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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years

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hear those bells ring: chapter 3 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo wakes up with his hearing and a bunch of questions.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 3, I had to work over the weekend. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo woke up confused, disoriented, and pissed off.

He bolted upright, the taste of smoke and ash still on his tongue, but when he whipped his head from side to side, there was no fire, no burning asphalt, no villain, only the empty, dark expanse of his apartment.

But something was still tugging at him, fucking incessantly, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone alarm.

Red eyes flicked to the device on his bedside table, and even though its continuous siren was like nails on a chalkboard, Bakugo found himself unable to move, unable to stop it.

Because he could hear the alarm. Clearly. Loudly.

He hadn’t been able to hear his phone alarm in weeks, not really. It was nothing more than a muffled tone that petered out toward the end as it rose in pitch and frequency. Thankfully, Bakugo’s internal alarm got him up most days around the sun, but he’d been late to morning patrols a handful of times.

But now…

Numbly, Bakugo finally reached out and tapped his phone. His ears rang slightly in the ensuing silence, but it was barely perceptible, nothing like the perpetual buzzing he’d been living with, like a hive of bees had taken up residence in his head.

The quiet, after so long, was almost… unsettling.

And it was all because of that woman. He was sure of it.

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about you, the memories of last night flooding back. The blurry image of your face, crouched over him, splattered in a thin mist of red blood and dusted with white plaster. He couldn’t remember much from right after he blasted that villain into the fucking dirt. He remembered the feel of glass breaking around him, and pain, a lot of fucking pain, but then it was black until you appeared. When he’d opened his eyes and met yours, he recalled thinking he should be in more pain, but then you spoke to him and derailed all coherent thought.

Because he’d heard you. Clear as fucking day.

That immediately drew his attention, and so did the blood all over your hands.

There was a lot of it. Way too fucking much for nicking yourself on some glass or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. And Bakugo knew it was bullshit. You weren’t a convincing liar. Well, maybe to some idiot extras you would be, but not to him. He clocked the way you stuttered, the way you fidgeted and averted your eyes. And when you looked at him… fuck, your face was so goddamn guilty.

Why, he had no idea.

But he did know one thing.

You had a healing quirk. There was no other explanation.

Even if he hadn’t just miraculously recovered the hearing that a doctor told him he would never get back, there were a lot of other little discrepancies. His left arm, for one. Bakugo remembered how it felt when the villain’s asphalt wrapped around his limb, the burning, scalding agony of it. But now, the skin was just pink and barely blistered in some places.

Then there was the blood.

When he’d gotten home after ditching the crime scene, Bakugo had immediately beelined for his bathroom to take a shower. But, when he stripped off his hoodie, he realized it was heavier than it should be right before he noticed it was dripping onto his floor. Dripping blood. Without thinking, he’d wrung the hoodie out on the bathroom floor, and a fuck ton of red liquid seeped out of it.

He had immediately dropped the jacket and started scanning his body in the bathroom mirror, but besides the shallow gash on his abdomen, the burned arm, and a few other minor scrapes and bruises, he was uninjured.

But… his back was coated in red, and so were the seat of his dark jeans and boxer briefs. It was almost like… he’d been lying in a pool of blood.

So, you had to be a healer. You just had to be.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to confirm this since the cops had been circling you like vultures. He also hadn’t wanted to be bitched at by any more heroes, or the fucking media, so he made himself scarce.

But he needed to see you again. Needed to hear the truth from your own mouth.

And maybe he could coax you into a deal.

The doctor Bakugo spoke to yesterday obviously hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. He had made it sound impossible to fix the blond’s ears, and yet you’d somehow done it easily, in the middle of a fucking battlefield.

With that kind of power, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf or designing stupid hearing aids with some company.

With that kind of power, Dynamight would become Japan’s Number One Hero in no time.

But first, he had to find you.

Resolved, Bakugo shoved the covers off and slid out of bed, but before he could make it to his bathroom, someone started knocking on his front door.

No, not knocking. Banging. It sounded like they were trying to break the fucking door down.

“Bakubroooooooo!”

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bakugo grumbled as he padded to his front door. He was only dressed in boxer briefs, but that’s what the idiot got for barging over so early in the damn morning.

The banging persisted, growing louder and more fervent.

“I’m fuckin’ comin!” the blond shouted just before he undid the deadbolt and wrenched open the door.

