedroom that now seemed much too large for her frail self. “Think about it, we can take over and split it fifty-fifty and the media would love us for it. ‘Zhong children take over their mother’s business after her passing in honor of her legacy’. Come on, can’t you see it?”

You felt nauseous at the images Chenle was painting in your mind and you knew there was only so much more of this that you could handle before you reached your own breaking point.

That’s why you brought your mother into a care home when you and Chenle were supposed to be at school. He wouldn’t know where you took her and you chose to pay for it using the money in your own bank account, though admittedly most of it was your mother’s money. Your parents had already bought you your own apartment when you first entered college, in case you wanted more independence though your mother’s condition is what stopped you from leaving. But the same day you left her at the care home was the same day you finally moved in.

As long as your mother was away from Chenle and you went in to check on her daily, everything would be fine, so you thought. You had even met your neighbor and he helped you move in. He was your age, even attended the same school, and went by the name of Jaemin.

Ever since your first year in college, your life had already been filled with issues from your own family on top of the already heavy workload from classes, leaving you little to no room for a social life. You weren’t an outcast, but you definitely weren’t popular. People usually didn’t spare you a second glance unless they knew the lineage you came from which is why you suddenly felt small under the eyes that were staring into you.

Looking up as you took your seat in economics, you saw the familiar face of your neighbor, Jaemin, as he smiled down at you. As you settled into your seat, he slipped into the one next to you before leaning over and whispering a ‘good morning’ in your ear. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive.

Within just a week of having known Jaemin, he had already become one of your closest friends, which came as a surprise since he was also one of the most popular boys on campus. But that didn’t stop him from walking home with you after both of you were done for the day. “A princess should never be left to walk on her own.” Jaemin insisted. “Who knows what dangers could be out there, waiting to attack her?” He pondered animatedly as he linked his arm with yours as you started your journey back to your apartment complex.

It was also within a week that it took Chenle to confront you. There he stood, in front of your apartment unit as you and Jaemin stepped out of the elevator. “What did you do with her?” Chenle demanded.

“What do you mean?” You questioned, faking cluelessness as came to stand in front of him, leaving Jaemin at his own unit.

Chenle rolled his eyes. “You know damn well what I mean. Where’s mom and what did you do with her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You remarked dismissively as you unlocked your door.

“She’s living with you isn’t she?” Chenle sneered, barging into your apartment the second your door was unlocked.

“Go ahead, search all you want. You won’t find her here.” You took off your shoes inside the doorway before depositing your belongings in your room while listening to Chenle romp around in the background. Once you had finished unpacking your bag, you stepped out of your room, closing the door behind you, your brother still going on his little rampage. “Can you tone down the temper tantrum? I’m going to get a noise complaint from the-”

Your sentence was cut off as he pinned you against the wall, his hands holding you by your shoulders as your back slammed into the hard surface. “From who? Who will you get a noise complaint from?” His eyes bore into yours as his grip only tightened. “You know damn well that we own this apartment complex so a single noise complaint doesn’t mean jack shit.”

You raised your hand to slap him, his attitude was simply annoying, but he was faster. Chenle quickly had both of your wrists in one hand as he brought his face closer to yours. “Stop being such a bitch and tell me where she is.”

“You know I won’t do that.” Chenle let out a groan of frustration, his free hand running through his hair before it came straight for your throat. You yelped in shock as he started to apply pressure, slowly limiting your oxygen intake.

“If you’re not going to help me, then maybe I should just kill you. Right here, right now.”

“You would never.” You choked out.

“Oh yeah? What makes you say that?” He sneered, enjoying the pitiful state he had you in.

“I’m your fucking sister, Chenle.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me. If I let you live, you’ll only take more of what is rightfully mine. If you die, I can take over everything on my own and never have to deal with your annoying ass-”

Just as quickly as you started seeing spots in your vision, they were gone, the pressure on your throat was relieved and you keeled over, finally able to take gulps of air. You weren’t given much time to recover, the yells from your brother down the hallway pulling you out of your haze as he fought with another person on top of him. “Who the fuck are you?” Chenle exclaimed.

“Her boyfriend,” the person said, the deep voice easily recognizable, “don’t you dare hurt her ever again, or else it will be you getting killed instead.”

“You talk as if you have the power to do so.” Chenle retorted, only angering his attacker further.

They landed a square punch on his jaw before pulling a book off the shelf next to them and slamming it into his head, effectively knocking Chenle out. “Jaemin, what are you doing?” You yell, running in to stop him from doing any further damage.

“I heard him hurting you, princess. I can’t just let him get away with it.” He explained, pouting at you as if your brother was not lying unconscious under him. “I saved your life didn’t I?”

“God,-fuck, Jaemin, just get off of him.” You yanked him to his feet before attempting to pull Chenle up onto your back.

“Oh? What is my pretty girl doing now?” Jaemin asked, a sadistic smile appearing on his face.

“Getting him to a hospital because I can’t have my brother dying in my own apartment you sick fuck.”

Jaemin chuckled before responding while taking Chenle from your arms and carrying him on his own. “He won't die, he’ll just be knocked out for a bit.”

“And how would you know that?” You ask as you guide Jaemin out the front door, trying your best not to panic as you map out the way to your car and to the hospital.

“Experience.”

Jaemin’s answer should have troubled you but it was the least of your worries once you were nearly speeding on your way to the hospital, wanting to make sure Chenle was okay. You brought him into the ER drive-in and you and Jaemin watched as the staff wheeled him away on a stretcher. You stayed to answer a few questions, claiming that it was a case of self-defense out on the streets and you had come across it on your way home with your, self-proclaimed, boyfriend, before heading out once all the information was sorted.

“So, Chenle Zhong...he’s your brother?” Jaemin started as both of you were getting back into your car. You nodded as you started the engine and put on your seatbelt. “Which means...Sarah Zhong, The Sarah Zhong is your mother?” Again, you nodded as you shifted the car into gear and pulled out from the ER drop-off zone. “So he was in your apartment, about to kill you because he didn’t know where his own mother went?”

“There’s a lot more to it than that, but let’s just get home first and I’ll explain everything to you then, okay?” Jaemin let out a grunt to acknowledge you as he placed a hand on your thigh and went to check his phone. “But first, actually, what’s up with you suddenly becoming my boyfriend? First with Chenle and now at the hospital?”

“Isn’t that what I am?” Jaemin asked, his voice sickly sweet.

“You are a boy and you are my friend, but that does not make you my boyfriend, Jaemin.”

He sighed next to you. “What if I asked you right now? What if I asked, right now, ‘y/n Zhong, will you be my girlfriend’? What would your answer be?” You drove in silence, your mind going blank. “I know you find me attractive.” He interjected before letting it go silent once again. “Look, it’s not like you have any other choice or else-”

“‘Or else’ what?” You interrupted. “Tell me, why do I not have a choice here? Why are you forcing me to be your girlfriend?”

Jaemin gently squeezed your thigh upon noticing your hands were shaking on the wheel. “You pretty brother will probably press charges against me and if you don’t want your family to get exposed, the best way to do so would be following the alibi we set out for ourselves.”

Coming to a stop at a red light, you leaned forward and rested your forehead against the top of the steering wheel. “Fuck.” Jaemin was absolutely right. “Fuck” you yelled, this time startling the boy next to you.

Jaemin remained quiet as you sat hunched over before quietly mumbling “green” to let you know the light had changed colors. You drove through the intersection, feeling something in your life shift, and so began your relationship with Jaemin.

You had explained everything to Jaemin that day once you arrived back at your apartment complex, from your father’s affair up until now with Chenle having confronted you earlier in the evening. You had also broken down in tears and asked Jaemin to stay the night with you, which he gladly agreed to do, not that it would have been much trouble for him anyways since he lives next door.

A fake sense of calm consumed you in the following month. You and Jaemin entered a sort of honeymoon phase in your semi-fake relationship while your mother’s health continued to improve and Chenle made his recovery. You don’t know how he did it, but Jaemin had managed to doctor up some footage, making it look as if Chenle had been mugged just outside of the complex, and two figures, assumed to be you and Jaemin, came into view and helped him into a car nearby before driving off.

The investigators didn’t stay around much longer after that, closing the case as if it were as easy as a hit and run. You knew Chenle would be furious with you and you lived every day in fear of him turning up unannounced, ready to take your life again. Being with Jaemin made you feel safe, oddly enough, even with all the red flags he had thrown your way. From knocking Chenle out to the fixed footage and even the way he had the proper cleaning supplies to wipe any evidence of Chenle having been in your apartment.

Jaemin showed you love more intensely than any of your past relationships that sometimes you had to remind yourself why you were doing this. The way he kissed you was absolutely enrapturing, the way he caressed every part of you so gently sent butterflies through your body. He had even made love to you a few times, all while confessing his adoration for you. He held your hand and let you wear his clothing, acting as a model boyfriend that any girl would wish to have.

Being with Jaemin wasn’t all that great though. He teased you, sometimes even publicly embarrassed you, though he chalked it up to being his way of showing his affection. Today was the worst of all. You had stayed up trying to finish a paper for econ, but you just couldn’t get the words to flow and ended up bullshitting nearly all of it. Jaemin had known all of this, yet he volunteered your essay to share during class when your professor had asked for any names. “Ah yes, Ms. Zhong, it would be a pleasure to hear your writing.” He said as he stepped down from the podium.

“Jaemin, I fucking swear to god-” You whispered through a fake smile.

“It’s okay princess, you got this. You’re smart, I know you are.” He encouraged through a genuine smile though the intentions behind it were less so.

As you stood up on the podium, you cleared your throat while holding your sad excuse for a research paper. “I wrote my essay on the stock market and investments, and how we shouldn’t buy into such things as all these numbers are digital and cannot be withdrawn into physical money.”

“With all due respect, Ms. Zhong, your paper sounds absolutely wonderful but the topic of this research paper was on how politics affect economies worldwide.” Your professor informed you.

You paused, feeling hot chills pass over you. “Uh, yes, that’s what my essay is on. I just meant that I had chosen to write about it from a more fundamental scale.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Your professor exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “Please, do continue in that case, I’m terribly sorry for interrupting.”

“So, like I was saying,” you began again, glancing over at Jaemin, only for him to shoot you a smile, “we should not buy into the stock market since it is all digital and wealth is not promised.” Your presentation went on like this for the next few minutes, occasionally looking at Jaemin whenever you wanted to finish and step off the podium, but his gaze changed immediately whenever you took a step towards the edge and it forced you to stay up there, talking around in circles, confusing yourself. “This is why prices are so inflated with what our past presidents have done in the economy-”

“Thank you, Ms. Zhong. I do believe it is time we moved on to the next paper.” Your professor advised, much to your relief as he gave you a look of pity and condolence while allowing you to step down before he resumed his position at the front of the class.

You were on the edge of tears as you sat back down next to Jaemin and you swatted his hand away from you when he tried to wrap an arm around you as if to comfort you. You felt your phone vibrating in your bag as Jaemin texted you but you didn’t even bother checking it, choosing to zone out while staring at the white walls of the lecture hall instead.

After your professor excused the class for the day, you made a beeline for the apartments, not even caring that you still had one more class. Jaemin called out for you and ran after you but you thanked whatever divine being above that blessed you by letting Jeno, his best friend, pull him off to their shared biology class.

Had you been a little more attentive, maybe you would’ve noticed the near carbon copy of your car parked at the end of the garage as you pulled out. But you didn’t, only seeking your mother’s comfort as you drove off to the care home since it had indeed been a week since you had last visited and you promised that you would come at least once a week.

When you arrived at the care home and passed through the main lobby, greeting the staff working as you were a familiar face among them, one of them stopped you. “Ms. Zhong! Sorry to stop you, but a person by the name of Chenle Zhong came by to pick up your mother. We didn’t know if this was something you had arranged or not but he had all the credentials and your mother seemed to recognize him enough so we let her go.”

You froze in absolute shock and panic. “What do you mean you let her go? You left her with some stranger that you don’t even know?”

“We’re truly sorry, but he did have all the paperwork to prove his relation to you and your mother so there was nothing we could do.” The worker said, speaking quickly in hopes of ceasing your anger.

You took a couple of deep breaths before looking around, noticing all the eyes on you. “How much did he pay?” Silence. “I said, how much did he pay?” You yelled.

“$150,000.” The woman behind the front desk spoke up. You knew it, you fucking knew it would happen but now there was nothing left to do except wait for Chenle to show up.

You don’t know what came over you but something compelled you to enter Jaemin’s apartment instead of yours once you returned to the apartments so you went along with it, dropping your bag at the foot of his bed before lying down and falling asleep as you waited for him to finish at school.

Your sleep was a black dreamless sleep and you woke with a jolt, your heart pounding, not knowing what time it was nor why you woke up in this state. You looked out of the window, noting that it was now dark out, meaning that you had probably slept for at least an hour or two, which answered your first immediate question. The answer to the second came when you finally registered the yelling coming from next door. Next door...your apartment.

Scrambling out of Jaemin’s bed, you didn’t even bother putting on your shoes, bursting in through your front door and running down the main hallway towards the living room, the source of all the noise, to find a bloodied Jaemin on top of an equally, if not more, bloodied Chenle, the weapon in question lying a few feet away from them, the warm red liquid slowly dripping from the blade of the kitchen knife onto your beige carpet. “Jaemin, what the fuck are you doing?!” Both boys paused at the sound of your voice.

“Oh, my sweet girl, I had come home to wait for you after you had run away but instead he came to me. I knew all about how he had bought you mother so I figured, why not give him injuries that will cost another $150,000?” His face smiling at you with the bloodied fingerprints plastered on his pale skin was a sight you knew you’d never forget.

You slowly stepped towards them, your brain working at speeds beyond your comprehension. “Jaemin, how did you know about my mother? I had only just come from there so unless Chenle told you...” you paused to look over at your brother, who shook his head before coughing up some blood, spitting some in a glob at Jaemin.

Jaemin cooed at Chenle as he wiped the blood off his face before running that same hand through Chenle’s hair, locking his fingers into it and yanking Chenle’s head back at a painful angle. Chenle yelled out in pain, his cries muffled when Jaemin pulled a blanket off your couch and stuffed it into Chenle’s mouth. “You see, princess, I had their security circuit pulled even before you told me about your family’s misfortune.”

“Wha- but how...why?...” You struggled to grasp at all the information being connected in your head.

“Your cheating father had an affair with not only your mother and mine as well.” He looked between you and Chenle, enjoying the shock that was mirrored in both of your expressions. “That’s right, my mother is the mistress who stole away your father. However, he is the man who broke apart my family too when she ran away with him, leaving me with my abusive asshole of a dad.”

You continued moving closer and kneeled down once you were in front of Jaemin, bringing yourself to eye level with him, even if the smell of blood was making you feel like passing out. “I figured that by killing one of you, I could force you stupid Zhongs to get back together and bring my mother back to me. But I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger, not when I’ve fallen so madly in love with you...which leaves me with him.”

Jaemin lunged for the knife next to you only to find that you picked it up much faster than he did. You stood up and backed away from them with the knife as Chenle attempted to shove Jaemin off of him, but Jaemin was stronger though not by much. “Princess, please do both of us a favor. He tried to kill you and he’s shown how little you mean to him. Do you really think he’d share everything equally with you?” Your eyes darted between both of theirs. “Don’t you wish for my happiness? After all the love I’ve given to you?”

Your gaze locked with Chenle’s who was shaking due to the overexertion of his body. “Does the pretty boy have something to say?” Jaemin cooed as he pulled the blanket out of Chenle’s mouth.

“It’s me or him, y/n. Me or him.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Jaemin said before pouncing back on Chenle, both his hands wrapping around Chenle’s pale neck.

You threw the knife, hoping for it to reach its target. It did, and you watched as his body stilled and went limp right in front of your eyes, the blade pierced through his heart. It was honestly a lucky throw but regardless, the blood on the knife was because of you.

You are the killer now.

131 notes · View notes

jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

Drinks For Two

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,800 Warning: None Author’s Note: That premium scene from Book 1, Chapter 2 at the bar from Ethan’s POV

Catch up here.

_______

The raucous cacophony surrounding Ethan that evening at Donahue's is not enough distraction from his traitorous thoughts, much to his annoyance. Ordinarily, the small bar serves as his sanctuary, a blessed transitional space between the harsh demands of the job and the tranquility of home. On most nights, he prefers the place silent enough to enjoy his drink in numbing peace. Upon entering the place and seeing the crowd of intoxicated, uproarious interns, however, Ethan kisses that fantasy goodbye.

He decides to stay anyway because lord knows he needs a drink after the hell hole of a day he had. Ethan, ever the optimist, even finds a silver lining in hoping that the mindless, drunken chatter will keep him from reliving it. When that fails, the riotous noise is nothing but that: noise.

Ethan takes a swig of his drink, savoring the pleasant burn in his throat.

“I don't want your opportunities or your charity. I want my patient to get better.”

Memories of fiery, bright eyes flood him, unbidden.

“And if that's not everyone's priority at this hospital, I'd rather you fire me now.”

Righteous, impassioned anger had colored her face as she spat the words at him with a vehemence that had given him pause. And all after he had placed a precious learning opportunity on a silver platter for her taking? Who the hell did this intern think she was? The nerve, the gall, the idiotic insolence of that brash, silver-tongued, headstrong girl...

Ethan loses steam.

That passionate, fearless, intelligent and rather pretty girl.

A slew of less professional adjectives inundate his awareness before he can stop them. Inwardly groaning, he throws back another drink.

An eruption of cheers and wolf whistles mercifully pulls him from his thoughts. Ethan doesn't need to look to know it's coming from the surgical interns, the rowdiest of the bunch by default. Add to that scores of cheap alcohol and the galvanizing promise of competition a game of dart brings, and they are downright unbearable.

When he does spare them a glance, he is greeted by the sight of a burly, good-looking surgical intern dipping a brunette backwards before planting a scandalous kiss on her lips.

