#and I’m letting y’all. while knowing full well that they haven’t spoken a word to eachother in almost two years in canon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delicrieux · 3 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too.

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby.

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air.

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully.

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr.

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby?

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too.

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen.

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration.

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls. The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly, “get my pretty name out of your mouth.”

There’s a pause full of tense silence.

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.”

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis.

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing.

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan.

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach.

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno.

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi.

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband imagine #myso #make you say oh #sykkuno x reader #if ya squint #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert

4K notes · View notes

bakugosbratx · 3 years

Note

How about this: bakugou and s/o have this teasing friendship dynamic where they compete to outwit eachother. They go out to hang. When bakugou slams s/o into the wall in a fit of lust/annoyance reader is just like ‘um what’s happening wait what’ cuz reader honestly doesn’t think that it’s possible for bakugou to have feelings for her. So reader is super sub. Bakugou teases her the entire time. “Not so tough now huh?”

NSFW 18+ Come Over- Dom! Bakugo x Sub! Reader

WARNING: 18+ Consentual Characters, size kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, swearing, harsh language, etc.

Check out my other works here

A/N: Sorry it took me awhile to get to your request, but I hope it meets some of your standards. I had fun writing it. Send me in your request y’all. My inbox is open 💥

Words: 1,841

You and Bakugo have always had an interesting friendship. You were introduced to the Bakusquad by Mina Ashido. You two met at the record store since you used to work there and bonded instantly. So, Mina wanted you to meet her other friends. Everyone loved you right away except for the ashy blonde. You were at each other's throats the second you met each other.

"Hey, dumbass." Bakugo greeted, not removing the scowl from his face. You were not one to deal with other's bullshit so you refused to let Katsuki talk to you any sorts of way.

"Hello to you too, dipshit."

"Oi! What did you call me? I'll kick your ass!" Bakugo exclaimed.

"Probably can't hear me because of all of your yelling." You shrugged.

"I think we should go-" Mina sighed as she grabbed your arm but you shrugged her off.

"Nah! I want to meet all of your lovely friends. Not just the stupid one." You smiled innocently.

"You're going to regret those words, loser!" Bakugo growled as Kirishima held him back using his hardening quirk.

As stated before, everyone loved you. Except for Bakugo, but overtime, you both learned to tolerate each other. It was never spoken, but a friendship developed overtime between you and the short tempered boy. You always pushed each other's buttons and knew how to make each other go off. It was now a common amusement amongst the others.

You were out shopping with Sero, Kirishima, and Mina when you received a text. You opened it to see that Bakugo messaged you.

Boomer 💥:

Want to hangout?

You:

I'm currently at the mall

Boomer 💥:

Then leave.

You:

Wtf I'm not leaving for you.

Boomer 💥:

Oi! Just come over at some point today shitty woman.

You:

Okay dickhead.

"What are you so smiley about?" Mina teased. You didn't even realize a smile was plastered on your face.

"Probably texting Bakugo." Sero teased.

"Oh fuck off!" You exclaimed as your face heated up.

The group teased you and Bakugo all the time. They claimed you two secretly love each other and you two just didn't know it. You have came to terms that you thought Bakugo was cute in his own special way, but you were not convinced that the feelings were reciprocated. Katsuki was never good at showing his emotions except when he is angry or annoyed which is his attitude 98% of the time.

You didn't tell your friends that you and Bakugo text more than they think. Not consistently since Bakugo is not much of a conversationalist over text, but he will send you random messages when he's annoyed or if something reminds him of you. You tried to hide the stupid grin you get when his name appeared on your phone, but your friends caught on overtime. You seemed to get teased the most about it. At least, that's how it felt.

You kept your word and strolled over to Bakugo's house after the mall. You were not sure what he wanted or why, but you did not question it either. The most he is going to do is piss you off and you storm home in a fit of rage. So, you were a little hesitant on knocking on his door.

You knocked on the door with three hard knocks. Bakugo opened the door moments later. Same scowl on his face as usual.

"Hey dumbass."

You invite yourself in, not saying anything. You were surprised on how well kept his house was considering Katsuki is quick to blow up everything.

"Wow! Your place looks great!" You complement.

"You've never seen nice things before, idiot?"

You shoot a glare at him.

"Why can't you just accept the compliment, dipshit?" You sigh. "Why did you even invite me over here?"

"Because I wanted to."

"That's not a good enough answer, stupid."

"Well it's going to be! And watch your mouth, dumbass."

You get up in Bakugo's face. Your eyes meeting his crimson red ones staring down into you.

"And what if I don't?" You stated firmly.

Without a word, Bakugo pushes you against the nearest wall. He pins your wrist above your head with one of his strong hands while keeping a hard, lustful gaze on you. You tremble so slightly under his firm grip.

"What the fuck, Katsuki? Let me go!" You demanded to no avail. Bakugo just smirked.

"Not so tough are you now, huh? Look at you, so helpless." Katsuki teased.

You tried to squirm, but this only amused Katsuki. It was obvious he was not going to let you go.

"Katsuki, let me go-" You were interrupted by Bakugo's lips smacking into yours. His kisses are aggressive, but you did not expect any less from the short-tempered man.

Bakugo slowly pulls away, looking at your lips then back to your eyes. You can feel his hot breath tickling your plump lips.

"You're much cuter when you're quiet." Katsuki stated softly.

You feel your stomach doing fumbles. You can't believe Bakugo actually kissed you. Even worse, pinning you against the wall. This is not what you have expected to happen. Especially since Bakugo seems to not want to be around people often. You have a huge crush on him and you're hoping that this is him showing you the feeling is mutual.

"And you're much cuter when you let go of me." You scoffed.

"Nah. I don't think I will. Besides," Bakugo's fingers dip into your pants and feel the wet panties, "I would say you're enjoying this."

Your cheeks turn bright pink and you swallowed the imaginary lump in your throat. You did not want Bakugo to know how much he turns you on. Especially since you're in this position. You know he will not let you live this down and he will use your weakness for him as an advantage.

Bakugo's fingers played with your clit through the wet fabric. He enjoyed watching you squirm as he kept you in place. He began sucking on your neck to leave a nice hickey for everyone to see. You knew better than to try to tell him to stop. Bakugo has made it more than perfectly clear he does not give a single damn about your pleas as he gently nibbles on your tender flesh.

"Katsuki." You moan as his fingers speed up inside you.

Bakugo stops to meet your eyes.

"The name is Daddy. Got that, little girl?" Bakugo growls in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You nod.

"Say it." Bakugo demands.

"Yes, daddy."

Bakugo smirks.

"Such a good little slut. I know you have been wanting my cock for a long time and I thought I'd be nice enough to invite you over to feed your hunger."

"T-That's not true!" You argued.

"Really? You think I haven't noticed how turned on you get when we argue? You think I haven't noticed you staring at my dick when we all hangout? Lastly," Bakugo rubs your clit roughly to edge you some, "you're about to be fucking soaked again."

"Mm daddy!" You moan, wanting to cum some more.

"Aw, does my precious little girl want to cum? You want daddy to let you release onto his fingers?" Katsuki coo's condescending.

"Yes daddy! Please!" You beg.

"Your wish is my command, princess."

Bakugo rubs you a little more to get you stimulated and you release. He feels the wetness through your panties and he smirks.

"Damn, you came a lot for me. Such a cock hungry slut you are. Don't worry, daddy is going to fuck your precious little cunt so good." Bakugo chuckles before lifting you up and putting you over his shoulder. He carries you to his bedroom and lays you on your back on his California King Bed. He begins taking off your clothes and kissing - along with a few nibbles - on your exposed skin. He throws your bra to the floor and starts to suck on your tender nipples. Moans of pleasure escape your parted lips.

Bakugo gets to your panties and start to take them off. The cold air hitting your wet core made you shiver a bit. Plus, you were a bit nervous and embarrassed. Your vulnerable naked body is on full display for Bakugo's lustful eyes and you could not help but feel insecure. Bakugo noticed how tense your body became and he gave you a reassuring look.

“If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

“I want to. I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t worry. I will not hurt you too bad.” Bakugo teased.

You softly smile and relaxed. He opened your legs so your soaked pussy was ready for him to enter. Bakugo began getting undressed and your eyes widen at his hard dick. Of course, this doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugo and he smirks as he strokes his huge member.

“Like what you see?”

“T-That’s going in me?” You exclaimed.

“Yep. All of it.”

You were about to close your legs, but Katsuki put his hands on your knees and keep them open. You feel the tip at your entrance and it already felt he was in deeper than he was. You did not even get much time to process as Bakugo kept making his way deeper into you.

“Damn, you are so fucking tight, babe. You can hardly handle all of my huge cock.”

“Daddy, please!” You whine and moan, wanting more of his member in you, though, you don’t think you can handle much more. You were not a virgin, by any means, but you haven’t had sex with a man as big as Bakugo. With each thrust, its pleasurable and a little painful. He isn’t gentle nor is he small in width. He’s not only big in length, he has a nice girth to his dick as well.

“Quit your whining. You’re going to take all of my cock wether you like it or not, slut.”

Katsuki continues thrusting in you, grumbling slurs under his breath as your folds hug his cock. You could feel another orgasm coming as his balls slapped against you. All of his length was in you, hitting all the right spots and then some. You were gripping the satin bed sheets and moaning loud enough to where Japan could hear you.

“Daddy, I am about to cum.” You moan.

“Damn, on your third orgasm. Better beg for it.”

“Please daddy! Please let me cum! Please!” You begged as tears brimmed your eyes.

“Cum on my cock.”

You did as your told and released on Bakugo’s hard dick. This didn’t stop him from going, through. He was still going to meet his high weather you liked it or not. He is close to cumming and he starts to speed up.

“Oh God.” You gasp as he releases himself into you. He makes sure every drop is in your body before pulling out. He gives you soft kisses on the lips and pulls away to meet your gaze.

“Aren’t you glad you came over?”

©bakugosbratx

532 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Begone

Streamer Gang & Asexual Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Acephobia, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently come out as asexual, Y/N faces some less than pleasant or appropriate responses in their chat during their stream with the gang. Luckily, they’re not alone in battling the haters this time.

Requested by the lovely Anon who told acephobes to begone, yeah you know who you are hehe. Thank you so much for the request darling! Let’s show these acehobes who they’re messing with! Love, Vy ❤

Boy is this nerve-wrecking or what? Sure, I maybe woke up with a ton of confidence, I listened to motivational and uplifting talks and listened to mood boosting music. I had a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Damn it, I went on a run, all in an attempt to convince myself that dealing with the online world again is but a piece of cake for a badass like me. Well, low and behold, that feeling didn’t last very long. Here I am, chewing my nails off at the though of hopping in the Discord call and Among Us lobby with my friends and starting my stream. It’s not like I’m not expecting my friends and fans to support me - of course I am! I know they’re gonna give me a ton of love and appreciation and support and uplift me no matter what. But then again, there’s still those people who believe me and other people like me to be invalid and broken and whatnot.

Those are the ones I wanna avoid.

It’s not like their words mean much to me but I simply don’t wanna see em, you know? It’s not only about me - it’s least about me actually - it’s more about all those wonderful people they are insulting when they say shit like that about asexuals and all the people on the ace spectrum. I can’t help but flare up and get angry on the behalf of all my ace friends and even people I’ve never met.

It’s also my first time being directly thrown into the fire instead of getting caught in the crossfire seeing as how I came out to my fandom via a tweet and an Instagram post a week ago, telling my identity’s truth: finally bringing my asexuality to the surface to shine its brightest so I can be be my best and reach for my full potential.

But damn am I afraid to see how everyone took it.

My friends were quick to jump in and take me offline before I start refreshing my own posts to see the comments under them. Lord knows that without them I would’ve driven myself insane, I’ll forever be grateful for what they did and the lengths they went to to keep me offline and whatnot. One word to give you an idea of how invested they were in this: origami. All of us might as well have been born with two left hands and yet we still tried doing origami. Freaking origami.

Damn do I love my friends.

But now I don’t have sheets of paper and my friends to distract me. I have a fanbase to entertain and another friend group I haven’t talked to in a while. I don’t wanna get any predictions in already so I don’t jinx myself, so I’m just gonna say it’s gonna be...interesting regardless of what happens.

Then again, when is it not interesting when the streamer gang’s involved.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You got this

Listening to that encouraging little voice inside my head, I finally equip my headphones and in one fluid motion turn my camera on, officially starting my stream and unmuting my mic as I hop in the call with everyone.

“Hi guys! Guess who’s returned!“ I exclaim cheerfully, desperate to hide the nervousness of my voice.

“You really missed your opportunity to say ‘guess who’s back...back again’ didn’t you?“ Charlie is the one who greets me first, sounding rather disappointed in me in his usual jokester manner. It’s nice to hear, it makes me feel like nothing’s changed in the week I’ve been gone. Like I’m still the same person to these people. I really am the same, I just now am a lot better version of myself. Almost as though I’ve reached my final form. It feels empowering really. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Charlie laughs again, “Congrats, by the way. You keep proving you can get cooler and cooler.“

“Careful there Charlie, I can only handle so large of an ego.“ I joke back, rolling my eyes playfully as a wide grin spreads across my face, “No, but seriously, thank you so much, man. It means the world to me that you support me.“

“Um, how could we NOT?“ That’s very clearly Rae, “Hun, you are so brave and amazing and wonderful, how could we ever NOT support you?“

“Yeah, we’ll always support you no matter what, Y/N. We’ll always be your friends, through thick, thin and beyond.“ Poki too interferes, her words only making my smile wider.

“Alright, alright, y’all are gonna make me cry and I haven’t even read my chat yet, hold on.“ I say, fanning my face to dry the tears I hope the webcam isn’t spotting, “Darn, you guys are the best. Sorry, give me a sec to gather my composure, I’ll be right back.“

I quickly mute my in-game mic as I turn to my chat where I see the same amount of love and support in the form of comments and emojis flooding in from my viewers. A warm feeling spreads throughout my chest, making me feel the most comfortable with myself I’ve ever felt. The most loved I’ve ever felt. The most seen and understood. To finally be you feels like you are finally really living in this world, not like you’ve been already living in it for God knows how long. It makes me so freaking happy and fulfilled to finally be living as me, as the real me.

Unfortunately, in life, nothing can be 100% pure and good. There’s always at least 1% there threatening to ruin all your happiness you worked so hard to build or obtain. It may be one in a hundred, but fuck it’s powerful and effective.

And in my case it comes in the form of two comments that stick out to my eyes. Acephobic comments saying my identity’s fake, claiming I’m faking it, saying us acephobes are immature creatures who refuse to grow up, or attention whores. Or just saying we’re delusional and in denial, confused about who we are.

I hadn’t even realized I was clenching my jaw and fists but when I do, I slowly relax my muscles and crack my knuckles before addressing the two people who spat out that nonsense.

“Ok, listen here, shooterpro69 and yourmom_lol. For starters, I want to apologize for your ignorance and lack of education on the matter of asexuality. In fact, for you especially, I plan on making an educational video, explaining asexuality to people who need or want to learn more. You, my friends, are in desperate need to be fed some knowledge cause damn, God knows how many people secretly think you’re hella stupid. Not that they’re wrong to think so but anyway. Unless you have anything nice or positive to say, begone from my chat. Actually, when I think about it, begone from every chat. No one needs you polluting their communities with acephobia and hate.“ I say, all spoken in a calm tone despite the boiling anger within me. People who know me well would probably be able to tell I’m fuming underneath the calm façade, but at least I got my message across loud and clear.

“WOO HOO, You tell em Y/N!“ Toast cheers, clapping his hands and whistling as more cheering arises from each my friends, leaving me in a state of mild shock and confusion.

Wait, what?!

“Um, wait, you guys heard that?“ I ask, my eyes darting to thein-game mic symbol that shows an not crossed-off mic, meaning it was enabled during the entirety of my speech.

“Hell yeah we did! You slayed them, Y/N! Damn goddamn!“ Rae whistles too, her enthusiasm wafting over me like a breath of fresh air.

“I second that!“ Corpse joins in, “And remember what we said - we’ll support you through anything. Need to bury an acephobe’s body, we’re the people you should call.” He says, confident as heck.

And I just can’t hold it in anymore - I burst out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

If I thought I was happy and fulfilled before, this has to be the closest to paradise I’m gonna get on Earth. All thanks to these wonderful people. Friends are really something else aren’t they: they come into your life - often unexpectedly - and change it completely. Suddenly you’re not alone, you’re not forced to deal with everything and face everything on your own. Someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs.

Through thick, thin and beyond.

And it’s so fucking amazing.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari

99 notes · View notes

footballxposts · 3 years

Text

The Rest Of Our Lives - Mason Mount Series 🦋 (Chapter Three) Departure

Warnings: none but next chapter is smutty ;)

Recommended Listening: Forever by Labrinth (Slowed).

Taglist: @storyofavengers

——————————————————————————

After releasing me from the hug I was immersed in, I quickly went to the bathroom whilst Mason waited patiently for me outside in the hallway. Once I had finished and came back out to meet him, the little smirk on his face made my heart so full. Maybe he really did miss me like he had said, but if so why didn’t he get in contact sooner? I guess he was afraid of the rejection but I really did wish he had still tried. At the end of the day, we only regret the chances we didn’t take. Of course I was still hurt by him, but I did want to give him his chance to explain everything, even if it meant we wouldn’t rekindle the friendship like it once was, and we would still go our separate ways again.

“You alright?,” he asked in a soft tone.

“Yeah..” I gave him a small smile before he nodded and took my hand leading me back upstairs to the nightclub’s centre-point. It was only at the top of the stairs that we were caught in our tracks by a stunning blonde-haired girl who had recognised my old best friend.

“Mase gorgeous, how are you? I haven’t heard from you or seen you in a while. I thought you might have fell of the face of the earth or something.” she piped up. His reaction was like a deer caught in headlights. Who the hell was this? I knew it wasn’t his girlfriend but she seemed to be someone who was at one stage more than just a friend like I was.

“Uh, hi Olivia, yeah..” he began to speak back to her. “I um, I’ve just been busy sorry, I’m good how are you?” he continued unconfidently, itching to get away from this current conversation.

“Too busy, huh?.” She raised her eyebrows and chuckled. I was standing there so awkwardly, not knowing what to do or where to look. She didn’t pay attention to me once, her eyes fixated on the brown-haired man beside me. “And here’s me thinking Mason Mount would never be too busy to reply or spend some time with me..” she gasped jokingly, but I knew she was being serious and I really didn’t like the vibe I was getting off her. My heart began shattering again out of jealousy. It’s amazing how you can go without seeing someone for years and even though they broke you, in an instant all the feelings and memories come rushing back. And that’s exactly what happened when I saw Mason on the street earlier this night. Even though it was /my/hand he was still holding, I still felt threatened.

“Awh no.. I mean.. I don’t know. I’m sorry as I said I’ve just been really busy,” was all he could come up with as a response, his palm becoming sweaty interlaced with my own. You know when you can feel your heart beating in another part of your body? I could feel his through his hand in my grasp.

“Hmm okay.” She said with barely any emotion behind it. “So who’s this little one then? Your new girl?” Her attention was now focused on me, now frozen with a tightness in my chest. I should have spoken up. I wanted to. But I was unable to. Thankfully, Mason covered for me.

“Uh, no she’s just a.. a friend..” he trailed off, so unsure of his answer and looking across at me, his eyes soliciting for an answer. Realistically, we were former friends. But within time, we both hoped we could drop the former. Slowly nodding as reassurance, I turned back to look at the the tall woman standing in front of me.

“Just friends?” her eyes widened with a smug look, pointing towards our intertwined fingers. I went to let go of Mason’s hand but his grip tightened, letting me know it was okay and he had the situation under control.

“Yeah this is my childhood best friend Sophie. I uh- I ran into her down outside the bathrooms and she wasn’t feeling the best so I said I’d bring her back upstairs and take her home. I just wanted to keep her close in case she fainted or anything.” he announced. Her eyes were now practically staring into my soul, but buying it, she just replied with an ‘oh’ and I signalled in agreement once again.

“Well, that was nice of you.” She smiled pompously. “Anyhoo, you have my number. Don’t be stranger.”

“Right.” Mason gulped and she winked walking away. Once gone, he turned to look at me again, apologising with his eyes. I bit my lip and shook my head to let him know that it was alright and that we didn’t have to talk about it. To be honest, I did want to talk about it. I wanted to know who she was. Was he sleeping with her? And if so was it going to progress any further? So many questions filled my mind but I tried to forget about them, telling myself that it was none of my business and it was before we had reconnected to night anyways.

Making our way over to Hollie, the look of disappointment across of her face said more than words ever could. She was relieved to see that I hadn’t gone missing, but she wasn’t too impressed that on my return I had brought back Mason with me. Giving me a moment to talk to her, Mason stepped away, resting his arm on the bar counter and facing the dance floor.

“What’s going on, are you okay? I went looking for you but I seen you talking to him from the top of the stairs and I didn’t want to interrupt.” She whispered sympathetically.

“Yeah I’m fine, thank you Hol. And I’m sorry I left you for so long.” I replied.

“No no, don’t be sorry. I was more than alright up here, I was talking to that bartender for ages anyways. I’m sorry Soph, I didn’t realise he would be here too. Is everything okay between you both?”

I wanted to say yes. But was everything okay between us both? I mean for now it was. I was giving him his opportunity to talk to me, but I hadn’t heard his side of the story yet nor had I forgiven him. Trying to find the right words to respond with, I took a deep breath.

“It’s not your fault Hollie, I was the one who said I wanted to come here in the first place. And I guess for now yeah. I’m giving him a chance to clear up everything and get some clarity on the whole thing. It doesn’t mean we’re going to go back to being how we were before but at least if we can be on civil terms.. I don’t know that’s got to be worth something right?” I asked, in hope of encouragement.

Hollie was the best friend a girl could ask for. She was more like a big sister despite me being older; a little dumb and clumsy at times, but no matter how many bad and possibly avoidable situations she put herself in, she would always make sure I didn’t do the same. She only wanted the best for me, as did I for her, so she basically made herself the crash test dummy and tried to advise me as much as possible. And she always made me laugh and smile without fail, after every heart break, every failure, basically anything terrible circumstance you can think of. She was always there.

“Well that’s your choice and I think it’s fair enough.” She gave me a fragile smile. “Just be smart and don’t let him hurt you again Soph. I seen how much pain and anguish you were in tonight and I never want to see you like that again. It’s alright that you want some light shed and some closure on the situation, but don’t let him blindside you and destroy your heart again, okay?” she raised her brows, placing both hands either side of my shoulders to make sure I was listening. Nodding to let her know I understood, she gave me a full warm smile back.

“Okay, so I think I’m going back to Dylan’s house once he’s finished his shift”. She added, referring to the bartender who was now waving at us. “But I don’t know what your plans are so I don’t have to if you don’t want me to and you need me.”

“No no, you go. I’ll find out what Mase and I are doing and once I’m back home and safe I’ll give you a text and let you know. If I need you at any stage I’ll call you.” I said before giving her a hug and getting ready to leave.

“Okay, I’ll do the same!” She mumbled, and with that I rejoined Mason who had finished informing his teammates and friends what was happening. Putting an arm around my waist, we had left the nightclub once again with crisp and fresh night air.

——————————————————————————-

Quick A/N: AHH I’m so excited for the next chapter you guys are gonna love it I hope! Also, the reason I put listening recommendations is to help you all imagine what I’m visualising when I right my stories and ideas! Music basically helps me set the scene. When you’re listening to the song attached to this post, I want y’all to try visualise yourself walking in slow-mo through a crowded nightclub holding hands with THE Mason Mount. Everyone looking at you both leaving, but he’s looking back every so often just to make sure you’re okay. Just imagine. That’s all :)

51 notes · View notes

dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

Text

Cutie Pie | Sweet Pea

Hey Lovelies! Still updating from my Wattpad! Today’s feature: Sweet Pea! On another note; I think I’m going to open my requests for Thanksgiving! What do y’all think? All my love!!

Description: Y/n, Southside sweetheart, thinks Sweet Pea despises her. He really, really, does not.

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

Warnings: Hints at smut but not really

Word count: 3k

Tags: Fluff, angst

Toni groans and throws another top on the growing pile of shirts that she has deemed unwearable. You had seen nothing wrong with it, a flowing pink blouse with cream polka dots. To her, however, it was too girly. You had scoffed at that. There's nothing wrong with femininity, she of all people should understand that. Maybe if she had wanted something that screams masculinity she should have raided Sweet Pea's closet instead of yours.

The Serpents seem to think there is something wrong with being girly though, looking down on anyone who dares wear anything pink or flowery and definitely anyone who wears both at the same time. You roll your eyes at that every time. You, a teenage Serpent yourself, are perhaps the most "girly" person to have ever set foot on Southside grounds. You take pride in that, wearing your Serpent jacket over all the ballerina skirts and pretty pink bralettes that your flowery heart desires. Yes, you get glares all the time but the switchblade in the pocket of your cherry blossom backpack just begs them to start something they can't finish.

"Y/n, baby, I love you but your closet is a nightmare! Do you have nothing remotely black? Or skimpy! C'mon, you want to impress Sweet Pea don't you?" Toni's voice is teasing and your cheeks flame in embarrassment and a tinge of anger.

"I would never dress to impress," you make air quotes with your fingers and pretend to gag, hiding the unavoidable lust in your voice before you say his name, "Sweet Pea! He's a jackass who's high on some masculinity crap! I can't do that."

She smirks at you from the mirror she's applying her bright red lipstick in, "you can very much do that and I know you want to. You're telling me that you don't lay awake at night and imagine his hands, his very large hands, doing unspeakable things to you? You may be the cutest little thing we've got on the Southside but you, baby girl, want him bad. Trust me, I know. I'm your best friend."

"Yeah, well, you're wrong and even if I did want, well, all that," you blush at the thought and swallow hard, pushing down at the buzz in the pit of your stomach, "he hates me so it would never happen. Theoretically, of course!"

"Uh huh, sure," is all your pink haired best friend says before turning back to your baby blue, vintage vanity to curl her pink locks.

You cross your arms over you aqua t-shirt, feigning annoyance, "and just what is that supposed to mean, missy?"

"Just that we both know you're turned on from just hearing Sweets' name. And he doesn't hate you, I roll with the guys remember," she catches your wide, doe eyes in the mirror and shakes her head lightly, laughing softly at your blown pupils, "he wants you. Bad."