Eijiro Kirishima, dressed in his Red Riot costume, blinked on the other side of the threshold, his fist still raised to knock.

“What the fuck, bro?” he asked after a moment of just staring at Bakugo.

The blond immediately scowled. “That’s my fuckin’ line. What are you doing breaking down my door at six in the damn morning?”

“Excuse me?” his patrol and agency partner scoffed. “I’m obviously coming to check that you’re not dead since you’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.”

“What?” Bakugo frowned. “I saw you yesterday morning for patrol.”

“Noooooo,” Kirishima drawled like Bakugo was a particularly stupid child. “That was two days ago, bro. Then that night, I see you all over the damn news, and no one could get ahold of you all day yesterday. I would have come to check on you sooner, but I’ve been having to play damage control with the media because someone decided to blow up a residential neighborhood.”

“Two days?” Bakugo echoed with a furrowed brow. He’d slept that long?

“Have you been passed out this whole time, dude?” Kirishima groaned as he shouldered his way into the apartment. “I guess that means you got none of our messages?”

“Our?” the blond grumbled as he closed the door and followed the redhead to the kitchen bar.

“Yeah, Denki, Mina, Sero.” Kirishima waved his hand dismissively, marching over to the counter where Bakugo kept the fruit and selecting an apple from the wire basket. “I even asked Izuku to message you, just to see if he’d actually get a rise and response from you.”

“I don’t need stupid Deku knowing about my problems, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo growled before he stomped over to his fridge to see what he had to eat because he was suddenly starving.

“Well, that would imply I know your problems, Oh Great Lord Dynamight,” Kirishima snorted and took a bite of apple. “So, what the fuck happened the other night?”

“I blew up a residential neighborhood,” the blond deadpanned as he turned on his stove, cracking a few eggs into a skillet.

“Yeah, I saw that. I was more wondering about what led up to it.”

“What the fuck do you think led up to it?” Bakugo snapped, rummaging through his cupboard for seasonings. “I was walking home from getting a drink, and a damn villain just popped up in front of me.”

“From what I heard, there were other heroes there, too,” the redhead mumbled around another bite of apple.

“Yeah, fuckin’ useless extras,” Bakugo sneered as he started to whisk his eggs with a pair of chopsticks, throwing in some leftover white rice and a bit of nori. “They obviously weren’t getting anywhere, and the bastard was tearing up the street, so I stepped in.”

“To finish destroying the street?” Kirishima cocked an eyebrow, chewing noisily.

“Fuck off,” the blond said with an eyeroll.

Internally, though, Bakugo knew the redhead was right. He’d been sloppy, careless, probably still borderline drunk. But he’d just been so angry about the doctor’s appointment, his fucked-up ears, his bleak and silent future. He had just wanted to break something, hurt someone, consequences be damned.

Except now the consequences were catching up to him.

Fuck, he didn’t even want to think about what his citizen’s approval rating must be now.

Silence stretched between the two pro heroes for several long minutes, in which Bakugo finished making his breakfast and Kirishima finished gnawing on his apple core. The blond quickly shoveled a few bites of eggs and rice into his mouth, but his scarlet eyes kept flicking over to the redhead.

“How bad?” he finally asked.

Kirishima, to his credit, had learned how to translate Bakugo’s curt grunts years ago.

“Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s not that bad,” he sighed, tossing the apple core in the trash and scratching at the back of his head. “Could be worse. From the reports I read, most of the damage—besides the road—is superficial. Broken windows, charred and peeling paint, a few busted cars that we’re still trying to figure out if our insurance or the city’s will pay for. It also helped that you saved two people. That definitely softened the blow.”

“Two?” Bakugo mumbled around one of his last bites. “I just remember the stupid extra on the street that I shoved out of the way.”

As the memory flashed through his mind, Bakugo frowned. He’d shoved that extra out of the way and got snatched by a giant asphalt hand for his troubles. The blond’s red eyes dropped to his pink and blotchy left arm and then trailed over to his chest. He recalled the sensation of his ribs snapping under pressure, but now only a mild soreness lingered after he took a deep breath. Yet another inconsistency…

“Yeah, two,” Kirishima said and drew Bakugo out of his thoughts. “Do you seriously not even remember your own heroics? And that girl had such nice things to say about you, too.”

“Girl?” Bakugo snapped his head up. “The girl whose… apartment I fell into?”