“Get it, Lahela!”

“Traitor!”

God, how Ethan hated PDA.

A whirl of green fabric and glossy brown hair is all Ethan sees as the recipient of the kiss straightens herself, slightly woozy and gripping Lahela’s muscular arms for dear life. It is only when she shifts on her feet that Ethan catches a glimpse of that distinctive smile— the very same he had seen all day, both in person and in his recollection. Lilac Allende, pretty face bright and eyes sparkling, grins at the surgical intern as he whispers something in her ear.

And then, like a stroke of lighting, her eyes meet Ethan’s for the briefest of moments.

Ethan glances away too quickly, his slight annoyance tapering into sheer irritation. His mood deteriorates when he finds his glass empty though he doesn't get the opportunity to order another because mere seconds later, he can see a hazy shape in forest green approaching.

Stubborn as ever, Ethan determinedly avoids gazing her way. He foolishly thinks this will be successful until she is right at his side and practically impossible to ignore. This, of course, does not escape her notice, officially deeming her the most frustrating person he's ever met.

“Something wrong, Dr. Ramsey?” she asks and he can practically hear the cheeky grin in her melodic voice.

As his eyes take in the full force of the outfit she is wearing, he mentally determines the only thing that is wrong are the thoughts the revealing number invites. He makes a conscious effort to keep his eyes on her face and not on the tortuous path her daring neckline sets. Ethan loses the battle for a millisecond because his eyes fall on the black, lacy contraption peeking from her blouse (if he can call it that), the sight a sweet kind of torture. Feeling like an absolute ass, he fixes his gaze on hers, convinced he can still salvage both of their dignities by saying something vague.

“Just noticing how… different you look out in the real world.”

Dr. Allende looks as though she doesn't believe him and she opens her mouth, perhaps to brashly tell him so. Luckily, Reggie slides over to their side of the bar.

“What'll it be?”

She becomes distracted by the question and Ethan privately thanks Reggie's impeccable timing. Dr. Allende pensively chews her lip as she contemplates his empty glass. Ethan pauses, promptly telling himself this is to humor her while also satisfying his own curiosity and not because of the vision that is her bottom lip, made swollen by the pressure of the bite.

“Scotches, neat,” she finally tells Reggie, with a confidence that almost earns her an impressed nod.

In their silence, Dr. Allende cuts him a look that is almost bashful, despite all the bravado she displays. Her posture is ramrod straight and Ethan can practically feel the nervous energy radiating from her. With a bolt, he realizes she is silently extending an olive branch. A truce from their previous encounter at Edenbrook.

“Why neat instead of on the rocks?” he asks, his own quiet way of accepting.

“The ice changes the flavor,” she returns at once, shoulders relaxing visibly.

“Right answer.”

A ghost of a smile escapes him and she takes this with evident satisfaction, returning it with a smug smirk of her own. The crowded, ebullient bar suddenly becomes stifling to Ethan as he holds her gaze. To make it worse, someone decides that is the best moment to play an Al Green song on the jukebox.

Reggie returns with their drinks, saving him again.

“You know I can't be bribed into favoring you, right?” Ethan keeps his face masterfully impassive, his voice expertly controlled as he says this, the first thing he could think of to deter from it all.

“I think you already favor me.”

God, she is good. That clever little quip is enough to inspire a quiet laugh from him, the sound almost foreign to his ears.

“You keep believing that,” he returns almost at once.

This, in turn, makes her match his laughter. Before he can squash it, Ethan feels a proud jolt of satisfaction at being the one to cause the sound.

Reggie returns, noticing their empty glasses. The loaded grin he flashes Ethan leaves no doubt the older man caught the exchange.

“Two specials,” Ethan says, ignoring this. “Thanks, Reggie.”

“Only for you, Ethan,” his old friend returns with a chuckle, his eyes moving over to Dr. Allende before he moves away to prepare his order.

She sends him a curious look. “You're on first-name terms with the bartender?”

“He's an old friend. I come here most nights.”

Ethan can see her considering the statement quietly. “You don't have anyone waiting at home?”

Ethan hesitates, marveling at her tone, easy and casual as though she was asking for the time. Shifting in his seat slightly, he consciously refuses to look for any meaning behind the question.

“I'll come here even when I do,” he responds after a long pause. “I need some buffer between the hospital and the world. An airlock.” Briefly, he thinks of Harper and the many arguments that became too constant in the last months of their relationship.

“Don't take the job home with you, Lilac.” He's not sure why he utters the advice, but it is gone from his lips before he can stop it. Vaguely, he realizes that is the first time he calls her by her first name.

Dr. Allende doesn't seem to notice. She considers him, biting the inside of her cheek. “I'll keep that in mind…” she says, “but you didn't answer my question.”

Ethan decides then that sharp perceptiveness will be his demise.

“No. Nobody waiting at home tonight.”

There is no reaction because his order arrives.

Grateful, Ethan offers her the dark liquid. “Here, try this.”

Dr. Allende accepts the drink wordlessly. She swirls it around in the glass before taking a careful sniff. Ethan almost rolls his eyes though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't amused. Seemingly satisfied, she downs more than half of it with spectacular skill.

“Well, how's it compare?” he prompts, unable to keep that insistent need to know what she is thinking at bay. The way she assesses the empty glass between his fingers, her jaw working as she collects her thoughts only adds to the allure.

She meets his eye with a grin. “That's amazing!”

When he finds no indication of dishonesty on her face, Ethan allows another wave of self-congratulatory smugness. “Either you're sucking up to me, or you've got surprisingly refined taste for an intern. ”

The lopsided quirk of her lips leaves him entirely too charmed for his liking. “I'm surprising in a lot of ways.”

“You'll have to prove that.”

The words are redundant for she had been doing just that from the very instant he met her.

Eyes locked on hers, he raises his glass. “To your intern year. In the hopes you don't completely blow everything you've worked your whole life for.”

Dr. Allende scrunches that freckle dusted nose of hers. “Morbid,” she comments, though not without a signature smile. “I like it.”

Their glasses meet, the clink of the crystal lost in the revelry around them.

An upbeat pop song he is too old and too prideful to know the name of booms through the speakers. It is met with approving cheers from the drunk crowd. Over the hubbub, the sound of her name reaches them.

“Lilac!”

It is from a group of interns at the other end of the bar. Ethan briefly recognizes the short, bubbly one as the intern who pulled him away from his furious rant earlier that day.

“Are we dancing or not?” she yells over the music.

Lilac turns to Ethan who only waves his hand dismissively, encouraging her to go. As she turns to join her friends, she halts, turning to consider him quietly.

For a wild moment, Ethan thinks she might ask him to dance. Drink in hand he selfishly considers what it would be to dance with her, bodies close and lost to the beat of the music. Where might her hands be on his body as they moved? Where would his be? He vanishes the thought with more determination than necessary, though the heat that flares from his neck to his face is impossible to ignore.

Perhaps realizing she is not quite so brave, Lilac shoots him one last smile and simply says, “Good night, Dr. Ramsey.”

“Good night, Dr. Allende.”

________

Author’s Note: Who could have put the Al Green song? Hmm.

Thank you for reading!

At the risk of committing to an ambitious endeavor, I really want to do as many of these as possible. I think my next one will be from the Dolores chapter.

_______

@dulceghernandez | @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing

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sunareii · 4 years

Text

petrichor — rintarou s.

suna rintarou x fem!reader

sypnosis: suna was grown to hate everything within the castle or most likely everything else but when a simple commoner came into the picture.. well.. tags: royal au, TRAGICALLY RUSHED ENDING, fluff and a little angst sunareii is writing . . . this has been in my drafts for almost a month and decided to finish it despite hating it halfway but since it was already in 3k words i had too. i'll proofread this later, i'n tired and in need of shower

word count: 4.3k

suna was never fond of big parties or parties in general, there were countless of times where he told his parents, the king and queen, that there are no need to have some lavish gatherings for something so simple as his own birthday

the two majestys however couldn't fathom of how could their own son that they raised isn't accustomed to the events they hold yearly despite the fact they've been doing that before he was even born

well, maybe because they aren't the ones who practically raised him, the long-time servant of theirs took genuine care for him as a child and as a adolescent more then his parents could possibly give.

the two majestys however couldn't fathom of how could their own son that they raised isn't accustomed to the events they hold yearly despite the fact they've been doing that before he was even born

he could only frown as he hears the heavy doors swung open from his upstairs bedroom, which was seven floors away from the ballroom where the celebration was being held. at that point he doesn't even desire to celebrate his date of birth if it were to be as mediocre as this. royal gatherings are always so extravagant, too extravagant yet so uninteresting and repetitive, why even waste the time and effort someone worked hard for?

suna rolled his eyes as he finally reached the ballroom and sat down on his own throne. the entire room was covered in gold decorations, chandeliers that only ever bright in a occasion such as this, the guests wore ravashing gowns and suits with silver rings as if they're the host(tess). a few rustles can be heard from the guests then the enormous door slam shut everyone became silent and the day begins but first a long unnecessary speech from the king.

'is the twenty foot tall entrance mandatory for every palace is there?' he thought to himself

ting ting ting ting

his father who sat beside him created a noise, loud enough to get everybody's attention with the use of his steel fork and well-made glass just for him. suna grunted silently at him before the king stood up and spoke "welcome and thank you all for coming, we are incredibly delighted for you to be able to come at our only son or as you may know prince rintarou's seventeenth birthday"

suna could feel his father eyeing him in the side as if saying that he should have been the one to speak at that moment, but then why would he be taking responsibility when he didn't wanted this party to begin with

suna shifts his body on the seat uncomfortably as his father continues his fabricated discourse. no, suna was certainly not happy of them coming, how many times does he have to say it? the prince gawped at every side of the room to see many familiar faces, he could only deadpan repulsively—if that's even a thing—the guests looked far too chummy in spite of not even being in a deep relation with his family. suna wanted nothing but to run away from everything.

"yer look down in the dumps for your birthday" atsumu started to babble, his booming of a voice resonates moderately at the empty halls, the only hall that's completely clear, no noisy pigs or bodyguards whatsoever

"yeah, atleast you don't have to share your birthday with this idiot" osamu groused eating the pudding he unquestionably slipped with him, "hey! where did ya get that?" ginjima asked, suna wouldn't confess this to anyone but he particularly like time like these where he doesn't have to use any baffling mannerism along with some close acquaintances that couldn't care less of how he talks.

however unlike the three close acquaintances he doesn't have any brawny accents, suna sighs deeply before looking at them in the eye, "isn't it obvious, the parties get boring overtime, not like it was already boring to begin with" he explains

"and the champagnes got old too, don't they have anything else to drink?" ginjima questions "what's a champagne?" atsumu bewildered "i like parties, one of the only times i get 'ter eat delicious food" "yeah, cause ma puts ya in a healthy diet especially when you started sneaking in some baked goodies from a commoners bakery" osamus twin said who got sunas senses and attention all to atsumu, unbeknownst to him.

"how'd ya find a way to get out, we literally share the same room"

"ever found out yer a deep sleeper?"

"so ya ran away at night then!"

"i wouldn't say 'ran away'"

"the bakery is open even after hours? "

"nah, i made a deal with the baker, he's a good man i'm tellin' ya"

"do you have a royal guard with ya? ya could have been killed not that i would care but— "

"unlike you 'tsumu i am an independent prince, thank you very much!" "and yer exchange his food for what?"

"golds, hundred of them if you have to ask"

"like ma and pa would let ya have that much"

"who said they let me have 'em in the first place?"

"... you didn't!"

"i did!"

"i'm disappointed osamu, thought yer were the better twin" ginjima shakes his head in dissatisfaction.

"see, 'samu? you're a disappointment, snitching in some riches from ma when you possibly know better! just wait 'till aran and even kita hears about this!"

"what'r ya? a tattletale little brat!?"

"let's go back there so i could tell ma ya've been stealin and get yer ass grounded!"

"wait-!" suna cuts in as the blond twin stood with his left foot forward ready to disclose information and see his brothers downfall.

"what is it suna?"

"... you look stupid today" suna says before walking away, leaving atsumu rather astonished in a way. "told ya green tunic doesn't suit ya"

"the least you could do is give lady shiozaki a bit of courtesy" his father taunts at him, pointing at him as if accusing him of something vile, take osamus thieving for example. suna knows that by courtesy he meant kiss the top of her hand, his face grimace at that as his father puts his finger down looking at him with a offended look,

'it's my birthday, if anything they could kiss my— '

"rintarou!" his father shouted in rage, even the platters and cups on the table that laid so still tottered from the kings petty action

"you— you ungrateful child!"

"what did i do?" suna questions, his face stays in a blase even when the royal whatever is about to erupt like a volcano after years in the waiting line

"rintarou, my dear.." the mother finally has spoken through all the sore talk of a father and his son. "you're way too nonchalant but heedless" she says softly like a woman singing a lullaby to her baby, but suna is no baby

to make long story short, the father could only threw a fit as he watched his son, nod at his complaints with an expected apathetic look that irked the king of a guy even more than before, provoked he sends suna to go to his room and lock him there 'till he learns his lessons 'cause you know, parenting 101 logic and stuff.

they wouldn't know but suna is peeved at all completeness and abundance of insignificant orders, sweet cakes that now tastes like stale bread and bogus geniality that even he, had done formerly to many suna would have fought him if he wanted too but he just couldn't bring himself to do it because of hallow reasons

but that didn't matter, he watches from outside as he sees his father soothes himself whilst with his wife brush his hand, trying to cool him down most likely. yes, instead of being in his bedroom he's out there off the foot of the castle grounds. unfortunately for him though, he didn't had the chance to grab any lantern's or candles for him to use as the sun plummet and the blue moon had took a rise.

'now what' he says to himself, there were barely even stars to guide him his way tonight but only the dusky moon ray could help him. he figured it's enough to accompany him for the night since he didn't have any sort of options. he walks forward to southeast with the knowledge that it has the nearest town he could go to before sunrise, atleast he hopes so.

he trails down the bulky grounds of the forest, allowing the eerie sounds of calm or danger to surround him. now's the only time that he begun to contemplate what will he do once he gets to his destination, start a new life maybe or go back after.

'no, i'm sure father eh.. knights will come fetch me soon after they realize i was gone, sadly.. '

the dark element of the skies covered the rain to watch for, thus suna's taken by surprise, the forest surely didn't have any hut or any of the kind, so he lets the droplets patter around him, from his hair down to his chest the raindrop go.

he sits down by the old tree that slope downward, he exhales deeply from frustration, 'i couldn't even go as far as this, the guards probably notice my absence by now and—’ his thoughts were cut off short by a flicker of light coming from behind him.

"there it is! i knew you'd be here!" then came a voice, a figure in the distance not too further away from him moves around in the trees that seems to almost close at them.

"is someone there?" the feminine voice say, the voice sounded silvery-like perhaps fluttery is a better word for it. the girl pulls out her lantern to suna's spot where he sits, the rain grew cold and strong as minutes passes, wind brushed off their exposed skin fiercely. "why are you here all alone, it's dangerous here of all places!" she shouted as she runs towards him not letting the frightening storm throw her body down. "are you okay?" before he could even answer, a tree not that far infront of them went down,falling onto the grass, without letting him answer, she immediately grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out of the woodland where all sorts of danger could occur

he wakes up with shivering bones, his blanket or what seemed just a rug to him gave him little heat from the cold he was exposed in. "are you awake?" a voice asked in worry, his eyes fixated at the woman infront of him wearing simple dress, length just below her knee along with a stained white apron holding a small basin

'is there two of her?'

he thought as the sight of her doubles suna attempts to stand up but the heat burns his skin all around his body. "you shouldn't stand up yet!" she exclaimed, rushing towards his side, setting the basin to the ground, dipping a piece of cloth before placing it ontop forehead, "you shuld rest then —" her words couldn't be heard anymore as suna could only faint.

subsequently, the fog that enveloped in his head has eased, he's fever isn't gone but he surely gotten better by just a few hours and yet the rain hasn't ceased

"What.. where?" he murmurs rewinding everything that happened the night before. suna finds himself in a strangers house, the living room is combined with the kitchen, no doors or walls to separate both rooms. the living room doesn't have a big fireplace where he used to keep himself warm in during the cold season, there is nothing much to be seen in the kitchen just a few plates and condiments and then a table with a flower vase ontop right by it, suna assumed that that is already the dining area.

he's at the couch with the blanket and wet cloth draped over him, the bowl of water is still beside the him, suna manages to move his arms to take care of himself. just then the door infront of him swings open revealing the same person he saw before, her tangled hair in loose braids that's pinned behind her head, a bit of her hair sticking out of every direction. regardless of her poor housing and clothing suna thought she was pure and alluring

"hi" she greeted rather bashfully

"hello" suna said back with a blank expression

"are you feeling better?" she inquires as she puts the basket she was holding down on the table "better thanks to you" he answers earnestly, she smiles "dont mention it"

"you must be hungry" she says, a bit like a whisper, she starts grabbing the pan and eggs from the basket, getting the stove ready. "no, no. you've done enough, i'm not really that hungry" he claims intensely, but the sound of his stomach grumbling contradicts what he had just said.

she giggles silently before continuing what she was just doing. the sound of sizzling and occasional water splash engulfs the room, suna proceeds to treat himself 'till when she have finished

"say.. what were you doing out there in the wilds, all alone in the night?"she inquires hesitantly as plates clatter around the kitchen "did you run away?" she asks more

"sort of.."

"here" she says handing him his plate with eggs, bread and pieces of grapes, 'that's a weird match of food' he thoughts but chose to not question it as she already helped him enough already and also because he doesn't have much choice

suna could feel her eyes analyzing him up and down while he eats, growing uncomfortable he stares back

"sorry, i haven't catched your name yet"

"oh.. its.. su..--hibiki.. katsuo"he answers the last minute, he knows that his palace is pretty popular in quite a few places and knowing from some prior experience the person infront of him could give him a threat for money or sell him for ransom which is very unlikely.

his white lie didn't go through and naturally she knew he was lying even so she played along just because.