You scoff again, leaning down to tie up your white tennis shoes, "he does not. He thinks I'm weak; that I'm going to bring down the pack.”

"He feels like he needs to protect you. There is a difference," Toni stands, twirling in front of your mirror to approve her outfit for tonight.

Some of the Serpent teens are gathering at the quarry, much like they do most weekends, to hang out. Today is special, though, because it's the last weekend before summer ends and you're all forced to go back to an educational prison. You're heart races knowing that Sweet Pea will, in fact, be there tonight. He's a jerk, at least he seems like one. Every time you’ve spoken to him it's been to tell him to let you handle your own problems. Granted most of your problems have involved ghoulies trying to make you their lunch because of your cute aura and quiet voice but he's never given you an opportunity to prove yourself. No one has.

Your voice is soft, like usual, but a tad annoyed, "I don't need protection. Why does everyone assume that I do?"

"Because you're so cute we could just eat you up!" Toni leans over to pinch your cheeks and you try not to giggle because that would only prove her point, "also, that isn't what you're wearing, is it?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" You peek around her and scrutinize your outfit.

An aquamarine t-shirt that stops right before a pair of fashionably baggy, cuffed jean shorts. The same pair of pink pearl earrings that you always wear are in your ears and the white tennis shoes you just laced are on your feet. Your worn Serpent jacket hangs proudly off your shoulders, the bright red patches bold against the black leather. The cherry blossom backpack is settled on your bed, ready to be grabbed and filled with your reusable water bottle, rose perfume, matching cherry blossom wallet, and switchblade, of course. All in all, it’s the perfect outfit.

You glance up to see Toni just smiling lightly at you, "Nothing, you're right. It's perfect."

* * * * *

Like usual, you and Toni take her bike to the quarry. You don't have your own bike so you ride behind her, your arms around her waist, her sugary scent blowing at you in full force, and your head thrown back, hollering into the wind. The two of you have been best friends for as long as you can remember. Nobody would have ever seen it coming. You were always playing in princess dresses and she was the pirate storming the tea party in search of cookies that were dubbed gold. You're polar opposites yet she's, perhaps, the only one who really knows how alike you are.

You arrive at the quarry laughing and cheering like maniacs, nothing out of the norm. You swing your legs over the side of her bike, hopping off gracefully and smoothing back your wind blown hair. It's dusk, the sun having just set, and there are mason jar lights sitting on the picnic tables and fairy lights strung through the trees. For such a rowdy gang, there is soft indie music floating through the air; the final touch to, dare you say, a romantic atmosphere. You couldn't be more proud.

A familiar arm is slung over your shoulders, pulling you into a playful side hug.

"Fogarty! I haven't seen you all summer," you swing yourself into a real hug, latching your arms around his neck and squeezing as he pulls you off your toes, "where have you been, Fangsy?"

He chuckles and sets you back on your feet, ruffling your hair and grabbing one of your hands to twirl you around, "hey cupcake, it's good to see you too. I've been here and there, sorry I wasn't around."

You giggle and shake your head, pulling him to sit at the practically full picnic table that Toni claimed. The table cheers when they see you, pulling you in for hugs and playing with your hair. You hear a couple voices tell you that you look cute and others telling you to come sit with them. You slide your backpack off, placing it under the table when you find an empty spot. Before you can take your seat, however, a pair of muscled arms circles your waist, pulling you onto their lap and stealing your seat for themselves.

A leather and pine scent envelopes you as the table breaks out in hooting laughter, "Sweet Pea this is my seat. As in singular. Mine."

All he does is tighten his arms deliciously around your hips, pressing down slightly on your lower stomach and making you very much aware of the intimacy of your position. You look to Toni for help but all she does is wink, turning her head to join one of the many side conversations taking place. You sit in silence for a while, as stiff as a board in Sweet Pea's lap. You aren't uncomfortable so much as nervous. You can't lie, you've been practically in love with Sweets for as long as you can remember but, until now, he has barely shown you any form of affection besides ‘saving’ your sorry butt on numerous occasions.

"Relax, baby," he mumbles into your neck for only you to hear, "it's just me."

You want to yell at him for calling you baby, you really do, but it sounds so perfect coming from his lips and his mouth on your neck is too pleasurable to push away. Instead, going against everything you stand for, you sink into his broad chest, leaning your head under his chin and pulling one of his hands into both of yours.

"Much better," his chest rumbles softly under your back.

"Pea we're supposed to hate each other, remember?" You toy with his fingers, noting their size and remembering your conversation with Toni from earlier today.

She wasn't wrong, thoughts of his hands, among other parts of him, keep you awake at night. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck.

He leans down, skimming his lips over your earlobe while he answers, "Since when? I never got that memo."

His hand moves from your hip to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers dipping in and resting on the skin under your naval. You bite back an unexpected moan at his lips and searing fingertips, leaning further into his chest and shifting your hips backward to fully press yourself against him. You let go of his hand in exchange for digging your fingernails into the picnic table. His hands are hidden, given him all the encouragement he needs to slide his now free hand up your bare thigh, drawing circles with his thumb on the inside of it.

"Sweets," your voice is raw, "what are you doing?"

"Showing you just how much I don't hate you."

His lips inconspicuously move to your neck, claiming the skin under your jaw as his own in the darkness. His hand draws further up your thigh, under the denim of your shorts and stopping at the apex of your thigh.

"Let me show you that I very much do not hate you, baby," he murmurs into your ear, the hand in the waistband of your shorts skimming over your skin in mesmerising patterns.

"Not here," you force the words pass you lips, melting into his touch.

"Then let's go," he practically pleads into your ear and it's all you can do not to wrap your legs around him right here and right now, nodding desperately as he scoops you into his arms and stands up.

You giggle loudly and, for the first time tonight, you're able to see his face. He's smiling down at you, a soft look in his molten chocolate eyes. His stare soon turns heated and he licks his lips, drawing your eyes to his mouth. Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling you flush against his chest. You turn to look at the table in time to see Toni nudge Fangs and point to the two of you, smirking at you when she catches your eye.

"Well guys," Sweet Pea addresses the table as he walks stealthily backwards, "it's been fun but we're going to head out now."

Before anyone can protest you lean up and whisper run in his ear. Before you know it he's sprinting to his motorcycle, the table of hollering Serpents shouting words of advice at your back. One that rings louder in the night is your best friend's voice screaming to "use protection". You blush and bury your head into Sweets' shoulder.

He sets you down on his bike when he reaches it, placing his hands on your hips and staring into your eyes through the darkness. The tension between you is tangible. You can hear every inhale he takes, imagining his bare chest moving over your own. In the blink of an eye you reach up and hook your arms around his neck, pulling his lips to yours. Sparks dance up your spine and his hands find your hips. Fire burns everywhere he touches you.

You break the kiss quickly, "crap Pea, my backpack! I left it under the table!"

His eyes are still closed and he finds you lips once more, pressing another kiss to you lips, "okay baby, wait here, I'll go grab it."

"No, it's okay I ca-"

"Baby, just let me go get it," he stares into your eyes, pleading with you to let him go retrieve your backpack.

"Fine."

You watch him run back towards the others. You don't realise how dark it is until your all alone and the woods around the quarry become more prominent. Every noise you hear sets you on edge. You swear you keep hearing twigs snap but it's only your imagination, right? It has to be. That or Sweet Pea is pulling a prank on you. Maybe you should have just gone to get your bag with him.

You hear another twig snap and tense up. You ball your hands into fists, readying for anything. You can fight, that puts you somewhat at ease. Toni is the only one who knows that, spare a few older Serpent women who aren't in Riverdale anymore, because they had been the ones to rough you up during your gauntlet. Yes you, the softest girl on the Southside, refused to do the dance. There were no rules prohibiting you from the gauntlet so you opted for it instead. Needless to say, you can take a hit.

"You little skank!" A voice sounds from behind you, causing you to whirl around.

In front of you stands a tall redhead with hair to her elbows. Her serpent jacket clings to her slim form, accentuating her curves in a way that makes you jealous. She wears a paint of off brand skinny jeans and a black t-shirt that's a little too tight. Her eyes are bright green and furious, glaring bloody murder at you. You have no clue who she is.

"Uhm, excuse me?" You glance behind you just to make sure she isn't talking to some else.

"You heard me, slut. Who the hell do you think you are? Sitting on my man's lap?"

The ‘slut’ thing doesn't bother you and neither does the ‘who the hell’. She doesn't know you so you refuse to take her meaningless words to heart. However, the part where she claims Sweet Pea has you seeing red.

"Amazing. Everything that you've just said is wrong." You smile innocently at her, curling your hands into fists once more behind your back.

"I'm sorry? What did you just say to me?" She takes a step towards you, her chucks cracking another stick.

"Oh, sorry, let me explain. My name is y/n, not slut,” you counter her step with one of your own, “that's who I am. Oh, and he's not your man. If he is than why is he pulling me onto his lap instead of you?” you scrunch your eyebrows and look her up and down, “Oh, wait, who are you again?"

Your sugary sweet smile turns sinister in the blink of an eye; the same amount of time it takes her to charge at you. The words ‘cat fight’ ring in your ears as you dodge a poorly thrown left hook. You use the opportunity to land a blow to her exposed stomach. She coughs quietly and you step back to give her room, trying to be as kind as you can to someone who's wrongly accusing you of being a harlot. You're caught off guard though when she lunges for you, knocking you to the ground and pinning your legs under her.

Rookie mistake number two. She goes to swing again but before she can you grab her shoulders and roll, ending in a straddled position with her arms secured over her head. You smirk triumphantly down at the red head under you.

You plan to keep her there until Sweet Pea gets back but she decides to, rather stupidly, open her mouth, "I bet this is a familiar position for you, huh?"

It's not red that you see this time but blackness. All you remember is calling her a bitch and the next thing you know your hands are bruised and you're being pulled, legs kicking in protest, off the red head who now has a busted eye and a bloody nose. You're screaming at whoever has you in their grasp to let you go another round with the nameless girl. A mass of teen Serpents surrounds you, cheering loudly for you.

"Baby, as hot as that was, I'm not putting you down," a familiar voice whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You look back at the bloodied girl on the ground. She makes eye contact with you from around Fangs who's trying to help her stand up. You don't know where the reckless idea comes from but, to be fair, you aren't really thinking straight right now. Perhaps that's why you follow through with the plan you have just hastily concocted in your head.

You toss the red head a cute smile and mumble delicately to the tall raven haired boy, "hey, Sweets?"

"Yeah y/n?"

You glance up at him, still in his arms, and pull his lips to yours. You kiss him slowly, drawing it out for as long as you can before you have to breath again. You keep your lips millimetres from his, pressing them against his softly a few more times. When you look back to the ground, the girl is nowhere in sight and the rest of the Serpents have migrated back to the picnic tables. Your cherry blossom back pack is settled at Sweet Pea's feet.

"So," you giggle at his dazed expression, "do you still feel like you need to protect me?"

"Yes," your face falls and you almost push yourself from his arms.

"But, to be fair, I always will. That's just me. You looked amazing fighting though. Absolutely fucking beautiful."

"Okay," you kiss his jaw softly, "I think I can handle that. Now can we please get out of here?"

"Fuck yes!"

#sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea #sweet #pea #riverdale #riverdale imagine #toni topaz #topaz #toni #fangs #fogarty #fangs fogarty #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x y/n #imagine #reader insert

529 notes · View notes

caterpellas · 4 years

Text

munich nights • harry styles 2

summary: touring inseparably as best friends and musicians, yours and harry’s relationship takes a cruel turn in munich.

warnings: smut (thigh riding, oral f receiving, girl on top n i think that’s it)

genre: bestfriend!harry, friends to lovers(?), angst, smut, it’s the works y’all

pt 2/3 (one is here) word count: 6k

a/n: this is the penultimate bit now :) i’m actually super nervous to post this lol i’m a mess anyway pls enjoy

chapter 2 playlist

you couldn’t lie, you cried yourself to sleep that night, with a movie you sort of cared about playing in the background. harry didn’t love you, and what used to be the strongest friendship in mankind had now crumbled apart and returned to a state of distant nothingness. harry didn’t love you. he didn’t have to say those words to you for you to know they were true. the realisation hit you about twenty minutes after harry left like an arrow to your chest, that was so recently covered in his ejaculate. not only were the pair of you virtually inseparable, you worked together as well and you had absolutely no idea what was going to happen now. you felt too ashamed for him and his band members to see you now after last night.

waking up in a damp patch of tears in your double bed, you try your hardest to get on with your day and forget last night. a bath felt appropriate so, just before midday, before you’d even greeted your friends yet, you ran one. the tub itself was freestanding and as deep as your head when you sat in it, the victorian taps centred in the middle. it was definitely the nicest bath you’d had in your life. you stripped off last nights clothes that you had shamelessly fallen asleep in and hoped to god the hot water of your bath would erase the images of last night, but the feeling of harry’s touch burned hotter then any water.

almost an hour later, milo, your drummer, knocked on the door of the bathroom you were still in.

“y/n? you in there? we haven’t seen you since last night before you and harry left. is everything okay?” milo’s voice reached you through the oak walls. you wanted to tell him that nothing was okay, and that you’re most important relationship ceased to exist but you couldn’t bare to tell anyone else, especially your friend and bandmate of 5 years.

“i’m all good, i’ll be out soon.” you make it downstairs another half an hour later, the need for a cup of tea driving you to the kitchen. as you reached the breakfast bar right next to the kitchen, you saw the sickening mop of brown curls that you were hoping to avoid. he turns to face you at the sound of your slippers against the tiled floor.

but instead of plain ignorance, a much more unexpected reaction finds its way to harry as he greets you, “y/n! we were beginning to think you’d drowned in that bath.”

you stood in bewilderment at harry’s attempt at a joke, wondering why he was trying you like all of last night never happened to either of you. but you picked this over cold silence so went along with it, “yeah sorry i needed to recover from the jet lag yesterday.”

it was sort of true, you were feeling the time difference and were grateful to be able to rest today. aside from plans to go out this evening, you were all going to rest up at home. which meant being in close quarters with the man you were trying so hard to avoid. making your cup of tea on the old aga kettle, your friends went back to discussing tour details, chatting about last and what was in store for the rest of the trip. you got a feeling their plans for the future weren’t going to be that plain and simple.

by the evening, you had all found yourselves comfortably sat around the fire outside, eating takeout from a german restaurant nearby. it was really good, and although you and harry had barely spoken more than those few words to each other things weren’t as awkward as you were dreading they’d be. usually, if things hadn’t gone the way they had, you and harry would be sat next to one another, your sides touching all the way down whilst you giggled over something harry was telling you.but as it goes, milo and olly sandwiched you between their huge bodies.

“does anyone know the name of the club we’re going to tonight?”

your ears pricked up at the mention of going to a club. you didn’t realise you were going out-out.

“panorama, i think? i put harry’s name on the guest list.”

it occurred to you that you were heavily underdressed for an exclusive nightclub. you had a good feeling they wouldn’t accept your cargo pants and grubby trainers. jumping up from the bench you run to the door, “i need to go change!”

you opted for an ever so slightly classier look and went with a small pleated skirt and a cropped cardigan. not a combo you’d usually wear, it was a little more fitted then you’d choose for yourself but you’d compromise a little to get in the club. you stuck with the dr martens purely for comfort and called it a night there. you loved your style for many reasons, but the most important one was that it was low effort. it took a maximum of 20 minutes to get ready and you took pride in that.

the group had organised to have a limo to share instead of a taxi, so harry was a little more protected from paparazzi and also to fit the size of your party. they were all waiting outside on the drive when you got downstairs and in unison, their heads turned to face you.

sarah grinned at you, “i love it.”

“very cute,” charlotte smiled as well.

you responded with a “cheers” before daring to look at harry. he was wearing a silk shirt and slacks in a baby pink colour. nothing different to harry’s usual attire but the outfit still sent a chill down your spine. well that, and the way he was looking at you. it was dark out but you could still see how electric his green eyes were as they stared directly at you. you’d been caught off guard, harry wasn’t someone you were prepared to connect with again this evening. in fact, you’d convinced yourself that you didn’t even care whether harry was going to be there or not (utter lies of course). but by the way he was looking at you, you knew this wasn’t the end and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

the vip section of ‘panorama’ was plush and teal coloured, with flower garlands and strip lights along the ceiling. you had a lounging area all to yourselves, with big padded benches and cushions. it was luxurious and if you weren’t so highly strung from having harry sat so near by, you’d fall asleep on it. you drunk so many cocktails by this point and your worries seemed to fade away into the loud club music.

“y/n.”

harry was sat next to you, but distantly. he was chatting to mitch before he said your name. no matter how loud the music playing was, you’d still always here his voice. turning to him, you asked, “harry?”

he’s smiling at you, like nothing has changed, “how come you haven’t danced yet this evening?”

it was a good question- you loved to dance more than you loved to perform. harry would always make fun of you, the shimmy you would do when he was playing disco in the studio and the way you always swayed along to fleetwood mac, pretending to be stevie nicks on stage. the reason you weren’t dancing is because you were far too obsessed with the closeness you had achieved with harry in your booth.

“i haven’t quite been feeling it just yet,” you teased back and you felt as though things with harry had gone back to normal, so you dared to ask, “are we good?”

harry’s boyish smile took over his face as he gave you a definite, “yes.”

“well i’m feeling more in the mood now so i’ll see you later,” you get up to exit, smoothing out the pleats in your skirt and struggle to take your eyes away from his. dreaming he’ll follow you, you make your way into the adjacent room filled to the brim with people. the song was bassy, but mellow and you could immediately feel your body moving to it. before you knew it you were almost next to the dj booth, opposite the ceiling high speakers and the song was perfect. you hadn’t felt this relaxed since yesterday’s plane journey and you let your unease pour out of your limbs as they writhed to the music. it took a few minutes to take you out of the trance and realise, although surrounded by a mass of people, you weren’t alone.

a tall figure was behind you, and without turning you knew who it was. you could smell his cologne easily- it was gucci of course and it was heavenly. not even daring to turn to him, you stayed facing away, afraid of what it meant to have him in your view. his hands, large and firm, gripped your shoulders, like he did twice yesterday, and his hot breath was against your neck.

“can i join you?”

the question itself was said innocently, this wasn’t the first time harry had asked to dance with you, and probably wasn’t the last, but it felt different to you now. god how you missed the simplicity of harry being unattainably yours as a friend. finally bracing yourself to meet his eyes from almost a foot above you, you spun, his arms falling from your shoulders to your forearms.

smiling up at the familiar face of the love of your life, you said into his ear, “of course you can dance with me.”

dancing with harry was nothing sexy or erotic but it was the most intimate you’d ever been with him, before last night. harry loved to dance almost as much as you and the best part of his whole personality was nothing other than his devil-may-care disposition. it reminded you of the times he’d twirl you while you were stood somewhere completely out of the blue, or when he’d snap his fingers along to a song and by the time you’d joined in the two of you had broken out into a full dance routine just for the sheer fun of it.

harry grabbed your small, clammy hands and pulled you into him, and then straight back out as wild cherry played through the speakers and you inaudibly laughed at his initial dance moves.

“is that all you’ve got styles?” you smirked at him before laughing at the ridiculous version of the hustle he was trying to pull off. he looked way better than you’d ever want to declare, looking fresh out of the 70s whilst funk music played to his dance moves. it suited him down to a fine art and the song was tailor made for his steps. your hips circled to the song and you remembered just how much you love it. pulling out some more unconventional dance moves you went for the peace signs over your eyes and harry’s head fell back in laughter whilst watching you.

this was it. the perfect moment you were so afraid of losing with him. you understood now that whatever yours and harry’s union was, it was far stronger than you ever gave it credit for. harry and you were back to normal again and instead of last night’s beer goggles making you far more candid then you’d like, now your feelings were crystal clear. harry was all you’d ever want.

as boney m. began to fade in now harry’s dancing had become more intense and now the pair of you were far closer then you’d ever danced together before. one of his hands made a brave attempt at looping around your waist and spinning you, making your skirt flare up in the process. usually you’d be shy and care, but only harry was paying attention to you and the thought of him have a small peak at what was under your skirt didn’t even slightly bother you. one of your arms clutches his lean bicep and you moved in unison together, only inches away from one another now.

“i love watching you dance,” harry whisper-shouted in your ear. unprepared for that statement, you stare into his eyes as they flashed in the colours of the lights. his gaze is unfocused, undecided on if it will look into your own or watch your lips, dampened from the small lick you gave them. his own lips were distracting you as well, the bottom one pulled in by his teeth, a habit he picked up when he was feeling conflicted. you wished he wasn’t such a hard man to read. the only definite you held onto right now was that he wanted to kiss you, reaffirmed when his eyes closed and his head ducked to meet your own.

“harry,” you place a hand on his exposed chest, “i can’t kiss you.”

he knew why. he knew that it crossed the boundary you weren’t meant to cross again. but much like you that didn’t want to stop him. so, despite himself, harry ignored your remark and hesitantly placed his lips on yours. the feeling of his kiss muted the sounds around you and in desperation you urged him to kiss you harder. no matter the height difference between the two of you, harry and you still felt perfectly matched. harry’s hands came into your tangled hair and gripped at the top of your neck, his lips even firmer against yours at the new angle. this was far more passionate then last night, and you were seeing harry in a whole new light. he wasn’t just your friend, an unrequited love and now a one time sexual partner but something more on par with your own emotions. harry’s zealous kiss seemed to correspond with all the feelings you had never spoken about him. but then he pulled away, leaving you empty again. you frowned at him, “why did you stop?”

he simply smiled back at you, soothing your nerves, and took your hand as he pulled you through the crowds to a curtained doorway. the room he took you to was a semi circle, the wall surrounded by a settee, and the floor was carpeted and plush with cushions and blankets. it reminded you of a harem, which made you question harry’s choice of destination. it was far quieter in here, the music now a dull bass in the background.

“why are we in here?” you looked over to harry who had already taken a seat on the sofa.

“i thought you’d want more privacy,” he grinned at you. harry’s attitude towards the whole thing was starting to irritate you instead now. why was he acting like this whole thing was so casual? did it not affect him like it did you?

“you’re kidding right? what even is this?” you scoff at him, crossing your arms across your chest. you were pissed.

harry’s brows creased in confusion, “what’s the matter?”

“what’s the matter? how can you ask me that? things are different now harry and you know it.”

he knew it. he just couldn’t find the courage to tell you that he’d wanted things to be this way for the past 2 years. it’s why he was constantly cracking jokes or messing around with you, making you smile and laugh brought him more joy then anything else in his life. it’s why he was so overwhelmed by white hot jealousy when he saw your mouth around that arsehole sound tech’s dick.

“jesus, y/n we’re friends aren’t we? why do we have to talk about that anyway, we’re having fun.”

“because harry,” you huff at him, “unlike you my feelings are a little bruised from last nights events.”

his eyes momentarily filled with guilt, “i know that was- not decent of me.”

“uh you think? i love you harry but you’re not pulling this crap on me again,” you tried to sound stern but his eyes melted you. you looked away but his hand reached for yours. this was it though. your temper had gotten the better of you and you were ready to leave him here and say goodbye to any relationship you formerly had with him. if he did anything again to you like he did last night you were sure your dignity would crumble into unfixable pieces. sighing, you finish off by telling him, “i can’t do this anymore harry.”

“i don’t want to lose you,” harry’s eyes were filled with pleading.

“you should have thought about that before i put your cock in my mouth,” you snapped at him. you hated to admit that saying out loud what you and harry had done had turned you on immensely. harry’s pupils dilated in synchronisation with yours. he played right into this.

“so you’d never do it again?” why was he asking you this?

“no. i wouldn’t.” he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing what he did to you anymore. even though the sight of him with his half buttoned silk shirt, damp with sweat as he lounged on the settee, his high waisted trousers spread apart along his long legs made your legs feel like mush. your voice was so convincing that harry’s face fell and in an instant you wanted to eat your words.

“y/n, i’m sorry if i overstepped,” he stood up and wiped his hands on his trousers, “do you wanna just go back to being friends?”

there was only one right answer to that question;

“fuck no.”

you jumped harry then and there and he fell back onto the padded seat, hands strongly gripping your waist. you quickly kissed him and in shock you retreated, your eyes locking, before connecting your lips with him again. his hands move south to your hips and then to your buttocks, giving your scantily clad cheeks a squeeze. you knew from a past discussion harry was an ass man, after a few drinks together one night you were talking about likes and dislikes. it reminded you of one preference in particular. grabbing a fistful of his hair, you tugged it gently and an audible moan fell in between his lips against yours.

“fuck, y/n do that again,” he mumbled into your mouth and you responded with another pull on his curls. his hips jerked up to meet the middle of your legs and between the thin material of his trousers and nothing covering your crotch other then the thin material of your underwear, little was left to the imagination. you could feel harry’s erection growing the more your hand tangled into his hair. your bare thighs clutched tightly by harry’s hands and you could tell they were longing to hold your bare ass. with your other hand on harry’s bicep, you moved it down to his hand and guided it up along your cheek and he hummed in satisfaction.

“hey harry,” you spoke into the kiss, “you remember california?”

how could he forget- you had spent the whole day drinking on the beach and that was where you had confessed about all your likes and dislikes, giggling like little kids the whole time. who knew that several months later that secret information would become so beneficial?

“what about it?” he asked as your lips traced down his neck to his chest.

“do you remember what i told you?”

a switch flipped in harry’s head and he suddenly knew what you wanted. his thigh came between your legs and you put your weight onto it eagerly, and his hands rocked you back and forth on the cotton of his slacks. the friction was exactly what you needed and you had never been more thankful that harry had listened so intently to your confession; you loved dry humping.

harry’s gaze was on you as you continued to grind on him, and the sight was enough to turn him from semi to fully hard.

“does that feel good?” harry asked you and you were too shy to answer him, only whimpering in response, “tell me y/n.”

“it feels so good harry,” you moaned out. your pace had begun to quick as you needily searched for your release. you could feel your wetness seeping into the material against his thigh and a faint squelching noise could be heard underneath your mewls of satisfaction. your hand fell across the bridge of his nose, outlining his sharp cheekbone and rest along his neck, licking his lips as he watches you get yourself off on him.

on a normal occasion, you’d be too embarrassed to ever ride someone’s thigh, it made you the centre of their attention and that frightened you. but knowing that harry’s undivided recognition was different. you loved having his hands and eyes all over your body. not that he knew, but it was his after all. if he wanted it to, it could belong to him.