“Crashed into, dude,” the redhead snorted, but then he narrowed his eyes as a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “But yeah. Sounds like you remember her, huh?”

Bakugo didn’t like the smug look on his friend’s face.

“I remember her fuckin’ yellin’ at me.” The blond scowled. “Like I wrecked her place on purpose and didn’t just save her whole block from a lunatic.”

“I mean, to be fair, if you crashed into my house, bro, I would have yelled at you, too.” Kirishima grinned. “But don’t worry, she’s fine. In fact, when she called the agency yesterday, she asked for you specifically.”

“She did? Why?” Did she want to confess her healing quirk? Fuck, were there side effects Bakugo didn’t know about?

“Bro, seriously.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “You’re Japan’s Number Two Hero, and you saved her life. And, like Mina keeps telling you, you’re not as ugly when you stop scowling.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo flipped him off before he went to dump the dishes in the sink.

“Yes, dear.” The redhead smirked. “But, in all seriousness, she called to figure out how to file a claim with our insurance. Or at least that’s what she said, but she also asked how you were doing, and she actually sounded genuinely worried.”

Worried that a random side effect was going to kill him? Or worried that he would say something about her quirk? She’d obviously hidden it for a reason, tried to lie for a reason.

And Bakugo was determined to find out just what that reason was.

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he grunted as he rinsed off his plate and put it on the drying rack. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.”

“I can see that,” Kirishima said as he eyed the butterfly stitches stretched across the gash on Bakugo’s abdomen. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t find you dead in a pool of your own blood. That woulda been a real bummer way to start the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered before he averted his eyes to the living room window across from him. “So… what did you tell her?”

“The girl?”

“No, you’re fuckin’ mom,” the blond scoffed.

“Oh, speaking of moms, you might want to text Mitsuki. I called her last night after you ignored my billionth text, so she’s probably going crazy wondering where you are.” Kirishima grinned and then immediately dodged out of the way as Bakugo hurled a fork at him.

“You bastard!” Bakugo hissed. “Now, I’m going to have to see that hag this weekend or she’s gonna fuckin’ barge over here.”

“Maybe you should turn the ringer up on your phone.” The other hero shrugged, ducking again when Bakugo chucked an apple in his direction.

The blond scowled at his friend, but he didn’t reply.

If you and your quirk were the real deal, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about missing a call ever again.

When Kirishima realized the projectiles had stopped, he popped his head over the back of the couch and smirked. “But to answer your previous question, I told the girl we would handle the insurance claim on our end if she sent us her info. And I didn’t really have anything to tell her about you since, like I’ve said, I thought you were dead. Kinda. I was at least thirty percent sure.”

“Have you filed the insurance claim?” Bakugo asked.

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “She hasn’t sent in the info yet.”

“Well… we should go get it from her.”

This caused the redhead’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline, and the surprise on his face quickly made Bakugo backtrack.

“I just… want to get this shitshow over with,” he grumbled as he averted his eyes again, but he could feel a traitorous heat crawling across the bridge of his nose. “The longer her apartment’s all fucked up, the longer the press is gonna rake me over the coals. The hero ranking’s aren’t far off, and I’m not going to lose to Deku again over some stupid broken windows.”

“Righttttt,” Kirishima drawled, but his tone was mocking. “Okay, well, I know the hotel the police have set her up at. After we swing by the agency, we can head that way… to get her insurance info.”

He still sounded unconvinced and like he wanted to needle Bakugo more, but the blond changed the subject quickly.

“Why do we have to go to the agency?” Bakugo asked, and he frowned as he glanced back at his partner. “Even if I lost yesterday, my next scheduled patrol isn’t till tonight.”

“Oh, I know.” Kirishima nodded solemnly. “But Nao wanted to have… a word with you ASAP, if I confirmed you weren’t dead.”

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Bakugo groaned as he dropped his head back. If there was anything Bakugo hated more than the press, it was his actual PR manager. That old hag was good at her job, which meant she was always up Bakugo’s ass about something, and he knew she was going to have a field day with this shitfest.

“Yeah, I’d recommend coffee and preemptive painkillers before we head in,” Kirishima said. “Plus, some putting on clothes. Maybe we can stop on the way and get her something sweet as a bribe.”