"i'm y/n l/n, feel free to call me whatever hibiki"

the smile she sent him tug a string to his heart, feeling sheepish with the tense atmosphere around him, they shortly finished their meal.

"y/n, what were you doing there in the middle of the night?" suna asks, the rain slowly winding away as she opens the window from the kitchen side and suna does the other.

"hmm, i lost my house key"

"why would it be in the forest of all places?"

"well, i do pick fruits and berries from trees and such for a living, sometimes i help carry lumber from tree cutters" she explains, tiny droplets of water falling leisurely from her house roof, the rain had passed but on the flip side the clouds are still dyed grey

y/n inhales lively, taking in the good fresh air after the rain. "don't you just love the smell the rain leaves behind?" she asks avidly, suna doesn't know what to say and opted to stay quiet and whiffs the scent y/n was talking about

"do you plan to come back yet, hibiki?"

"uh, no, not really"

"great!" she beams with a smile before walking towards the front door and opening it for him. "you still haven't changed your... quite fancy attire from last night" her words trails down inaudibly as she looks up and down at suna's choice of clothing which was the same dress robe he wore from his birthday partyas

they step foot out of the house, the village is already packed with people. girls chatting, kids playing and men working. the place is productive and conscientious something that his palace guards lack, his bodyguards were anything but a bunch of old drunkards once they have their break and though they are some younger ones just a few years older than him that works as a protector but there's rarely any of them

"hey! daisy, who's that little fella with you?" a elderly man said as they reached a small bakery with great goods. "goro this is hibiki, hibiki this is goro, he owns the bakery shop and has the best one around here" she explains, "well, the others are certainly not all bad" suna has never heard of such a heavy accent before,

'and i thought the twins dialect was the worst'

"so what brings you here today?" goro asked with a deep voice, "he's kinda lost and doesn't have a spare clothes, i was wondering if we could borrow some"

"well of course! happy to lend some help for the new guy, my son has a loads of clothes to spare for a life time!" the mans voice was defeaning to say the least, "haruto can-!" as if his son had already heard him a small pile of clothes is thrown at the stairs that is built just at the side of their house

"here ya go! you can go change at the back room" goro says then another voice chimed in the conversation

"what's the occasion? wearing glamourous outfit in a place like this?" the son sneered as he stood at a narrow terrace attached to the wooden stairs. he looks down at mockingly mocking him for his appearance

"don't let him blow yer gasket" goro says reassuringly while patting his shoulder

"thanks" he deadpans but with a little more emotion than he used to display with his father.

afterwards, y/n gave him a little tour around places, he used to see this small town from his library window pane but diving inside upclose feels alot bigger than he anticipated. saying suna had fun would be an understatement, he feels something larger than just joy.

safety, vulnerability and mostly freedom. he wasn't necessarily held captive inside the castle like the backstory of every damsel in distress, the tables may have turned in this story, the prince who was trained with a sword have been the helpless damsel during the thunderous night whilst dearest y/n being his knight in just a dirty old dress. but what was he gonna do with his sword skills at the stormy evening? battle zeus?

needless to say he doesn't even have his mighty sword with him, how naive.

"when do you plan to go back?" y/n questions randomly at their peaceful stroll back to her residence, "i'm not too sure" he answers back hoping to change the subject.

"your parents are bound to notice your absence being the prince and all" she enunciated casually, suna stops in his tracks

"you.. knew?" he croaked

"from your princely outfit and the place i found you, i stick two and two together"

his mouth curved down in exasperation, his fist clench tightly, his nails almost digging his palms

"your royal highness, i request nothing of you than you might think, to be quite frank i didn't knew how to approach you first-"

"it's okay.. i'm not mad" he soothes with the softet voice he could master, the tight grip of his hands decreased and he exhales slowly to calm himself down

"i mean after today, i never assumed you were the type" and he partially knew his dishonesty was noticeable with just how he stood but he left that part out 'cause he couldn't handle the shame he felt

"are you going back though?" she fretted with a begging tone as if she doesn't want him to go

"do you want me to?" he teased

"no! i mean if you really need too"

"is it okay for me to stay at yours for a little while?"

"of course! you're welcome at my place anytime!" she immediately answered cheerfully

"it just feels nice to have some company again" she mumbles discreetly but suna heard it loud an clear.

and he did stay, longer than he should've, it's like he left his royal crown behind his bedroom and also like his parents have forgotten about him, he learned and loved many knew things such as wood cutting and though he doesn't have much experience but he's working on it

suna had insisted to work for y/n seeing as she was letting him sleep in her house unpaid. he surprisingly have very strong stamina. for most of the week, suna made sure to pay her back for her kindness and hospitality every single day regardless of her resistance

he felt butterflies in his stomach as he recollects the warmth he felt when she suggested him to sleep in the same bed as her and though at first he thought nothing much of it except the berth had little no space between them and he could feel her soft breathing beneath his skin, he possibly spent half the night admiring her face as disturbing as it sounds

oh, and the splinter he had by some means on his first try of using an axe, y/n was there for his aid although it was just a splinter he was bleeding alot. suna had enjoyable memories there and most of it was literally every interaction he has with herhe loves everything about her from her kindess to her boldness even

but of course, suna knew he would be found anytime by now

it was a nice morning whereas suna was alone in the house when suddenly the door bursted open harshly breaking it,

"your royal highness, we have finally located you, the king and queen are worried sick!" the knight explained, "you must return home immediately" he said grabbing into his wrist while suna resisted, "i dont want to!" suna keeps saying but to no avail, the guard buckled him up on the horse between two other guards

this knight was extreme loyal to his father and he follows his commands more than anyone else, suna would admit his father treated him more as a son and loved him more than him but he didn't wanted to leave just yet without seeing her for the last time knowing that he'll most likely forever be locked in the castleand despite suna having to take his fathers place sooner, the knight somehow had power over him.

"let's go back on the road, hiyah!" the lead went up into the air before smacking onto his white horse, the animal hurriedly went west eith just one slap of the rope, suna looked back at the city behind him, many people crowded to watch the prince leave their home waving at him merrily presumbly knowing he was royalty all along

suna did wanted to see y/n for the final time however seeing her beside the audiences watching his leave was indescribable, he couldn't tell what she was feeling from the distance he was in but he certainly felt isolated again and so were she. the continuous sound of a horses hoof racing towards sounded annoying to him and he wanted nothing more but to dismount it

when he finally came home he was only greeted by his mother and a few other maid and butlers to welcome him back. of course, what did he expect from his father. suna went straight to his room without a word, his mind stuck to the question of how was she doing and how did the guards found out where he was, she couldn't have told them.. right?

that night is certainly eventful, when suna walks down the corridor to get a little fresh air only to receive a heavy news once he hears his fathers voice from the dining hall talking to his soldiers and it seems to him the king will send them for battle between another kingdom"but his majesty, the king you are aware that we'll also ambush a town with no involvement into this matter”

"they don't matter having to govern an extra land is even better, the decision has been decided the night before, you'll leave within the next minutes and go straight forward to invade the southeast!" he yells, his plan is rather reckless and is relying to brute strength. knowing his father, suna didn't say anything and hides back to his room

thunder strikes loudly ringing his ear as he tries to cautiously open the stable, he could feel the rain slowly dropping one by one by the second, grabbing his horse before he disappears away from the castle.

sad to say, the fighters on both sides have beaten him to it. even with the rainwater going down suna could still make out a bit of smoke from the town

he grips the lead tightly, it's almost unrecognizable, everything was demolished, burned down and he hopes to atleast see someone alive other than the soldiers who was ordered to fight

"y/n!" he screams piercingly and as if on cue lightning struck feets away from him, almost blinding him. instantly making a beeline to her house that was also gone and burned to ashes

suna dismounts his horse and started yelling like he'd lose his voice by tomorrow while also picking up the wooden pieces of the house

"y/n! goro! haruto!"

rather than the sound of thunderbolt like earlier he heard a gunshot that scares off his great horse away to the darkness

"wait-"

in his mind, he knew he was done for when he hears the rapid footsteps towards his direction, then it stops as the person halted catching their breaths but suna couldn't hear them stopping from the heavy rain that's almost drowning his ears. he takes a step back to turn around and face them only to see the face he loves so much

he may have did lost his voice and could only run towards her, their lips touching each other then and there and the place around them is not the most beautiful place to get your first kiss but when the two finally gets who they truly needed nothing else matters

#haikyuu suna rintarou #suna rintaro #rintarou suna #suna rintarou angst #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou imagine #Suna Rintarou #haikyuucreations #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert

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heirloommtomatoes · 4 years

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you’re in a car with a beautiful boy

I’m at least 90% sure this ask was not sent with the intent of receiving a fic as a response but. Here we are. This got way longer and more convoluted than I had intended it to be and I’m jus gonna post it at this point bc i’m losing my mind re-reading it jsksk ! The title is from part 24 of Richard Siken’s poem “You Are Jeff”. Perfect poem for their first kiss, I think! Enjoy reading! :)

Warnings: Two instances of canon-typical homophobic language; canon-typical swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k~

The day Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, red-cheeked, out of breath, and wanting, no — “I need to see you” — needing him, Mickey knows he’s done for.

What comes out is: “I thought you were working today.”

Nice, dumbshit, that’s helpful, he registers the thought somewhere in the back of his mind, but mostly he just can’t stop staring at Ian. His eyes flick over his face, and he doesn’t have time to be shocked by how much he cares.

He’s embarrassed to reveal that yes, he did memorize Ian’s work schedule because he was in fact listening to the guy when he was busy running his mouth at the convenience store. Instinctively, he casts a quick glance over his shoulder. He can’t let Terry see this gay shit, Ian all worked up about some mommy issues and Mickey trying in his own way. To do what exactly, he’s still not completely sure. Comfort him, maybe? He doubts his father would clue in, his head’s too far up his homophobic ass for that, but like hell Mickey’s gonna risk it. Nothing’s gonna touch Ian. Fucking ever, if it’s up to him.

“I’ll meet you there in twenty,” Mickey says a short while later. He closes the door and goes back inside to stand around the dining table where Terry was going over some kind of raid or bust or heist while somehow managing to boss Mandy around every other word.

Mickey can’t focus on anything. He’s going to see Ian in twenty minutes. He’s bubbling with palpable excitement and fear and feelings he has no name for. What if Ian wants to talk about everything? Does he smell bad? What could Mickey say so he doesn’t leave? So Ian doesn’t see what a miserable shit he is? He hates Ian fucking Gallagher for making him care about dumb stuff like this, for making him incapable of hearing a word his Dad is saying to him and his brothers, for making him want to do some astronomically stupid thing like kiss him.

“Mickey, why you over there starin’ like some dumb fuckin’ fag?”

He doesn’t work up the courage for over another year.

Mickey slams the door to his room after running errands with Iggy all morning. It smells stale and one of the posters is curling off the wall in the mid-summer humidity. He’d changed his sheets this morning. The same red ones from the day Ian had burst in here like a maniac demanding the gun back. From then on, the two had been inseparable; no matter how hard their South Side circumstances had tried to pry them apart, every time they came back together like magnets.

Mickey knows he can’t really hide from Ian, and it scares him as much as it excites him. Ian reads him like no one ever has. The guy even had the nerve to smile that adorable smile that makes Mickey’s chest tight when he’d told him he’d rip his tongue out back in juvie. For some reason that Mickey cannot begin to fathom, Ian seems to want to spend time with him. Seems to believe in him.

He had thought himself perfectly fine to live a life half-awake, to spend his days either in prison or in the Milkovich household (one in the same, he thinks - except that juvie doesn’t have Terry), probably die by shivs or bullets or fists, and have his body buried in some unmarked grave all before his 50th birthday. Ian had wedged his place in the timeline of Mickey’s life. There was a before, and an after, and neither of them would ever be the same. Mickey pretends that its not this thought that keeps him up at night.

As soon as he realized that Iggy and Colin and Terry looked at girls and actually wanted them, that it wasn’t just some bizarre social act they all bought into, he knew he was fucked for life. His whole existence feels like some grand joke that everyone is in on but him, and when he lays down at night and stares at his ceiling and thinks about Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, he wonders if maybe he was the butt of it all along.

Ian Gallagher, who knew him and wanted him anyway, who took the time to care about him, who sought him out to spend time with him just because he wanted to. When had their ten minute fucks turned into smoke breaks? When had their smoke breaks turned into —

Mickey’s phone dings in his pocket as he sits on the steps of the Milkovich house, a cigarette dangling idly from his mouth.

Ian

what are ur plans today

He swallows his heart back down as it leaps into his throat, almost dizzying him with excitement. Get a grip, you fuckin’ girl. He’d done all that he needed to do for the day. He’d helped Iggy with some errands in the morning and had planned on laying low, playing Halo 3, and chain-smoking his way through a pack until dinner.

He chews on his lip as he considers what to say. He texts back:

Mickey

don’t have any

He wants to say “why, what’s up?”, he wants to say “let’s go to the dugouts”, he wants to say “let’s do something”, “let’s hang out”, “i want to see you”, “i want you”. But he’s not allowed to want things. Certainly not…this. Whatever this is. He receives a response almost immediately and can’t help but crack a fond smile. Someone’s eager.

Ian

come with me to that abandoned building near the L

you know the spot

That’s how Mickey finds himself sitting atop a wooden platform, watching Ian run military drills below at 1 in the afternoon on a Sunday.

He fires his gun into the sky while resolutely pretending not to be checking out the younger boy below.

“Hey,” Ian says, breathing heavily and squinting against the sun and Mickey finds himself realizing he is made of things he cannot ever have, “You know that guy you beat the shit out of at that club?”

Of course Mickey remembers. His stomach flops at the mention of him.

“He wants me to sneak into his mansion and take all of his crap.”

“Really,” Mickey responds dryly, firing off another shot. He doesn’t want Ian to keep talking about him, “Hi-larious.”

“Can’t get it himself,” Ian continues, as if Mickey cares. And the worst part is that he thinks maybe he does — he cares about everything this alien-looking ginger has to say and he hates it and he can never, ever get enough of it, of him, of Ian, “Divorce. Says I can take whatever I want. He’s loaded. You want in?”

Mickey fires shots at the ground by Ian’s head where he’s crawling under some boards. He’s remembering seeing them at that bar in Boystown, out in the heat and in the sun and in public, cracking jokes and living a life Mickey can only watch from behind glass, from behind bars. Fuck that old guy for getting handed on a silver platter what Mickey so desperately craves but cannot have. Not just Ian — freedom. Though Mickey thinks they’re one in the same these days.

“Jesus! Use blanks, maybe?! Fuck.” Ian shouts up at him, dragging himself up off the ground.

“Bring my cousins?” Mickey asks, refusing to look at him. Every time he does he sees them together and wishes that it had been him, sun-drunk and laughing and free by his side.

“Yeah,” Ian shrugs.

“‘Aight, I’m in,” Mickey fires off another shot. He’s angry at Ian for nothing other than exercising his complete right to see other people since they weren’t really together anyway, he’s angry at that old ass man for being able to go out for drinks with him, touch him, kiss him, and most of all he’s angry at himself.

He feels broken for wanting him. He feels broken for not being able to be brave enough to admit that he wants him. He gets cut on his own self-hatred any direction he turns.

“I dunno what you see in that geriatric viagroid,” he says, forcing himself to meet Ian’s gaze, if for a brief moment.

“He buys me stuff, orders me room service,” Ian says nonchalantly, looking up at Mickey. It’s obvious how much he’s been working out. His shoulders are hard and defined, his chest chiseled through the dark green of his military shirt. Mickey feels the familiar sting of contempt rising in his throat and fires off two more shots.

He can’t buy him anything, let alone room service. The fuck kind of response is that? More than anything, it annoys Mickey because he knows it isn’t really true. He’s bullshitting him, and that gets to him more than Ted or Ned or Fred or whatever the hell is name is ever could. He knows he’s not that superficial. Sure, he doesn’t doubt those are nice bonuses, but he knows there’s more to it than that.

He knows Ian. He knows Ian and he wishes that didn’t have to mean he loves him, but it does. He doesn’t understand how anyone could know Ian and not love him. But he’s not quite ready to admit that yet, least of all to himself.

“He isn’t afraid to kiss me,” Ian adds.

Ah. There it is.

His world has become a breathing thing with Ian in it. Before it was stagnant, stale, drowning. It has become a beast with teeth that threatens to tear him from the careful scaffolding he has built around the most fragile parts of his life.

If he kisses him, then everything he fears he is will be true.

Some dumb fuckin’ fag.

So Mickey brings his cousins later that evening and doesn’t stop thinking about Ian’s comment for the rest of the day. The van ride is full of loud music and rolled down windows that let in the warm, fresh summer air, and Iggy and Colin are endlessly bickering and hitting each other in the back of the car.

“Can you assholes quiet down when we get closer? You’re gonna wake up the old lady and everyone else in the goddamn neighbourhood before we even roll in the fuckin’ driveway,” Mickey says, swatting at them from where he’s sitting in the passenger seat. Ian glances his way with an amused smile that Mickey only just catches when he settles back. He grins in return around the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Oh hey, pass one?” Ian asks, holding out his hand. Mickey’s about to give him one before a car speeds around a corner and almost T-bones the side of the van. Ian’s hand snaps back to the wheel to swerve out of the way, and Mickey drops the cigarette to the floor of the van in all the commotion.

“Asshole, watch it!” Ian exclaims as he uselessly flips off the car that’s now long gone down the road. Mickey lets out a guffaw of a laugh and abandons handing him the lost cigarette in favour of placing his own half-smoked one right between Ian’s lips.