“harry,” you gasped, “i’m going to cum.”

to know he was about to witness your undoing just like you’d seen his thrilled him.

“cum for me y/n,” harry pushed your hips for you, gripping the flesh of your ass, and rolling you back and forth till you let out a sob as you came all over his thigh. your forehead fell onto harry’s shoulder as you recollected yourself. that was the first time you had ever cum just from humping. and it was on harry’s leg. the familiar blush crept up your arms to your neck and cheeks and you couldn’t bare to lift your head off of harry’s shoulder.

“y/n,” harry’s voice gently interrupted, “not to rush you or anything but my trousers really are soaked.”

his fingers slid down your thighs to help you off of his leg, your own like that of a baby deer. you weren’t expecting harry to unbuckle his belt and slip his trousers off his legs, the thick wet patch taking up a lot of the fabric.

“what are you doing?”

“well you don’t expect me to keep them on do you?”

“i sort of thought you’d just leave again.”

harry’s face flushed in shame, “i am really sorry i did that last time, y/n. it was a dick move.”

“just a little,” you give him a half smile to let him know you couldn’t stay mad at him. stood in awkward silence, your panties dripping with your cum and harry in nothing but a shirt and boxers, you didn’t know what to say. it wasn’t common that you’d find an uncomfortable lack of words to say to harry.

finally, after one too many moments in silence, harry beckoned you with his finger, “c’mere.”

suddenly you found yourself snugly wrapped in his arms, your cheek to his chest as he held you.

“harry i-“

“don’t just yet please.”

so you stayed that way for a little longer. you realised that this could be the last chance you hold him like this, so you mentally noted every last thing about him you loved. his smell, typically of gucci, but underneath the artificial scent a more clean, personal one of clean bedding and shampoo. his arms, and how their length seemed to engulf you better than any of the softest, plushest bedding in existence. his lips that you could feel on the top of your head and how the feeling of them on your own was tattooed to you now. you knew that if you ever kissed anyone in the future it couldn’t penetrate the lasting layer of his.

he pulled away from you a few moments later, looking down over you. searching his eyes for any clues to his own thoughts from under your lashes, you found nothing. it didn’t mean you were expecting what came next.

as you started, “i understand if you don’t want to do this anymo-“

“i love you.”

the words hung in the air in stunned silence, and you were in too much of a state of shock to know how to take them. he loved you? was he saying the way he always did or did he mean he loved you the way you loved him?

“harry you don’t mean that you.. does that mean you, like, love-me-love-me?” you sounded like a teenager, your juvenile question was all you could muster up.

“i’ve always loved you y/n,”

“i know you have bu-“

“will you just let me finish please?” his fingers pressed against your lips to silence you, “you always talk without actually listening. let me a second please.

“i realised that you’ve never been my friend. don’t interrupt. you were never my friend because you were always like way more than that. friend seemed too small a word for us, you know? and then that day after i saw you and that shitty sound tech fucking in your room i was so angry and jealous and then i realised how much i wanted to be in his place. but you and me had already had such a good relationship i was worried i would ruin it by changing our dynamic. then on the night i met camila, you were so distant from me. i was upset and camila was into me so i was going to fuck her, but i couldn’t. i haven’t had sex with anyone since i saw you and-“

“his name was josh.”

“y/n i really couldn’t give a fuck what his name was. but anyway last night that prick wouldn’t leave you alone and i had to do something, and i wasn’t planning on taking things where they went but by the time you’d brought up my tattoos i was in too deep. i hate that i left you last night. i wanted to say all of this then, but i was too scared. so i left and hoped things would go back to normal between us. but our normal is nothing compared to what we had last night.”

overwhelmed, you sat down on the settee, leaning back to accommodate all of this information.

“so you want to be with me?” you asked him, still not believing it for yourself.

harry beamed at you, “i know, crazy right?”

“i just- i,” you stuttered over your lack of words.

“you don’t have to feel the same why i just figured it was best to be honest.”

you couldn’t help it, but you snorted at him, “you’re kidding right? i have not wanted anything more in my entire life.“

harry knelt down in front of you, and from this height you to were level. you could see eye to eye as equals now. his lips came to your forehead and softly kissed you there, your eyes fluttering closed. it was contentment to know he was finally yours. moving even closer to you, harry moved your legs aside and came between them and you had to prevent him from getting too close so your still-damp panties didn’t come into contact with his expensive shirt.

“you know,” you could feel harry’s lips turn upwards into a smirk on your forehead, “this means you don’t have to feel quite as worried about me fucking you anymore. i’m yours now, y/n.”

he lowered onto the back of his heals, taking his head to the level of your breasts, and he moved back a bit to take in the sight of you. you had to have been a mess, your black eyeliner probably smudged and your hair knotted around your head. your legs were still wide apart, giving harry the greatest opportunity to see under your little tartan skirt.

his pupils widen at the sight, “i can’t believe i’ve never seen you in a skirt like this before. you look so cute in it. it gives me great opportunity to do this,” his hands slid up your thighs slowly and surely, eventually coming down so that they were on the inside of your legs, just before your crotch. you were at his mercy at this angle, and he used it to his advantage. his long fingers brushed up against your clothed core and you whimpered at the sensitivity.

“are you still sore from earlier?”

you nodded and swallowed the nervous lump in your throat. his fingers moved up towards your hips, bumping your clit in the process and grabbed the sides of your tight underwear. pulling them down your legs, he got to see your pussy for the very first time. mouth practically salivating at the sight of your already wet lips, he began kissing along the insides of your legs, working inwards from the knee. he stopped at the edge of your thighs, teasing you with no touch. you hips were writhing at the need for contact and he pinned your thighs down, restricting you.

“i want to undress you first.”

his nimble fingers make quick work of the tiny buttons on your cardigan and it only just occurred to you that you’re not wearing a bra underneath. your bare sternum is exposed and you can tell harry is surprised to find you completely naked behind the cardi. slipping it off your shoulders, your perky breasts are finally unleashed for harry’s viewing.

“we never fucked,” you blurred out.

“what do you mean?”

“me and josh never had sex. i haven’t actually had sex in about two years.”

harry’s jaw sunk slightly at your confession, “but- how haven’t you?”

you felt embarrassed by this. no one ever compared to harry so why would you waste your time on them? you mostly only fooled around with josh because you needed a distraction from harry’s constant sex appeal.

“well josh and me never actually got around to it since he left the crew and aside from him there hasn’t been anyone else.”

you couldn’t believe you were saying this to him right after he’d undressed you, the air con hardening your nipples. harry couldn’t really concentrate on what you were saying, especially when his name was mentioned and your breasts were on full display to him. ignoring your rambling, harry’s mouth came down onto your right nipple, circling it with his tongue and ending your words with a gasp. your nipples were more sensitive then you’d initially realised, or maybe it was just because it was harry’s mouth encapsulating them, but the sensation felt like enough to make you cum from that alone.

“harry, i,” you sighed out breathily. sentences weren’t able to be formed presently, it was all too much. not for harry though, who had no qualms about saying, “i want to fuck you in nothing but that little skirt.”

you tried to press your thighs together, his words jolted down to your clit and you needed some kind of release. harry’s mouth went back to your boobs and down the valley in the middle, licking down it, to your pierced belly button and finally his head disappeared under your skirt. you instinctively placed your feet up on either side of the sofa to spread your pussy even further for his access.

his tongue mercilessly licked up from your taint to your clit and you bucked in delight. the muscle of his tongue pressed hard against the sensitive ball of nerves in quick movements, lapping at it rhythmically. you couldn’t control the volume of your moans now, cussing incoherently to him. but it wasn’t enough, you needed harry fully.

pulling his hair, you were so close to cumming but you couldn’t let it happen yet, not till he’d been inside you.

“harry stop,” you manage to get out, “i need you in me.”

he drew back as soon as you spoke and you leant forward to unbutton his shirt, but you lost your balance as you go forward, falling on top of him onto the cushioned floor. you both burst into giggles at your clumsiness, it was something that you joked about a lot together. you hadn’t loved anyone more then you loved harry right now, his chuckles like music to your ears as you lay on him nearly naked, his curls sat on his forehead.

“i love you,” harry told you, his hand cupping your cheek from below.

“i love you too,” leaning to kiss him, you moved your hand down and gripped his erection, forcing a moan from his lips, “now make love to me.”

he wasted no time in finishing off unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, and you ground your hips into his erection, forcing a groan from his lips. you were so close to feeling harry inside you, only boxers in the way of you two. you sat back and slipped them off his hips. before you got a chance to line him up with your walls, harry interrupted you, “are you in birth control?”

“yes,” you blushed. he smirked at you as he grabbed his hard cock in his hand and positioned it with you. you sunk down ont his cock, sighing is feel yourself being filled. you had craved this feeling for far too long, and harry filled you so well.

“fuck, y/n,” harry’s eyes closed when you engulfed him fully. adjusting, you began to bob up and down on his dick slowly, getting used to the foreign sensation. it stung a little bit as you hadn’t been filled in so long, but the need for harry numbed any of the pain. harry’s sweaty hands came up to cup your breasts, playing with your nipples as you began to quicken your pace.

“how do i feel inside you? does it feel good?”

you could only nod back, his cock hitting your g spot so well from this angle. as you began to speed up, your tits bounced delectably in front of harry’s face and he had to take over dominance, slamming his hips up to meet your own. his erection pounded into you, your mouth eliciting depraved whines. your skirt was swinging around your barely clothed ass and giving harry only sneaky glimpses of how the two of you were connected.

with harry’s hips moving more erratically, you could tell he was close.

you leant your mouth into his ear to whisper, “i want you to cum inside me.”

that was enough to tip harry over the edge, and so you could both finish together he reached his thumb under your skirt and thumbed your clit, sending your body into a heavenly orgasm. harry unloaded into your walls as you clenched around him, the both of you finishing in unison. flopping down onto his chest, he left his cock in you, both too fucked out to move yet. when he had softened, he slipped out of you, making you wince at the feeling.

“so,” you said into harry’s chest, “does that mean you’re mine now?”

his hand rubbed the small of your back, “i’m yours.”

#i’m sorry #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry style fan fiction #harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction smut #bestfriend!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles icons #harry styles fic #fine line album #friends to lovers

439 notes · View notes

benedictscanvas · 4 years

Text

just you and i - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: this is a fluff fest without reprieve - read at own risk

A/N: I cannot stop writing fluff, I swear. Sorry all y’all angst lovers, but it just isn’t my scene. Here’s a super self-indulgent wedding fic since I’m not feeling my best and wanted to imagine a wedding with Spence where not everything goes to plan - in the best way. Enjoy loves! :)

---

It wasn’t that you were panicking. Not as such. You’d wanted to marry Spencer for a very long time, had been waiting for this moment for longer than you ever hoped you would have to because your jobs had postponed your own wedding no less than four times. But now, as you sat in your wedding dress alone and looked out the window, watching people arrive just hours from the big moment, your heart rate spiked.

It turned out there was a lot of people that you didn’t even know you’d invited that were showing up to celebrate. It was sweet of them to come...but it was also completely ridiculous and overwhelming when you had no idea so many people would be here.

Curse you for leaving most of your wedding planning to other people.

Your bridesmaids had left you to some alone time, Emily suggesting that it might be nice for you to have a moment alone to take in the magic of the day. It had been a sweet thought at the time, but now you were beginning to rethink it.

Without much thought, you dialled your favourite number and waited.

“Is everything alright?”

He answered on the first ring and sounded just as flustered as you felt. You supposed it wasn’t exactly normal to call your future husband on the morning of your wedding.

“Of course, sorry Spence, everything’s fine,” you breathed, quick to reassure him, and you heard his breath of relief with a twinge of guilt, “I- well I just-”

He heard the tone in your voice as clear as anything.

“I’m coming to find you.”

His voice was hushed, and you warranted that Derek was probably with him. He hung up quickly and you put the phone down, wondering whether this was a good idea. But you’d never been one for superstition and you knew that you were going to spend the rest of your life with the man you loved whether everything went well today or not.

Before you knew it, there was a knock on your door. He was only down the hall of the hotel after all. When you opened the door, you saw him with his hand over his eyes and you grinned, pulling him into your room before any of your bridesmaids could see and reprimand the two of you.

“I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” he said worriedly, still clamping his hand tightly over his eyes. You laughed, slowly pulling his hand away from his face and letting it fall limp by his side. His eyes were still screwed shut.

“Spencer,” you murmured softly, watching him with a smile that was as fond as it could be. He looked so pretty, “Would you please open your eyes for me? I’ve already looked at you and, damn I’m glad I have.”

He was grinning, just like you’d wanted.

“That’s not the superstition, the whole point is that the groom isn’t supposed to-“

“Baby,” you muttered, taking his face in your hands with all the tenderness you held for him, “Please?”

He opens his eyes and now he looks infinitely more pretty than he did before. His eyes sparkle as he looks at you with a love you never truly believed you’d find and winds his arms gently around your waist.

“You look beautiful, angel,” he whispers, only for you, his voice choked. You try to hold back your own tears as you kiss him, pulling him into you with fervour. When you pull away, you keep him close, temples pressed together as his lips graze your ear. You shiver.

“Why are we having a wedding, Spence?”

That probably came out wrong. His closeness is gone quickly and it’s all you can do not to clamp him back to your chest again. His eyes are wide and the fear within them is plain as day.

“What?”

“Oh god, sorry, that’s not how I meant that to come out...at all,” you struggled for the words, feeling all your earlier anxieties piling on top of you again, “I want to marry you more than anything in this world Spence, you know that, but why did we agree to have a wedding? And such a big one too!”

He was relaxed again, thank goodness. You decided you really needed to stop scaring him shitless on what was guaranteed to be the best day of your shared lives.

He considers your question properly before he answers. It seems he comes to the same conclusion that you do.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I think we got swept up in what everyone else wanted.”

“Right?” you agreed, “It’s like just because we have busy jobs means that we basically went along with what everyone suggested. We were so stupid!”

“So stupid!”

He laughed and you joined him in it. This was what you wanted for your wedding. Just you and Spencer. Simple. It was what you wanted for the entirety of your marriage.

“You know what I would’ve been happy with?” you ask, a playful smile on your face that he just can’t resist as you reach for him again, winding your arms up and around his neck while his encircle your waist with all the warmth in the world.

“What’s that?”

“You. Me. The conference room. Couple of strings of fairy lights.”

“That’s it?” he asked, still with that smile on his face that was formed of awe. Awe that all you really wanted was him, that all he really wanted was you. He would never get over it.

“And cake, of course, I’m not a monster,” you said with a giggle as you let your forehead fall forward onto his chest, “I just want to be your wife, Spence, and I didn’t imagine doing it with the entirety of Penelope’s contact list out there.”

“Did you see Kevin arrive?”

“Kevin’s here?” you asked indignantly, then with a sigh, “I’ve spoken to him twice in my life, I’m pretty sure.”

“Three times,” Spencer says, because of course he remembers and you swat him gently for correcting you, even though he knows you love it, “He’s even got a plus one.”

You buried your head as far into Spencer’s chest as you could manage with a loud grumble. He laughed at you softly before pressing a placating kiss to the top of your head, and another for good measure. Another just because he wanted to.

“You know who else is here?” you asked, picking your head up to look at him again (you missed his face), “That woman from the case in Dallas. You know, the one that Penny liked and jokingly invited to our wedding over the phone?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I watched her walk in a few minutes ago….with a plus one.”

“No way,” Spencer breathed and you nodded pointedly. You loved gossiping back and forth with him like this. It made you forget where you were, what you were wearing, how itchy the back of your dress was, “How many plus ones did Garcia give out?”

“By the looks of it, everyone got one. The plus ones have their own plus one for fuck’s sake!”

There was a pause as Spencer smiled at your outburst, until you were smiling back at him and soon you were kissing all over again. It didn’t take much. Your hands are in his hair, rooting themselves in the strands, as his splay themselves across your back and leave goosebumps in their wake. Every nerve ending is on fire and suddenly you know exactly what you’re going to do next.

You pull away from his suddenly, despite his silent protest as one hand comes up to cup your cheek and bring you back to him, eyes still closed. You stay firm, plant your hand on his chest until he opens his eyes to look at you. He still looks like he just wants to kiss you senseless.

“I have an idea,” you propose slowly, running your hand up his chest, to his neck and back down again, “Feel free to shut me down, though.”

He tilted his head, a grin worming its way onto his features.

“Shut you down? Never.”

---

You’d gathered up the team with whispered voices and hurried gestures. Sneaking around corners and insistent shushing when they tried to argue with you. Eventually, you had everyone gathered in one of the rooms of the hotel, a few floors above where you were set to get married.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Derek hissed at you, when you and Spencer stood in front of them all, hand in hand, just grinning, “You’re getting married in-” he checked his watch, “-just under 2 hours. Unless you’ve called it off?”

He only said it to rile you up but it worked. You grabbed hold of Spencer’s arm with your other hand and snuggled up to his side as you glared at Derek.

“Of course we haven’t, idiot,” you glowered, which only made him chuckle, “But we’re not getting married here.”

Penelope looked like she might be about to faint.

“What?!”

“I’m so sorry Pen,” you said sympathetically, “You’ve done such an amazing job with everything but...it’s not us, you know? There’s so many people here!”

“Yeah, all your friends!”

“The woman from Dallas?” you asked and she pressed her lips together.

“Okay, fair,” she said quickly, “But I just wanted two of my favourite people to have the best day ever full of the very best people ever!”

“And we will,” you insisted with a smile, “But just, not quite yet. We’ve got a plan first.”

“A plan?” Dave asked, looking exasperated, “You’ve not cared about the details of this wedding for months, but now you have a plan?”

You and Spencer looked at each other. Grinned.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Spencer said, breathless.

There was a collective groan from the whole team.

---

By the time Emily and JJ had been sent into the venue to retrieve every spare string of fairy lights they could, Derek and Hotch had hung them between the trees and Rossi had come around to the fact that he’d be delivering the wedding outside rather than inside, everything was perfect. Any sense of panic had vanished. You’d kissed Spencer goodbye half an hour ago, and now you were stood arm in arm with Hotch a little way from the clearing you’d found in the woods.

There were woods right next to your venue, it seemed. How perfect. And just out of view of all the guests that were now waiting impatiently. Despite how many horrible things you’d all seen happen in woodland areas over the years, it didn’t matter now. These woods were pristine and new and about to become yours forever.

“Ready?” Hotch asked you quietly, nudging you out of your trance. You beamed at him.

“You know how long I’ve been ready for this,” you chuckled, emotional already.

He had tears in his eyes too. The softie.

“Then let’s do this.”

You walked until you were in the makeshift aisle. And everyone who needed to be there, was there. Particularly? Spencer.

Right there at the end of the aisle. In the tuxedo you’d already seen him in, but with new tears in his eyes and a watery smile. You laughed despite yourself, already crying. You swore you wouldn’t. He laughed too. You even made a joke about pulling Hotch along with you, desperate to get to the end of the aisle, to which everyone laughed, JJ through some pretty loud sobs. You’d never have made that joke if this wasn’t just family.

An eternity later, you were facing Spencer, hands held tightly in his. Both crying. Everyone was now. Rossi had to compose himself before beginning his speech. You hardly heard it. You were looking at Spencer. All you wanted to do was look at him forever and ever.

Rossi hurried through everything he was going to say. He’d been promised he could do it properly when you made it to the actual ceremony, which you were still going to do, because you couldn’t fathom telling everyone in that hall that you wouldn’t be attending your own wedding because you’d rather not have all of them present for it.

When it came to the vows, you decided to come up with some on the spot, just for this little special version of your wedding. You could do the regular vows later. This mattered now.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, to use your full title,” you giggled as everyone laughed, and Spencer squeezed your hands with an elated grin. He still hadn’t stopped crying, “I didn’t know there was a feeling like this until you walked into my life. You quickly became my entire world, before we even started dating. I just adore you. All of you, every bit. I can’t wait to- to do the whole of life with you. I-I love you so much.”

The awkward phrasing of your last sentence was mostly due to the fact that you were quickly breaking down. Spencer was crying at your words, right there in front of you, so how were you supposed to do anything but cry with him. He wiped your tears with gentle, trembling hands.

“I love you so much,” he said shakily, clearing his throat to carry on, “There was a time, as you all know, when I definitely thought I was just one of those people who ends up alone.”

You sniffled at that, because it was one of the least favourite things that he tells you about sometimes.

“Spence,” you whispered, smiling sadly at him and he shook his head with a smile.

“What I’m trying to say, is that my world was black before you came into it. But none of that matters now. All that really matters is that this is actually happening, with our family around us, and the rest of our lives ahead. Having a soulmate, in the traditional sense, is a ridiculous thing to claim, but it’s ridiculous to me that someone like you truly and unconditionally loves someone like me, so maybe we all need a bit of ridiculous. You’re my soulmate, Y/N. I love you more than anything. Our life together will be…”

It was him who was choked up now, unable to finish his sentence. You could still hear JJ sobbing in the background, but now she was joined by Penny and Derek. Derek was a mess. Hotch was doing better, but only marginally.

“Perfect,” you muttered, taking his face in your hands, “Our life will be perfect.”

He swooped in quickly, tears still fresh on his cheeks, lips on yours and hands on your hips before you could register it. You pulled away quickly and shook your head at him with a laugh.

“Not yet Spence!” you cried, laughing along with Rossi beside you who could barely contain himself.

He looked a little put out. His hands were itching to grab you.

“Sorry,” he muttered lowly, like a scolded child and you placed your hand on his face to remind him. Just a few moments, my love.

It didn’t take long, but it felt like you were waiting a lifetime for Rossi to tell Spencer to kiss you, finally kiss you. He was worth the wait. Worth every wait. His arms tightening around you, he managed to lift you from the floor despite the weight of your dress, and you giggled against his lips.

“Wife,” Spencer mumbled. Breathless. Wonderfully breathless. You found your breath had left you too, especially when he said the word. You were his wife now.

“Husband,” you chuckled as he put you down gently and you tuned back into the world around you, the cheers and hollers from your BAU family, the now familiar sound of sobbing mixed with joyful laughter. You held Spencer’s hand as you turned to face them with watery smiles. Squeezed it in your own and received a tight squeeze in return.

This was what you wanted. Simple. Just you and Spencer. Forever.

(you eventually made it to your actual wedding, and did the ceremony all over again in front of everyone, even though you were already married. an extra secret between your family, and an extra moment too. you didn’t always get a lot of moments)

(besides, why marry the love of your life once when you could marry them twice?)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid

512 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

Of Princes & Berries - Part 1

A/N: Yeah, so I have like zero self control, and I’m so deep in my Pedro feels and Oberyn is one of my og loves. In this family we throw canon out the window. Canon? I don’t know her. Anyways, this will probably be like 2-3 parts, y’all will get some sexy times, so hold tight. As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know! xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: slight language

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Popping a few of the fresh, succulent berries into your mouth, you received a tut and playful glare from the chef that was busy preparing various foods for feasts throughout the day. You gave him an innocent smile before putting a finger to your lips.

"Those are for the prince," he reminded you playfully, passing a jug of wine towards you, "those were imported just for him, best not eat them all."

"Oh relax," you gently bumped him with your hip as you loaded everything onto your serving tray, "our esteemed guest won't be missing a few of them. Besides, these are so much mode delicious than the ones we have here. Ours are so lackluster and have no flavor. These are practically bursting with juice and flavor. Maybe the best I’ve ever had!”

"Why do you think he specifically asked for them?" he turned back to the pot he was stirring, giving you a little sigh.

"Because he's the fucking prince of Dorne?" you started to lift the tray up to carry it to the gardens where he was no doubt waiting, "and he's got impeccable taste. Looks, taste, people throwing themselves at him left and right? What a life he leads.”

"Just make sure this gets out to him," he insisted and you gave him a small salute as you headed out of the dim kitchens, “and no detours to eat more berries!”

A small sigh escaped your lips as you stepped into the daylight and felt the sun's rays hit you and instantly warm you up. Everything felt lighter already. Most days in King's Landing were overcast and not this beautiful, at least not during this time of year, and you planned on taking full advantage of it. Perhaps later, when you were done with morning duties, you’d go and set by the sea for a while. It always relaxed something deep within you.

As soon as you spied the prince, staring out into sea, a smile grew on your face. You'd spoken to him a few times here and there, mostly in passing, since his arrival at King's Landing. He was a bright spot, a welcome interruption in our normally monotonous and drool days.

He always spoke to you in a kind manner, taking the time to ask your name, how you were doing, small things. But unlike most people in the court, he seemed genuine in his actions, kind even. He truly listened when you spoke, rather than just blowing you off.

As you approached him, a smile stretched across his handsome features when he realized it was you, causing a small flutter in your heart.

"Good morning, Y/N," he stood and offered you a small bow as you set the tray down on the table in front of him. It was a sign of respect; reverence. Proprietary would have you bowing to him, but he never was one for rules, "how are you on this fair day?"

"Your highness," you beamed at him, pushing a plate of berries at him, "I dare say my day has been much improved. What good luck it was that they sent me to serve you."

"Good fortune, even a wonderful twist of fate," he sat back and watched you intently, "or perhaps I made a simple request."

"A request," you raised an eyebrow as you sneaked a berry, which just made him chuckle at you. Normally, with almost anyone else, you'd never be so bold. But with Oberyn...it felt normal, right even, "you asked for me?"

"You sound surprised," he mused as you leaned against the table, trying to soak up as much sun as possible, "why does it surprise you so?"

"I don't know," you said quietly, "I just never thought I'd make that much of an impression on anyone. I prefer to pass by quietly, generally."

"You've made quite the impression on me, sweet girl," he said softly. You caught your bottom lip in between your teeth as his words fell over you, "I'll take every opportunity I can to look at that lovely face."

"You flatter me," but a content sigh escaped your lips nonetheless, "it is I who am in awe of your beauty, your highness. Surely."

“Now you’re just flattering me, fanning my ego like everyone else,” he waved his hand at you laughed at him, “I didn’t specifically ask for you just because you fall in line like everyone else.”

“I’m sorry then,” you playfully stuck your tongue out at him, “I shall never flatter you again. Nothing but complete honesty.”

“A simple request, no?” he teased, letting his fingers linger near yours. You studied his hands, the few scars that had marred the warm, tan skin. He was really was beautiful, such a sight to behold in your otherwise dreary life, “can I ask you something...perhaps too forward?”

“Yes,” permission was given without hesitation, and worry. Nothing about him worried in you in that sense. Sure, he was the Red Viper, deadly, feared, and brutal in his own way, but you saw past that...he was also kind, gentle, surprisingly soft spot and quick as a whip, “anything.”

“Have you been with a prince before?”

“I’ve been with many men who call themselves all sort of things,” you shrugged your shoulders as you poured more wine into his goblet, “kings, princes, knights, lords. You name it and I’ve been with one.”

“And have they lived up to your expectations?”

“Hardly,” you grabbed a berry and popped into your mouth, and raising an eyebrow at him, “the only time I’ve experienced true pleasure, it has certainly not been at the hands of a man.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” you sat down across from him, far overstepping any boundaries that remained. But Oberyn was different; he wasn’t like all the other princes and lords who spoke down to you like you were some sort of mere peasant. He treated you like an actual person. That in itself was enough to keep you intrigued; his delicious, warm accent didn’t hurt either. It was like music to your ears, sweet like the wine that flowed freely throughout the court, and much more pleasant than the harsh accents of the King’s Landing that you’d have grown accustomed to.

“You prefer the company of women?”

“I do enjoy the company of women,” you gave him a lazy half smile, “very much so. They’re beautiful creatures, soft, and warm, kind. Unlike men, they know how to touch other women, how to make love and make it a pleasurable experience, not just spend five minutes pounding into you until they’ve found release like a common barnyard animal. And then again, if all else fails, there is also the undeniable pleasure you can give yourself.”

“Very valid points,” he eat a few of the fresh berries, his dark eyes never leaving yours. A smile played on his features as relaxed in his seat, letting the sun warm him, “clearly you haven’t been with the right men.”

“Do you think you’re different?”

“I know I’m different.”

“Hmm,” you mused, “you’re very sure of yourself, my prince. Is your reputation well deserved? Are you as good of a lover as they all say?”

“I am,” a small smirk played on his lips as he crossed his legs, gauging your every reaction closely. He was curious, almost deathly curious to see what you hid under your cool exterior. You acted like you belonged in the court, under the direction of the Lannisters, but he could see through right through you. He knew you weren’t fully invested in your job or life here; hells, anyone that spared you more than a passing glance could see that much, “do you care to find out?”

“I appreciate the forwardness,” you gave him a wicked little smile of your own, “but surely you’ve got better things, and individuals, to shower in your worship. I am a simple servant, not worthy of anyone’s time, something I am made sure never to forget.”

You didn’t wait for a response before standing up and brushing your skirts off as you turned to head back inside. You’d been gone for some time now, surely you’d be attracting some unwanted attention any minute. You’d only been meant to serve the prince, not converse as though you were fast friends, shamelessly flirting in the open where anyone could stumble upon the two of you.

Oberyn was a welcome change to the cold atmosphere of the court you were used to. He brought a certain liveliness, warmth, and you swore more sunlight, with him. You could only imagine how wonderful it must be back in Dorne, where he got to spread that same radiance day in and day out.

“Where are you from?” he asked as you turned to leave. You paused and tensed up, surprised by the sudden question. He didn’t move as he waited for answer; part of you was tempted to pretend that you hadn’t heard him, but you knew better than to defy the prince.

“I’m just a servant, your highness,” you gave him a saccharine smile as you watched his expression falter slightly. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, “I am from wherever I am situated. My job isn’t to have a personality, it’s to serve others.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he grabbed a particularly plump looking strawberry, took a bite before standing up and striding over to you. His caramel gaze was focused on yours as he gently grabbed your jaw with one hand raised the berry to your lips. It was a question of sorts, to see if you trusted him. Without hesitation, you parted your lips slightly, letting him pop the berry into your mouth. You let the juices coat your mouth before swallowing, your eyes never leaving his. Oberyn traced his thumb delicately along your bottom lip, wiping away the small bit of lingering juice, “where are you from, my sweet girl?”

“Your highness-”

“It’s a simple question,” he let go of your jaw, his face moving into a softer expression as his eyes slowly raked over you. If it had been almost any other man, you would have been disgusted, but there was some gentle about when it was Oberyn.

“Honeyholt,” the name of your birthplace fell off your lips almost like a whisper, and your eyes darted around to make sure no one had heard. When you worked for the Lannisters, personal matters as such were best left unsaid; they paid you, albeit barely, for your service, not to moan about your previous life.

“That’s rather far from here,” he mused and you shrugged lightly. You were a a child, a mere young thing the last time you had visited your place of origin. You didn’t remember enough of it to truly miss. King’s Landing had been your home since, “what brings you here, to the harsh life of the court?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you bit your lip, unsure of how far he wanted you to go into detail, “I...was brought here by parents. They needed the money, and I was their only source of commodity. For them it was an easy decision. I haven’t seen them since.”

“I could tell you were not from this forsaken place,” you wondered what he meant, how easily he could tell you were different. You’d spent most of your life trying to blend and not stick out, you’d thought you’d been doing a fairly decent job. Most people didn’t spare you a passing glance, unless they desired something from you.

“And just how is that, if you don’t my asking?”

“You’re much too beautiful to be from here,” he answered and your entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire. You turned your head, gaze intently trained on the cracked ground of the aging palace as you avoided his inquisitive looks. He reached over and with a few gentle fingers tilted your chin up to face him, “do not shy away from your beauty.”

“I do not,” your voice was but a whisper, “people do not usually show me such...reverence.”

“You have kind eyes,” he carried on, “the sweetest smile, hair fair more beautiful than the Lannister gold they love so much here. Your accent gives you away, it is very slight, but anyone with a keen ear will be able to pick up on it. These barbarians here no doubt have come to ignore it.”

“You...” no one had pointed out that fact that you have a slight lilt to your voice in years. You’d lost the majority of any accent as a child, having come to court as such a young one, and being surrounded by nothing but the gruff voices of the crownlands.

“And if you don’t mind my saying so,” he took a step closer and ran a gentle hand down your body, fingers grazing down your side and sending a shiver down your spine, “a figure that any man or woman would be blessed by the gods to know. Beautiful breasts, a round bottom, lovely thighs, I can only imagine how exquisite everything I’m not seeing is.”

His large hand gave your ass a firm squeeze, and a small sound escaped your lips; a mixture of surprise and pleasure. He was forward, there was no doubt about that, but nothing about it felt...wrong, or unwelcome. You could tell he was making sure every touch and word off of his lips that he was making sure you were okay with it. And you were. Everywhere he went, women, and men, fawned over him, dying for even a bit of affection and attention from the prince. Here you were, having down nothing and you were the object of his desire.

“You flatter me far more than I deserve, your highness,” your cheeks were on fire as he smiled at you, trying to reassure you that his affection was well deserved.

“Please,” he insisted, bringing a hand back up to your face, “enough with the formalities. Oberyn.”

“Oberyn,” you repeated, enjoying how it felt on your tongue, so sweet and foreign, much more interesting than anyone you encountered through your daily duties.

“What was your name?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insisted, but he was not fooled by your attempts at deflection. Instead, he leaned against the carved marble pillar, arms crossing his chest as he analyzed you, “you know my name.”

“My dear, sweet little one,” you sighed lightly at the sound of his voice, so rich and warm, hitting each last nerve within you, “everyone has a name. It means something, even if that of a bastard.”

“What if I don’t want to have a name? What if I want to be no one?” you shrugged as you leaned against the column facing him, “what if I want to hide in the shadows?”

“Y/N,” your name had never sounded more lovely or magical than when it came off of his lips. It sounded pretty, beautiful almost, “it matters. You should be proud of who you are...unless you are some sort of monster, which I already know you are not.”

“You already know my name.”

“And you know exactly what I’m referring to you. I am a prince, sweet one, not a fool.”

“Flowers,” you gave him a soft smile, “just like all bastards of the Reach.”

“But you’re not a bastard,” he pointed out as you nodded, “so why do you claim the name?”

“So I can be no one.”

“You, my sweet girl,” he was by your side again in no time, leaning only mere inches between the two of you. He smelled warm and sweet, likes spices and exotic fruit. Enchanting. Lovely, “are destined to be so much more than no one.”

“I assure you, it doesn’t matter,” you said after a few beats of silence, “my family was once one of the many great houses, just like so many others. But they fell and were broken apart over the years. The remainder of them are common merchants now. It’s easier to claim the name of a bastard than to receive pity for your family’s misfortunes from the likes of Lannisters and Starks and whomever else.”

“I am sure you far outshine them in every way,” he pushed a few locks of your hair out of your face, “your kindness is fair greater.”

“I...I know why you’re here, your hi- Oberyn,” you were scared that you had overstepped your boundaries, but weren’t able to hold back your tongue. He was so forward and open with you, surely he wouldn’t mind if you did the same.

“And why is that?” his curiosity was piqued as he tried to read your expression.

“Your sister,” you answered softly and he shifted on his feet, shoulders tensing slightly, “I used to work for her...when I was just a child...before. She was the kindest woman I had ever met, gentle and sweet to everyone she ever encountered. Beautiful to no ends and her smile could light up the entire kingdom. Her babes were just as sweet, they would grown up to be the kindest people.”

“You knew Elia?” he was quieter now, and had a soft pang to his voice. He still missed and longed for his sister. Even though she had been gone for some time now, he still mourned for her and her children every day.

“She’s probably the reason I’m still alive,” you admitted, “she took me under her wing when I was brought here. I miss her too. I cannot imagine the sadness and burden it must have placed upon you and I would not dare to imagine. But I know how hard it was on someone like me, just a servant.”

“I think of her every day,” he admitted, “I know I cannot get her back, but it doesn’t dull the pain; Dorne has mourned her loss every day. Instead we must honor the memory of those we’ve lost, instead of letting grief consume us, no?”

“Yes,” you agreed, placing a small smile back on your face. You hadn’t meant to bring the mood down, but you wanted to let him know where you stood, that you were on his side, “I...I blame myself some days. When they attacked...I just ran and hide. I ran and ran and ran until it felt like I couldn’t breathe and then I hid and waited, waited till the smoke had cleared and it was safe to come out. I didn’t even try to help her or her babies. I just wonder if...I had stayed if I could have done something.”

“You were a child,” he could imagine the horrors you had seen, all the thoughts and emotions that had stayed with you throughout the years, “it was not your place to do anything. You protected yourself; it is our instinct to flee and hide, especially as children.”

“I was a coward.”

“You were a child,” he repeated firmly, “you were not a coward and it was not your duty to protect anyone. They should have protected you.”

You weren’t even aware of the fact that a few tears had rolled down your cheeks, but Oberyn was quick to wipe them away. He brushed a thumb over your cheeks, in such a soft and intimate gesture, offering you a small, reassuring smile in return. You put your hand on his wrist and gave it a firm squeeze, “thank you.”

“Y/N,” you almost jumped out of skin at the sound of Cersei’s grating voice. Swiftly wiping the rest of your tears away with the back of your hand, you took a step back from the prince, who seemed completely nonplussed, “surely you’ve got other duties to attend to. I’m sure the prince’s wine and berry need has been satiated for now. We know where to find you if we want more. Go on and apologize to his highness for your folly and distraction.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you let out a shaky breath and gave her a nod. She had her trademark smirk on her face and you wished you could slap it off of her pinched features. She really was cruel down to her core, and you often wondered when the last bits of humanity had left her. You wondered how much she had seen or heard. Hopefully not enough to warrant any sort of punishment.

Instead, you gave her a nod and small bow before turning back to Oberyn, “I apologize for my indiscretions, your highness. Please let me know if I can be of service at any time.”

“What did I tell you, my sweet girl, call me Oberyn,” he was not bothered by Cersei in the slightest and her jaw dropped in surprise. You couldn’t hide the small smile that crept onto your face, “and do not apologize for a conversation I have initiated. Surely even the lovely Cersei can understand that people enjoy conversation.”

“I...yes,” you returned his warm smile, unable to contain yourself and enjoying the little thrill that defying Cersei had placed in your bones. He reached for your hand and placed a kiss, chaste kiss to the back of it. You knew Cersei must have been dying on the inside at the exchange, frankly, so were you, “thank you, Oberyn.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised, making it a point to look directly at Cersei, who was fuming silently. If she had been a kettle, steam would have been exploding out of her ears, “I’ll find you.”

Just before you could turn to return to the kitchen and go about the rest of your daily duties, Oberyn trailed his fingers over your face, letting his gaze linger on your lips, “until later, dear Y/N.”

You turned to go back inside without another word, a bounce in your step at what had just happened. But just before you got inside, you heard him call after you, “I’m glad you enjoyed my berries, sweet girl!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @yourealegendroger @thesecondlastjedi @bitemerog @rogernroll @secretsweetscollectionblog @sheridans-dynamos @dinkiplier @starrystarrybabe @onexlittlespark @benhardyseyes @marvelstuck @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @wonderwich @a-kind-of-magik @lv7867 @itissnowingandimstuckinside @dessert-hardy @rogertaylors-lipgloss @rogerfxckingtaylor @queenbbarnes @drowseoftaylor @persephonesnebula @mamaskillerqueen @theimpossiblehologramtree @loveandbeloved29 @meddows-rose @onceitbubbles @wonderwoman292 @moondustmemories @spacedustmazzello @queenlover05 @ah-callie @blushingwueen @thisis-theway @el-lizzie

Oberyn Taglist: @rosetophighlander @someplace-darker @hystericalmedicine @fioccodineveautunnale @huliabitch

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x reader #prince oberyn #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #got #i am shameless but idc

1K notes · View notes

dovechim · 4 years

Text

lost in the funhouse (m)

⇥ 9.7k

⇥ warnings: psychological manipulation, spitting, slight blood play, oral (both receiving) unprotected sex (y’all know to wrap it right), impregnation risk, cream pie, dirty talk, name calling, Daddy kink

tldr; prisoner Namjoon is here

⇥ a/n: if you had any plans for the Valentine’s Day weekend, throw them all out the window. Happy Valentines Day from yours truly 💌

You’re used to the world being in different shades of grey. Both in the literal and figurative sense. Everything around you is doused in that dull colour, from the austere steel gates every 20 metres, to the security guards in their grey uniforms twirling their batons and sporting the big guns. This place is crawling with security cameras, with the state-of-the-art technology designed to keep the madhouse in order.

Hope World Mental Asylum for the Criminally Insane. A slightly ironic name, seeing as one couldn’t find an inkling of hope in this place no matter how hard they tried.

The prison orderlies bow as you walk past them, and you give them a smile in greeting. The staff here are nice enough. The security guards always treat you with respect, but you’ve seen the way they rough up an inmate who steps out of line. Though you suppose they’re trained to only react that way to the criminally insane. Still, they keep order in the asylum, and with the rowdier inmates that you see, you feel a bit better knowing that they have your back, although you could never believe that any of these people would ever hurt you.

Like you said, your world isn’t black and white, and neither are these people. They come in many shades of grey, and it’s your job to see them for who they really are, not for what the world has labelled them as.

Your heels click along the concrete floor as you walk past the cells of all the inmates, braving the catcalls and hoots along the way. In your white coat that conceals your figure, you feel secure, confident, not in the least bothered by the rowdiness and lewd comments thrown at you. The pristine white of your coat stands out amongst all the grey like a blinding light, painfully out of place, and the prisoners know that. They jeer as you walk past them, but you only give them your angelic smile, greeting them and asking how they’ve been.

You are late to your 2pm slot. A last-minute scheduling, a case that has been dropped by many junior psychiatrists until it was handed to someone more senior, like you. You’d thoroughly familiarized yourself with his case file last night, but when you step inside the cell that you always use for consultations, nothing prepares you to face your newest patient.

He is not bedraggled or covered with the dirt and grime that seems to be everywhere in this place. On the contrary, his blonde hair is slicked back neatly, parted on the side and revealing his forehead. His glasses are perched high up on his nose, even his prison issued jumpsuit seems to fit his lithe frame perfectly. The grey material is pulled tight over his shoulders, rolled up to his elbows in a manner which emphasizes his biceps. The front of it has its buttons undone to reveal a thin, white undershirt that clings to his chest. The rest of his body, however, is concealed behind the desk he is sitting behind.

But what pulls you in is the look on his face. Many of your patients are often broken products of the system, some of them don’t say a single word with you during your session, others ramble on incoherently. One of your patients had a condition where they’d laugh uncontrollably every other sentence. It’s all part and parcel of your job, nothing you haven’t seen before. But this man looks… interested.

He is well put together, intelligent, bright looking eyes tracking your every movement. His hands are laced together on top of the cold metal table that might have been repurposed from an operating table. His unwavering stare unsettles you as you take your seat. For the first time since you started working in this place, you feel uncertain, like you missed that last step coming down the stairs.

For a moment, you wonder if someone looking in on this scene would be able to tell who the psychiatrist is.

“Good afternoon, Mr Kim,” you place your manila folder down on the table.

He smiles serenely at your greeting. If he is surprised at the formal way you refer to him, rather than his prisoner number, he doesn’t show it. “Hello, Doctor. Nice of you to make time for me today.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you nod at him, already even more impressed with how well-spoken he is. His voice is smooth, he sounds as if he could be giving a speech at the UN.

“You know, you have quite the reputation here,” Namjoon leans back in his seat, entirely at ease as he takes in your appearance from head to toe. His stare feels intimate, and then it occurs to you that just as you are here to evaluate him, he is appraising you as well.

“Oh really? Do tell,” you are genuinely interested now. “I figure you probably have an in with the rest here. You could really be helping me out.”

“Well.. let’s see. Graduated from college at the top of your class. Could have gone on to become a prestigious surgeon, have your own hospital and all that. But no. You chose to go into psychiatry. Chose to damn yourself, sully your pretty little self working in a place like this, just to figure out madmen like me.” Namjoon says all this in a matter of fact tone, as if he were reading an instruction manual. But the scary thing is, he is spot on. “So now you spend all your time locked up in this madhouse, talking to men who think about doing the most perverse, fucked up things to you while you sit right in front of them.”

“Is that what they say, or is that what you think?” You maintain a smile on your face. You’ve heard far worse before, but you never let any of them faze you.

“You caught me there,” Namjoon’s façade breaks into a sheepish smile. “Most of it, yeah. My assessment of you, doc. The angel in the madhouse.”

“You’re right. Mostly, anyway,” you admit with an easy shrug. “I did choose psychiatry over general surgery. You’re good at reading people.”

“It’s what a psychopath like me specializes in,” he says this easily, as if he is talking about being good at math or how quick he is at learning to ride a bike. “We read people. Just from their mannerisms alone. We observe them, get into their heads, and we get inside of them. In the most intimate way possible.”

“You know, that isn’t too far from what a psychiatrist does either,” you twirl your pen, watching his eyes follow the motion like a lion stalking its prey. “You and me, we aren’t too different.”

Namjoon lets out a loud, full bellied laugh. “Oh, doll. We couldn’t be any more different. You’re so… good. A good girl. And I’m anything but.”

“What are you, then?”

Instead of answering, he fixes you with an amused look.

“People aren’t black and white, Namjoon. Just because you’re not good, doesn’t mean you are evil. Life doesn’t work like that.”

“I beg to differ. You know, here you have the guys who think they’ve done nothing wrong. In their point of view, they are the good guy, right? But then you have guys like me, guys who knowwhat they’ve done.” He leans forward now, sliding his hands along the table until you are painfully aware of how close they are to touching yours. “Who enjoy breaking people.”

You can feel his breath on your skin.

“Oh, I’ll enjoy breaking you, doll.” He finally sits back with a smile that sends the slightest hint of nerves fluttering in your stomach.

The buzzer rings, signaling the end of your session, and he gets up of his own accord, holds his hands out for the handcuffs that are slapped onto him by the prison orderlies. Before he leaves, though, he shoots you a salacious smile over his shoulder.

“See you next time, doll.”

“Tell me, doc. Aren’t you curious at all?”

“About what?”

In this room, there are only two of you. But you know that at any one point in time, there are eyes on you. There are armed guards keeping watch outside this cell, ready to strike should anything go wrong.

“I said last session that I was thinking of doing the most perverse and disgusting things to you while you sit in front of me, all prim and proper. Don’t you want to know what they are?”

He wants to elicit some sort of reaction out of you. Namjoon is watching you closely for any reaction at all, but you know his tactics all too well. He is trying every trick in the book, starting with the one he thinks will work best. Practically dangling bait in front of you, hoping that you will bite.

Today, he is wrapped up in a straitjacket, his arms crossed over his front because of a transgression committed earlier this week that deemed him a threat. Yet, his mannerisms aren’t the slightest bit affected. He speaks with the confidence of a foreign diplomat, his eyes roving about your person as if he owns you.

“I thought you said it was the others who were thinking of me like that. Not you.”

Snagged, Namjoon lets out a small chuckle. “You got me there, doll.”

His admission does not fool you. Someone like Kim Namjoon wouldn’t let themselves get backed into a corner or admit something that they weren’t already willing to give away. It’s all just a game to him.

“You’re so pretty. As always,” Namjoon smiles, a charming grin that makes your heart beat a little faster. “You know, we all love seeing you. It’s the only thing that brightens our days in here.”

Seeing him face to face like this, it’s so hard to differentiate him from the Kim Namjoon that you know from his casefile. Multiple homicides, drug use, violent crime, and worst of all, the torture he subjected his victims to.

Looking at him like this, he could be your English professor in college.

“Do me a favour will you? Just one, tiny little thing,” he implores, an innocent look on his face.

Wariness creeps in at the edges of your consciousness, but you find yourself pushing it away.

“It depends on what you’re asking for.”

“My favourite colour is purple.” His next statement catches you even more off guard, because you expected something outrageous like demanding to shorten his sentence or get him on parole. “But everything is just so fucking grey in here. The only spot of colour we- Iget to see is you.”

He leans forward, with some difficulty now with his straitjacket. Namjoon’s voice has dropped to an intimate whisper, his eyes dipping down to linger on your lips. It prompts you to lean forward as well so that you can catch his next words.

“Wear something purple for me, won’t you, babydoll? I just need some colour in my life,” he begs so prettily, and it’s such an innocent request, you can’t find anything insidious in it. “But for our sessions only. It’ll be our little secret.”

His voice trails off, and you can see the hint of possessiveness in his eyes that sends a thrill down your spine, that holds dark promises of what would happen if you wore that colour for someone else.

The buzzer rings. He doesn’t wait for a confirmation from you, just gets up obediently and turns to the guards. The heavy doors close, and you are left alone in the cold, sterile room.

“Dr _____... I live for these moments with you.” Kim Namjoon isn’t his usual, composed self today. His eyes are alight, dancing with mirth the moment you walk into the cell.

He spots the lavender blouse that you have on today, covered by your doctor’s coat, of course. Namjoon only has a few seconds to take in the lemon-yellow pencil skirt that you have on before you take a seat opposite him. He is smiling like the cat that caught the canary.

“Thank you for honouring my request,” he says with another charming smile, and today because the straitjacket is off, he reaches across the table with his hands, long and slim fingers laced together.

“It was a minor inconvenience, of course,” you sigh dramatically. “Didn’t have anything purple in my wardrobe, I realized. Had to go on a shopping spree and treat myself for the first time in a long while.”

“I’m sorry you enjoyed yourself because of me,” Namjoon banters back, and you giggle with your hand over your mouth.

He watches you laugh with a smile that crinkles the corners of his mouth, emphasizing his dimples.

“What is it like outside, doctor?” He asks with a beguiling smile, tilting his head as he watches you digest the question. “What’s the best thing you love about being outside? Is it the colour of the sky, or the warmth of the sun on your skin?”

Again, his questions are so innocent, that you can’t possibly believe how many people he’s tortured and murdered. How many of his own gang members he killed. Kim Namjoon’s innocent dimples are on full display as he searches your expression.

“I like… I like how the sky is boundless. At any one time, if I look up at it, I feel… free. Like I can go anywhere I want to.” Your thoughts wander, taking you outside of this sterile, heavily guarded prison cell until you can almost feel the breeze on your cheeks. But then, the heavy clank of a prison door somewhere outside brings you back to reality, and you realise what you’ve just said in front of someone who’s been sentenced to this mental asylum for life.

A part of you expects him to lunge across the table for your throat. But Kim Namjoon has not moved a single muscle. Instead, the smile on his face is ever present, dimples and all, and you can’t help but detect something sinister in it. But instead of making you feel uneasy, it thrillsyou.

Is this what it feels like to be dancing with the devil?

He lets out a contented sigh, as if he’s living in the memories you just described. “So innocent, doctor. That’s what I like about you. You remind me of how the world would look like if everything was good.”

Somehow, his approval feels good. It feels right.

“Do me a favour, will you?” Namjoon opens his eyes from his brief escape into fantasy. “Dance for me, little swan.”

“Dance?” You hesitate. “I can’t dance… I don’t know how to…”

“Then twirl,” he says, not giving you time to fumble about in your own lack of self-esteem. “Twirl for me, pretty thing.”

You reluctantly get up, seeing the hope in his eyes as he watches your every move. You are more self-conscious than you’ve ever been in this place, especially so when he bids you to take off your doctor’s coat. Without it, without the sense of validation and authority it affords you, you begin to feel like the tables have turned between you and Kim Namjoon. That really, he’s the one evaluating you.

You leave your coat on the back of the chair. Placing your feet together, you start to spin slowly, feeling the brush of your skirt against your thighs elevate your heart rate. You go faster, feeling the breeze of your own making caress your hair. All this while you are aware of his eyes on you, tracking your every movement like a predator stalking its prey. A laugh escapes your lips as you put your arms out for balance; but all it takes is one misstep, and suddenly you find yourself in the arms of a mass murderer.

Kim Namjoon sets you upright again, his lithe arms feel strong as you clutch his biceps. His frame towers over you, and it is only then that you realise how much power he exudes, just from his aura alone. How did he even move that quickly?

“Careful, Doctor. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt, now would we?” The beats of your heart count off the seconds that he holds you in his arms, and it feels like an eternity before he lets you go. “Only I get to do that. Only I can hurt you, babydoll.”

His eyes dip to your lips, and he places his hand on your chin, running a thumb along your bottom lip. You feel the pad of his thumb dampen with your saliva, and you can hardly breathe.

“You would look good with red lipstick,” he comments casually, dropping his hand from your face and taking a step back.

As if on cue, the buzzer rings, and the prison orderlies rush in to corral him into his handcuffs, lead him back to his cage. He keeps his eyes on you as he is dragged out of the room, on the way your chest heaves as you struggle to catch your breath.