The intimacy of the action doesn’t strike him until he’s nudging the cigarette against his mouth and his eyes are tracing the outline of his lips and he can feel the warmth of his breath against his tattooed knuckles. The raw familiarity of the action and the fact that Mickey’s own lips had just been on the cigarette that’s now resting on the edge of Ian’s mouth has his heart racing so quickly he can feel it in his chest like a ton of bricks. Ian casts him a side-glance out of the corner of his eye as he parts his lips to accept it. Mickey takes his hand away and clears his throat, glancing at the rear-view mirror to an oblivious Colin and Iggy.

“Thanks,” Ian mumbles, remembering himself as he snaps out of whatever it had been that passed between them just now.

Mickey wants to kiss him. He really, really wants to kiss him. He’d tried fucking girls and had been less turned on than he was just now doing nothing other than placing his cigarette in Ian’s mouth.

Ian pulls into the drive minutes later, cigarette since burned through and discarded out the window. Mickey tries not to feel the absence of it as though it were his own lips against his and not just the ghost of them stained onto the cigarette.

Colin drags open the side door and hops out with Iggy, zipping open a duffel bag full of guns. Mickey’s grateful for the distraction, for the absolute focus violence requires that he hopes will shove his desire to do something as stupid as kiss Ian out of his head.

“Hey! Whoa, guys, guys! No fucking guns, alright? It’s just a drunk old lady in there,” Ian says, brow furrowed as he looks at Mickey.

Trust Gallagher to be the defender of drunk old ladies. Mickey bites at his lip, trying and failing to ignore the way his chest swells with adoration at Ian’s request. Soft motherfucker. He’s right, though — any unnecessary violence and this could be a way bigger deal than it needs to be. Plus, he’d rather not piss off his only and best friend. He grabs the guns back from his cousins, much to their disappointment, and makes off toward the house.

He hadn’t woken up this morning thinking that today would be the day he’d kiss Ian. Hell, even now he’s sure that if he thinks about it any more he’ll chicken out and never kiss him at all. Mickey Milkovich, with the F-U-C-K U-U-P knuckles, who wears dirt and a scowl like they’re permanent accessories, is going to kiss Ian Gallagher, the freckled boy who protects drunk old ladies and smiles at him like he hangs the damn stars. He figures he was about to storm into an old lady’s house brandishing firearms without second thought or fright. Is kissing someone really that much more terrifying?

Abso-fuckin-lutely.

But there’s nothing between them but the van and Mickey’s fear. And fuck the fear. Fuck it.

He can pretend that he kisses him for no other reason than to prove a point, than to fulfill some implied dare.

At the end of the day, he kisses him because he wants to.

He kisses him because he likes him.

He kisses him because he loves him.

Mickey’s heart is racing so badly he feels that he might throw up and well, what an impression that would leave. Every part of him is shaking as he turns and takes one step, two steps, pulls himself into the van and…

His lips are against Ian’s. They’re so much softer than he’d imagined (and he had imagined, often) and warm and Mickey can feel the breath from his nose against his own face. He tastes like smoke and freedom and something sweet Mickey can’t place -- a fucking Snickers bar? -- but loves the taste of anyway.

His brain short-circuits. He lingers longer than he had intended to, but it’s real and it’s better than he ever thought it could be. He’d kissed Sarah Perkins on a dare back in 7th grade and he’d gargled vodka afterwards to wash his mouth out.

He’d thought himself broken for it just not feeling right. But this…this feels right. Ian makes him feel right. He had expected, hoped even maybe, that it would feel wrong. That he would kiss him and feel as though he had done something terrible, something worse than stealing from an old lady’s home, but if it does he can’t bring himself to care at the moment.

On his tongue, in his touch, with his laugh, Ian has given him the vocabulary to understand himself. To put a name to feelings mostly only understood in the illuminating glory of hindsight.

He’s spent his whole life outside of himself. Is this what it is to know yourself? Is this what it is for everything to suddenly make sense? He isn’t allowed soft things. He isn’t allowed this.

But here he is anyway.

And the world spins on.

He wants to kiss him again and again and again but he remembers his cousins in the house and what he suspects was probably less than five seconds feels like an eternity and Ian’s lips are starting to respond and move and is that his hand starting to lift to touch him? oh shit what if they come back to get him and this is what they walk in on and --

He pulls back and retreats as quickly as he’d arrived, throwing up a middle finger at Ian. Afraid to kiss him, Mickey’s ass.

Fuck he thinks as he runs back to the house, and can’t think much else but fuckfuckfuck, every inch of him charged and shaking and electric.

“Forgot somethin’,” he says breathlessly to the two boys who are, as it turns out, barely paying him any mind as they bicker between themselves about how they’re going to manage picking up a cabinet heavier than the two of them combined. Mickey’s not listening to them as they end up dropping it to split up and tackle smaller bait.

He grins wickedly to himself. He did it. Mickey goddamn Milkovich made a choice that wasn’t about pain or hurt or violence. He’d made a choice that was his and his alone and it was soft. Mickey Milkovich could choose to be soft, and gentle, and maybe even caring.

And if he can kiss Ian Gallagher? He can do anything.

#reposting this in a better format i think #gallavich #gallavich fic #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #why is read more not working brruhhh this is so long im sorry #IS it working??? idk #if it isnt #sorry!!!!#my bOYS~!!!!#my writing

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littlestarofthewest · 4 years

Photo

This is my @rdrsecretsanta gift for @little-box-of-flower-pots

I’m sorry this is so late, but I hope it fulfills your wishes. Please enjoy! :)

Title: Arthur’s Girl | Word Count: 4223 | Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader

You head into the saloon to meet with Arthur and find him standing in a corner with two other men. You don’t know their names, but Arthur told you that they usually know about good jobs in the area. For a little take of the score, they’re happy to share the information.

Since you don’t know how the men might react once they find out that Arthur’s partner is a woman, you rather stay at the bar and get yourself a drink instead of walking over to them. At first, you get lost in thought, the saloon becoming a blur around you, but then the voices of a few nearby women force their way into your mind.

“You gotta take a look, Lucy. Even you’d like him.”

You turn your head, looking over to a group of three women. Judging by their appearance, they’re the local working girls. One of them rolls her eyes. “I can’t even remember the last time a good-looking man came in here.”

“This one is way more than good-looking,” the first woman says, throwing her long red hair back over her shoulder. “I wish I could rip that shirt right open and take a closer look.”

“The shirt?” the blonde woman teases. “I’d rather get those tight jeans off. Can you see that bulge?”

Finally, the woman named Lucy seems convinced that it’s worth a look. She turns her head, and you follow her gaze, interested to see who the women are talking about. They all sneak glances into the corner where Arthur is standing with the two men. You give them a closer look, trying to figure out which one of the two men they’re talking about.

“Sweet Jesus, you were right.” Lucy lets out a deep sigh before turning back to the other women. “I wouldn’t mind that beard rubbing against my thighs.”

The women laugh before the Blonde leans over the table as if she’s longing to be in the other corner right that second. “I’d let him take me for free.”

You throw another look into the corner, your mind taking forever to come to the logical conclusion. Of the three men, the only man with a beard is Arthur. They’re talking about him.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Lucy suddenly announces, “I’m going over there right now.”

The other women cheer, and you watch her moving her dress around until her cleavage is barely tamed by the thin fabric. On her way over to Arthur, she fusses with her hair and finally presents herself to him on a silver platter. There are lots of touching and laughing involved, paired with winking and licking her lips. Even you’d be hard-pressed to say no to such a pretty woman.

In the five years you’ve been friends with Arthur, you’ve seen this happen numerous times, and he always does the same thing. He’s charming and smiles, and still says no. Lucy comes back to the other girls, plopping down on her chair and looking over to the Blonde. “You’d let him take you twice, darling,” she teases. “He’s got the bluest eyes, and that voice.”

The women go right back to talking about Arthur and what they would love to do to him, calling him a dangerous gunslinger and more inappropriate things. You remember thinking that Arthur was nice on the eyes when you first met him, but you became friends so quickly that you’ve never thought about him as anything else.

Looking at him now, you begin to see with the other women’s eyes. Arthur recently shaved his beard, but his cheeks are still covered with a nice scruff that you know to be a lot softer than it looks. His hair has grown out a bit, always changing length based on his willingness to sit in a barber’s chair long enough to get it cut. One with a dirty mind might think that it has a good length to hold on to.

Further down, little hairs peak out of his shirt collar, and you don’t have to rip it off to know what’s hidden underneath. You’ve been on the road together so many times that you’ve seen Arthur’s naked chest almost as often as your own. You know every scar on his skin, and that the little hairs go all the way down into his pants. That’s the only mystery left to you. What’s under there.

“Mylady,” a deep voice whispers into your ear, and you’re brought back to reality by Arthur leaning over you.

He’s standing right by your side, your bodies touching as he leans on the bar next to you. “Arthur,” you manage to say, your mind racing.

You’ve never been so flustered around him, but the way those women talked about Arthur turned him from your good-hearted friend into a good looking man who’s worth climbing any chance you get. Arthur doesn’t do much to throw you off that path.

“You want another drink?” he asks, his deep voice washing over you like a sweet caress. Before you can answer, he puts his hand on the small of your back, burning your skin while he orders for the both of you.

Trying your best to control your breathing, you’re engulfed by Arthur’s scent, and you’re tempted to just lean in and bury your face in his chest. Instead, you grab the glass with your drink, determined to forget all about this nonsense. Seconds later, you find yourself staring at Arthur’s neck as he downs his own drink, leaving you to think about all the ways you could bite and lick his skin.

Holding in a growl, you wonder if Arthur always stands so close to you. Trying to look away from him, you catch another glimpse at the working girls, and the looks they give you range from jealous to impressed. There’s a good chance they consider you and Arthur to be a couple, the thought bringing even more heat to your body.

“Are you listening to me?” Arthur asks, making you look at him completely dumbfounded.

“What?”

Concern crawls onto Arthur’s face, and you drown in the blue of his eyes as he lifts his hand to your face, carefully cupping your cheek. “Are you alright? You look flushed.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the soft touch, but then you manage to smile. “I just don’t like the heat. Tell me about the job.”

Arthur studies you for another moment before taking his hand away. “There’s a stage coming through here tomorrow, so I say we get a room and wait it out.”

“I thought we were going for a homestead?” you ask in confusion.

“We was, but then the guys told me about the stage. Not a good idea to rob something nearby and get the sheriff on our scent,” Arthur says. “The stage is worth way more money.”

“Alright, let’s wait then.”

Arthur smiles. “Another drink?”

You nod, hoping that the alcohol will manage to douse your confused mind. A few drinks later, there’s still a tingling feeling whenever Arthur stands too close or touches you, but you stop worrying about it.

When it’s getting late, Arthur leads you up the stairs to your room, his arm around your waist like so many times before. You usually share a room to save money, and the second you’re through the door, Arthur kicks off his boots and takes off his shirt.

After what you felt downstairs, you hesitate for a moment to do the same, but you’d look a lot less suspicious if you did everything as always. You take off your own shirt, and by the time you pull down your pants, Arthur’s already crawling into the bed in his underwear.

You lie down next to him, and it doesn’t take long for Arthur’s breathing to change, telling you that he fell asleep. With a sigh, you turn your back to him, convinced that tomorrow, everything’s going to be normal again.

——

The next morning, one thing is, in fact, normal. When you wake up, Arthur is basically wrapped around you. Whenever you share a bed, there’s a good chance you wake up completely entangled. Usually, you wiggle your way out of his grip and get up, but today you can’t bring yourself to move at all.

Arthur has his arm wrapped around your waist, his whole body pressing against yours. His face is buried in your neck, and when his hot breath ghosts over your skin, it sends cold shivers down your spine. You think about all the things the other women wanted to do to Arthur, and it gives you a sick sort of satisfaction that you’re actually in a position to do just that.

You dare yourself to move, rolling your hips. Arthur steers with a grunt. His lips touch the skin on your neck, and then you can feel his length rubbing hard against your ass. Your heart almost beats out of your chest, but you also feel bad about doing this to him in his sleep.

Turning around, you try to bring a little distance between the two of you, but Arthur won’t have it, pulling you close again. You can feel him pressing against your thigh while your hands come to rest against his chest. There’s still a chance for you to get out of this, but you don’t want to.

Instead, you run your hand over Arthur’s chest and up to his neck, your grip firm since you don’t want to hide what you’re doing. He steers, and you venture back down, playing with the little hairs and circling Arthur’s nipples with your fingertips. With a grunt, he barely opens his eyes, making your blood run cold.

“Morning,” Arthur mumbles, and you’re not sure if he doesn’t notice what you’re doing or if he chooses not to comment on it.

“Good morning,” you say, and with your heart pounding like crazy, you dare to let your hand wander.

You caress Arthur’s stomach, enthralled by how soft the skin feels. You dig a little into the flesh until his muscles harden under your touch. Arthur has propped himself up a little, watching how your hand ventures even deeper, and finally, his eyes grow wide. You keep looking at him while you move your hand even lower, unable to stop yourself.

The second your hand cups the bulge in Arthur’s pants, he gets in motion. With a grunt, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you close. This time, it’s no accident when his lips meet your neck, and he teases your skin with little licks and bites.

Spurred on by Arthur’s reaction, you get more daring. Without making a fuzz, you pull his underwear down and wonder what the three women would have to say about the glorious cock that springs into your hand. Arthur growls as you stroke him, and when he lifts you up, you eagerly follow along, climbing on top of him.

Arthur hitches up your chemise and holds it in place while you rub your pussy along the length of his cock, coating him with your slick. You wish you could draw this out, but you’re so turned on that you can only think about feeling Arthur inside of you. He stays still as you position yourself on top of him and closes his eyes with a deep groan when you slowly sink down onto his cock.

The sheer size of him drives you close to the edge, so you stay still for a moment. Without looking, Arthur runs his hands up your legs and over your stomach. His touch brings goosebumps all over your skin, your nipples hardening under the thin fabric of your chemise. Arthur opens his eyes, his gaze fixed on you as he ventures higher with his touches. His large hands cup your breasts, and the second he knits the soft flesh, you can’t hold on any longer.

Rolling your hips, you drive Arthur’s cock in and out of you at a rough pace, unable to avoid his gaze. He’s looking at you with so much fire and greed in his eyes that it takes your breath away. You thought that you maybe could get Arthur to fool around with you for a bit, but you never could have predicted something like this. For five years, you’ve watched Arthur say no to countless women, but here he is, saying yes to you.

You lean forward, and Arthur eagerly pushes the fabric of your chemise aside, exposing your breasts. With the way he sucks and licks at you, Arthur drives you so wild that you ride him harder than you would any horse, the feeling of him inside you quickly driving you over the edge. Leaning back, your mouth falls open, Arthur’s name tumbling over your lips.

He’s holding on to your hips now, pushing into you with short hard thrust while your muscles clench around him. Arthur quickly pulls out of you, moaning as he paints his own stomach with his come. He lets go of you as if all strength has left him, and you fall forward like a puppet that got its strings cut, your hands resting on Arthur’s chest again.

You feel him desperately sucking in air while you try your best to gain control over your own breathing. After a short while, you want nothing more than to lie down and cuddle up to him, but a sudden thought shoots through your mind like a lightning bolt.

“Shit,” you curse, clumsily climbing off of Arthur, “we gonna miss the damn coach.”

Arthur groans, but follows you out of bed and you both dress as quickly as you can. Half an hour later, you’re waiting by the side of the road. Arthur comes over to you, and when he leans back against the same tree as you, his shoulder brushes against your own.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his blue eyes fixed on you.

Your mind is still reeling with what just happened. You’re not ready at all. Neither for the coach nor for whatever will happen after it. You’re so scared that you ruined your friendship that it must show on your face.

Arthur takes your hand and squeezes it. “You’ll be alright. Trust me.”

That you can do. No matter what, you’ll always trust Arthur. You take a deep breath before pulling up your bandana. “Let’s do this.”

Arthur gives you a big smile before pulling up his bandana as well. “That’s my girl.”

He turns to the street to face the coach. You follow him with your heart almost beating out of your chest. For five years, you’ve been Arthur’s friend, but now, for reasons you don’t understand, you want nothing more than to really be Arthur’s girl.

——

Arthur croons his neck to catch a glimpse of you, spotting you on the other side of camp, talking to Hosea. With a sigh, Arthur leans back and stares at the empty page of his journal. He hadn’t written or drawn anything for a week, ever since that morning when he woke up to you touching him in ways he could only ever dream of.

How could he possibly find the words to describe how he feels? Five years ago, when Arthur first met you, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. That simple crush turned into more when he got to know you better, but then you got along so well that you quickly became good friends. After Arthur’s misfortunes with love, he didn’t dare to ruin that, burying his feelings deep down in the darkest places of his soul.

It’s not like Arthur lost that much. You spend lots of time together, had fun, and he got to experience your kindness and good nature almost every day. Being with you is as natural as breathing, but for the last week, Arthur has felt like drowning. Somehow, there’s always somebody else around, and he can’t catch a moment alone with you.

At first, Arthur only wanted to talk to you about what happened, but now that he spent a week without a word from you, Arthur right out misses you. Needless to say that his old feelings are back at full force. He needs to know why this happened between you two, and if there’s just the slightest chance that you might feel the same way he does.

With another sigh, Arthur rips out the last page of his journal, writing down a message for you. He strolls through camp and past your tent, making sure that nobody sees him before throwing the note inside. Then, Arthur gets on his horse and rides out of camp. If he has to watch you for another minute without being able to talk to you, he might lose his damn mind.

Three hours later, Arthur is still sitting in a room at the local hotel. In his message, he asked you to meet him here, and he’s determined to stay until he finally got to talk to you. The wait would be a lot easier with a drink, but Arthur wants to have a clear head should you decide to come by. He’d never forgive himself if he messed this up by being stupid.

When there’s a knock on the door, Arthur leaps up and almost rips the door off its hinges, flinging it open. You stand outside, seeming so small compared to him, your voice shy. “You wanted to talk?”

“Please, come in.” Arthur steps aside, and you walk past him to the middle of the room.