A knock sounds at the door of your office. A little hesitant, but more insistent the second time round.

“Doctor? You’re late for your session with Prisoner 120994.” It’s the intern who does the administrative scheduling for the psychiatrists, Jeon Jeongguk. The number catches you off guard for a moment, until you connect the dots. You haven’t thought of Kim Namjoon as Prisoner 120994 for the longest time.

You take a moment longer as you stare at your reflection in the small hand mirror, contemplating the red lipstick on your desk. But it clashes with your violet cardigan, and the whole look is just messy.

The knock comes again, and you hastily throw off your cardigan, apply your lipstick, and gather your white coat.

“Dr _____, you’ll be la- oh. Um, Prisoner 120994 is waiting, Dr _____.” Jeongguk awkwardly swings the door open wider so that you can get past him. “You look… you look different today. New lipstick?”

“Just trying something new,” you shrug it off casually as he follows behind you like a puppy.

“Not only today, you’ve been looking different lately!” Jeongguk is quick to add on.

You are almost halfway to your consultation cell, but Jeongguk is still following you. He doesn’t let up until you stand before the armed guards. They open the door, and you see that Namjoon is already seated in his usual seat. He cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of you, his usual charming smile primed to greet you, but it fades when he sees Jeongguk.

“… the new style looks really good on you!” Jeongguk is bright eyed as he grins at you.

You cast him a cold glare. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to work, intern? I don’t need an escort to walk me to my sessions.”

Without waiting for a response, you enter the cell, the door slamming behind you. Shooting Namjoon an apologetic smile, you sit down across him, arranging your files on the cold metal table in front of you.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, it was…” your voice trails off upon seeing the dark look on his face. “It was our admin intern. He’s young, so he’s still pretty immature. But he gets work done, so…”

Namjoon is no longer interested in your answer. Instead, he is appraising your person, from the way you nervously arrange the papers on the desk, to your inability to meet his gaze.

“The lipstick doeslook good on you, Doctor,” he relents finally, and you are able to relax for the first time since you stepped foot in this cell a few moments ago. His gaze feels more intimate than ever as he practically eye-fucks you, lingering on the low neckline of your light blue strappy top. “But it seems like you wanted Jeongguk to see it instead of me.”

“No! Jeongguk is… he’s no one. No one compared to you,” Feeling like a scolded child, your cheeks heat up in shame.

“Aren’t you forgetting something else, too?” Namjoon is relentless, raising a brow at your outfit of choice today.

At once, you jump to your own defense, but your voice trails off in uncertainty. “It clashed with the lipstick! And so I didn’t know…”

“Did it?” He expresses doubt, his eyes still eating up every inch of exposed skin on your chest. It ignites a fire in your lower belly, makes the entire room heat up.

“But I wore something else that’s purple,” you’re quick to continue, eager to earn back his approval.

His eyebrow perks up with a lazy, lethal interest, like a jaguar flicking its tail, contemplating a potential kill. “What is that, babydoll?”

Your heart is in your throat. Knowing exactly where the security cameras are located in this room, you angle your body as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Then, you lean forward ever so deliberately until you’re sure that he can get a good peek of your lilac lace bra down your shirt, and the smirk of approval sends adrenaline singing through your veins.

This is so wrong. You could be fired for this.

But then why does being wrong feel so right?

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” he lets out a single, vehement curse, his eyes unable to leave that sweet spot of your cleavage pushed together by your bra. “Today it’s your bra, but next time… next time I’ll be sucking on your pretty pink nipples.”

Hearing him praise you is the best feeling in the world. And even better is how he can’t take his eyes off you.

Taking advantage of the fact that the security cameras in this room are only filming your back, you reach into the sleeve of your coat and lower the straps of your top, so that it falls down your chest, fully exposing your breasts in your lilac lace bra to his view.

“Now I’m not forgetting anything, am I?” You voice is breathless as you watch his eyes travel greedily across your cleavage, licking his lips. “We should continue our session like this.”

Namjoon lets out a chuckle. “Oh, babydoll. You think I can concentrate on what you’re saying if you look like that?”

“Then don’t,” the words come out of your mouth, and you didn’t even realise you were this brave.

“Remember those perverse, disgusting things I mentioned during our first session, Doctor?” He leans forward for a better look at your breasts, watching as they begin to heave up and down because of your heavy breathing.

“Yes. I want to hear them.”

“You’re so… good,” Namjoon whispers, as if to himself. “I want to hurt you so, so bad, babydoll. Fuck every single hole you have until you are brimming with cum. I want to tie you up to the bed, legs spread permanently and make you my little cum slut. Just a receptacle for holding my cum, and if you dare to let any spill out, I’ll choke you with my cock until you pass out. When I finally let your pretty little pussy have my cock, it won’t be vanilla sex like you’re used to with that loser Jeongguk. I’ll brand you with my cum, and you’ll be my breeding slut. Forever reduced to carrying my babies. I will own you. I will break you so good, baby doll, and I will hurt you really, really bad.”

“I can take it,” you answer eagerly. “Anything you want to do to me. I can take it. I want it.”

He laughs again, almost in delight at your compliance. “So obedient. So innocent. You don’t know how badly I can hurt you, babydoll.”

You shake your head vehemently, leaning forward to offer him a view of your cleavage. “I don’t care. I want it.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Namjoon’s face. “If you really want it, babygirl…”

“Yes, I want it,” he has reduced you to incoherency.

“… you’re going to have to help me with it.” Namjoon reaches forward to trace a pattern on the top of your hand, and it feels like your nipples are so hard, they’re aching for his touch. The single point of contact between you and him has your entire body heating up, your thighs rubbing against each other, and your panties drenched.

You nod immediately. “Anything. Whatever you need.”

“If we’re going to fuck, we need a place where we won’t be watched. As much as I want to hurt you, that sight is for my eyes only. I don’t like sharing my toys with others.”

“I understand-“

“Now, there’s going to be a system maintenance next Monday, exactly three days from now,” Namjoon continues calmly, his eyes razor sharp as they lock in on you, no longer clouded with lust. “All the security systems will be offline until the first bedcheck at 6am. At exactly 3.05am, there will be a change in shift, and there won’t be anyone watching my cell. It takes 9 minutes. You need to come and get me out of my cell. And then… then we can talk about how bad you’re willing to get hurt.”

“How will I… how will I get the key?” It doesn’t even occur to you to question how he knows all this information.

“You’re smart, babygirl. You’ll figure it out,” he strokes your chin with his thumb, admiring how your red lipstick smears when he brushes it against your lips. “Already a mess for me. I can’t wait to wreck you, baby girl.”

“I’ll do it,” you reassure him, only to be rewarded with his approving smile.

“Cover yourself, babydoll. The buzzer is about to go off.” Namjoon sits back in his seat as you snap back into reality, following his instructions as you pull the straps of your top back on your shoulders. He looks a little sorry to see you covered back up.

As predicted, the buzzer rings, and the doors fling open.

The guards come in to take him away, and you don’t even question his near supernatural ability to keep track of time so accurately, even though there isn’t a clock in this room. Even you lose track of time during your sessions with him, forgetting to look at your watch that you keep hidden.

All you can see is him.

“Everything okay? You’ve been stirring that coffee for the past five minutes.” A voice jerks you out of your daze.

Min Yoongi, the head prison warden, strolls in lazily, twirling his all-access card in his hand. You almost salivate at the sight of it. It’s all too convenient. His access card is the only way for you to get into the room with all the keys to the prisoners’ cells.

He slips it into his back pocket carelessly.

There’s no one in the common pantry that all the staff in the mental asylum share. It’s the perfect chance.

You turn around, immediately spotting how his eyes are drawn to the low neckline of your top. So the rumours were true. Just a little bit of cleavage and the man will roll over like a puppy begging for a belly rub.

“Just tired, is all,” you smile jovially, dropping the empty coffee sachet on the floor not so accidentally. When you bend over to pick it up, you make sure he gets a good look down your shirt.

As you straighten up, you catch a glimpse of his dazed stare. You take it as an opportunity to step closer so that your bodies are almost pressed up against each other.

“Say… what are you doing this weekend? Are you free, by any chance?” You let your eyes linger on his lips, angling your head so that more of your neck is exposed to him. You can feel his breath, hot and heavy on your skin.

“Th-this weekend? Su..sure, I’m free, yeah,” he stumbles over his words, hands coming up to hover around your ass, still unsure of himself.

You gently coax his hands, his right hand resting on your butt cheek, and the other on your waist. He gropes your ass immediately, unable to control himself. In return, you giggle playfully, sliding your hand down to his ass in a show of flirting as well.

Closing the gap between your bodies, you press your breasts against him, lowering your lips to his ear. “You should come over. My roommate is out and we’ll have the whole place… to- our-selves.”

You emphasize the last three syllables, noticing the way his breathing picks up as a result. You deftly slide your hand out of his pocket, patting his ass as you wink at him. “Call me!”

As he watches you go with lustful eyes, your step has an extra flourish, hips swaying to give him a good show. But what he can’t see is the satisfaction on your face as you kiss the access card, sliding it into your bra for safe keeping.

Having worked in Hope World Mental Asylum for the Criminally Insane for the past nine years, you know your way around it like the back of your hand. The guard routes, security camera positions, emergency exits. Basically, you have the map of it memorized.

Earlier that week, you signed yourself up for the graveyard shift, which of course no one wanted. No one even asked why you wanted that shift, all too glad to clock off and leave you alone in your office.

The silence is deafening as you watch the minute hand crawl closer and closer to the ‘1’ mark. At 3.04am, you get up silently, having dressed in a black hoodie and black jeans, with sneakers to go along with it. You let yourself out of your office, clutching the access card as you make your way to the control room where all the keys are kept.

From your office to the control room is only 50 steps. Less than a minute later, you are in and out, grabbing the keys from a hook labelled ‘120994’.

From the control room to his cell is another 80 steps. It takes you one minute to get to his cell, and you see him pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. He stops as he spots you, his features lighting up with a dimpled grin.

Another 10 seconds to unlock his cell. And then he is out.

The caged beast is no longer so.

You expected him to sweep you into his embrace at once, kiss you until you can’t remember your name. But all he does is take your hand in his, breaking into a run and forcing you to keep up with him. Your footsteps are silent as he leads you down the rabbit’s hole, twisting and turning until you lose track of where you’re going.

Down flights and flights of stairs, out of a door labelled emergency exit that you never came across before. And then it is down a dark tunnel that never seems to end.

When he finally stops, you are out of breath. “Wh-where are we?”

Namjoon is not winded in the slightest. It’s obvious that he is at peak physical condition, and he turns to you, front buttons of his grey prison issued jumpsuit undone. “We’re underground, babydoll. A place where they’ll never find us.”

A quick look around tells you that this might have been a medical ward a long time ago. Operating tables, not unlike the one you have in your consultation room, are strewn about. Only thing is, these tables have limb restraints attached to them. Broken syringes lie on the floor, electroconvulsive therapy machines are abandoned in the corner. Years of disuse has not done this room any good.

You should feel vulnerable in a place like this that could have come from one of Stephen King’s novels. Trapped in close proximity with a madman who prowls the room’s perimeter.

But all you feel is exhilaration and anticipation for what is to come.

You watch his biceps tense as he runs his fingers through his hair, turning around to face you. “A place where you’re all mine.”

He stalks towards you, eyes glinting in the darkness. “We have all the time in the world, babydoll. And I told you before. I’m going to break you so, so bad.”

“I want it,” your voice comes out in a near whisper as he backs you toward the wall, caging you in with his lithe arms.

His broad shoulders pin you against the wall, and he forces your chin up so that he can finally kiss you. Namjoon’s lips are rough, his teeth not showing mercy as he owns your mouth. His hands roam the expanse of your body, groping first your ass, then palming your breasts in his large hands.

He is like a drug you can’t get enough of. Every lick of his tongue is intoxicating, his lips pull you in deeper into your descent. There’s no going back now. But of course, you knew this all along.

Namjoon pulls away with swollen lips, toned chest panting as he picks you up around the waist. His strength only serves to make you even more beguiled by him, and you have to touch his biceps to feel how they tense and strain under your weight.

He treats you like a ragdoll as he tosses you onto the metal table, climbing onto of you and spreading your thighs with his legs. Namjoon takes a moment to admire how pretty you look with your hair all splayed out across the metal table. In a single motion, he strips your body of your black hoodie with a crazed look in his eyes, annoyed with not being able to see and touch your bare skin. He brings both of your hands up by your head, straps them in with the restraints before you even realise it.

Namjoon has his thumb on your chin. “Open,” he orders, and you obediently part your lips.

He spits right into your mouth, admiring the way his saliva is collected on the back of your tongue.

“Swallow, then show me,” he demands, and you swallow down his spit, opening to show him an empty mouth. “That’s my babydoll.”

He kisses down your body, looking for the first time, unhinged as he feasts on the sweetness of your skin. Namjoon fascinates himself by spitting on your breasts, watching his spittle run down the crevices of your body, into your cleavage, soaked up by your lavender lace bra.

Then, in a sudden movement, he tears your bra to pieces, the underwire ripping your skin and making you gasp in exhilaration. The raw display of strength, the primal desire in his eyes as he sees the crimson stain on your pretty, smooth skin. One finger swipes across the newly made wound, gathering the blood and bringing it to his mouth.

“Sweeter than I imagined,” he says as if in a trance, mesmerized by the way your blood tastes.

Then he dips his finger in the crimson liquid once more, tracing patterns down your belly as he caresses your waist, until he comes to the waistband of your jeans.

“I had hoped you would be in slightly more suitable attire… but I guess this is for practicality’s sake,” he muses, flicking open the button with practiced ease. Namjoon slides your jeans down your legs, hands lingering on every inch of exposed skin as he goes. He tosses your jeans somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your flimsy lace panties that are already soaked to the core.

He brushes two fingers experimentally against the wet patch. “Tell me darling. How would you like to live dangerously?”

When he pulls your panties down, you are so wet that you can smell yourself. Embarrassment heats your cheeks as Namjoon scents your arousal, biting his lower lip in response.

“Look at you. Already so wet, your pussy is begging to be destroyed.” He spreads your pussy lips with two fingers, exposing your delicate insides lewdly as he examines you thoroughly. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Y-yours, it’s yours. Forever. If you want it.” You respond immediately to the warning tap on your inner thigh.

Namjoon chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that you can feel directly in your core. “We’ll see how well it can take cock first. I’m going to tear your pussy apart, then we’ll see if you still want to offer it to me.”

When he reaches your ankles, he imparts a kiss to each one before he straps them in. You can feel the leather restraints tight against your skin, so that you are left spread-eagled on the metal table.

“So perfect,” Namjoon smiles to himself, licking your essence off his fingertips. “Just waiting for me to break you.”

Every second that you don’t feel his touch on your body is a moment of torture. “Namjoon,” you sob, arching your breasts to the ceiling.

“Beg for it,” he whispers, slapping your breasts roughly so that he can watch them bounce under his force. He pinches your nipples hard, reveling in your screams as he tweaks your pleasure. “All you have to do is say the word. ‘Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty…”

“Please,” you gasp, thighs aching with the strain of trying to rub against each other. You can feel yourself dripping onto the table underneath you already. “Pretty please.”

“Good girl,” Namjoon sighs in delight, taking in the trails of dried blood on your tummy. Your hardened nipples are begging to be tasted, but he isn’t done with them yet.

He spots what he’s looking for on the floor a couple of paces away. Leaving your side to pick them up, he attaches the electric clamps onto your nipples, causing you to wail out in pain and pleasure. Of course, there’s no current active between them, since this place has been abandoned for god knows how long, but this will have to do.

“Now, let me eat my babydoll’s pussy.” He finally invites himself to feast on the delicacy in between your legs that he’s been dreaming of ever since the first time he set eyes on you.

The first lick has you thrashing on the table, tears leaking and streaking your mascara down your cheeks. His tongue continues to probe your clit, circling it torturously as two fingers plunge themselves into you without warning.

Having this intelligent, well-spoken man who could probably run for president in between your legs makes you heady with desire. The lust filled moans reverberate in the empty, abandoned medical ward, mixing with the filthy sounds of Namjoon as he tongues your cunt. Two lithe fingers are buried deep, thrusting and seeking out that sensitive spot inside you.

The word slips out before you realise it. “Daddy… let me cum. Wanna cum.”

He pauses at this, letting out a harkened laugh with your juices still dripping from his mouth. “A pretty little girl like you, with a Daddy kink? Oh, this is too perfect. I’ll fuck all the daddy issues right out of you, babydoll.”

And then his tongue is back on your clit, he adds another finger to your cunt to stretch you out even more. Your thighs are twitching, heels banging against the metal table as you convulse under his touch.

“Don’t cum.” He commands, slapping your clit sharply. “You’re not allowed to cum until Daddy says.”

“Please, please stop, I can’t hold it back,” you beg and please, thighs straining to close. You are almost at the edge of your orgasm, one more lick of his devious tongue would send you right over.

Namjoon gives a disappointed sigh, eyes flicking to your tear stained face. Like a predator toying with its prey, he decides to let you off just this once.

“Fine. Meanwhile, I’ll use your pretty little mouth.” A series of movements follow, and you strain your neck to catch a glimpse of what he’s doing.

And it is a glorious sight. Namjoon pushes the sleeves of his prison issued jumpsuit down his well-muscled arms, exposing the thin white shirt underneath. It clings to his defined chest, slightly matted with sweat. But the real prize comes when he pushes the jumpsuit below his waist, and you realise that underwear is probably the only thing that is not prison issued.

The sight of his long, hard cock, angry and red greets you. One hand pushes the rest of the jumpsuit down, the other strokes his length and gathers the precum on his palm to provide a better glide. He catches you staring with a smirk, his abs tensing as he puts on a show for you.

Namjoon kicks his jumpsuit off, walking to the head of the table. He strokes your cheek gently, then slaps it hard, leaving a red imprint behind. He digs his fingers into your cheeks, forcing you to tilt your head up uncomfortably to make eye contact with him.

“Open,” he says, as if you were nothing but another orifice to pleasure himself with.

You can only imagine how much he’s been dying to do this. When was the last time he got off? Your lips part obediently, offering your throat as a vessel for his pleasure.

He rests his cock on your bottom lip, smearing his precum all over your chin. Namjoon grasps himself and moves the tip of his cock to your reddened cheek, spreading the precum over the imprint of his hand. Satisfied with his handiwork, he finally slides his cock into your mouth, and then you are filled with the taste of him.

His cock is hot and heavy on your tongue, his pre cum fills your throat with its saltiness as he thrusts hard. The tip of his cock hits your throat, and you can already start to feel how raw it is as he face fucks you. His balls are hitting your face repeatedly with every thrust, so you have to close your eyes and surrender your mouth to him completely.

“Your every breath belongs to me,” Namjoon emphasizes his statement with every thrust of his cock. “If you breathe, it’ll be because I allowed you to. Got that, slut?”

He punctuates this with a slap to your breasts, causing your nipples to twinge from the clamps. Namjoon then releases the clamps and tosses them aside so that he can bend down to take an abused nipple into his mouth while he fucks your face.

Every few thrusts, Namjoon buries his cock all the way in your throat, forcing you to deepthroat him. Your throat convulses around him as spit and precum drip out the sides of your mouth. Then, he decides to push his cock all the way in and keep it there, actively depriving you of your air supply. His balls are heavy on your face, smothering you.

“Shit!” He pulls his cock away from your mouth after what seems like eternity. “You have such a good mouth for cock-sucking, babydoll. Do you ever suck Jeongguk’s cock like that? Hmmm? Tell Daddy what a cock slut you are.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No! I’m just a cockslut for you. Only you.”

Namjoon chuckles darkly, before shutting you up as he places his balls on your chin. “Shut up and suck my balls, slut.”

You lave your tongue around him, taking one of his testicles into your mouth and playing with it, careful to keep your teeth from grazing them accidentally. By now, your makeup is smeared all over your face, sticky precum coating every inch of your skin, and he has rubbed his balls and cock all over your face, treating you like a sex doll.

You can feel how heavy his balls are as you switch to the other one. Namjoon groans, almost in pain as you suck dutifully.

“Fuck, I have so much fucking cum for you, babydoll. I want to fucking drown you in cum. But the only place I’ll be putting it is in your pretty pussy. Good girls like you love having a cum filled pussy, don’t they? You can’t live unless your pussy has been well-fucked and creamed. You’ll let any random man fill your pussy with cum, won’t you?”

You make a muffled sound in your throat, and Namjoon sighs impatiently, as if anything you have to say is an inconvenience to him. He pulls his balls from your mouth. “What is it, slut?”

“I’ve- I’ve never let anyone cum inside me before-“

“Oh? Never let another man cum inside you?” He reacts with genuine surprise, slapping one breast harshly again. By now, your tits are red and swollen with his handprints all over them. “Never felt a man’s cock pulse as he paints your womb with his cum? Never felt the warmth of his semen in your pussy, travelling through your pretty little body in search of your egg?”

“Never,” you say truthfully, entirely enraptured by his dark, gleaming eyes.

For a moment, he is silent, and you almost think that you can see a glimmer of something that you haven’t quite seen before when it comes to Namjoon. It is soft, tender, but gone in a split second before you had a chance to ascertain that you saw it for real.

“Then I’ll be the first, babydoll.” The luscious grin is back as he makes his way in between your legs, cock probing your inner thighs and staining them with pre-cum. “Beg for my cock.”

You perform for him, as if on cue. “Please, please, please, fuck me. Fuck me so hard and break me, Daddy. I can take it, I promise. Be the first man to cum inside me.”

“What would your parents say if they saw you like this, hmmm?” Namjoon runs the tip of his cock against your slit, slapping it a few times. “All bound up, legs spread, mouth used and begging to get fucked by a madman. Begging for a criminal’s cock.”

Your laugh sounds foreign to your ears. It resounds in the dim room, it is unhinged, on the verge of catatonic.

“They would be proud of me,” you say with a wide grin, and it prompts a belly laugh from Namjoon.

“Give it to me, Daddy,” you bite your bottom lip, canting your hips up in invitation. “I want it all.”

Namjoon gazes down at you with a look of deranged pride at your bruised and broken body, finally feeding you his cock one inch at a time. He spreads your pussy with two fingers as he thrusts the rest of the way in, marrying your hips together with a flex of his thick thighs.

“So fucking tight, I’m going to have so much fun ruining this pussy,” Namjoon all but cackles as he begins to fuck you, every stroke deep and purposeful.

You can only giggle, all caution thrown to the wind as you watch the sweat start to collect on his body. “I’m already broken, Daddy. Use me as you please.”

So Namjoon doesn’t stand on courtesy. He pumps in and out of your cunt, watching your breasts bounce violently from the force of his thrusts. Your walls mold around his cock as if you were made for him, made to take his fucking like his very own plaything.

He places his hands on either side of your waist as he ruts into you like a filthy animal, and you can see from the way his muscles strain and flex that he is putting every single ounce of energy he has into fucking your pussy. Namjoon’s eyes glimmer with a primordial urge, and you let yourself fantasise that you are his last meal. That he is an inmate placed on death row, and his last, dying wish is to fuck a baby into you.

Your pussy clenches involuntarily, and Namjoon slaps your cheek hard.

“What were you thinking about, slut?” He demands, keeping up the brutal pace as the head of his cock assaults your cervix with every thrust.

“M-making you a baby daddy,” you confess with a sinful leer, mouth open and gasping in pain as he slams into your cervix again.

“Oh? Babydoll read my mind,” Namjoon’s lips curl into a nefarious smile. “Ever since you walked into my cell, all I wanted to do is get you pregnant with my child. Fill you up with so much cum so that there’s no way you won’t get pregnant by the time I’m done with you.”

“Do it, please,” you beg, pussy dripping at the thought of him making you heavy and round with his child. It would be your greatest pleasure to carry his baby, to feel a part of him grow inside you, to walk around in public carrying the baby of an insane criminal.

“I’m gonna make you remember how well I broke you,” Namjoon growls into your skin, his voice is a deep rumble as he brands you with his cock. His girth feels as if it is splitting you apart, you can feel the head of his cock so deep, that if you were to touch your stomach, you might feel his cock there. “For the rest of your life, babydoll. I’m gonna cum so deep in your womb, gonna put a baby right here.”

His hand comes to rest on your lower stomach.

“Then I’m going to let you go with a womb full of my cum, and you’re going to walk out of this place with my baby inside you. You’re going to grow so big and swollen that when people see you, they’ll know you’ve been fucked by a psychopath,” Namjoon licks a stripe up your neck, his teeth sinking into the lobe of your ear. “Inseminated by a madman. Bred by a criminal.”

“I’ll give you all the babies you want,” you are desperate to feel him pulse inside you. “Visit you in prison and let Daddy knock me up over and over. Be your little prison breeding slut.”

A derisive chuckle comes from him as he fondles your clit. At this stage, you are so fucked out, cock drunk and desperate for his cum. You couldn’t possibly have any idea what he’s planning.

“That’s right, babydoll. Now stay still and let Daddy do his job. We only get one chance, so Daddy’s got to make sure he fucks a baby into you now.” The urgency in his voice is lost on you as his hips start to hammer into your cunt, driving his cock so deep until you are crying from the intricate mix of pain and pleasure.

You have no idea how you managed to get this far without cumming, but the tension in your lower belly is right at the brink of snapping. Still, you wait for his permission, and judging from his breathing, he is getting close. His thrusts are getting sloppy, his face buried into your shoulder as he chases after his release.

“Cum for me now. Squeeze my cock like the whore you are,” Namjoon breathes into your shoulder, finally giving you the go ahead.

His resounding groan as he fucks into your tightening pussy encourages you to let him hear how good he’s making you feel. Your screams of his name echo inside the abandoned room as your pussy clamps down around his cock, trying its best to milk him dry of every drop of cum.

“Milk me, you fucking cumslut, squeeze me dry,” he demands, slamming into you one last time before he releases with a loud groan, every pulse of his cock sending spurts of semen deep into your womb where it belongs. His fingers tighten around your thighs, leaving behind blue black bruises. “You better get every drop of cum if you want to get pregnant, whore.”

And you work for his cum, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your walls clench around him rhythmically. He is so deep, you can feel the spurts of his cum directly at your cervix, bathing it generously as your womb swallows it down greedily.