Closing the door, Arthur stays where he is, afraid of what he might do if he lets himself get closer to you. He takes a deep breath, reciting the words he made up in his mind while waiting for you. “I wanted to talk about what happened last week.”

There’s a lot more Arthur wanted to say, but looking at you, a sudden fear takes hold of him. What if he says the wrong thing and you leave him? What if you don’t want to be friends with him anymore? Thousands of thoughts swirl around in Arthur’s mind, but not one makes it to his lips.

Like so many times before, you’re his salvation. Wringing your hands, you take a step closer to Arthur, holding his gaze, braver than he could ever be.

“Alright, I’ll start,” you say, taking a deep breath. “You’re my best friend, Arthur, and I don’t want to lose you, but for the last week, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to be with you again. If I’m honest, I want to be way more than just friends. I want to be-”

You stop, struggling with the word, and Arthur opens his mouth without thinking. “Lovers?”

“I, uh, I guess,” you say, a weak laugh breaking out of you. “You’ve always been the one with the words, right? Yes, lovers.”

Arthur felt grief, heartbreak, loss, and fear. He’s no stranger to overwhelming emotions, but nothing compares to what’s raging inside of him now. The only difference is that this time, it’s good. His heart fills up with something he can’t explain, but it’s so intense he can barely take it.

You deserve an answer, but while you called Arthur the one with the words, there’s just no way he can talk right now. Instead, he closes the gap between you and sweeps you up into his arms. You squeal with surprise, and Arthur starts over where you left off last week.

Kissing your neck, Arthur carries you over to the bed to put you down on it, and seconds later, you’re tearing at each other’s clothes, wanting to feel each other, to be close again. Arthur crawls on top of you, and you eagerly spread your legs, letting him in. Buried deep inside of you, he takes a moment to feel that deep calmness only you’re able to give him.

Arthur stares into your eyes, bathing in the way you look back at him. There’s so much adoration and acceptance that it takes his breath away. You smile up at him, and while marveling at the curve of your lips, Arthur realizes that despite what happened last week, he’s never had the pleasure of kissing you.

He leans in, and you lift up your chin, fuelling his courage by welcoming him once again, always the one to take him just the way he is. Arthur presses his lips to yours, the soft brush of skin on skin so tender that he completely loses himself.

Your hands are in his hair, holding on as he deepens the kiss, your tongues rubbing hot against each other. Arthur’s engulfed by your taste, your scent, the way you hold on to him, needing him, trusting him. He wishes he could stay like this, preserve this moment forever, but you’re both too desperate for more.

Arthur can’t tell who loses control first, but all the tenderness soon makes room for shared moans between kisses, your fingers clawing at Arthur’s skin as he thrusts into you, spurred on by the euphoria of venturing deeper and deeper into your tight heat.

Reality blurs as you become Arthur’s whole world. Nothing matters but your touches and kisses, the sweet words you whisper into his ear before crying out his name. Still, Arthur feels guilty for not saying anything when you laid your heart bare to him. He keeps as still as he can, taking your face in his hands before searching your eyes.

“Goddamn girl, I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse as the words rush out of him, a prayer that you’ll hopefully accept.

The expression on your face is truly one of a goddess, not a cruel one, but so beautiful that you could shatter him on a whim. “I love you, too,” you say, your voice soft, a sweet caress for Arthur’s tormented soul.

He kisses you again, unable to stop now, losing himself in everything you are to him. You hold on to him, your eyes meeting again as you wrap your legs around him, forbidding him to shy away just an inch. Arthur follows your every desire, pushing into you to elicit eager moans and gasps, carrying you closer and closer to your sweet undoing.

You come with Arthur’s name on your lips, your muscles clenching so hard around him that he can’t hold on. Still in your grasp, Arthur thrusts into you, filling you up with his come as your nails leave desperate marks on his skin.

He buries his face against your neck and lets you pet him for a while, but then Arthur lies down next to you to unburden you from his weight. He pulls you close, and you rest your head against his chest, your fingertips caressing his stomach as if you’re back at where you started a week ago, coming full circle.

“I think I was jealous,” you admit to the silence between you, and Arthur moves a little to the side to look down at you.

“Jealous?”

“Last week in the saloon, these girls were talking about how good looking you were and what they would want to do to you in bed.”

“Keep going,” Arthur teases.

You laugh but hit his chest with not much force. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

Arthur leans in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry. Are you talking about that Lucy girl?”

“You remember her name?” you say, your brows knitting together, and Arthur can’t help but find your jealousy pretty endearing.

“If it makes you do to me what you did last week, I’ll remember all of their names.”

You laugh, but instead of hitting Arthur again, you push him onto his back to crawl on top of him. Arthur reaches down to hold you in place, enjoying how your beautiful body melts against his. You look at him with a devilish smile that brings heat to every inch of his body.

“You’re going to punish me now?” Arthur asks, not minding the idea at all, but you shake your head.

“No, I won’t punish you,” you say, leaning down to leave some sweet kisses all over his chest. “I want to make up for lost time. Five years of lost time.”

Arthur lets go off you to rest his arms over his head. “I’m all yours.”

You run your fingers over his beard and the scars on his chin as if you need to rediscover him. “I hoped that you’d say that.”

——

Over the last years, Arthur has paid for many hotel rooms, but he’s never had to pay extra for a broken bed before. Judging by the bartender’s stare, it might also be some time before Arthur can show his face here again without getting weird looks.

Not that he cares. Arthur follows you outside to the horses, his eyes hefted to your swaying hips. He only looks up when you turn around to him, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s as if you already missed him in the few minutes you haven’t been glued together.

Arthur feels the same way, and holding you in his arms, he knows that he’d do anything for you. His friend, his lover, his girl.

#rdrsecretsanta #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #my writing

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ds-ts-smut-fics · 4 years

Text

Far From Home [Chapter Three]

Chapter One

Read on Ao3

Synopsis: Remus and Logan arrive at the Blackmarsh Villas, and find they're suffering from a string of kidnappings.

Trigger warnings: NSFW occasionally, demonic possession, kidnappings, lmk if i missed anything!

Words: 5,332

Close to sunset, Juniper brought them up to a gated town with a sign reading Blackmarsh Villas. A guard stopped them on their way in.

She was a blonde halfling with a forced smile. Her gaze fell to Remus, a little harshly. “Can you tell me what your business is?”

Giving Remus a small subtle hug, Logan decides to answer to take her gaze from Remus. "Good evening. We're traveling to reach the coast, does the inn have room tonight?"

She nodded slowly. “Yes. How long do you plan on staying?”

“Just a day or two,” Remus said. He forced up a smile. “We need to stock up on supplies and maybe find a map. We won’t be here long.”

Her eyes met with his, and she softened. “You’ve been on the road for a while, haven’t you?”

He nodded.

She gestured for them to head inside. “Stables just to the right. A silver per stall.”

"Thank you very much!" Logan clicks his tongue, guiding Juniper in with a smile.

“Do you have change?” Remus asked the worker as Logan got Juniper settled.

They headed towards the inn, the streets made of perfectly-neat cobble, each tudor house towering above them.

“We need to leave here as soon as possible,” he grumbled.

Stretching a little, Logan slides an arm around Remus. "Mmm, do you want to stay in the room and relax, Rem? I can try, but…. I'm not the best at negotiations?"

He shook his head. “No, Adelaide and I will just get antsy. Let’s stop for dinner in the inn and drop our stuff off, then go shopping. Oh— Don’t let me forget that we need to find someone to look at that ring for us.”

"So, the inn, dinner, and maybe start with an area map? Perhaps the owner has suggestions?" Keeping him close, he hums softly, rubbing his hip. "Wouldn't want you getting antsy, darling!"

He nodded in embarrassment. “Yeah.”

They found the inn, a huge building with gold paint on the doorway and windowsills, and Remus hesitated outside the door. His hooves were coated in mud.

“Ugh.”

"Hmm, maybe we should see if there's a public bath house or something first?" Looking at his own dirty sandals and slightly

torn cloak, Logan flushes in quiet shame. "We look a bit messy?"

Remus’ stomach rumbled. He glanced behind him, at the towering buildings, the winding pathways. “I don’t even know where we would find one. Let’s just ask the barmaid for a map and go after eating? If they make a fuss over it… It’ll be fine.”

Nodding, he offers his arm to Remus. "Shall we then?"

Remus raised an eyebrow and took his hand instead. “You’re a mess,” he said, and dragged him inside.

The inside was just as luxurious as the inside— Remus worried they couldn’t afford it. Plush rugs softened their steps, the entire dining room bathed in soft yellow light. A winding, carpeted staircase led presumably to the rooms, two fireplaces crackling on each side of the dining area.

The woman behind the bar, a tall elven girl, glanced up from wiping down the counters. Her gray eyes widened. “Travellers?”

"Did the road mud give it away?" Logan smiles softly. "Um, this is a rather nice place here… Dare I ask how much a room and meals costs around here?"

“Well…” She gestured them over.

Remus brought Logan towards the bar and slid on one of the stools. She reached under the counter and brought out a bucket full of soapy water. She handed a fresh rag to Remus.

“Here, sweety, wipe off your hooves. Usually a room cost 4 gold per night, but I can tell the road hasn’t exactly been kind to you.” She touched Remus’ face with a sigh. “I can knock it down by two as long as you promise not to tell anyone.”

Logan watched the girl’s face carefully. She watched Remus with sad eyes, taking the rag from him with a gentle grip. She seemed genuinely worried for him.

Smiling softly, he nods. "Thank you, kind lady."

“Here, I can get it.” Remus dumped the coins in her palm. “How much for a hot meal for the both of us? And do you by chance have a map of Blackmarsh?”

She hummed and drummed her fingers over the countertop. “Eight silver pieces each. Let me get you that map while you figure out what you want.”

She wandered into the back.

Logan smiles softly, sliding the money over on the countertop before bending to help Remus clean up. "Seems nice. Perhaps we ask about selling her that fish, dear?"

“Oh, right.” He squinted at the menu. “Yeah, we should do that.”

She came back a few minutes later and handed Remus the map, then took their orders. She directed them to where they could sell their fish and pointed out a good spot for the ring, as well.

“And here’s your room key.” She grabbed a pitcher of water and headed out from the bar. “Call me over if you need anything, hon.”

Logan nods, tucking their key away after marking those spots. "Thank you."

Remus sighed as he ate silently.

Isn’t this nice? Haven’t allowed me into civilization in a while. Hot food, warm shelter, we’ll sleep in an actual bed tonight… Wouldn’t it just be easier if you put a bit more faith in me? We could actually settle down somewhere.

“We could never do that,” he mumbled.

His back hurt— his whole body ached. He’d been on the road so long.

"Remus? You okay?" Logan looks him over with a small frown, tucking him in close, whispering. "Adelaide being a bitch again?”

He let out a surprised, tired laugh. “Sort of. He wants to settle down as much as I do. I think, at least. We’ve just been travelling for a while. We only found out about Maeston Coast, or we would have gone a lot sooner.”

“Alright, everyone!” The barmaid clapped her hands a few times. “Thirty minutes until curfew! Unless you plan to pay for a room, better start leaving.”

Remus frowned and looked up. “Curfew?”

"That's odd… I wouldn't have expected. I wonder what's caused that?" Logan leans over, trying to catch some conversation about it.

“Fucking creepy ass…”

“...why is it us?...”

“...they still haven’t found that halfling boy…”

Remus waved down the barmaid. “Excuse me, curfew?”

“Oh,” she sighed. “No one told you two?”

Shaking his head, Logan frowns. "No… We just got in today. What's going on?"

“For the past few weeks, people have been getting snatched off the streets and out of their homes. Over twenty people have vanished. The guards aren’t telling us anything, just gave us this bullshit curfew as if it stops anything.”

Remus’ eyes narrowed.

"Have they found any of them, any.. any bodies?" Logan frowns softly, curiosity peaked.

She shook her head. “Nope. Nothing. People just vanish. I’ve heard some families of the taken say there’s a wet spot left behind, a trail of water, but who’s to say.”

“If we talked to the guards about this, what would they say?”

She smirked. “They’d say everything is fine.”

"That's the only common clue? No other similarities in terms of how long between disappearances, age of the missing?" Logan taps the table, trying to think of what could be causing it and looking at the map for nearby water sources.

Remus tapped on the map at a spot outside the Blackmarsh Villas— The Black Marsh, a nearby swamp.

“Well, at first it was pretty tame. One or two missing a week. At this point it’s a couple a night. As for similarities, no, not that I’ve heard of. None of the victims are the same demographic, most don’t even know each other.”

"Oh! Hmm…. Do they live near the marsh at all? With the water connection, maybe…" Logan smiles at Remus, eyebrow raising. Do you want to check this out, dear?

She laughed. “God no, no one lives out there. It’s so polluted, it was abandoned a long time ago. The only thing out there is the ruins of the old Blackmarsh Villas.”

“What time does curfew lift in the morning?” Remus asked. He quickly finished his dinner and put down a few silver for the girl’s tip.

“7am. Thank you, dear.”

After she left, Remus leaned in to whisper to Logan, “I’m going to wake up early tomorrow to get shopping out of the way and go out to the marshes and quickly as possible. I bet we could find whatever’s doing this there.”

"Good possibility. What are you thinking it is? Any hints stand out?"

He shakes his head. “I have no idea.” He glanced over his shoulder. All the patrons had either filed out or gone upstairs; the dining room was a ghost town. “I’ve never encountered aquan kidnappers. Adelaide?”

Maybe the nearby fish got a little rowdy.

“You’re so unhelpful.”

"Well, one thing is for sure. We're all fed, there's a bed upstairs that I bet feels really nice, and we'll have more ideas come in the morning?"

Remus sighed and nodded. “I know.”

He followed Logan to their room. It was just as beautiful as the rest of the place, with a king-sized bed and a platter of fruits and cheeses. Remus dropped all his shit and made sure the lock was latched, then fell into bed.

Chuckling softly, Logan watches before settling on the bed next to him with a hum. "Oh, that feels so nice."

Remus curled into his side with a little huff, horns pressing into the side of Logan’s face. “I’m exhausted.”

Kissing his horns, Logan smiles, stroking down Remus' back. "Mmm… tuck in and rest, or see if there's a bathing space available, my dear?"

“Oh, yeah.” He blushed. “I think I saw a bathhouse nearby, maybe we can go when we get back from the swamp? No use spending money to get clean just to go to the marshes.”

"Sounds like a lovely plan, my dear." Gently tipping Remus' face, he kisses his lips.

Remus kissed him back shyly, uncertainly. Smiling, Logan hums, cupping his face and guiding the kiss, gently making out with Remus. Remus slid his fingers through Logan’s hair.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend before?” He asked quietly. “Girlfriend?”

Leaning into the touch, Logan nods. "I have… Both actually, before I figured out that I preferred the harder lines of a man's body." Blushing softly, he hums. "It's actually why I was 'requested' to leave the monastery. I had a date with the adopted son of the head monk. It wasn't approved of."

Remus frowned. “You were kicked out of your home because you’re queer?”

"I think it was more the who rather than the gender he disapproved of? He was a bit, protective, of Patton?" Grinning, he winks. "Can't help myself when I see a cute boy though, and I thought I had a better stealth ability than I did that night… Or maybe it was Patton's giggles that gave us away?"

Remus laughed a little, pulling Logan closer. “He’s still back at the monastery, then? Ever plan on seeing him again?”

Nuzzling a little, he hums, arms circling Remus and holding him close. "He is still back at the monastery as far as I know, probably grounded for an eternity to the healing wing, poor thing. I'd like to see him again, sure, but… I don't know, we might be better as friends. It was just a night that ended up with more cuddles and kisses than passion? This… Us? It feels more warm and close somehow?"

Remus nuzzled into his shoulder, quiet.

Stroking down Remus' back softly, he smiles. "If your question was if I'm planning to leave you for Patton if we meet again, no. I'm yours… if you want me."

Remus swallowed. He didn’t look at Logan. “I… I do want you, but you don’t want me. Not at least until Adelaide… You don’t want us.”

Sighing softly, he hums, stealing another kiss. "Remus. It's you I'm interested in, and right now, Adelaide comes as part of you. I'm okay with that."

He shook his head. “I’m not letting you do that.”

"Baby… why not?" Frowning, Logan grips the dark chin gently, making him look at him.

Remus shook his head a little. It was clear he was scared of Adelaide, of what Adelaide could do to him and Logan both.

“I won’t let you do that to yourself,” he said quietly.

Settling their foreheads together, he hums. "I'd be a fool not to be wary of Adelaide, dear… But I think you're worth the fight to free you. I'm not giving up."

“I’m not… Going to be with you with him here,” Remus insisted. “I’m not.”

"I know, and I understand, my dear. I'm just saying that after, after… I'd like to give US a chance. Does that make sense? Be friends with benefits for now… travel companions that share a bed. Afterwards, we can try dating if you're interested?" Stroking Remus' cheek, he hums. "Are we on the same part of the scroll?"

He blushed and nodded, leaning into his touch. “Yes, sir.”

Petting softly, he hums, bending in to offer a kiss. "Perfect. Seal it with a kiss, my dear one?"

Remus kissed him shyly.

Smiling softly, Logan sighs. "You're so shy and sweet… It's amazing."

Remus shook his head with a blush. “You’re crazy.”

Kissing the tip of Remus' nose, he strokes his hips and thighs gently. "Maybe, but you like my crazy, baby!"

“Shhh.” He settled against him and sighed. “Lots to do tomorrow. I’m going to sleep.”

Nodding, Logan shifts them under the blankets, cuddling up against Remus with a smile. "Alright. I'll be right here with you, darling."

xxx

Logan and Remus started by going to the blacksmith. The halfling man sat on the counter, staring at the ring with a clenched face.

Eyebrow arching, Logan bites his lip. Do I say something? He's looking at it like it offended him.

“It’s definitely magical,” he said after a long few minutes. “Let me just check…”

He hopped off the counter and dug around underneath for a moment. He brought out a lantern and held it and the ring in the air.

Remus held back a frustrated sigh. “Can you tell what it does?”

Taking Remus' hand, Logan chuckles. "I think that's what he's testing for now, hun?"

“I believe it’s a ring of evasion,” he said. He pulled a book out from under the counter and flipped around for a moment. “Yes, here. It has three charges that you can use to dodge an unexpected blow. It regains the charges slowly every day. Are you selling it?”

“No, sorry.” He took the ring back and slipped it on Logan’s finger. “Do you have any interesting weapons? Health potions?”

Logan blushes softly at the care in the action, pressing a soft kiss to Remus' horn.

“Well, show me what you have!”

Remus put down his sickles and dagger, and Logan his short sword and darts.

The halfling man hummed. “Anything specific you’re looking for?” He took out a journal and flipped through it.

Logan glances over at the book with a hum. "Not a specific plan, no… I was just handed this sword when I left. What do you recommend?"

“Well, if you want to trade in the short sword, I have a ghost blade I can give you for 350.” He flipped through the journal a bit more and hummed. “As for the sickles, I can trade one of those in for a sharper one for, let’s say, 400.”

Remus wrinkled his nose. “Gold pieces?”

"What advantage would a ghost blade have over this one?" A little much… Unless it's impressive. I might have to save up if it's worth the price.

“Well, your enemy’s wouldn’t be able to see it,” the halfling man said. “A lot harder to dodge a weapon you can’t see. And the sickle would simply do more damage— a lot more.”

Remus tapped his foot a little, frustration tugging at his chest.

Ask him about the kidnappings.

Remus narrowed his eyes.

Just ask him!

“I’m sorry, have you known anyone affected by the recent kidnappings?”

The man’s face paled. “I’m sorry?”

Sliding an arm around Remus, Logan gives a soft squeeze. "Sorry, we just arrived yesterday and there was a lot of talk about people disappearing…. do you know anything that can put our minds at ease, or any information at all?"

“We’re headed into the swamp soon,” Remus explained, “see if we can do what the guards aren’t.”

“You’re trying… To stop it?”

Remus and Logan nodded.

The man shook his head and looked away in disbelief. “If you can bring my husband back, I’ll give you these weapons for free. And, here, I’ve only got two health potions but I can give you half off. That’s fifty gold in total.”

Logan's eyes soften as he slides over the gold. "That would be lovely indeed, sir. We'll do our best to bring him back, or at least closure."

The halfling man handed them each a health potion. “I’m Alberic, by the way. Is there anything else you need?”

Smiling, he tucks the potion and his darts away. "Logan, nice to meet you, Alberic. Hmm, what do you think, dear? Anything else you wanted to know?" I don't want to traumatize him, but any information is helpful.

“Do you know anything?” Remus asked hesitantly.

Alberic shook his head. “No, I… I’m sorry. I was working when they took him. I don’t know anything.”

“We should keep moving,” Remus mumbled. “Thank you, Alberic.”

Nodding, Logan hums. "Thank you indeed… Oh! Do you know anyone who might have more information?"

“I’d talk to the guards.”

Remus nodded. “Let’s do that on the way out.”

Logan grins. "Sure… they probably won't thank us for doing their jobs, but then again, they might! See you later, Alberic!"

They made their way to town hall, headed up to the front desk.

“Excuse me, who runs the guard here?” Remus asked.

A dwarf who was reading some papers looks up and points back behind him. "Who wants to know? She's busy."

“We’re headed out to the swamp in a minute, see if we can help with the kidnappings. We’d like to talk to her first and see if we can get any more information.”

He arches an eyebrow, trying and failing to not look impressed. "I'll see if I can get you back to see head guard Lucinda… One moment?" He shuffles off to the back where the offices of the higher guards are, knocking on a door and waiting to be let in.

The door opened and he stayed inside a few more moments before coming out and leading Remus and Logan into the office. A blue tiefling with highly decorated ram’s horns, tipped in gold, sat behind the desk in flowing pink robes. She raised a pierced eyebrow when they entered.

Offering a respectful bow like he would to his former head monk, Logan smiles a little. "Good morn. We are travelers looking to aid in your disappearance problem if you have time to give us some information about that?"

She folded her hands over the desk and stared at them for a moment. “How do you plan on stopping the kidnappings?”

“Killing the criminal,” Remus said simply. “Do you know if it’s a monster or a person?”

She watched them carefully. “You arrived recently. What makes you care about Blackmarsh?”

"Why would we not care to make the world we travel a better place?" Logan tips his head gently, making his holy symbol slide out of his robe before he tucks it away again. "There is but one world and it deserves to be safe, does it not?"

She chuckled. “That certainly is one belief. There’s not much that we know. Seaweed has been left behind at the scenes, puddles of murky water… Anyone who’s seen the creature calls it a monster. Some say it’s the ugliest thing they’ve ever seen.”

“Seaweed?” Remus frowned. They were weeks from any coast, completely landlocked.

She shrugged and nodded.

"That is odd… any other descriptors that might help identify the person or thing or a motive?"

Logan had read about sea hags in the past, but never why they’d be so far from the ocean.

She shook her head. “No, unfortunately. If we had more information we’d do more to stop it.”

"Well, of course you would. I'm just trying to gather my data." Opening his pack, he flips through a couple of books, settling on one and checking a few pages. "It seems to correlate most with a sea hag… But why one is so far from the ocean, hmm. When did this all start, was there something just before it that might have deposited this hag here? A large scale storm, a caravan with a cart perhaps?"

She shook her head. “A few weeks ago. I can’t think of anything… Hm…”

Remus furrowed his eyebrows as she dug around in her desk.

She pulled out a few scrolls and pushed them open against the desk. “Well, there were some travelers who came by just before all this started. They were… Tourists. Came to gather information on our town and its economy.”

“You mean how you got rich?” Remus crossed his arms.

She laughed a little. “I guess so, yes.”

"One of the missing is the husband of the weapons and supplies shop owner… are any of the others tied to businesses like that? Possible leverage points?" Logan's eyes widen as he tries to put it together.

She shook her head. “No, there haven’t been any similarities among the kidnapped.”

“Those travelers, can you describe them for me?”

“Uh… Okay, well, they were a dwarven family except a little human girl. They said they’d found her on the side of the road and offered to bring her here. She stayed at the orphanage for a few days but she was the first to be kidnapped.”

"Interesting. Who was next after the girl?" Could she be the hag?

“Um…” she flipped through her book for a moment, “Callie Dosrig. She works in the inn.”

"So, the girl that was with the travelers disappears first? The second to vanish was someone that they would have met on first arrival and an individual that would know a lot about the town." He checked their map. "Where is the orphanage? Maybe they're related? It might be a sea hag looking for money and perhaps a way back to the more coastal areas she's used to.”

She pointed it out on the map. “The head of the orphanage is an elven man, Laucian Xilodon. He can tell you about the girl. You really think she’s… A hag? She looked perfectly normal to me.”

Remus looked at Logan in confusion. Under his breath, he asked, “Do you know anything about hags?”

Can’t say I do, love.

Logan hums, flipping some more pages. "Usually their human form is rather, unsightly. Did she have a tendency to wear a hat? Perhaps that anchored a disguise?"

Lucinda shook her head. “No. You’re certain it’s a hag? It doesn’t seem to match up with what you’re saying.”

“It doesn’t matter what it is,” Remus said. “We’ll check the orphanage regardless, and whatever it is, we’ll kill it.”

"It might not be what it is, I'm merely trying to eliminate the possibilities." Logan shrugs, writing down the orphanage owner's name.

“You’re really just going to waltz in there without any idea?” She folded her arms over the desk and leaned in, her black eyes. judgemental. “You realize that’s why I haven’t sent any guards, right? It could be a massacre.”

Shrugging, Logan hums, focused on his notes and the patterns there. "Do you have more ideas to add, ma'am? We did stop for information first."

She shook her head. “Past suggesting you do your business in town and leave? Nope. Nothing.”

Remus scowled. “You should care more about your people.”

"Well, you did hear her, darling. She'd rather we left rather than helping her take care of the problem that's potentially killing her town slowly." Standing, Logan hums. "Let's talk to the orphanage director perhaps, see if any more clues can be gathered."

Remus nodded and followed him out. He sighed and glanced around the streets, the groups of people milling about.

“Bitch,” he grumbled.

"We were told that they were likely to be little help, dear. Sadly, she was correct on that point." Sliding a gentle arm around Remus, he leads the way to the orphanage.

You should get them to pay you. They’re all rich and you’re doing their work.

Remus shook his head.

They arrived at the orphanage, a small building with a handful of children playing in the grass. An abnormal amount were human, considering most of what Logan and Remus had seen since they arrived had been halfling or elven.

A little half-elven girl ran up and stopped them on their way to the front door. Her eyes were blown wide. “You have antlers! And hooves!”

Logan can't help but chuckle softly, bending to be closer. "Greetings, small one… Might we enter?"

She pointed at Remus, eyes on Logan. “Is he a deer?”

Shaking his head, he hums. "He isn't, but I can see where you'd get the idea. Just for clarity though, there are a few things that can differentiate. He has hands, not four hooves. Also, he is walking upright, deer walk on all four limbs. The horns are, I believe, also made of different material."

She looked to Remus excitedly. “Can I touch? I saw a deer once and I felt its antlers!”

Remus blushed and knelt, ducking his head. The girl stroked his horn for a moment, ‘ooo’ing.

“They feel like Lucinda’s horns!”

"Mmhmm! See, he's not a deer… but he is dear to me!"

Remus’ face flushed bright red as the door opened and a lanky elven man with long, rose gold hair shook a bell. “Time for lunch, everyone!”

As all the kids leapt to their feet and ran inside, the man’s eyes landed on the two adventurers and the small child still reaching for Remus’ horns. He pocketed the bell and came over with an amused smile.

He picked up the girl, who squealed, and held her on his hip. “Ginger, you want to introduce me?”

Sliding an arm around Remus and standing to keep Ginger from accidentally getting sliced by the sharp tips, Logan grins. "We hadn't quite gotten to introductions actually! I'm Logan, and this is Remus. Ginger was just comparing Remus' horns to a deer's antlers…"

He laughed. “Ginger has an interesting relationship with tieflings. Lucinda and some of her charges were the one to find Ginger and her brother, Lucinda cared for them on their way home.” He held his free hand out. “I’m Laucian Xilodon. Are you looking to adopt?”

"Oh dear… I wish. We're usually on the road. That's no life for a child. I just can't stop myself from looking, I guess?" Logan sighs softly, trying his best to look apologetic as he internally squeals at the man assuming they're a couple.

He raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly, forcing a light laugh.

“Ignore him,” Remus sighed. “We only came to town for a stop along the way but we heard about your…” his eyes lingered on Ginger, “problem in town. We’re trying to get some information first. We heard there was a girl here a few weeks ago, could we talk about her?”

Laucion hesitated. He set Ginger down and murmured, “Go inside and eat some lunch, I’m sure Chef Bertie saved you your portion.”

After Ginger ran off, Laucion gestured the two to follow him. He led them to a group of pavilions and finished picnic tables, cushions tied down to each of the seats.

"Thank you… I wasn't sure how to bring it up discreetly, dear." Logan blushes a little, whispering to Remus as they move through the area.

“What do you want to know?” Laucion asked.

Logan hums softly. "The girl who was first to vanish…. what can you tell us about her?"

He sighed. “Not much. The dwarven family who brought her in dropped her pretty quick and I didn’t see them again. She didn’t speak. We didn’t know her name. The kids started referring to her as Silver, because of her hair, so that kind of caught on, but past that…”

Remus frowned. “You don’t know anything about her?”

“No, not really. She just trailed behind everyone and sulked, which isn’t that strange, but…”

"But what? Anything helps really. We're trying to get a picture of what might be behind this so we can stop it." Writing down some notes in a journal, Logan hums softly.

He shrugged and tipped his head to the side a few times, grimacing. “I guess, well, it was the way she looked at everyone that put me off. She was… Very jealous, that much was obvious. She never did a single thing to hurt anyone, I have to stress, and she seemed very sweet, just… Angry.”

"Jealous of what, exactly? That they could speak, or of certain people more than others perhaps?"

“No, I don’t think it had to do with her speech. I don’t…” He sighed. “I don’t know what she could have been jealous of.”

"The possibility that's crossed my mind was that this might be the daughter of a hag, perhaps jealous or confused about appearances being different to her own as she approached the birthday that she'd attain her true form and no longer be able to look human?" Tapping a few pages, he shows them the data he has on hags. "It all matches up to the real possibility that we have a young hag out there."

“Why would a hag want to kidnap a village?” Laucion sighed and dragged a hand down his face.

"Well, you would call this village beautiful, yes? The decorations on the houses, the atmosphere before this even? Sea hags hate beauty and want to destroy all of it."

Laucion frowned deeply. “But… We were trying to help her.”

“It’s a monster,” Remus mumbled. “It doesn’t care. You’re certain it’s a sea hag, Lo?”

"Unfortunately, you can't change a genetic disposition to hate things that show them that they can't be traditionally beautiful… I'm nearly 100% certain, Remus. It all fits." He hums, checking his notes and the information he'd collected from the monastery library before he left.

“We should get going,” Remus sighed as he stood, “before it hurts anyone else. Do they have any weaknesses?”

"Nothing that I can remember… They're scary though, they can frighten and kill just with their looks once you see their true form! Which, I mean, it makes sense why they'd hate beauty when they're so repulsive." Shuddering, he hums softly. "I promise we can attempt to reason with Silver, get her to move to a different area… but we will remove her if it proves necessary."

He nodded reluctantly. “I understand. Ginger’s brother has already been taken, I don’t want to risk the rest of the kids. Do what you need to. Unless there’s anything else you need from me, I should get back.”

"I think we're all set, thank you for your time… if we find the taken alive, we'll bring them home, okay?" Logan offers a small smile.

He smiled weakly and shook their hands. “Thank you. You two come back safe.”

"We'll do our best, sir. You have my word." Logan shakes his hand easily, accepting the comfort and well wishes. Looking to Remus, he offers his hand. "Shall we, dear?"

Remus nodded wearily and took his hand. They left the orphanage ground and headed back to the stables, hopping onto Juniper and leaving the Blackmarsh Villas.

#far from home #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #sympathetic remus

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storiesforallfandoms · 5 years

Text

not so bad ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1453

request?: no

description: in which eminem's daughter finds herself liking the guy that dissed her father

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

Your favourite place in the world to go and be away from people was a small diner about a 20 minute walk from your house in Michigan. Not many people knew about it, and by the time night fell the place was virtually empty. You spent many a nights there, just sitting there, sometimes eating, sometimes reading or writing, sometimes just watching the few people that would come in every now and then.

One night you were engrossed in the book you had brought with you that you didn’t hear the diner doorbell ring as someone knew walked in. You didn’t notice as they placed an order to go at the counter, and you certainly didn’t notice them approaching your table, until they spoke.

“This seat taken?”

You looked up and dropped your book in shock at the man standing in front of you, none other than Machine Gun Kelly himself, the man who had been essentially harassing your family for the past few years, and who had recently had the balls to drop an entire diss track on your father.

You stared at him in amazement, trying to figure out what to say. He merely laughed at your shock.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

“There’s at least four other empty tables, plus the counter up front,” you finally responded. “Why do you want to sit here with me?”

“Maybe I want some company,” he shrugged. “Can I sit or not? Or would your father not like that?”

“It’s less about my father not liking that and more about me not liking guys that call my older sister hot as fuck when she’s 16,” you respond. “Go sit somewhere else, Man Bun.”

Colson scoffed, a smirk on his face. “You’re feisty, I love that.”

He sat himself down across from you in the booth. You rolled your eyes and picked up your book again, trying to ignore he was there. He picked up his phone and started to scroll through it on some app, which you were more than happy about. You weren't about to let this cocky asshole ruin your favourite spot.

“So, what are you doing at a run down place like this?” he asked after a moment. “I mean, no offense to the place or anything, the food is fantastic, but I figured a rich daddy’s girl like you would be at some high end restaurant with your entourage.”

“You really know nothing about me or my family then,” you snapped. “Just because dad makes a lot of money doesn’t mean my sisters and I have everything handed to us on a silver platter. Hailie works her ass off to get her own money and to get the grades to get herself in her favourite school. I’m currently working in a diner kind of like this one to afford the apartment I just moved into. Even if dad tried to give us money, which he wouldn’t because he believes in making us work for everything like he had to, we wouldn’t accept it. So if you sat here just to insult me, or to talk shit about my dad, I suggest you get up and leave right now, or else Marshall won’t be the Mathers you have to worry about.”

You sat back in your seat again, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge Colson. When he didn’t respond, you picked up your book and continued to read again.

It was a long stretch of silence, besides the sound of the kitchen in the distance making Colson’s order. You were starting to feel uncomfortable with him sitting there and you really wanted to leave, despite not wanting to admit defeat in this battle you had both cooked up.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, shocking you. You didn’t think he was going to be the first to crack. “I didn’t sit here to insult you or to say shit about your dad. Really, I just wanted some company.”

You sigh. “Okay, I’ll accept the apology. But if you wanted company, why choose me? Why not call upon your own entourage to come with you to grab food?”

“Cause sometimes I want to be by myself, and then I saw you and I thought...I wanted to come sit with you and talk to you.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know, I thought you were cute, excuse me for wanting to talk to a cute girl.”

Your face heated up as you smiled to yourself. “Careful there, Baker. I’m 22, isn’t that like a lot younger than you? Don’t get my father angry again.”

“I’m 28 actually, so it’s only 6 years younger,” he responded. “But I find it interesting that you know my real name. I assumed you only knew me as Kelly.”

It was your turn to shrug. “I may have been a fan once upon a time, and I’ve seen Nerve.”

Colson smiled at you and you couldn’t help but smile back.