When you feel as if the spurts of cum have stopped, you expect him to pull out. But you realise that his cock still remains hard in your well fucked cunt. Namjoon’s chest is heaving, sweat dripping off every crevice of his muscled torso as he slowly begins to thrust his cock in and out of your creamy pussy.

“Daddy’s got to fuck his cum inside your womb,” he says with his eyes glued to the mess between your legs, watching his semen froth up on his cock. “Be a good doll and don’t let any of it escape.”

His thrusts are slower, but deeper now as he makes sure that his balls hit your ass with every thrust. You can feel how sloppy your pussy is, even if you can’t see the cum on Namjoon’s cock. Your inner thighs are wet and sticky, and you whine like a spoiled toddler.

“Daddy… you’re fucking me so hard.It’s all coming out,” you say with a pout. “How am I gonna give Daddy a baby if he fucks all his cum out of my pussy?”

A definitive throb of his cock inside you tells you that you hit his soft spot. “Daddy’ll have to fill you up again then babydoll.”

This time, a finger circles your clit, pulling the knot in your belly tighter as he fucks into you. You tense up immediately, feeling incredibly sloppy as he fucks the cum deeper into your pussy.

“Can I cum? Daddy, can I cum?” You beg, feeling his cock twitching as he hits you with deep thrusts.

“Cum for me, babydoll. Pull all that sweet cum deep inside your womb where it belongs. Give us a baby,” he cajoles, and the squeezing of your sweet, cum slippery walls in your orgasm rewards him. “Fuck, take my fucking cum. Take all of it!”

For the second time that night, you feel his cum flood your pussy, and he tilts your hips up as he roars his pleasure, fucking your cervix raw and open. His thrusts slow as his spurts of cum weaken, and soon, he is plugging your pussy up with his cum.

“My pretty babydoll,” he runs his tongue up the side of your face, kissing the side of your mouth. “Took my cum so well. It’ll be a miracle if you weren’t pregnant after tonight.”

“Daddy…” you eyelids flutter in exhaustion.

He gives you a final kiss on your forehead, smearing the precum on your face one last time before he pushes himself away from you.

You hear him fiddling with the restraints at your wrists and ankles. A moment later, your limbs are free, and you adjust your position so that your thighs are close together, cradling the precious gift of life that Hehas bestowed you with.

“Rest, babydoll.”

You hear his voice getting more and more distant as he moves about the room. Attempting to open your eyes to follow his movement, you see him rummaging for something in the drawers, and then the sound of paper tearing.

“Wh- what are you…?”

Then, he is back by your side, a large, warm hand on your forehead, forcing you back down again. A pinprick on your arm, and then everything goes black.

When you wake up, it is to darkness and musk.

And god, the ache in your entire body.

You move your legs, grimacing at the stickiness in between them. When you sit up, you can feel globs of cum leak down your inner thigh. You run your fingers through it reverently, bringing it to your lips for a taste and closing your eyes in sheer pleasure as you lick every bit of His cum.

How much time has passed? How long were you out cold for?

Glancing around, you slowly recall the events that transpired. The warmth in your slightly swollen belly that reminds you of the life that you have been tasked to nurture. The used needle on the ground beside you that is probably the reason why you were knocked out.

A giggle passes your lips as you scan the room for any traces of Him, but of course, he isn’t here anymore. But it doesn’t matter. He’s long gone, escaped into the night like thin air.

But he chose you.

You want to jump up and down, hug yourself in delight. But you mustn’t spill any more of His cum. You have to make sure it takes, make sure your belly becomes swollen with his child, just as he intended, so that he can see from wherever he is.

You throw your head back as catatonic laughter takes over you, peals of it resounding in the dark basement of the abandoned medical ward.

EPILOGUE

Your lips curl up in a secret smile when they ask. Words of ‘Congratulations! Who’s the baby daddy?’ only make your heart race.

Your swollen stomach is increasing in size with His gift, slowly, day by day.

Min Yoongi’s curious eyes linger on the swell of your belly. “You know… you never gave me your number that night.”

But you ignore him, stirring your coffee serenely.

“And, next up on the nine pm news. Sightings of mass murderer Kim Namjoon in the vicinity have been reported, but two months after his escape from the Hope World Mental Asylum for the Criminally Insane, police still haven’t been able to track him down. The state has initiated a full-scale manhunt for the criminal, but all efforts have proved to be futile…”

You stroke your belly with a peaceful smile, looking at his picture on the television screen. Handsome as ever.

They should just give up. No one in this entire world can find Kim Namjoon. Not even you.

But you’re not worried. Because you know he’ll come back for you, and meanwhile, you’ll proudly show the world how swollen you are because of Him. And when he does come back, it’ll be to fuck another baby into you.

Because after all, you are his chosen. His one and only.

#bts smut #bts rm #namjoon smut #bts namjoon smut #btssmutclub

2K notes · View notes

nobodysuspectsthebutterfly · 3 years

Note

Hello! If you don't mind me asking, are you planning on watching House of the Dragon? I'm personally unsure about it. I was cautiously optimistic about it since D&D are not involved, but the recent casting news have been ugh disappointing imo. What do you think?

Hey anon! Sorry to say I kind of mind you asking because my inbox is still closed (to everyone except my secret Santas, which is why the ask page is accessible at all), but then I realized it’s possible if you’re on the mobile app only, you haven’t seen said note in my askbox, or my FAQ, or anything of the sort. And with older metas of mine being reblogged recently, it’s possible you may be confused. (I hope you’re on mobile only and not just ignoring my requests.) So I wanted to inform you of that... but also, y’know, I kind of wanted to make a post about the HotD cast anyway? And this ask is as good a prompt as any... so, you’re lucky, but please don’t push your luck. ;)

So, straight up: I currently have no plans to watch House of the Dragon. HBO is not getting any of my goddamn money, I don’t trust like that. And hunting down illegal livestreaming sites is a pain in the ass and I regret ever doing it for GoT, as well as regretting getting drunk every weekend enough to dampen my senses to ever tolerate that show. Yeah it’s different showrunners and writers, I know. It’s still (mostly) the same executives at HBO and even if the pervert producer is gone (or is he?), you know they still just want to sell sex and violence and dragons to an audience that thinks fantasy is for geeks.

Also, considering that Fire & Blood’s story of Dance of the Dragons has very little actual narrative or dialogue, and the historical record is deliberately untrustworthy, that gives them pretty much full rein to do whatever they like with the story and characterization and words without even being slightly obliged to GRRM at all. Furthermore, since the story is wholly political with virtually none of the magical side of ASOIAF (excepting dragons), and honestly does not have much in the way of themes or depth that main ASOIAF or even D&E has, I think it will be very hard for an adaptation to show even those brief sparks of quality that used to make me wistful GoT couldn’t be that good all the time and eventually just made me frustrated and depressed. Note I do like the history and characters of the Dance despite myself, despite its many many many textual issues, but I don’t need to see an adaptation, I have a very visual imagination. I don’t watch a lot of television to begin with, I don’t see why I should start again with this.

However, I’m not going to avoid spoilers or discussion, and I’ll probably follow the show the tumblr way, through gifsets and video clips and people bitching on their blogs etc. If, somehow, by some miracle of good screenwriting and acting, the show manages to transcend its source material, I’m sure I will be informed. And then, if and only if then, I may try watching. (Without, of course, giving HBO any of my goddamn money.) We shall see.

(Though I certainly don’t know why anyone in Targ standom would ever watch a Dance adaptation considering almost every Targaryen and everyone else in the story is terrible except Helaena and the kids, and considering how the story ends, unless y’all are gluttons for punishment? (I do not comprehend hatewatching, sorry.) It’ll probably be fun at first to see the adventures of those “precious silver douchebags” (to borrow a friend’s tag), but eventually rocks fall, everyone dies, including the girlboss you know you’ll hope the story will be changed enough that she succeeds. Just letting you know now, she won’t.)

That said. I’ve been following the casting news and I think the hate/fear/wild screaming is entirely overblown. Yeah, I know, but wait, just listen. On Friday I officially welcomed @naomimakesart to the “favorite character is now played by an actor who looks nothing like most fanart and is mostly known for wildly different roles” club. I still remember that day in September 2009 when my brother texted me “yarp”... and that right there is the thing. Yeah. Rory McCann looks very little like most pre-GoT Sandor fanart... but many fans grew to love him anyway. (There are some who never did, of course. And yeah the character went off the rails by the end, but truly, who didn’t. Having seen his audition, having spoken to him and heard him wistfully talk about book scenes he loved, I’m convinced if Rory had only been given Sandor’s actual scenes and such, he would’ve killed it. Sigh. Deep, deep sigh.)

And Rory isn’t the only one. Neither of the actors for Jaime and Cersei were considered “beautiful” enough at first. I recall very clearly people bitching about Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (about his nose particularly?) because they had wanted Tarzan-era Travis Fimmel to be Jaime. (Seeing people bitch because current-Fimmel isn’t playing Daemon made me laugh out loud for both BEYONCE?! meme -type “why would you ever cast him omg he doesn’t fit my headcanon Daemon at all”, and amazing amounts of fandom flashbacks.) Lena Headey was “too square-jawed”, “too mean-looking” (since at the beginning you should never be able to guess she’s evil), “too dark-complected”, “too mannish”, not at all attractive enough. (Tricia Helfer was the most common “but I wanted” for Cersei, btw.) And of course “they don’t remotely look like twins, ugh!” Note, there’s receipts for all of this, none of it is made up. (Unfortunately.) Those two actors are just the ones whose casting wank I recall most clearly, particularly because oh how the turn tables.

Also. You know, there’s a post with Matt Smith and Mark Simonetti’s TWOIAF Daemon going around with shrieks of horror... and I’m finding it maddening in a “am I crazy? am I the crazy one???” way, because Matt looks like the painting. Their features are not that dissimilar.

Same deepset eyes. Same cheekbones of doom. Same thin lips. Same protruding chin. Same high forehead. Same invsible eyebrows ffs. Matt has a squarer jaw, and a longer more rectangular face, and a wider nose, but considering that Daemon’s features are not described in the text, and this is the only official ASOIAF artwork that shows Daemon’s face straight on, I can for sure see why he was probably shortlisted to begin with. And that’s not even getting into to his role in The Crown, which I’ve heard is very well played with politics and palace intrigue... and if you doubt Smith can play seductive/roguish and/or evil (depending on how you LARP as a Westeros historian), or look good with long hair... well. I do not want to watch the movie, but this trailer is disturbingly enlightening.

And as for Rhaenyra... y’all know this show is starting at the beginning of the story, right? When she’s a teenager? Not a voluptuous MILF? Yeah, Emma D’Arcy doesn’t look like a Magali Villeneueve painting (though who does, good lord), but you know who she does look remarkably like? Harry Lloyd.

Same jawline. Same nose. Same thin lips. Same sharp cheekbones. Notably, same kind of sharp cheekbones and deep-set eyes as Matt Smith. HBO evidently has a concept of a “Targaryen look” that’s a little bit quirkier than supermodel-Greek statue-gods on earth, yeah, fine. But it’s consistent, and they look like family, and that-- that is good casting.

And yeah, in a few months to a year or so, you’ll see them in costume and wigs and makeup, you’ll see them in motion and speaking lines, and go Oh. That’s different. Never mind. And while people will make fanart of the show depictions of the characters and those will probalby get popular, they’ll also keep doing fanart of their pre-show headcanons, and those too will be popular. (God knows when I draw or visualize book!Sandor, Rory does not come to mind, lol.) Either way, there’s no reason to panic. We’ll live.

(Though will we live well? Got to wait on the writing and showrunning for that, alas.)

75 notes · View notes

sparklingchan · 4 years

Text

Tipsy Turvy || Choi San(Ateez)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Choi San

Word count : 5k+

Warnings : Cuss words , alcohol , hangover , mentions of over drinking, not proof read.

Genre : Fluff , a tiny bit of angst , romance , friends to lovers au.

Description : You have a complicated relationship with San , and the alcohol in your system makes it worse ( or better).

Author's Note : So with all honesty , I have NO idea how people behave when drunk so I searched it up and wrote this 90% based on that ( and 10% on my friends’ advice). I hope at least one of y’all get the horrible pun in the title -_-

Please do reblog , like and comment if you like this. My DMs are also open so if you want to gimme a review , feel free.

Enjoy!

The coffee in the cup must have gone cold by now, because the moment you touch it’s surface ,you don't feel the same sting as you did a few minutes ago.

Not that it tasted good anyway. You're almost glad you didn't have to drink it but maybe, right now, you could use a sip or two to spare yourself a few seconds of peace.

"The coffee is wonderful, isn't it? It's my favorite one." The man in front of you - Mike - needs to seriously give you a break, or else there will be blood on the streets. Literally, "I'm glad you like it."

Does he not see the clearly disgusted look on your face ? Or was he so sure you'd like this drink just because he ordered it without even asking you?

"Yeah ,its fine." You sigh , touching your lips to the mouth of the cup and then putting it back down. You're not drinking that already tasteless and now cold coffee. No way.

"So ,y/n, since we're expected to give our parents an answer after this date, I'd like to know about your opinions first . And please be honest. I would hate to upset you." He says , scratching his chin .

Your eyes widen at the unexpected string of words. This is the first time since this stupid date began that he actually asked your opinion on anything.

"Well," you begin, your mind filling up with tons of words that you'd waited patiently to let out , "Marriage is a big decision. At least for me. And this is all too fast. I just hope we have enough time to know each other before our parents set the date."

He nods his head , “ I agree, I agree. Its important . Right."

You furrow your brows. His reaction seems very forced. Like he really didn't agree with you , but for the sake of it , he's agreeing.

"And what kind of qualities do you look for in a man,y/n?" You want to roll your eyes at the question but you pull your lips up in a smile, not quiet touching your eyes but enough to convince him. You wonder why he was trying so hard to save a date that had been going downhill from the moment he sat down in front of you. You guys clearly didn't like each other, and the spark was missing.

A spark you'd only ever felt with one person.

"Its difficult to describe ideal types but yeah,I'd like someone who's compatible with me and loving and well.. obviously respectful." You say. Mike chuckles at your answer , as if amused by it, "I was expecting you to say you wanted someone who's rich and handsome like...me , honestly. But it's alright." You wonder if he actually hears himself because he really sounded like a self absorbed piece of shit right now. And you'd really do anything to escape from this date.

"Well , I guess not. " you reply with a chuckle. In all honesty, you yourself don't know what your ideal type is. It's not about the conditions or requirements that a person fulfills. It's not a job , it's a connection. You can't confine people to certain criterias. It defies the whole purpose of that connection. And even if you did have qualities you looked for in a man , everything would always end up pointing at only one damn person. You push his images away even before they can surface into your mind.

"So anyway, as I was saying before the coffee arrived , my dad bought this really pretty yacht for me last month and it's super amazing to - " and you shut him out completely while he continues blabbering and you quietly sip the disgusting coffee in front of you.

You really want to groan now. Like on his face. Putting emphasis on how draining and boring this whole conversation is for you.

But all you do is smile and nod.

You were going to reject him the moment your parents set you up on a date with a ' nice and charming bachelor '. What side of Mike did they find even remotely nice or charming? You would never know. But one thing is sure now ,you will at least not have to deal with your parents pestering you for marriage after you reject Mike.

The weather is extremely humid today , despite it having rained in the morning so without a doubt , you'd spent your day indoors , reading a book and drinking unhealthy amount of fruit punch.

"Are they still upset ? " your parents should have seen it coming ,really. The rejection was as inevitable as the rising of the sun every morning or the setting of the sun in the evening. Yet , your parents are pretty disappointed at the decision even after three days since that stupid date. You , on the other hand are happy to have gotten rid of Mike - even if it meant your parents being angry.

Your younger brother , Jongho ,sighs into the phone, " What do you think? They really thought you'd finally marry now."

You don't really blame them though. Not at all. That's what they were always taught ,weren't they? Graduate high school, finish college ,get a good job and get married. The full circle.That is all they've every known yet you find yourself upset at the fact that they didn't consider your unwillingness to this marriage ( or any other marriage) at all. You're just barely starting to work ,you cannot throw away all of that to be a good wife and daughter in law. Sure Mike is the son of some rich man who does business with your father, but economical relationships cannot be a basis for a marriage.

"Well, I can't help it . I'm not marrying that asshole at any cost. " you huff , " He is so creepy and weird. Let mom and dad stay pressed. I don't care."

"Is it just because you didn't find Mike interesting or something else?" Jongho asks.

"I guess? " you reply, scratching the back of your head.

"You know , y/n, I understand that you don't want to get married and whatever but we both know there's a solid reason behind it and I am sick of you denying it all the time." Jongho is too honest for your liking. Too brutal , no sugarcoated words. Just the truth.

And the truth stings.

"Shut up." You grumble, fiddling with the book in your hands , legs dangling from the edge of your bed, " I told you not to mention it ever again?"

"Y/n, you love him. Okay? You have loved him for seven years now . It is high time you shoot your shot or else you'll end up with some rich asshole who doesn't give two shits about you!"

He's right,of course he is. His words are not really an opinion or a vague prediction of the future. Those are facts. But hearing him say all that out loud makes your blood turn cold in your body. Fear creeping through every inch of your skin , making it hard to think clearly.

"I don't think it matters if I love him or not. I gave up on him. We haven't spoken much ever since college ended. " you say.

" You didn't give up. You just ran away instead of acknowledging it. There's a difference." Jongho replies , " And for your kind information it's only been six months since college got over. You need to stop talking like it was twenty years ago or something. "

You chuckle at his last phrase, grateful that he's trying to uplift the weirdly tense mood. "I don't think I can do it , Jongho. I want to. I really do but I don't think he likes me back." You admit.

"You're delusional if you think he doesn't like you back, y/n. All the late night car drives, movie dates , eating unhealthy food late into the nights - San loves you too. Obviously he does."

You sigh ,running your fingers over the rough page of the book in your lap. 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' The words read out. The tightening of your chest increases.

"He was just being nice." You mutter.

Jongho sighs loudly from the other side , "Okay , believe what you want . I can't handle both you and mom-dad together, okay? Spare me your bullshit. Bye."

Wow, talk about being a rude, disrespectful child !

You are usually not the one to point fingers or put blame on other people , but you really despised your best friend right now. And you have every right to do so. Your best friend is the main reason why your parents are so desperately trying to get you married and see you settle down and have kids and whatever. Jisoo is the epitome of every good quality all parents desire in a daughter. She's perfect. Even more than that sometimes.

"How's your husband?" Your question doesn't sound very genuine - the words slipping out of your tongue like they were being forced out. But Jisoo seems to let it go.

"He's good , really good. " She replies ,taking a sip from the only can of cola you had left in your fridge. She passes it over to you.

"How lucky ." You mutter , taking a sip of the same drink.

"I know what you're thinking ,y/n. I know your ass is upset about everything that happened with Mike but things take time. Okay? I married early because I wanted to." she says, reading right through you like you were a book she'd read millions of times ,"If you don't want to marry , don't. Stop blaming yourself for not finding good guys." " I wonder if I'll ever find anyone even remotely nice, Jisoo. The only few guys I've been set up on dates with are not my type and well , Mike ... I don't know. We're just not compatible." You complain , " And besides I'm so terrified of marrying a guy I barely know."

Jisoo sighs , "Then marry a guy you've known for a long time."

"Who are you talking about?" You frown. You know exactly who she is talking about but you want to hear her say it. Say his name which you dare not even repeat to yourself when alone.

"Choi San ,of course. The love of your life ,your sun and stars , your sweetheart. " she says , her dreamy eyes widening to exaggerate her point.

You slap her arm hard , almost a little too hard. But you're convinced that she deserves it. "Ow !" She yells ,rubbing the sore area on her arm.

"That name is forbidden in my vicinity." You say.

Okay ,maybe now you are the one who deserves a slap. On the cheek. You couldn't believe that his name still fills your stomach with butterflies and causes your heart to beat so fast that you feel dizzy even though you claim that you're over him.

"No, it's not, y/n. Come on ,dude. You're still not over him. You will never be unless you confess and face the supposed rejection on your own. Only then you'll find it in yourself to seek other guys , unless that's not what you want." She jabs her finger on your shoulder softly , "That, or you can marry San himself. It's very simple ,really."

Now that she put it that way ,it sounds even more complicated and it sends your mind to a voyage into the sea of memories that you rarely even acknowledged anymore( or at least ,you tried to).

San's pretty eyes and alluring smile , the soft hold of his hand on your arm as you run to the movie halls just five minutes before it closes , the warmth of his hugs that you so dearly loved , his silky black hair that you've wanted to touch on so many occasions and the day you were sure he had leaned in to kiss you but your annoying brother decided to call just at that exact moment. You almost wish you could go back to your university graduation day , and wait a little longer for him after the event got over and tell him that he meant the world to you. More than he could ever imagine. You really wish you had waited that day.

"Jongho has this stupid theory that he likes me too. He's making me even more confused. " you say.

"At least Jongho has more brain cells than you. That kid deserves an award or something." Jisoo replies , chuckling.

"He's not a kid. He's just a year younger than me and you." You deadpan. Great, your best friend and brother are now on the same team.

She rolls her eyes , "Yeah , you are a kid too. Only a kid acts so naive and stupid when everything they've ever wanted is right there in front of them. Hell, even a kid would realise that San loves you !"

Jisoo talks a lot , but her words are never empty or vague. She says whatever she wants to and has to. And she is always able to make a point. But you're a dumb bitch who likes to pretend she's still not in love with her childhood sweetheart and is looking for love somewhere else.

"Anyway, can we go for a drink?"

"Glad you finally asked." Jisoo grabs your arm and drags you out of the house.

Your favorite bar in the entire world has to be the one you've been going to since you were in high school. From your first time drinking to vomiting in its toilet after having way too many vodka shots , from dancing with your friends to crying alone in a corner , that place has seen it all.

Coincidentally( not really), its Jisoo's favorite bar too.

"Okay, y/n. I think you should stop now. That's enough."

Coincidentally also ,you happen to not have a good alcohol tolerance yet an endearing desire to drown your sorrows in those glasses.

"No, I'm not even properly drunk." You whine ,your words only barely making sense to Jisoo. She grabs the glass away from you.

"Come on , let's take you home. " she tries to pull you from your seat , "Can't believe I thought it was a good idea to drink on a weekday."

"No, no, Jisoo. " you resist , pushing her away. " I want to..stay. here. I like it here. It's so warm and cozy . If I go home, I'll cry. I hate home. It's so ugly. Ew. This place is so pretty ."

Your vision is so blurry that your brain can't even form clear images anymore. You see Jisoo's form after squinting hard enough.

"You won't cry. I'll take care of you, y/n. Come on." Jisoo is so insistent you have to hold yourself back from punching her. Her lucky ass would never understand how much in pain your heart is in. And how much the alcohol helps in forgetting all that even just for a few minutes.

"You go home. I'll stay. I'll stay here for as long as I can. Away from all you blood suckers." You slur. And then giggle for no apparent reason.

Jisoo heaves a sigh ,sitting beside you. "Are you going to come with me or do I have to call San to pick you up?"

That was a threat. Jisoo always uses the same one and somehow, it always seems to work. Not today though.

"Hah! Joke's on you ! He doesn't care about me." You point at her face , giggling again.

San? Taking care of you? Funniest joke of the year.

"He does ,y/n. You know he does. What are you being like this?" She asks , rubbing your hand comfortingly. "I see the way he looks at you."

"He probably has a girlfriend already. He always posts romantic shit on Instagram. " you say ,resting your chin on your arm.

"He doesn't have one. I know he doesn't. He probably posts all that for you." She says.

You want to believe her but your brain feels fuzzy and foggy now. Like the sky on winter mornings.

"I want to see San, Jisoo. I miss him. I miss him so much. " you keep muttering under your breath , "Take me to him. I miss him."

Jisoo stares at you - wide eyed and slightly annoyed. Your low alcohol tolerance will get you into serious trouble one day.

"We can see him tomorrow. Let's go home now. Now." She pulls your arm again.

You push her off , "I said I want to see San ! Right now! Take me to him!"

You have never yelled at anyone while in a drunken state before so the sudden increased volume of your voice scares Jisoo. She let's go of your arm.

"Okay, will you come home after meeting San?" Jisoo asks ,taking her phone out to call a cab.

"Yes. No. Depends. I never want to be away from him." You say. "Take me to him , please. I haven't seen him in months. Years. I don't remember how long. Do you think he'll recognize me?"

Shaking her head , Jisoo makes a mental note to never take you out for drinking again.

San lives a few minutes away from your own apartment, but with traffic sometimes it takes almost an hour to reach his apartment.

Today must have been your lucky day because the traffic was almost negligible. Although you don't remember the journey to his house , you do remember his familiar voice greeting you and Jisoo like he had almost expected you both to arrive at his door this late at night.

"She was throwing a tantrum that she wanted to see you. So I brought her here. I hope it's not a problem. " Jisoo says in her sweet voice that she uses on everyone but you and her husband. You scowl.

"Hey, I wasn't throwing a tantrum! " You hit her arm again , but she puts on the fakest smile when San looks at the both of you with a confused face.

"And she's not very sober right now." Jisoo admits ,sighing. San presses his lips in line , observing you as play with the hem of your tshirt and your eyes are focused on his face. You never had so much confidence in a sober state. He knows this because he's seen you like this a million times before and hopefully, if all goes well tonight , he might see this state in the future too.

His stomach does a back flip when you stick out your bottom lip in a cute little pout.

"It's okay. She can stay the night here. I believe you have something important to tell me ,y /n?" San asks, titling his head.

You nod , beaming with happiness. Your eyes never leave his perfect face and his beautiful black hair which he decided to tie in a small ponytail tonight and his toned arms and his breathtakingly sweet dimples as he leads you inside, bidding goodbye to your bestfriend. Jisoo must be very relieved right now ,you think.

"Do you need a glass of water ,y/n?" San asks you , as he takes you gently by the arm to his bedroom. His alert eyes are always on your steps ,making sure you do not trip on anything.

"No. " you giggle. You're so happy to be with him alone at last that you can barely contain it . "I missed you ,San."

He laughs at your words ,shaking his head in disbelief as he makes you sit on his warm ,fluffy bed.

You've always wanted to sit there.

"Waoowww , this bed is so soft. " you swing your legs up and down with a big grin on your face , "I want to sleep on this bed. Oh my god ,awww."