For the next few minutes, the two of you continued to talk. You told him a little about yourself, about your job at the diner and how you had only recently moved out of your father’s house and were trying to make enough money so that at some point you could go back to university, although you weren't too sure what you wanted to do yet. He told you about the tour he was currently embarking on, how he couldn’t wait for it to be over so he could go home and spend time with his daughter.

He showed you pictures of his little girl, a sweet girl only 9 years old and who absolutely adored her father, which reminded you of a few other little daddy’s girls you knew. You told him that one day you’d like to have kids of your own, but you were nowhere near ready to be a mother.

You told him all about how often you came to this diner just to be by yourself. “Obviously you know what it’s like to be famous, the paparazzi and the people swarming you and people pretending to be your friend just for fame. That’s about what it’s like to be the daughter of a famous person, too. I had so many people throughout school pretending to be my friend just to come to my house and meet my dad. Little did they know, I wasn’t living with dad because he was always touring. It was hard to trust anyone, so by the time I graduated I had no friends. I still...don’t. It’s just me, Hailie, and Alaina.”

Colson nodded, concern and sadness written across his face. You had never really told anyone that before, besides Hailie and Alaina of course. But you never told your dad. You knew he would freak out if he knew how people were treating his baby, and you never told your mom because you knew she would tell him.

Colson’s hand twitched and started to reach for you, but stopped short when the waitress called out that his order was ready. He hesitated a moment before getting up to get his food. You watched him, expecting that to be the end of it all and for him to leave without a goodbye. It’s not like he even owed you one or anything. For all intensive purposes, he was technically “the enemy”. So when he turned around and walked back to your table, you were shocked.

“Unfortunately, I do have to head back to the hotel before everyone starts wondering where I am,” he said. “But, if you ever need someone to talk to - ” He leaned down and took a napkin from the dispenser and started writing on it. You couldn’t help but inhale the smell of his cologne. You weren't sure what it was, but it was intoxicating.

When he stood up again, you saw that he had written his number on the napkin.

“You won’t have to worry about me using you to try to get to your dad,” he joked.

“Yeah, I just have to worry about my dad wanting to kill you if he finds out you were even talking to me,” you chuckled in response.

“That’s the thrill of it, isn’t it?” he asked before winking and leaving the diner.

You looked down at the napkin for a long time, wondering if he was being real about his offer. Was that even a real number? Maybe he gave you a fake number.

Against your better judgement, you took it and punched it into your phone, sending off a quick message asking, “is this colson?”

Almost seconds later, a response came in reading, “nah, its your secret new best friend ;)”

This is 100% going to become a series.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #estxx #est #xx #imagine #part one #series #eminem

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dark-wicked-marvel-fics · 4 years

Text

Pushing His Luck (3)

Bucky X Reader!

WARNINGS! Extreme Non-Con, Violence, Roofies, Kidnapping, Dark Bucky, Somnophilia. This is a really dark fic so please don’t read if that isn’t your kind of thing.

“You had no idea that Bucky Barnes wanted you, you had no idea about the thoughts he had about you, the dirty fantasies you starred in. But you were about to make them come true anyway.”

Chapter Three

It was over a week before he found the opportunity to touch you again. He satisfied himself by remembering the way you had come for him when he rubbed his cock over your wet pussy and how you had no idea it had even happened. His cum had been painted all over your dripping wet cunt and you were completely unaware. Your fuzzy half memories of the night had been chalked up to nothing more than a dirty dream and when you blushed every time you looked at him he felt a thrill of satisfaction, knowing you felt ashamed.

It was a few days after you left your phone unattended at your desk and he cloned your number that he noticed your text exchange with a friend of yours. You had made plans for that evening to go out and celebrate your friends promotion. You had agreed to get drunk, warning your friend not to leave you when she found a random hook-up again. It was the perfect opportunity and it had been handed to him on a silver platter.

Still, he knew he had to follow you for your own sake as well. You would be drunk, alone and vulnerable and someone needed to watch out for you. So that’s what he did. He stayed in a dark corner of the club all night as you laughed and danced and drank, his eyes watching your every move. You were so out of it by the time your friend left with a man she’d met on the dancefloor that he considered it a miracle that you hadn’t gotten yourself in trouble.

You stumbled out of the club and towards the taxi rank with him not far behind you and you still didn’t notice him. When you passed by the entrance of a dark alley he shot forward, grabbing your arm and dragging you into the shadows.

“Let me go!” You slurred, wriggling pathetically.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he snarled at you and you blinked up at him in shock.

“Bucky?” You asked.

“Do you have any idea how stupid you’re being? You could have been hurt tonight, acting like this.” He berated you.

“I was with a friend.” You hiccupped.

“And now you’re alone.” He pointed out.

“Taxi’s aren’t far.” You argued weakly, swaying on your feet.

“And I still managed to drag you into a dark alley. See how easy it was for me?” He said lowly.

Your brilliant response was to shake your head at him. He lost his patience and shoved you against the alley wall, pushing your dress up and parting your legs.

“See how easy it is?” He repeated, shoving his crotch against your as you struggled.

He shoved his hand against your mouth and held both of your wrists in one hand.

“I could have my cock inside you right now and there’s nothing you could have done to stop me.” He hissed.

Your eyes rolled in your head and fluttered closed and he held you upright as you passed out. He swore and picked you up, slinging you over his shoulder. He wasn’t done with you, you needed to be taught a lesson.

When you woke up, it was to complete darkness. You groggily tried to blink away the darkness and when that didn’t work you tried to rub your eyes. That was when you realised you couldn’t move your arms and you panicked. Your wrists were being held down by someone and there was a blindfold tied around your head. You frantically struggled trying to break free as you tried to figure out what the last thing you remembered was. You were in a club, dancing with your friend and then everything got gradually blurrier and darker.

“Evening doll.”

You stilled at the familiar voice.

“Bucky?” You asked, relief washing over you as he yanked the blindfold off.

“Where am I, whats going on? What happened?” You gushed, trying to sit up.

“What happened sweetheart, is you’ve been prancing around all night just begging for someone to take advantage of you. You’re lucky I was there to keep an eye on you.”

“What?” You stammered.

“You think you can walk around like some drunk, helpless slut and not suffer any consequences for it?” He barked at you and the relief gave way to fear.

You didn’t think Bucky was here to rescue you.

He felt a vindictive satisfaction at the growing fear in your eyes. You had been foolish and he wanted you to suffer for it. If he hadn’t been there to protect you, anybody could have gotten a hold of you and that just wouldn’t do. You might not know it, but you belonged to him.

“Here’s what’s going to happen sweetheart. You’re either going to take your punishment like a good girl, or you’re going to struggle.” He said darkly and the fear in your eyes gave way to full blown panic.

“Bucky don’t, please. This isn’t you, you’re just trying to scare me. I’ll be good from now on, I swear. Just let me go!” You pleaded.

“It isn’t me?” He chuckled.

“Tell me doll, who’s tits are these? Who’s pussy is this?” He asked, showing you the photo’s on his phone and you paled.

“It wasn’t a dream.” You whispered.

“No it wasn’t. But don’t worry, you wont remember this either. You’ll wake up in your bed tomorrow with a hangover and no memory of what you did tonight.” He assured you, sounding almost kind and comforting.

“Please…” You begged.

“So what’s it going to be? Are you going to be good or am I going to have to make you behave?” he asked, running his hand along your thigh.

You immediately squirmed away and he sighed.

“Should have picked the easy way doll.” He admonished.

He dragged you towards him, flipping you over and throwing you across his lap. You wriggled desperately and clawed at the sheets but you weren’t even close to a match for him and he barely had to try to hold you down as he dragged your dress up and ripped your panties down, exposing your ass.

“This is for your own good.” He said as he spanked your ass, admiring the red imprint that was left behind and the way you shrieked.

He had been hard before he started but with every smack of your ass his cock throbbed painfully. Your ass cheeks were red raw by the time he finished and your shrieks had given way to tears as you lay prone and accepted your fate.

“See, it’s better to just let it happen isn’t it?” He asked as he sat you up.

You clenched your jaw and nodded.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Can I go now?” You asked hopefully.

“I’m not even close to done with you.” He chuckled and you closed your eyes, wincing.

He threw you down onto the mattress and you tried to crawl away as soon as you were free of him. He grabbed your ankle and yanked you back towards him, your hands scrabbling at the sheets for purchase. You hit at him and kicked, trying your very best to stop him as he pulled your dress of and left you in your bra and panties. You gasped and tried to cover yourself as best you could, the attempt was pathetic in his opinion but irritating.

“Put your hands behind your back.” He ordered and you glared at him.

“Fuck you.” You snapped.

“As you wish.” He said cruelly and forced your wrists behind your back, tying them together.

He saw the last bit of hope and light die in your eyes when quoted that movie you had watched together as friends and he sighed.

“Sweetheart, I’m doing this because I care. You need to learn what happens when you act so reckless and you need to learn that you belong to me. I want you, I want you so fucking badly it drives me insane.” He admitted.

“So you should have asked me out like a normal person. I would have said yes.” You told him, your eyes welling up.

“Then you should enjoy this.” He cooed, brushing his fingers over your pussy and rubbing your gently through your panties.

“See, you’re already wet.” He chuckled and you turned your head away in shame.

“Stop fighting this doll.” He said.

“Never.” You spat hatefully at him and he sighed.

“We’ll see.” He said, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra and pushing it up over your breasts.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long how much I love these.” He said, squeezing your tits and pushing them together.

He pinched your nipples and you whimpered at the pain. He released you and reached up with his metal hand to grasp your hair, holding your head painfully in place so you were forced to watch as he slowly lowered his head and closed his mouth around your nipple and sucked on it. He knew you could have closed your eyes but when you didn’t it was just further proof to him that deep down, you wanted this.

He released your nipple with a loud pop and moved over to give the other one equal attention. His cock was straining against his pants, begging for attention so with his free hand he unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out. Your eyes widened at the sight and it was an ego boost.

“Like what you see doll?”

“No.” You squeaked.

“That damp stain on your panties tells me otherwise.” He mocked, letting go off his cock for a brief moment to land a firm slap against your pussy.

He returned his hand to his dick and pumped himself a few times, noting the way you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his actions. He was leaking pre-cum and he swirled it around the sensitive head with his tumb, moaning as he did. His fist moved faster and he started jerking his hips in time with it as his balls started to grow tighter.

“Where do you want my cum? On your pussy? On your tits? Or how about on your face?” He asked.

“Nowhere. Please don’t, I won’t tell anyone Bucky. Just stop.” You begged.

“Tell me where you want it or I’ll make this a lot worse.” He threatened.

He could tell you believed him and you bit back a sob as you considered your option.

“Tits.” You whispered.

“Beg for it.”

“What?” You asked.

“Beg me to cum on your tits babygirl, beg me.” He ordered.

“Please Bucky, cum on my tits.” You sobbed.

“Make me believe you want it.”

“Cum on my tits Bucky, please. Please?” You begged and it tipped him over the edge.

Spurts of white cum erupted from his cock and landed over your breasts and belly, painting your skin with his mark.

When he was done he looked over his handiwork in appreciation.

“Well that’s the tits done. Where do you want it next time?” He asked and you looked horrified.

#dark!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #non con

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sinning-on-a-sunday · 5 years

Note

Could I ask for a smutty oneshot of yandere prince/king Taehyung x servant reader. Maybe he finds where y/n hides in the castle, or they're (he's more so) playing hide and go seek in the garden, or something about a punishment. Whatever you wanna do.💖 Thank you 💖

you should see me in a crown

- warnings: yandere behaviors, sexual content, obsessive behavior

- a/n: sorry this took so long, i am also sorry that is a whole 3.5k words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only way a person survives working for the Kim family is by being as inconspicuous as possible. Good servants were docile, diligent, dutiful. They worked harder than they were supposed to and never placed blame on anyone but themselves.

The only reason you’d lasted so long at this job was because you were an exceptionally hard worker. You’d served the Kim family ever since Taehyung was a prince. He’d always been a spoiled brat, cruel and narcissistic, born with a silver, jewel-encrusted spoon in his mouth. But when he became king, his ego only became that much more self-inflated.

Staff started getting fired left and right, fear engulfed the castle like a plague, and you quickly found yourself at the top of the metaphorical food chain. A servant had to bust their ass every single day just to keep up, but unlike the rest of them, you hardly ever made mistakes. It wasn’t beauty or wit that captured Taehyung’s eye, it was your tenacity.

You’d never wanted his attention, you’d never asked to become his favorite.

You memorized his schedule until you knew it like the back of your hand, you knew when he took his tea and how many sugars he liked, never messing up his order or forgetting to serve it in his favorite cup. You knew his morning, afternoon, and evening routines better than you knew your own.

One of Taehyung’s favorite things about you was that you solved problems before they became problems, like restocking his art supplies before he had a chance to run out, or ordering the latest fashion statements from his favorite luxury brands before he even requested them. He would ask you to do something only to find that it had already been done.

You never spoke unless spoken to, and whenever he needed something you were already by his side, ready and willing to do whatever it took to make him happy.

You didn’t even know he was aware that you existed until that one rainy day in November. It was one of your few days off, and you were spending it in the castle library, curled up in the windowsill like a cat. However, it was cut short before you had a chance to enjoy it.

In the throne room, Taehyung sat in his golden, diamond-studded chair, eyes scanning the room lazily. He twirled his blue hair between his fingers as he grew more and more bored by the minute.

Movement at his side made him look up. He narrowed his eyes at the woman leaning over him, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

“Who are you?” He snapped, making her tense.

“I-I’m…” The servant girl began before being cut off.

“Where’s Y/N?” Taehyung spat out, irritation sharpening his tone.

“I-It’s her day off. She’s not working today.” The servant stuttered out.

Taehyung just glared at her.

“Well, go get her then. At least she knows that I prefer Earl Grey over fucking Chamomile.”

She scurried away before he had a chance to fire her.

You had a book sprawled open on your lap when you heard the commotion in the hallway. When you opened the door, servants were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, shouting and chattering incoherently.

“What’s going on?” You called out to the nearest person.

She froze upon hearing your voice, turning to stare at you with eyes blown wide.

“Y/N! There you are!” She lurched forward to grab your arm.

“I found her!” She shouted, causing everyone in the hallway to whip around and crowd around you. Hands invaded your vision, pushing, pulling you forward, leading you down the hall faster then your feet could carry you.

“What the hell is going on?” You shouted, letting them drag you along.

“The king is demanding your presence. He’s on a rampage, he’s already fired three people.”

Your blood ran cold. This is bad, this is really bad. When Taehyung throws a tantrum, at least one person gets beheaded, and you were certain that person was about to be you.

But what did I do? Your mind scrambled to think of a reason justifying his behavior. You didn’t recall pissing him off recently. In fact, the last time you saw him, he was in a better mood than usual.

You reached the throne room before you could think of a logical explanation. The only thought you had in your mind was that you had done something wrong and were about to be sent to the guillotine because of it.

The thick oak doors were pushed open, and you were shoved inside.

You’d been in the throne room a million times, being Taehyung’s favorite servant required it, but for some reason it looked different this time. Maybe because you thought this was the last time you’d ever see it.

The light from the twinkling chandelier overhead was dimmer, casting shadows against the walls and across the polished marble floor. Your footsteps seemed to echo like gunshots in the silence, and your hands trembled as you approached your imminent doom.

Taehyung was dressed in rich blue jacket with gold embellishments, tigers embroidered on each lapel. He had one jeweled hand held up to his mouth, flashing the giant sapphire ring on his middle finger. His eye shadow-lined eyes flickered up to meet yours when he heard you coming.

“Ah, Y/N! Finally!”

You were startled by the tone of his voice. He sounded almost…happy to see you?

“Go and make me a cup of tea, will you? Since apparently you’re the only one who knows how to do it right.” He ordered.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Wasn’t he going to yell at you? Wasn’t he going to fire you?

“Y-Yes, your Majesty.” You said after a pause, hurrying into the kitchen to fix him his tea.

You returned in record time, far quicker than any of the other servants, and offered him the teacup in shaking hands.

He raised it to his lips, closing his eyes in delight as the warmth cascaded down his throat.

“Perfect.” He whispered to himself.

Your face was furrowed in confusion, watching him, waiting for him to deliver your death sentence on a silver platter.

But he just sat there sipping his tea, humming a cheerful tune. Several minutes passed before he spoke again.

He raised one ringed finger in the air.

“Get me a—” He began, only to be cut off by you already at his side, offering him his favorite pastry.

“Yes, exactly.” He didn’t say thank you, he never did, but he flashed you a small smile. To say it took you by surprise would be an understatement.

You waited and waited for him to say something, anything, but he just licked his fingers clean of the flaky bits of dough, staring ahead blankly.

“Um, Your Majesty?” You said timidly, deathly afraid that he would punish you just for speaking.

“Yes?”

“Why am I here?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Taehyung looked at you, his brows knitted together.

“Don’t you know? You’re the best servant in the castle, everybody else just fucks things up. You belong by my side.”

~~~

Over the next few weeks, Taehyung and you grew closer. He promoted you to head of staff, and you became his official personal servant, fulfilling his every whim and need. There wasn’t a time when you weren’t right there by his side.

If you were telling the truth, it was exhausting. Taehyung would throw a fit if anyone besides you tried to serve him, which meant you were responsible for literally everything. His meals, his laundry, his meetings and royal duties, even his recreational activities, you had to take care of it all.

As time passed, Taehyung got to know you more as a person. He stopped seeing you simply as the help and thought of you as more of as his own little plaything. He derived a great amount of pleasure from teasing you and watching you erupt into a fit of stuttering and blushing.

He started to notice all your little quirks and habits, like how you always avoided eye contact when you were flustered, or how you became extremely embarrassed whenever someone complimented you.

It took a few months for him to start viewing you in a romantic light, but once he did, there was no turning back.

You were delivering his breakfast one morning when he made an advance for the first time.

“Come in.” Taehyung called after you knocked on the door. He sat up in his gigantic four poster bed, hair disheveled and sticking up at odd angles, watching as you walked towards him with a silver tray in your hands. You set it down on his bedside table, trying to ignore the way his eyes were following your every move.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Majesty?” You asked, hands clasped in front of you.

The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk as he scanned you up and down.

“Why don’t you join me?” He said, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

You nearly choked on your own spit.

“W-What?” You stuttered out. He only smiled wider at your taken aback state.

“I said, why don’t you join me, Y/N. You must be exhausted after all your hard work.” He reached out to take your hand, trying to pull you closer. The movement made the sheets rustle and shift, revealing his smooth chest as you realized he was shirtless.

“I-I, um…I need to-I should really get back to the kitchen.” You pulled your hand out of his grasp and hurried out of the room before he could get another word out.

Every day after that became your own personal nightmare. He made his affection for you painfully obvious, touching you at every opportunity, constantly complimenting you and making suggestive remarks. You tried to ignore it as best you could, but after a while, Taehyung grew impatient.

One day, Taehyung was taking a bath in his magnificent white marble tub, when he requested that you bring him more towels. When you entered the room, your cheeks immediately turned red.

It was dark, illuminated only by candles and the low light of the sconces on the walls. The tub, which was big enough to comfortably fit four people, was surrounded by stone columns and a ring of rose petals on the polished floor. Taehyung was sitting inside of it with his arms propped up on the edge, wearing nothing but a smirk, the rings on his slim fingers, and a sapphire around his neck the size of the Hope Diamond.

He gestured you over with a curl of his bejeweled fingers, and your body obeyed on instinct.

You came to a stop and stood there next to the tub, arms tightening around the bundle of towels in your arms. Thankfully, the water was cloudy, bubbles and cherry blossoms floating peacefully, and everything below his rib cage was hidden from view.

Taehyung looked up at you, tilting his head to the side in amusement.

“You got here quick. Was someone excited to see me?” He asked in a high, teasing voice.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and moved to set the towels down.

“Ah ah ah, hand me one.” Taehyung commanded.

You pursed your lips but did as he said, extending your arm towards him and offering the piece of fluffy material.

Instead of taking it, he grabbed your wrist, the metal of his rings biting into your skin, and yanked you forward.

You fell into the tub with a splash, scrambling to sit up, facing away from him.

“I’m sorry!” You immediately choked out. You tried to climb out, but Taehyung wrapped an arm around your waist from behind and pulled you closer so your back was flush against his chest.

He chuckled as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Shh shh, calm down.” He whispered in your ear. One of his hands was gripping your waist, and the other was wrapped tightly around one of your wrists, effectively keeping you in place.

You felt his fingers drift up to the back of your dress, plucking the buttons loose one by one.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“W-What are you doing?” You asked, dreading the answer.

Taehyung nuzzled into the side of your neck, planting a soft kiss to your earlobe.

“Take it off.” He ordered.

Your stomach dropped.

Now, you had two options. 1. Tell him to fuck off and storm out, which would undeniably end in termination, or 2. Give in and allow him to do whatever he wanted with you. You were understandably leaning towards option #1, but on the other hand, you had no idea what he would if you rejected him. Would he fire you? Would he blacklist you so you could never find work again? Would he send you to the dungeon? Would he have you killed for disobeying him?

The possibilities were too risky, too dangerous, so, with a heavy amount of reluctance, you reached down to pull your dress up over your head with shaking fingers. Tossing the wet fabric aside, you shivered as Taehyung’s fingertips brushed your bare shoulder.

“Good girl.” He murmured, quickly finding the latch of your bra and unclasping it. He helped you scoot out of your panties until you were sitting there completely naked.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you felt a stream of warm water fall over your head, looking back over your shoulder to see Taehyung holding a pitcher. After your hair was completely wet, he started to lather a handful of shampoo into your scalp.

“I knew you were the right one for me, look how well-behaved you’re being.” Taehyung praised as he washed your hair.

You sat there completely silent, frozen with fear. You weren’t exactly sure why you were being so willing, maybe you’d been a servant too long, your brain was practically hardwired to blindly follow orders.

You found it very strange that Taehyung was washing your hair for you. In all the time you’d known him, he’d never done a single thing for another person. Everything he did had a selfish reason, so why was he the one serving you when he was actual royalty?

After Taehyung had rinsed your hair clean, his arms came to snake around your torso once again.

A bowl of red grapes and a bottle of wine with two glasses was sitting on the edge of the tub, and Taehyung reached over to pluck a grape from the bunch and press it to your lips.

Your parted your clenched teeth, letting him slip it inside, but his fingers lingered in your mouth.

You knew what he wanted you to do.

Your lips wrapped around his digits, sucking obediently. Taehyung hummed in satisfaction.

“Look at you, you even obey the silent commands.”

The two of you sat there for what felt like hours. Taehyung didn’t try anything other than letting his hands roam all over your body, but you still felt irreversibly exposed by the end of it.

When Taehyung finally allowed you to escape from his grasp, you quickly hopped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around your body, and hurried out of the room.

His eyes followed you as you left, that smug smile never once leaving his face.

He wasn’t done with you yet.

~~~

You’d started hiding from him. The library was by far the best spot, since it was one of the only rooms Taehyung never entered. It worked for a while, avoiding him, that is, until he found your hiding spot.

You were scanning the shelves, devoting every ounce of your attention to the words printed on the leather-bound spines, so much so that you didn’t hear the door creak open. You didn’t notice the quiet sound of his footsteps as he tiptoed over to where you were standing against the wall. You didn’t even notice as he stood there watching you, smiling to himself as you read the summary on the inside of the book jacket.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Taehyung finally said, breaking the silence.

You audibly gasped and dropped the book you were holding.

Taehyung chuckled, bending down to pick it up and place it back on the shelf. He shook his head at you, clicking his tongue.

“I’m disappointed, Y/N. To think, you’ve been up there this whole time, denying your duties, when you should’ve been by my side where you belong.”

You felt your fists clench at their sides. How dare he, how dare he claim that I’m not doing my job. I’ve been working my fingers to the bone ever since he made me his personal servant and now he claims that I’m the one in the wrong?

“Feed your own ego, I’m busy.” You spat, turning back to the shelves and resuming your browsing.

Taehyung raised his eyebrows in surprise. Did he finally break you? Did he finally make you snap?

The king took a step forward and placed his hand on the beam of wood next to your head, caging you with his body. His face was inches from yours as he stared down at you with narrowed eyes.

“What did you just say to me?” He practically growled.

You turned to face him, blood boiling under your skin, and returned his glare with equal ferocity.

“You may have everyone else here bowing down to you, but not me. I see through your little facade. Everyone else may think you’re a king, but I know better. You’re just a spoiled little boy who thinks he owns everything and everyone. You may be able to get whatever you want, but you can’t have me. Not now, not ever.”

You waited for his reply, you waited for him to yell at you, fire you, grab you and throw you in the dungeon, but it never came. Instead, Taehyung only smirked. The gesture made goosebumps rise all along your skin.

“It seems to me that you’ve spent too much time by yourself, Y/N. I think you need to be punished.” He said.

You ground your teeth but stayed silent.

“Tell you what, sweetheart. Since you like hiding so much, we’re gonna play a little game.” Taehyung began, a smug edge to his deep voice.

“You are going to hide anywhere you want in the castle, and I’m going to try and find you.” He explained.

You narrowed your eyes, scanning him up and down.

“What do I get if I win?” You asked.

“If you win, I’ll leave you alone. You can continue to work here without any pestering on my part.”

“What do you get if you win?” You asked him suspiciously.

Taehyung’s expression darkened, and he leaned forward until his nose was almost touching yours.

“You.” He said. “If I win, you will give yourself to me completely. You will surrender to your king like any good servant would.”

It was risky, but Taehyung was an idiot if he believed that he knew the castle better than you. You’d lived and worked here for years, you knew every inch of this place.

You extended your hand for him to shake.

“Deal.”

~~~

The clock started at 2:35, and Taehyung had until 3:00 to find you.

You immediately ran towards the garden. The outside of the castle was almost as big as the inside, and with all the foliage and twists and turns in the path, you were confident that you could effectively stay out of sight.

You took off your shoes so you would leave less tracks and make less noise when walking, you tied up your skirt so you could run without it getting tangled, you even left a false trail for Taehyung to unwittingly follow.

There were plenty of lush trees and hedges to hide behind, and you jumped from spot to spot to keep Taehyung on his toes.

Your heart was pounding in your chest the entire time, ears straining and eyes searching for any sign of movement. As time passed, you were quite sure that you were going to win, but then you heard a rustle.

The sound of footsteps and snapping twigs assaulted your ears as you closed in on yourself, trying to make your body appear as small as possible.

“I know you’re out here, Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice called out over the silence.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Come on out, sweetheart. I’ll go easier on you if you surrender now.”

You bent down even further, ducking your head down. You heard leaves crunching under his boots, the sound fading until it had disappeared completely.

You waited a solid few minutes before moving, pulse thundering. You figured it would be a good idea to switch spots again, after such a close call. Emerging from your hiding spot, you turned to hurry in the opposite direction, when you collided with something hard and warm.

A pair of hands gripped your wrists, yanking you towards them.

Your stomach dropped as you looked up at your captor.

Taehyung smirked at you.

“Gotcha.”

#yandere bts #yandere taehyung #yandere v #yandere oneshot #yandere taehyung x reader

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chessdaze · 4 years

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YEAR TWO OF BEING LATE TO KH OC WEEK!!! but I had the energy today and my internet is out so I can’t work (using my phone’s hotspot rn with my laptop) - might as well be productive. Plus I’ve loved all the stuff @khoc-week has been reblogging from artists and writers alike so I really just wanted to participate even though I said earlier I wasn’t going to this year.

Day 1 (August 2nd): Introductions – Whether you are returning or this is your first time, introduce us to the OC(s) you’ll be focusing on for the week! Show us a picture or a one shot that explains who they are. What do they like? Dislike? Give us the run down!

Last year I talked about Atlas, one of my (many) KHX OCs, this year I’m going to talk about Sid! One of my OCs from one of my original worlds. Him and Atlas are loosely (very loosely) connected, so I thought it would be a good idea.

His real name is Siegfried Jasper Gate - but he insists everyone call him Sid and will not be happy if you say his real name. He started out as my attempt to give KH their own ‘Cid’ character. Yes we have the Cid in Radiant Garden and I love that old man but I wanted one more connected to the overall KH plot. And then it spiraled out of control and I ended up making an entirely new wold so there’s that.

The left design is considered a ‘before’ look and the right ones are his current look. He was exiled from the main hub city of his world (both called Cindergate) with his two best friends (because trios), and end up living in the wild with his friends and a handful of other people who were also exiled from the city. He has a bit of an attitude problem, overall distrusting of strangers and can even be a bit of an ass - but he means well. He pushes himself to his limits to make sure those under his care are safe and sound - he gives up his own resources to those younger than him so they can be a little stronger and healthier, even if he becomes weaker. He’ll complain about anything except about the people around him, because they mean too much to him.

Under the cut is what I’ve written about his world and then a short biography that I’ve had written up for ages. Have fun.

the world trapped in a desert

The Basics

Cindergate is a city that has seemingly seen disasters, parts of the city are being rebuilt and other parts completely abandoned and falling apart. It’s cut off from the vast desert around it by a large, also crumbling, gate. The city has a mix of technology, though seems to shun anything too ‘high tech’.

The city has a population of tough individuals who know how to survive in harsh conditions. Most of the population in this world are human, with occasional animals who can also survive the harsh sun and heat. These people are ruled over by one family - who govern and help make and enforce laws. Because of this the head of the family is often referred to as ‘sheriff’. The family keeps laws strict in the town. There is one law in particular that the sheriff is always eager to punish those for breaking-

The Keyblade Wielder Ban

The people of Cindergate are aware of the keyblade, heartless, the worlds, etc - however they consider Keyblade wielders evil, no matter who they are or what their motivations may be. They believe that the wielders are dragging darkness into the world and are the reason so many heartless live in the desert that surrounds the city. The city has to constantly beat the heartless back, and are the reason why a good portion of the city has been abandoned or is always needing to be rebuilt.

It has been the tradition of the world for a while that if a wielder is found, they are to be branded as a traitor to the city - both metaphorically and literally. After a trial to determine if someone is a wielder or not - they are branded with a mark in the shape of a keyhole. Then they are dragged through the city and out to the gates that surround it. The wielders are then exiled, pushed out to the near lifeless desert. The people of the city will often attack them with weapons or throw objects at them to make sure they don’t try to run back into the city. They consider the wielders ‘sacrifices’ to the heartless to keep them at bay.

At times the heartless in the desert will get the better of the wielders with no training. Those who manage to survive their first day and night have the chance to come across a safehaven made by wielders in the reaches of the desert and on the edges of a canyon.

Landscape.

The city is the mix of a steampunk and wild west setting. There are some technology around the city but it’s big, clunky, and steam or coal powered. The part of the city that has been abandoned has a chance of heartless sneaking in, and so there are people here who patrol at night on occasion but besides that at times kids sneak into the area to play - but it’s strictly forbidden to do so and they will be punished if they do.

The desert surrounding the city is vast and nearly lifeless. Aside from the heartless, there are few plants and animals that live there.

Past the nearly lifeless desert is an area of plateaus and canyons. Within this area those who have been exiled from the city attempt to make a living. They find items that the people of cindergate ‘sacrifice’ to the heartless, (pieces of machinery, cloth, food, etc) and try to repurpose it for their own needs. There’s a bit more life in this area, but not much in terms of subsistence.

The Survivors

The wielders and those who were exiled with them (family members who hid them, other accomplices, and even people who were falsely convicted of being a wielder) have been managing to survive so far, though it’s a constant struggle. They’ve made houses out of spare pieces of wood, tarp, scrap metal, and hide themselves in as much shade as they possibly can.

Some practice with their keyblades in order to get a handle on their abilities and fight off heartless that come near the safe haven. Others completely shun the fact that they can use a keyblade and refuse to wield it. Those who are not wielders try to contribute by making food or volunteering for other odd jobs. There are also wielders dedicated to finding a way off world.

AND NOW THAT THAT’S OUT OF THE WAY -

Sid’s about:

Born to the ruling family of Cindergate, Sid had everything handed to him on a silver platter. And he hated it. He couldn’t wrap his head around the strict rules of the town or the terrible court system. Any time he would try to speak up on this though was met with punishment from his parents. So he decided to bide his time, becoming their perfect ‘puppet’ so that he could become the leader one day and change things for the better.

While still considered a bit of a rebel, his parents at least ‘admired his change of heart’ and let him walk around Cindergate freely. While growing up he made two friends - a girl name Mari and a boy named Helio. The three of them were practically inseparable, they were some of the only ones that didn’t care who Sid was related to. He could be himself around them, and so he vowed to keep them safe most out of everyone in the town.

Mari revealed to the boys one day that she was a keyblade wielder - which was a terrible discovery. Keyblade Wielders were banned from Cindergate and it she was found to be a wielder she would be arrested, branded, and exiled to the harsh desert that surrounded the town. The desert that was filled with heartless. At the same time Helio revealed himself to be a wielder as well - having been one of the longest out of all of them, since he was a child. He knew better than anyone what would happen to wielders who got caught as his mother had been cast out when he was a child. Sid promised that he wouldn’t let them get caught and that he would lift the ban, they just needed to keep their keyblades hidden until he became the leader of the town.

This was easier said than done, especially since Sid would come to be a wielder as well. An old friend of his family invited Sid to his deathbed. This old man revealed how close Sid’s father and him used to be, and how they had a dream to make Cindergate a thriving place. But Sid’s father had done nothing more than oppress the people and make the ban more strict than it needed to be. So the old man had a solution - to pass on the power of the keyblade to Sid. He had kept it hidden all of his life, hoping that one day Sid’s father would change his mind on the ban - but he never did. In his last moments he forced Sid to take the power of the keyblade from him, saying it was Sid’s responsibility now, before passing.

Sid was terrified and furious with the power he had been given. Yes, he had been wanting to make CinderGate a better place for wielders and non wielders alike but - he didn’t want it to be like this. Still, he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. He told his friends of his new found gift and worked to become even more like the 'perfect’ leader his parents wanted him to be, just so he could take over quicker and get the stupid ban taken down.

Not long after this, Helio and Mari were caught for being keyblade wielders. Sid stood up to his parents to try and get them to see reason. When they still wouldn’t listen he revealed himself as a wielder in front of the whole town - saying if they were going to throw out his friends they would have to throw out him as well.

And they did, but not before branding him as a traitor - literally. They burned the keyhole shaped brand onto the side of his face before exiling him,Helio, and Mari out of the town. The three ran until they couldn’t anymore, fought off heartless, then collapsed with laughter - surprised but grateful they were still alive.

A while longer of traveling lead them to a survivor camp. Other people like them who had been exiled from Cindergate. It wasn’t much, but it became home for the three wielders. Sid took it upon himself to improve the day to day lives of the survivors by building various machines and other contraptions to make life easier for them.But still, it wasn’t enough. Thanks to his parents hoard of keyblade wielder knowledge (because how else were they supposed to fight off such a 'threat’ without an entire library full of knowledge?), he knew of other worlds and he knew that the keyblade could get them there. He just wasn’t sure how to unlock the power. None of the survivors were masters by any means, some of them didn’t even have a keyblade - and were friends or family of wielders exiled or falsely accused and wanted nothing to do with the keyblade.

Sid, taking another burden onto his shoulders, did the only thing he could think he could accomplish - he made himself and his two friends keyblade armor. He hoped that with the armor they could brave the passages in between worlds and find a way to get all the survivors to a new home.

Images of where sid’s scar is, he uses the braids to cover it up as best he can.

#khoc week #khocweek2020 #kingdom hearts oc #original character #kingdom hearts original character #kingdom hearts original world #kh original world #my art #Siegfried Jasper Gate

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