San sees you lean down against the headboard and laugh at the ceiling, pointing out peculiar patterns . You look very content right now ,he notices. Your flushed cheeks , big , curious eyes , messy hair , yet he thinks you look beautiful like this - raw and natural and pretty.

"San! Sit with me, come here." You say , patting the empty space beside you.

San obliges without a question. He pushes you gently to the other side of the bed , himself settling beside you , careful not to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.

"What it is that you wanted to tell me ?" San questions, his fingers reaching upto your forehead to remove the strands of hair that cover your eyes.

"Promise me you won't be mad. " You hum into his touch ,wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around his body and snuggle into his chest. But even with alcohol in your system ,you know better than to do that.

"I promise." He replies with a toothy grin. His head leans on the headboard beside yours , his beautiful brown eyes drilling into yours ,making your knees go weak and heart flutter. And if it were possible to replace all blood from your body with physical adoration for Choi San ,you would have done it already. "Pinky promise?" You ask again ,lifting your right pinky up in front of his face.

Sighing , he connects his pinky to yours then pressing your thumbs together, "Pinky promise."

You take a deep breath then as naturally as ever ,the words you've always wanted to say roll out of your mouth , "I like you. "

San's breathing gets stuck in his throat , his whole being as if swallowed into a black hole for a few seconds. He stares at you like you were suddenly someone he'd never seen , never heard of before. Like you were a stranger that caught his eye in the mall. Like a gemstone he'd found while digging the ground. Like a precious falling star on a cloudy night.

"I-I mean we have known each other for sometime now. It's normal that you like me. As a friend." He stammers.

You roll your eyes , " I did not mean as a friend ,you idiot. I meant I like you as a man. You're so stupid, gosh." You punch his arm.

His heart skips a beat. He'd always known deep down his heart that this confession would happen one day or the other - but he had always hoped it would be him to say it first ,not you. His ego is a teeny tiny bit hurt.

"I know you don't like me , " you whine , your excited tone now suddenly switching into a sad one , " I know you won't date me."

San frowns at this new melancholic side of yours.

"Why would you think that?" He asks.

"I just know ,okay?" You say ,tears filling your eyes , " And that's why I agreed to an arranged marriage."

"You must have met someone nice then?" He takes his hand in yours.

Jongho was right - you love him. So much that it hurts to look at him ,knowing that one day you'll have to marry a man who isn't him. It hurts like someone is pressing a hot metal rod onto your skin.

You start sobbing.

"No! Of course not ! I don't want anyone but you! " You yell , a little too loud , " But my parents are still insistent about it. How do I tell them that I can't marry anyone else because I'm so in love with you?"

That's another new piece of information for San. But this one makes his heart drop into the deepest pits of his stomach , making him go numb for a few seconds. You were almost taken away from him, just because he'd always put your relationship in a complicated situation. You had almost held someone else's hand on the alter. You had almost ended up in someone else's arms.

The image of you with another man nauseates him and he decides to stop being a coward . Right now ,right at this moment .

"I like you ,too, you idiot." He says , not quite meeting your teary eyes." Don't go find anyone else. I'm here. I really am ,y/n."

His sincere voice washes over you like the first showers of monsoon - refreshing and enchanting. You feel like melting into a puddle under his gaze.

"I wasn't planning on anyway. " You sniff and rub your tears away. He leans in closer to your face , rubbing your cheekbones with the pad of his thumb. And you , being the shameless person you are , stare at his kissable, pink lips. If you lean in a little more , they'd touch and you could finally kiss him. You really want to . Would he mind ?

He presses a soft kiss on your forehead , pulling you into his warm embrace.

"I want to go to sleep and wake up like this every morning." You mumble into his chest , your hand playing with the hem of his t-shirt. "We will. I promise." he replies. The thought itself makes him feel warm inside , "I'll talk to your parents about the arranged marriage thing. They love me more than they would any other guy out there."

Your parents in fact do love San. Whenever they met him , they'd be filled with praises for him. Although a little jealous , you could easily see why San was so easy to like.

"You smell so nice." You say abruptly , drowsiness slowly taking over you , your eye lids getting heavier by the minute.

San's chest vibrates as his laugh fills the room , "Thank you, y/n."

"Will you be here when I wake up? You aren't going to run off, right? " You are just spewing out random sentences at this point but he doesn't complain either way. He likes this honest and vulnerable side of you.

"I'll be right here. Don't worry. " he whispers ,running his fingers through your hair , "But I'm pretty sure you won't remember anything tomorrow ."

You laugh, a big hearty laugh as you finally find enough courage to lightly wrap your arm around his torso. "I'll remember, San . I never forget."

San rubs your head soothingly , smiling to himself, knowing that even if you forget about it in the morning , he'll really be there to remind you of it. He'll be there by your side, as he always has been.

Every hangover is like a cycle that includes pain , regret and a promise to never drink so much again yet you somehow always seem to be struggling with the last one.

And the inevitable headache that follows makes you feel like someone had thrusted millions of knives in your head.

It hurt. Badly.

You stir in your position ,groaning at your throbbing head.

"Woah , good morning , sleepy head." San purrs into your ears , his early morning voice sending chills down your spine.

Wait. San? Choi San? With you in his arms? On a bed?

You sit up at the speed of a lightning bolt , breaking away from his warm embrace and crawling to the farthest corner of the bed. You look around the room , your heartbeat in your throat , taking in the unfamiliar surroundings that reminded you of what you might have done while in a drunken state.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your eyes scan San, his sleepy face pressed to the pillow and his lips curved in a smile. His white t-shirt hangs loose from his shoulder, exposing the skin near his collarbone and his black, messy hair covering half of his face.

And even in panic mode , your first thought is that he looks ethereal with that early morning glow. Is this what being whipped really means?

"Y/n, don't tell me you forgot what happened last night. " he says ,visibly annoyed. He forces himself up in a sitting position as he runs his fingers through his messy hair.

You look away from him , adrenaline rushing through your veins as you try to recall last night's episode. Surely ,you didn't sleep with him since both of you are fully clothed and you didn't feel sore anywhere. Thankfully.

"Y/n? " he calls you again but you don't reply because your brain is way too occupied at the moment.

You remember the sound of a very weird combination of words leaving your mouth last night and an even weirder combination of words leaving his. And that's when it hits you - you had confessed to him. Full on movie style. All those years of daydreaming and trying to keep everything a secret gone into vain , your heart placed naked in front of him.

"Oh fucking hell." You hold your head in between your hands ,closing your eyes.

Maybe this was all a dream and if you focused hard enough ,you'd wake up in your bed , alone and yearning for the man supposedly in front of you. But that would still be better than this.

"Y/n, it's alright. You don't have to be embarrassed. " San says, inching closer to you.

You sigh. It's not a dream and you have to face him now.

"I-I'm sorry for whatever I said last night. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable at all. I don't know what had gotten into me." You say, rubbing your forehead.

By now , San is kneeling right in front of you, his galaxy filled eyes never leaving yours.

"I should be sorry , you idiot." He says , gently tapping your forehead ," if I wasn't such a coward and had confessed to you earlier , everything would have been different now. But better late than never , right?"

You gulp hard.

Now is the time to wake up , y/n, I'm going to be super pissed if this turns out to be a dream, you wonder to yourself.

"So..what you're saying is - "

"I like you , yes. Not as a friend , not as a classmate. I like you as a woman and if you agree to this ," San leans in dangerously closer , "Then I'll like you as a girlfriend, too."

You didn't need time to agree to this. You didn't need a second thought. You only need a small tug at your heartstring , which happened everytime you see his eyes focused on you and only you.

"Yes." You say.

His face breaks into a massive grin as he wraps his arms around you , with yours around his torso. You can feel the fast beating of his heart against your cheek as you snuggle into his chest .

"Thank you. Thank you so much." He whispers into your hair. Your cheeks are burning red by now but it's alright. It's a good type of burning. You can come to like it in the near future.

You don't know how long it is before he finally decides to pull away , much to your dismay.

"I'm going to make breakfast . Are pancakes okay with you?" He says , his arms by his side but his body still close to yours.

"Yeah. Obviously. " You loved his pancakes, as a matter of fact. Once, Jongho had even forced you to confess to San during your college years just so he could eat those delicious pancakes whenever he wanted to.

"Okay. You can go freshen up in the bathroom by then." He then unexpectedly takes your face in his hands , inching closer to yours with every passing second, " Don't miss me too much though."

You pout, playing along , " I already do."

And just like that , he presses his soft , luscious lips to yours, enveloping them in a quick kiss.

"Bye." And just like that too , he runs away into the kitchen , avoiding confronting what had just happened while you are left frozen and shocked and petrified and all synonyms of those words in the English dictionary.

But you hear him hum his favourite song softly from the kitchen and your shoulders relax.

Relax , y/n , you tell yourself , it's just San and he is your boyfriend now.

159 notes · View notes

radiantroope · 4 years

Text

Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter Three - Loose Stitches

chapter summary: What was supposed to be a fun day out on the Druthers takes a turn when you find out the secret everyone’s been keeping from you. Rafe and Topper have a tough conversation.

warnings: minor alcohol consumption, swearing, angst, a bit of fluff

word count: 3.3k+

author’s note: and so it begins. there’s a scene in here that i’m not 100% happy with but i couldn’t re-write it again because i was over it lol. i feel the need to point out that topper and y/n are completely platonic, he’s not pining after her. ok enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

read chapter two here!

series playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist

Your first week back in the OBX had gone without incident. You went to your mother’s chemo treatment with her and sat by her side, holding her hand as you read from a magazine. You hung out with Topper and Kelce at one or the other’s houses and spent some time on the beach. You spent the night with Sarah, who was fully offended you went to see Topper first instead of her, and officially met her boyfriend John B. You and the Pogue knew of each other but had never truly spoken. He wasn’t too keen on you at first until he realized you weren’t like all the other Kooks who stood behind the rivalry.

Janelle had texted you, asking if you were home and a short apology about your mother. She had said she was returning home soon as well and had so much to tell you. You weren’t sure if you were exactly excited to see her and have her drown you in information, especially about Rafe. You’d told her okay but were making plans left and right to try and book up your days so you didn’t have to see her before you were ready.

One of those plans was a day out on the Druthers. Ward had invited your parents and you, of course. You dragged Topper into joining you, not wanting to be a third wheel with Sarah. Wheezie was seventeen now and didn’t follow you or her sister around anymore. He made a fuss about having to be around his ex girlfriend and her insufferable boyfriend, but he couldn’t say no to you — especially when you promised to purchase all of the kegs for his next house party since he was still underage.

When you arrived at the Cameron’s and made your way down to the yacht, you could hear the chatter and laughter of many people. They were all older, friend’s of Ward and Rose and your parents. Some of them you recognized from your going away party and they congratulated you on obtaining your Bachelor’s, gushing to your parents about ‘raising such a fine young woman’. You made your rounds talking to everyone, took the Pacifico Ward offered you, and dragged Topper to the front of the boat.

“If one more person asks me if I’ve seen any celebrities while in Cali, I’m gonna scream,” you grumbled before taking a long swig of the cold beer.

Topper laughed loudly and leaned against the side of the boat, raising one of his fluffy eyebrows, “Well… Have you?”

You pressed your lips together tightly and made a small screaming sound in the back of your throat, swinging your arm and smacking the sandy blonde on the chest. He laughed again, slinking away from your swinging arm. You heard Ward say you’d be leaving soon, just waiting on two more people to arrive.

You took another swig of your beer and fell into conversation with Topper, Sarah and John B. joining you after a beat. They asked how college life was on the West coast and if you’d made any friends. You had, but none of them compared to the people you knew at home. They’d texted a couple of times to check in on you but that was the extent of it. They were shocked to hear you’d held a ten minute conversation with Brad Pitt at a bar and ran into Elizabeth Olsen a handful of times at your favorite Cafe, because yes, you had met celebrities but you weren’t one to brag.

“If you can hook me up with the Scarlet Witch, I’ll marry you right now,” Topper said, eyes wide and completely straight faced.

“Okay, that doesn’t make sense—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Ward’s voice when he playfully says, “There the lovebirds are! Late as usual!”

Your back is turned and Topper and Sarah see it before you. As you go to turn around, the taller boy wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you into his side. Sarah tries to think of something to say to keep your attention on her, stuttering and waving her hands. John B. just looks confused, staring bewilderingly at his girlfriend then glancing at you and Topper.

“Why are y’all being so weird?!” you exclaim, shoving a hand on Topper’s chest to get him off of you.

You spin around before you can be stopped again and your blood runs cold. Your heart hammers in your chest, pounding painfully against your rib cage. You don’t realize your beer has slipped from your grasp until it shatters on the deck, glass flying at your feet. Everyone’s attention turns to you, but you’re staring at the two people who just stepped aboard the boat. Their hands were linked together and the smiles they’d been wearing fell. Your stomach lurched, the lunch you’d had before coming threatening to resurface.

Rafe’s eyes were wide and his face visibly paled as he stared at you. The expression on his face was unreadable and the look his eyes matched. Janelle stepped away from him, her hand coming up as she started to say something to you. Your ears were ringing so loudly you could hear her. Your eyes caught on her left hand, a massive rock sitting on her ring finger, sparkling in the sun.

You felt someone’s hands on you, you didn’t know who, trying to shake you and bring you back to Earth. As realization dawned on you, you turned suddenly, leaning over the side of the Druthers and emptying the contents of your stomach into the ocean. You gasped for breath, tears burning in your eyes from the act of throwing up and the situation itself. Your body started shaking, all of the different emotions hitting you at once and overwhelming you.

“Breathe, Y/N,” Sarah says, pulling your hair out of your face. She glances at Topper who rubs his face and shakes his head. You weren’t supposed to find out this way — none of them wanted you to find out this way. If they had known Rafe would be there, they would have skipped on the boat day and taken you somewhere else.

“Y/N..” you hear Janelle’s hesitant voice, feel her hand on your arm.

You flinched away as if she burned you, into Sarah’s arms, hissing, “Don’t touch me.”

The raven haired girl’s face fell, hands falling limp at her sides. Your head was spinning and your thoughts were moving a thousand miles a second. You could see everyone looking between you, whispering, like this was going to be the hottest gossip on the island. Your mother stood and went to reach for you but you shrank out of the way, out of Sarah’s arms.

Without another word, you made a beeline for the exit of the boat. You caught Rafe’s eye again for half a second, a pained expression on his face as he talked quietly with Ward. You rushed out of the yacht and practically ran up the dock towards Tannyhill, ignoring the calls of your name from behind you. You were choking on your own breath, trying to fight off the tears burning in your eyes.

“Y/N, please, stop,” Topper panted as he finally reached you up by the house.

You scoffed as you turned to look at him and saw your parents as well as Sarah following behind him. You went into the house and began searching for your mother’s purse so you could take the car. Your hands were shaking, a few tears slipping down your cheeks that you wiped away roughly.

“Honey, please,” your mother’s voice was soft, hands grabbing onto your arms to stop your frantic movements.

“You all knew!” you shouted, bottom lip quivering.

“We didn’t know they were coming,” Sarah said softly, nervously twisting her fingers together.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you snapped in response, eyes holding a fire none of them had seen in a long time. You shrugged yourself out of your mother’s grasp, sitting down in a chair in the main living room. You put your head in your hands and asked, “how long?”

Sarah glanced around at the others before saying, “Three and a half years, engaged for almost one.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“They begged me not to tell you,” Topper admitted, mentally kicking himself for agreeing to keep his mouth shut. Rafe may have been his best friend, but so were you. Sarah nodded, silently saying they’d done the same to her. “They said they wanted to tell you themselves.”

“I haven’t spoken to Rafe in five years!” you shouted, throwing your arm up. You tried to keep more tears from falling as you allowed everything to sink in. You’d been bottling up everything you felt for so long it was starting to spill over. Everyone but Topper looked shocked, clearly not knowing the full extent of your damaged relationship with Rafe. They didn’t know he’d cut you off all together, they just thought you didn’t talk as much, drifted apart a little.

“After Thanksgiving, he stopped calling. He stopped answering my texts. We haven’t seen each other since my going away party,” your voice broke at the end, tears steadily flowing down your face at this point. Though, you quickly became angry as you thought about the other person involved. You spit, “Janelle and I talked once a week. I should have known something was up when all she would talk about was Rafe. She never mentioned they were dating, let alone engaged!”

“Your mother and I didn’t want to hurt you, sweetie. It didn’t feel like our place to say anything,” your father said, walking over and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He knew there was more to the story than you were willing to say. They didn’t know how much turmoil you’d been going through the last five years and he felt horrible for not noticing.

You knew it was partially your fault for not saying anything. Maybe this all would have played out differently if you had just been honest and told everyone you and Rafe weren’t even friends anymore, as much as it hurt to admit. Maybe Ward wouldn’t have invited you or would have given you a heads up that his son was coming. Maybe Sarah would have told you Rafe and Janelle were dating and you could have confronted her sooner. Maybe you should have confessed your love to him that day sitting on your bed before you left.

There was no way to change what happened. Like your mother had said, you can’t dwell on the past, you have to live in the present. The sad reality was that Rafe was engaged, to someone who was supposed to be your best friend, and there was no chance you’d tell him how you felt now. He’d gone five years without you and clearly had no intentions to keep you in his life. You had to accept that.

“I just want to go home,” you whispered into your father’s shoulder, holding back a sob.

“I’ll walk with you,” Topper quickly offered, stepping forward, “I wasn’t too keen on his boat day anyway.”

Sarah walked over as you stood up, wrapping her arms around you tightly. She stroked her hand over your back and mumbled, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” you replied, pulling back and taking her cheeks in your hands. You pressed a kiss to the younger girl’s forehead and teased, “I still love you.”

You mother and father both hugged you tightly. You knew they couldn’t skip on this day with Ward, especially now that they had to do damage control for your actions in front of their friends. You mother kissed your cheek and gave you a soft smile, “We’ll talk more about this later, yeah?”

You nodded, allowing Topper to wrap his arm around your shoulders and guide you out the front door. The two of you walked in silence, his arm stayed around you, keeping you close. You felt comfortable but your mind was still reeling. You looked up at him, his indigo eyes meeting your bloodshot ones.

“I’ll still buy you those kegs,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

The boisterous laugh that erupted from Topper’s mouth made you smile slightly. It had taken a long time to mend the broken and cracked pieces of your heart — you thought you’d finally stitched it whole again. The further and further you got from Tannyhill, you could feel the stitches coming loose, the cracks in your heart re-breaking.

—

“You said you talked to her. You told me she was okay with this!” Rafe tried to keep his voice level, not wanting to cause more of a scene on the Druthers. He’d pulled Janelle to the interior of the boat, down into the hallway and away from the prying eyes of his father’s friends. The look your mother had sent him when she came back made his gut twist, your father’s expression was unreadable.

“I was going to tell her when I saw her in person! I didn’t think she’d be here!” Janelle argued, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’ve been keeping us a secret for so long there’s not an easy way to drop that bomb on her!”

Rafe sighed frustratedly and ran a hand through his hair, ruining the slicked back look he’d achieved with the gel. He chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the wall in thought. “Maybe I should go talk to her,” he decided, going to move past Janelle and leave the boat.

“No!” Janelle exclaimed, grabbing onto her fiancé’s arm. “It’s been five years, Rafe. Don’t you think if she wanted to talk, she would have when she saw us? The best thing we can do right now is give her space.”

Rafe knew she was right. He knew he was the last person you wanted to see. He felt his stomach sink at what Janelle said next, “Besides, she obviously left with Topper.”

Topper. His best friend. He remembered after your move Janelle telling him how closely you and Topper remained. After Rafe stopped speaking to you, he took his place. He was the one you called multiple times throughout the week. He was the one you FaceTimed with on Saturday’s. He was the one you spent time with when you visited in the Summer. Jealousy bubbled in his stomach hearing that all those years ago, now the thought just made him sad. Did he make the right choice cutting you off to mend his own heart? Did it make you move on to his best friend instead?

“Come on, honey,” Janelle’s voice broke him from his thoughts as she tugged in his hand. She grinned up at him and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Rose wants to talk wedding plans.”

Rafe smiled and nodded, allowing his fiancée to lead him back out on the main deck. He looked over to where Sarah was cleaning up the glass from the bottle you dropped. John B. was quietly asking her what happened and why you left. Sarah simply shook her head, locking eyes with her brother. She gave him a disappointed frown and retreated into the boat to dispose of the glass.

—

Topper had stayed with you at your house, quietly moving about your room as you napped in your bed. The events that had taken place took a lot out of you. You’d cried some more when you got there, mourning your broken friendships. He laid with you, stroking your hair and whispering a thousand apologies as you sobbed. There was nothing he could say to make it better, but he still tried.

When your parents got home, they peeked into your bedroom. You were still fast asleep, curled with your back to the door and facing the window. Topper sat at the edge of the bed, flipping through the old photo album you still hadn’t touched. There were hundreds, possibly thousands of pictures in there — of him and Kelce, your parents, Sarah and Wheezie, Janelle, but mostly of you and Rafe. Your smile would put the sun to shame with how brightly it shined. The stars in the night sky would be envious of the sparkle your eyes held as you looked at Rafe in the photos. It was painfully obvious how in love you’d been with him back then, if only the boy himself had known.

Your parents thanked him for staying with you, promising to have you call him later that night. He made his way home, heart heavy in chest. He hated being in the middle of his two best friend’s — torn between two sides. How was he supposed to split his time with both of you? He knew you’d be understanding, tell him it was fine because Rafe is his friend. He knew Rafe would have a fit, say he was choosing you over him. As if you all hadn’t known each other the same amount of time. As if he had an upper hand because they were ‘the boys’.

“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for hours,” Rafe’s gruff voice asked from the couch. He had a glass of Topper’s mother’s scotch sitting on the table in front of him. The blonde had seen his truck in the driveway, expecting him to be in that exact position.

“I was at Y/N’s,” Topper replied with a shrug, dropping his keys in the bowl by the front door and kicking off his shoes.

Rafe’s hard demeanor softened a bit at your name. His eyes flashed with a look Topper couldn’t pinpoint before turning cold again. He had every intention of showing up here and genuinely asking if you were okay. He knew he’d hurt you before and even more so now that he was engaged and you had no idea. Though it all went out the window when he heard his best friend had been at your house for hours, alone with you. The blonde grabbed the bottle of scotch off the counter, pouring himself a glass as he prepared for whatever Rafe was about to say to him.

“You two dating now? Just fucking or something?” the brunette scoffed, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Did you really just ask me that?” Topper asked incredulously, face contorting into a look of disgust. You were a gorgeous girl, he wouldn’t deny it, but that was a line he’d never cross. He saw you as the older sibling he never had. He looked at Rafe over the rim of his glass whilst taking a sip. “Why do you care, man? You’re the one who cut her off.”

Rafe chewed on the inside of his lip, shaking his head as he avoided Topper’s gaze, “I don’t.”

“Clearly you do,” Topper argued, crossing the room until he stood at the other side of the coffee table from his best friend. “You ignored her until she stopped trying. You snuck around with her best friend for years, then got engaged to her. You swore everyone to silence and didn’t even tell her yourself like you said you would. You know she never told Sarah or her parents you weren’t even speaking?”

“Okay, Top, I get it,” Rafe said through gritted teeth. He knew what he did, and he knew he was wrong for it. He didn’t need it being thrown back in his face.

“Do you?” the blonde questioned, not thinking his friend was fully grasping the situation. He sat down opposite the brunette and rested his elbows on his knees. “She’s hurt, Rafe. She’s been hurting for the last five years and seeing you today… with Janelle of all people… It was a tipping point.”

Rafe rubbed his hand over his face, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips. He looked at Topper, regret swimming in his pale blue eyes and desperation lacing the tone of his voice, “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know if you can, man,” Topper replied honestly, shaking his head, “My best advice to you right now, is just leave her alone.”

tag list (if you want to be added, shoot me an ask or a message!): @pink-meringues @k-k0129 @solllaris @taiter-tots @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @fttayla @ilovejjmaybank @jjmaybcnks @drewswannabegirl @diverdcwn @royalmerchant @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @obxmermaid @anxietyspacetart-15 @butgilinsky @teenwaywardasgardian @bricksatanakinswindow @fangirlvoice @juliarose21 @skiesofthesketchy @daughterofaphrodite @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @sportygal55 @nqbmf @xenagzb @sweetlysilent @loverofmineluke @aaleksmorozova @meltame17 @summerkaulitz @stupidpendeja @rafej-cambanks @popcrone818 if you want to be removed, please let me know!

#obx #outer banks #obx fic #outer banks fic #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron oneshot #lonely heart #chyna writes

134 notes · View notes

adorethedistance · 4 years

Text

Artist!Harry Styles x reader part 2

Read part one here!

A/n: back by popular demand, here is part 2 of Art student!Harry because the last one was a cliffhanger angst and now it’s sad boi hours. Might do a part three might not. Depends how I'm feeling and how y’all are feeling.

Warnings: implied sex but I’m pretty sure that’s it.

Words: 1112

“I wanna see!”

“No, it’s not done yet. I’m just starting your face, and you haven’t got nipples yet.”

‘“What’s taking so long?” I only have two.” Harry narrows his eyes at me, snorting at my joke in a humorless way.

This is true bliss. I’m laying in bed, topless, as my lover puts my portrait in oil. I want the moment to last forever and I would not trade it for anything in the world. I’m proud to be his muse.

Right now I’m framed between his white bed sheets where we had just spent an incredible night together. When we woke, Harry said he wanted to savor the moment forever and asked if I would sit for a piece for his personal collection. When inspiration hits, it’s like you’ve struck gold, and I wouldn’t dare take that away from him.

“I can paint nipples quite easy. Now hush.” Pulling his brush away from the canvas, Harry pulls his lower lip into his mouth and cinches his eyebrows simultaneously. He adds a few measured strokes before leaning back to look at the canvas entirely. His face relaxes in satisfaction as he plops the brush into the cup of paint water with a splash. Then, he picks up a small, pigment-stained cloth to clean his hands with. His smile remains stagnant as he surveys the canvas in front of him; I see his eyes flick up and down the length of the frame.

“You… are quite a difficult essence to capture, you know that?”

“Why? Because I’m ugly?” Harry lets out a hearty laugh before setting the cloth on his thigh.

“No. Because your eyes are perfect.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I’m serious!” He defends, “Your eye color is so rich that it’s hard to mix up the right paints.” The compliment makes me smile bashfully. No one’s ever told me my eyes are pretty in such an intricate way before. From behind his canvas, Harry peers at me through full lashes, soaking in the joy of my reaction.

I can tell he’s thinking about something and just doesn’t want to say it. I’ll wait. I’ll wait until the end of time to hear what he has to say, so long as he stays by my side.

“You are so beautiful, Y/n Y/m/n.”

The memory makes my stomach churn in agonizing sadness. We were so happy and in love. I don’t hate past Y/n and Harry. I’m just extremely jealous of them.

Jealous because present Y/n and Harry haven’t spoken in a full week. That is, until...

“Oh, I didn’t know you would be here.” Harry keeps his eyes trained on the floor between us. I should hate him. I should be livid, fuming even. He’s the one who shattered my heart into a billion pieces by walking away.

But I don’t. And I’m not. And I hate myself for it.

“I always go to office hours on Tuesday.” He knows that. He knows I’m always at Tuesday office hours because he knows my schedule. “You don’t even have Dr. Morgan. You could’ve at least tried to be nondescript and gone to a professor that we actually share,” I say lamely. I thought me being an undergrad and him studying for an M.F.A would give us contrasting schedules but it didn’t. If anything, it gave us more time to see one another. We used to spend hours in the studio lab just working side by side. Giving each other feedback on our pieces, and laughing through paint fights before getting yelled at by whichever TA was supervising.

When I look down, I see Harry’s holding a brown moleskin journal in his right hand, and in his left, his usual coffee order.

“Is that a black iced coffee with a half packet of sugar?” Kind of a stupid question to ask. I don’t even care for the answer, I just crave the sound of his voice. The rasp of his vocal fry accompanies the deep timbre of his molasses like pacing. His voice is unlike any other that I’ve heard before, but even if it weren’t, I would still miss it just as much.

“It’s actually a full packet ‘cause you weren’t there to finish it and I felt bad about throwing it away,” he states softly while examining the cup much closer than he would if he could bring himself to look at me. Harry would always dump the excess in my cup just to mess with me. Then I’d pretend to be upset but secretly love it.

“Must be a bit sweeter than you wanted.”

“Yeah…”

Please just look at me. I will him silently. I miss the way his face wrinkles when he smiles. I miss running my hands through his hair as he laid in my lap. I miss him holding my hand while he drives. I miss all the little things, all the tiny gestures that made my heart skip a beat.

I miss you, Harry.

“Christ, Y/n can we just talk?”

“Please.”

“Not here. Come back to my place with me.” “H, I need to talk to Morgan. We can talk another time.” And all he does is nod softly, disappointedly. Does he miss me as much as I miss him? What if he’s been fine this entire time and I’m just a loser who can’t move on? Did he ever stop loving Camile?

Each question floods my brain with an even deeper sadness and tears of anguish begin to well up in my eyes. I’m praying he doesn’t notice, but he does. Of course he does.

Against my will the tears dive from my lash line onto the cool, tiled floor and Harry sets his journal and coffee on the display case next to us. He grabs onto the empty canvas I’m gripping as a way to silently ask my permission. I don’t turn away or hold on tighter which allows him to gently slip it from my fingers and set it on the case next to his belongings.

Harry’s always loved wholly and unabashedly, and even though we’re broken up, that hasn’t changed. He wraps one arm around my back and the other cradling my head in his large hand so he can pull me into a tight embrace.

“You looked like you could use a hug,” is all he says to explain his actions. He smells like the cedarwood, mint, and vanilla cologne that he knows is my favorite, which tells me just how non-accidental his ‘running into me’ really was. I’m too miserable to be mad, so I hug back twice as desperately.

“I missed you.”

***

Part three here.

#Harry #Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fanfic #Harry Styles fic #Harry Styles writing #Harry Styles imagine #Harry Styles angst #Harry Styles fluff #Harry Styles blurb #Harry Styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #Harry Styles x you #artist harry #writing #reader insert

159 notes · View notes

spiltscribbles · 3 years

Text

Love Is Not A Victory March

~Notes: :Hiya loves! So yes this is a repost becs I wanted to fix it up and I think it’s much more of an actual story now ty God<3 <3 This is based off the prompt that the ever lovely @goodboylupin gave me for her Candy Hearts challenge, that was literally just, “love letters,” and my dumb brain said I should do this RIP. I literally have photographic proof that I sent RJ that this was meant t be 6k at max lmfaoooo. Also huge thank you to @omgcmere for always being dat bitch to kick me in the ass, and to @mischief-marauders tedddylupin for their kind words, and of course to Angel Anon! I hope y’all don’t hate this!!!

Send Me A Prompt | Reblogging is like giving a hug.-

“Sometimes when you open up to people, you let the bad in with the good.”

-Zack Siler, She’s All That

~*~

The Lion’s just won their third game in a row for the season, which of course dictates that the team celebrates with an after party at the Prewett’s house while their parents are off visiting their older sister and her new born up north in Albany. There’s a Suicideboys song pulsing through the speakers, and a never ending tub of jungle juice besides a truly imposing stack of White Claws towards the back. All the necessary ingredients for a good and proper blow out in Sirius’s humble opinion, even if he has to see Peter Pettigrew’s pasty white ass when he runs through the house screaming that he’s lost his pants before jumping into the backyard’s pool in the midst of people cackling and taking photos for their Snapchat and Instagram stories. Not an irregular occurrence, all things considered, especially when taking into account how fucking tweaky Pettigrew can get when he smokes too much.

But whatever, it’s fine.

Sirius is taking a huff out of the sloppily wrapped joint that Evan Rosier had just handed over— which proofs that if you want anything decently done you have to do it yourself. But it’s whatever, he’s laughing along to a story James is crowing about, the time when they had snuck into a Florida club during spring break of last year— emphatic hand motions and all— and Eleanor Hawthorne is making eyes at him from across the way— a sure lay for tonight— and he’s the one who made the final goal that won them the game against those serpents in the first place. So yeah it’s a good night all put together. It would be a great night if Fabian would stop whining about Emmeline Vance dumping him for the fourth time in as many months of dating after she had caught him half way to fucking a blonde from the local Catholic girl’s school. But he supposes you can’t get everything you want.

“Emmy is the love of my life,” Fabian moans in a truly pitiful way right on queue, interrupting James cackling over how Sirius had flirted so hard with the bartender that they ended up drinking free for half the night. Gideon sums up all their feelings when he just rolls his eyes at his twin before sauntering off to probably go and get busy with Benjy Fenwick upstairs, the selfish bastard.

“Sure she was,” Kingsley says wryly before going back to the game of beer pong that he’s destroying the competition at, and Frank only pats Fabian’s head consolingly.

“I loved her I tell you!” Fabian shouts defiantly before chugging down his fifth claw of the hour, already fucking tipsy— the light weight.

“Get some dignity man, and get over it,” Sirius tells him— this side of derisive.

Fabian glares at him menacingly. “Just because you don’t have a heart Black, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t feel things!”

“I have a heart, I’m just not a bitch bout it,” Sirius sniffs loftily, getting up to stretch and gulps down the rest of his rum and coke, winking at a junior who’s blatantly staring after him and making her flush.

“Have you ever even had a long term relationship in your life? Besides just folks you keep on the back burner for casual hook ups?” Frank asks, a bit slurred before stuffing another handful of Doritos into his mouth. He thinks that just because he and Alice Flores have been mindnumpingly in love since Freshman year Homecoming that the rest of the world is just lost until they find their “other half” like they have, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

“Sure I have Frances, your mom.” No one laughs, and he doesn’t expect them to— that was a pathetic attempt at a joke, and Sirius blames the subpar weed. “’S whatever, I can keep up a relationship if I wanted to.”

“I bet you can’t find someone you haven’t already fucked and dumped to take’m to the Snowflake Formal,” Kingsley goads, effortlessly bouncing another ball into a solo red cup before taking a seat on the arm rest besides frank and chugging from an untouched Miller.

James only shakes his head, muttering a small, “Here we go,” beneath his breath.

“Oh hop off, all I gotta do is not cheat on’m with anything that breathes, learned that one from you Fabs.”

Fabian glares darkly at him, “That was a misunderstanding.”

“Your tongue was down the chick’s mouth.”

“We were on a break!”

“And Joey doesn’t share food!” Frank tacks on with a snort.

Fabian flips him the bird before swiveling his gaze back up at Sirius, “Just admit that you’re an irreverent asshole and can’t hold up a relationship if your life counted on it.”

“Pff,” Sirius tilts his head, starting to get real peeved off. “Let’s make it a bet then. I’ll get a date to take for the formal, just to rub it in your fucking face Prewett.”

“Guys, this is a bad idea.” James interjects.

“I think it’s an amazing one,” Kingsley counters, pixelated gleam in his dark eyes.

“I think you’re all off your rockers,” Frank intones with far too much gravity.

Sirius sighs. “No more comments from the peanut gallery for the love of Christ.”

“Not only a date, a full blown relationship for the next three months! Gotta make the poor fucker believe it too.” Fabian clarifies, to which Sirius only shrugs, indifferent to the caveat. “Then you’re on Black! And if you lose, you gotta streak the entire crowd during the championship game!”

Sirius agrees easily, knowing full and well that he won’t lose to the bastard. “And if I win, you gotta hand over that motorcycle you and your dad have been fixing up over the summer.”

“deal.”

“Deal.”

They shake on it with matching smirks of condescension.

“This is going to be so, so bad.”

Acting as if James hadn’t even spoken, Fabian gets up to meet Sirius eye to eye. “Next person to walk through the door is your conquest.”

“Fine with me.”

“I don’t like this at all.”

Everyone continues to ignore James, to busy keeping up a death stare towards the entrance of the living room— Sirius’s stomach dropping six feet under and his heart clenched when not even a minute passes and it’s no other than Remus Lupin who ambles through the threshold, looking so adorably flustered until spotting Dorcas Meadowes— president of both the STEM club and the black student union— who quickly envelopes him into a hug before they stroll towards the garden by the smokers.

ANd shit.

Keep Reading

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #HP FIC #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #FIC: SHE'S ALL THAT #SPILT INK

22 notes · View notes

ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

to have and to hold

request from nonnie: Hey I'm 17 and still sleep with stuffed animals.... can you write something where George finds out and teases you about it? I know I'm a bit weird but I cuddle in my sleep so it's hoard stuffed animals or kidnap my cat (dangerous).

word count: 3.3k

pairing: george x reader

A/N: y’all i love this—totally nothing wrong with sleeping with stuffed animals, THEY’RE SO CUDDLY! and that’s what they’re for! thank you for reading and requesting, i’m so grateful for you all, and in case anyone’s wondering, i’m still irrevocably head over heels for these silly boys. also the title’s a tad misleading but there’s no marriage in this but it’s definitely all FLUFF because i’m a dork

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 | message me if you’d like to be added darlings!

The Sorting Hat cries Ravenclaw! as a young, brown haired girl jumps from the stool and gleefully makes her way over to her respective House table.

Everyone begins to clap, and although he doesn’t feel much like it, George does too.

He’s a bit taken aback when you say to him suddenly, “I can’t believe that was us only a few short years ago.”

Just a few months ago, it seemed as though your seventh and final year at Hogwarts was still a long while away. It couldn’t be creeping up that quickly, could it? You both met only six years ago in Transfiguration, but it feels like a lifetime. George grins at the memory. But now, sitting and watching the newest first years get placed into their Houses, he’s feeling the nerves of the finality of it all—even though you’re not there yet. Not exactly.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he asks you, watching another student jump up excitedly and run to the Hufflepuff table. More claps ensue. “There’s no way this is our last year here, right? We must be dreaming, or something.”

A small smile tugs at the edges of your lips, and George feels his insides go warm. “Of course,” you reply, “we’re dreaming.”

“Would you two quit being so melancholy?” Fred takes you by surprise when he kicks both of you underneath the table. “It’s our final year! It’s exciting! We’ve got loads of mischief planned, Y/N, and we expect your help.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s absolutely no way I’m going to be able to get out of this, is there?”

The twins smile and chorus together, “Nope.” before diving head first into the feast that’s just appeared in front of you all.

“Ah well—it is exciting, isn’t it? We’ve got a lot to look forward to!” you tell them, cutting into the piece of chicken on your plate, “and besides.. with whatever you two have planned? I reckon I’m bound for some type of adventure. Things could be worse, right?”

Just then, a sickeningly sinister giggle emits from the front of the Great Hall; the three of you look at a woman dressed in all pink, whose face resembles that of an old toad, chatting animatedly with Dumbledore who’s looking positively woebegone.

“Ugh,” you say, looking back and forth between the twins, “maybe I’ve spoken too soon.”

— -

You’re tiptoeing next to George in the middle of the corridor; you keep whirling around to check if anyone’s behind you. Months, you’ve been doing this. He can’t help but grin at your flustered state. “D’you really think this is a good idea?” you ask him stealthily as the two of you meander throughout the castle halls.

“Of course,” he replies, squeezing your hand. But inside, he’s just not entirely sure. By the sounds of what Harry’s said, getting detention with Umbridge is no walk in the park. He turns back to you and continues, “Don’t worry—Harry knows what he’s doing. Plus, we haven’t been caught yet, have we?” He jabs you in the ribs and teases you, “Where’s that sense of adventure we so admire? Oi, here’s Fred and Ginny.”

Just then, the two Weasley siblings round the bend and quite literally bump into you both. Fred says quietly, “Merlin help me—I can’t ever remember where this bloody room is,”

“Seventh floor, across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy,” you reply in a lowered voice, your eyes shifting across the corridors, “so you’ve got a flew floors to go, Freddie.”

Both he and George laugh; Fred continues, “You’d think after months of going to these meetings, I’d remember where it is?”

“Why am I not surprised?” Ginny elbows Fred, teasing him slightly. “C’mon then, let’s go—looks like the coast is clear,”

The four of you make your way up two more flights of steps, sneak past the tapestry, and finally find yourselves inside the Room of Requirement.

It’s an easy lesson today; with the impending Christmas holidays, everyone is in quite a chipper mood—the Room of Requirement has a light, airy feel to it, and everyone seems to be doing their best at all of the defensive magic Harry’s taught so far—even Neville! When he dismisses you for the day, noting that you probably won’t meet again until the New Year, a dramatic groan nearly shakes the room—it seems as though everyone wants to stay.

When you all land back in the common room and take a seat next to the fire, Fred immediately begins to market his and George’s products to a bunch of excited looking Gryffindors; to you, George just shrugs.

“Oh, that reminds me,” you begin, standing up from the couch and gesturing George toward the dormitory, “I think I’ve fixed that little issue with the Fever Fudge.”

George grins broadly; there’s not many people he and Fred trust with their products, but you? You’re basically a third owner. He stops short, though, at the stairs leading up to the girls dormitories. You shake your head and say, “No worry, most everyone’s gone home for the holidays already. Plus—I’ve already hoodwinked whatever spell the professors have cast.”

“So I won’t get caught, then?”

“Nah,” you reply, urging him forward, “I’m strangely brilliant at derailing bits of professional magic,”

He beams at you at this and follows up to the girls dormitory, leaving Fred with a room full of students eager to get their hands on all Weasley products.

It doesn’t look as different from the boys' dorms as he thinks; it’s pretty much the same setup, same four posters, similar looking curtains. He shrugs, thinking, Nothing to worry about, but when he notices you plop down on your bed, he suddenly feels his insides constrict. You pat the spot next to you and say, “Well c’mere, won’t you?”

He places himself down next to you, careful not to mess your very neat bedspread, while he watches you rummage through a bit of your trunk. “Ah—here we are,” you say brightly, pulling out the box of Fever Fudge you’d hidden so as not to be stolen, “good as new, Georgie. The fevers, now, should stop at the appropriate number we’ve discussed—they shouldn’t continue to spike as the evenings go on. Any problems, let me know!”

“You’re brilliant, truly,” he says, peering down at the box of his own inventions. “How did you get so bloody good at this?”

You smile sweetly at him and flip your hair, “Just got lucky, I suppose.”

He laughs and is about to head back downstairs, careful not to mess up anyone’s things, when he spots a little brown bear on your bed near your pillows. His lips curl into a grin, “Erm.. Y/N,” he begins, pointing to the stuffed bear, “what is that?”

Suddenly you jump onto your bed and try to secretly slip this tiny little animal behind all of your pillows. The rosy pink color of your cheeks is evident in the sunlight flooding the windows, “Erm—what’s what, George?”

He places the box of fever fudge down on the table next to your bed, and walks slowly over to you. With a mischievous grin on his face, he continues, “Don’t make me jump on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“But I would.”

And as soon as he says it, he does it; he flops down dramatically, ruining your very tidy sheets. He begins to poke you in the ribs, a tickling of some sort, to try and get you to move. It seems to work, because he grabs the bear from behind your back and you both fall backwards, next to one another, laughing quite animatedly.

He waits with bated breath for you to explain yourself. “Shove off, Georgie,” you say, stealing the bear back from him, twirling it in your fingers and peering at it. You offer to continue, “My mum gave him to me when I was a baby. When I was born. A little ‘coming home’ gift, if you will.”

“You mean to tell me,” George begins, “that you’ve had this for seventeen years?”

You roll your eyes and stifle a bit of laughter. You roll off of the bed, stand up, and place the bear delicately into your trunk. You pull George into an upright position and say, “This conversation’s over. C’mon—let’s bring Fred the fixed Fever Fudge,”

“This conversation is certainly not over,” he teases.

“It’s a source of comfort, you git!” you reply, slapping him playfully across his chest.

“Comfort,” he echoes through a chuckle, “right. And he’s here now because.. you need comforting after a long Potions lesson with Snape?”

You slap him again as you both begin to laugh. “Yes,” you tell him straightforwardly, “and there’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, after a long day, I just need something to hug, to hold whilst I sleep, alright? Quit the teasing,”

Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to pull you into an embrace washes over George; he wants, more than anything, to just curl up with you on your bed right now, and to hug you for as long as you need. He’s about to do so, when you pull him by his hand and say, “Oh come on—can’t leave your brother waiting, can we?”

George can’t help himself; he just needs to tease you. Just a little bit more. He begins to tickle your waist when he calls in a sing-song voice down the stairs, “Oh, Freddie!”

You turn and grab his arms; even though he’s feeling rather mischievous, the butterflies are swirling around his stomach, as well. A sinister smirk tugs at the edges of your lips and he feels as though his entire body goes rigid when you wink at him, “Don’t you dare.”

— -

When Ginny enters the portrait hole, she’s surprised to see George slumped in an armchair and not with Fred, off creating some sort of chaotic mischief right underneath Umbridge’s nose.

“No pranks today?” she asks, sinking beside him on the couch.

“Reckon you didn’t see Angelina hanging all over Fred in the Great Hall, then?”

“Guess I must’ve missed it,” she rolls her eyes, and they both smile. “Speaking of—how are things going with Y/N?”

George is slightly taken back; he peers at Ginny with a confused expression and she just shakes her head at him. He knows that everyone else sees right through him, but he never expected his younger sister to bring it up. Guess he’s the type of bloke who wears his heart on his sleeve. “Erm, I mean—things are fine.”

“Things are most certainly not fine. Why haven’t you told her?”

George has been preparing for this—whether it was to come from a sibling or a friend—he knew, down the line, someone would question him as to why you two aren’t together. He slumps back into the couch and twirls his wand in both his hands. “Well—‘cause, we’re leaving soon, aren’t we? Fred and me. Just doesn’t make sense at this point.” He sinks a little lower, and his face turns sullen. “I’ve missed my chance. It’s too late, Gin.”

Just then, you pop inside with Dean and Seamus, giggling animatedly about some silly joke one of them made, and you raise your hand to George and Ginny before quickly heading upstairs to the girls dormitory to change out of your uniforms. There’s a tug at George’s heart—if only he could sneak up there without anyone seeing.

“Hey,” Ginny snaps her fingers at him, interrupting his thoughts and bringing him out of his daydream-like state, “It’s never too late.”

“You think?”

Ginny raises her eyebrows when she notices you coming back down the stairs and making a b-line right toward them. Quietly, she tells him, “I reckon she’ll think the same.”

When you seat yourself down next to them and Ginny quickly changes the conversation, George can’t help but grin goofily at the bunny slippers you have on. You sit yourself comfortably on the couch next to him, cross your legs, and blow lightly on your steaming cup of tea while Ginny relays the story of her brilliant Bat Bogey hex in the last DA meeting to you. Each and every time you smile broadly, George can feel himself shifting closer and closer to you.

— -

“The devil incarnate, she is,” Ron tells his siblings darkly. He peers down at the top of his hand, running his fingers over his silky smooth skin, knowing exactly what is about to happen as the DA prepares for a detention with Umbridge.

Harry shakes his head and replies, “Just try not to think on it all too much. It’ll be over before we know it.” He’s still looking on edge, sleep deprived. The whispers of other members can be heard slightly as Umbridge makes her way down the corridors.

“How is this even legal?”

“Where’s Professor Dumbledore? She can’t possibly get away with this.”

The Great Hall is darker than normal; the hour and a half spent there is some of the most draining George has felt in his entire life. It’s as if the writing alone is setting his soul on fire. Or, perhaps, is it the weak smile and look of pure anguish you give him from a few rows over? He can’t help but feel extremely protective, and he’s shooting daggers at Umbridge each and every chance he gets.

When you’re all finally released, Umbridge giggles in a mocking, satisfied tone. She makes her way back to her office as all of the members of the DA walk begrudgingly back to their common rooms, completely ignoring the apologies of Marietta Edgecombe, who, by the looks of it, is now regretting her decision of giving up the DA to Umbridge.

The Gryffindor common is filled with students looking positively sullen, almost each and every one of them running their fingers over their red, raw, and bloodied hands. George hops through the portrait hole and notices you in the corner, talking animatedly with Ginny and Fred.

“I swear,” Fred’s saying as George sits himself down next to you, “she’s barking mad.”

“You’d think she’d end up in Azkaban after pulling a stunt like this,” you agree, tracing the outline of the cuts on your hand with your finger, “but I reckon she can get away with anything.”

“I reckon you’re right,” George says, leaning his arms on his knees. He takes a deep breath and opts to continue, “how could she possibly get away with something like this?”

Ginny offers, “It’s the bloody Ministry.”

There’s a collective groan from all of you. Ginny shakes her head and continues, “Mum and Dad are going to go wild, you know; this isn’t over. By the way, speaking of Mum and Dad—you two planning on telling them that you’re leaving in a few weeks time?”

George suddenly feels his heart stop. Next to him, you look frantically back and forth between him and Fred, a confused expression plastered across your face. Fred is shaking his head, Ginny’s cheeks are flooding with color, and George is dreading the next conversation.

“You’re—you’re leaving?” you ask, stunned. “When?”

“Gin, we only told you because you overheard us the other night,” Fred says through gritted teeth. Then, he softens and says to George, “but.. I reckon it’s maybe time we tell a few people, eh Georgie?”

“Oh no,” Ginny says sheepishly, looking down at the floor. But you just grin weakly at her as she pulls Fred to his feet and they make their way over to the other end of the common room, most likely to tell Ron of their plans. You hope Ginny isn’t feeling too guilty.

George swallows thickly and then begins, “I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head at his apology, “You don’t need to apologize to me.” You place your hand over his and wait with bated breath for him to tell you what’s going on. You smile broadly at him when he begins to explain.

“We’re, erm, heading out a bit early, you see,” George begins, his eyes shifting from yours to the floor, “we’ve got these grand plans for a business to open up—in Diagon Alley, actually.. sell our inventions. Reckon it could become quite successful if we market correctly—”

His heart is thundering against his rib cage, surely trying its best to escape his chest, and he’s nervous that you’re not going to approve, you’re going to be angry, you won’t ever talk to him again. But to his surprise, you throw your arms around him excitedly and pull him into a bone crushing hug. He’s relaxing in your arms as he listens to your squeals of delight, breathing in the scent of your hair, focusing on the way your body feels beneath his fingertips. And when you pull away from him and shake his shoulders slightly, with both a bright smile on your face and tears in your eyes, you tell him, “I’m so proud of you!”

You’re talking quickly, shaking your head admiringly, throwing your hands into the air and running them through your hair, chuckling lightly, blinking quickly to push back any tears rising to the surface, but he can’t even hear what you’re saying. All George can hear is the pounding in his ears from the steady beat of his own heart, and not before long, he’s laughing at your exasperated state and is leaning in to kiss you, pressing his lips gently to yours and melting into something that’s been building up for years and years. The tension and surprise is subsiding, and you’re playing absentmindedly with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck and you’re both ignoring the annoying whistles from his siblings near the fireplace, and you’re quite certain that George is making a rather inappropriate hand gesture at them across the room for interrupting your moment.

When you two finally part, George grins broadly at you, his hands still shaking slightly due to the adrenaline rush and he asks you, not bothering to answer Fred’s whistles at all, “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?!” you cry out, still obviously rather electrified from both the news and the kiss, “No! I’m not mad.. how could I be? I’m so excited for you both. I hope you’ll know I’ll be coming round to visit all the time.”

“Well, you better,” he replies cheekily, pulling at the collar of your shirt. Then, “I’m really going to miss you these last few weeks.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you reply breathlessly, and he now feels a tug at his heartstrings. He’s feeling nervous. Off balance. Do you still want to be with him after he leaves? Can you two survive on letters alone until after you graduate? “Do you, erm—I mean, I know I’m leaving, but—”

You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs over the light stubble on his cheeks. A feeling of warmth overtakes him when you grin, peering into his yearning eyes, “We’ll make it work.”

He pulls you into his arms, and the calls from Fred and the others don’t seem to subside in the slightest. “We’re being summoned,” you tell George, leaning back against his chest. You pull out some of their inventions from your own pocket, things they’d given you early on; a pygmy puff, a screaming yo-yo, extendable ears, and more. You begin fiddling with them in your fingers and George grins against your shoulder.

“D’you want to go?”

You intertwine one of your hands in his. “Just hold me for a while first, would you?”

He giggles softly and wraps his arms tighter around you. Teasing begins to bubble up inside him and he can’t help it, he just has to say it. “Don’t you want to go and get your bear first?”

He expects the playful slap across his chest, he grins goofily when you begin to laugh, but what he doesn’t expect is what you say next. He’s practically putty in your hands when he pulls you closer and breaths in your scent when you reply,

“Reckon I don’t need it—I’ve got something else to hold, now.”

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated! thanks for reading darlings, ily so <3

205 notes · View notes