“No amount of sugar is gonna make that bitch nice to me,” Bakugo grumbled before he spun on heel and started marching to his bedroom.

“Maybe flowers then?” the redhead shouted after him.

Bakugo slammed the door in response.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugo growled around his cargo, kicking his foot out at Kirishima. “Why did I listen to you? I’ve had to go shopping twice today now.”

“Come on,” his friend laughed as he dodged the blow, which made the bags in his arms crinkle. “You can’t deny the flowers and cookies sweetened ole’ Nao up.”

“To you,” Bakugo muttered, shifting the package in his arms a bit. “She still yelled at me for fifteen minutes.”

“Well, you kinda deserved i—yow!” Kirishima yelped as Bakugo kicked him squarely in the ass this time. “This isn’t helping your image, bro!”

“No one even knows it’s us,” the blond hissed.

“Yeah, I guess the hoodies and sunglasses help,” the other pro hero mused.

“And the fact that we’re carrying all this stupid shit.”

“It’s not stupid.” Kirishima frowned in that earnest way of his, which made Bakugo roll his eyes. “It’s thoughtful to bring gifts to people who are having a difficult time. Especially when you made that time difficult. You basically kicked her out of her house, dude, not to mention her shop.”

A wave of guilt actually washed through the blond, which he didn’t like. It made his throat feel tight and his stomach churn, and he glanced away from the redhead with a scowl.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we aren’t gonna pay for it.”

The excuse felt flat, even to him.

“Still,” Kirishima said as he shifted the bags in his grip, pulled out his phone, and consulted the map. “It must be stressful. So, we’re going to be nice to her, alright? Which starts with the gifts.”

“And how is a fuckin’ fruit basket supposed to help?” Bakugo asked as he glared around the overflowing mound of crinkling plastic and bright fruit that he held against his chest.

“Uh, one, it’s practical. Her apartment’s all fucked up, the power’s probably still out if not inconsistent on the street, and she’s been living in a hotel for two days, so she probably hasn’t had some nice fresh fruit in a while. And two, it looks nice!”

“We coulda just left this shit at the hotel,” Bakugo grumbled. “She has to go back there eventually, right?”

After old Nao chewed his ass out, Bakugo and Kirishima had gone to the hotel the police said they’d put you up in. Except you weren’t fucking there, and the number you left with Kirishima when you called the agency was going straight to voicemail, so here there were, fucking trekking through the city with a bunch of useless shit.

Bakugo just kept reminding himself it would be worth it when he got the truth about your quirk out of you.

“Nope,” Kirishima said and drew the blond out of his thoughts. “The city only pays the first two days after an emergency, unless the villain caused all the damage, but, uh, that’s not the case here, so we’ll be accommodating her until her apartment gets fixed up.”

“At the agency?” Bakugo asked as his red eyes clicked over to his partner.

As the Number Two and Three Heroes, the two of them had built a solid agency together. Bakugo still didn’t care for a bunch of extras riding on his tailcoats, so they had few sidekicks, all of whom reported to Kirishima and left him the fuck alone for the most part. But they owned a nice, sleek building in a nicer part of town, and one of the floors was dedicated to individual rooms with beds and other amenities. They were usually used when Bakugo, Kirishima, or the other sidekicks wanted to crash after patrol instead of going home—which Bakugo did more often than not—but they’d never had a civilian stay on the premises.

Until now.

“Yessssss, at the agency,” the redhead drawled as a shit-eating smirk crawled across his face. “So, you’ll be seeing a lot of her for the next couple weeks.”

“Wipe that stupid look off your face.” Bakugo scowled and shouldered past the other hero, who snickered as he jogged to catch up.

“Take the next left up ahead.”

“Shut up!” the blond growled, but he followed the instructions.

This was good news, though. Bakugo wouldn’t have to trek to this shitty part of town more than he had to.

And he’d have a healer just down the hall.

They marched along in silence for a few minutes, keeping their heads down, but there wasn’t much foot traffic. Bakugo was lost in his thoughts, planning out the questions he was going to ask you once he could distract Kirishima, but the redhead suddenly stopped in front of him.

“Hey,” Bakugo grunted as the fruit basket crinkled against the other hero’s back. He hadn’t even notice Kiri get in front of him again. “What’s the damn hold up?”

“Holy shit, dude,” Kirishima muttered, staring out at the road he’d just turned onto.

“What?” the blond grumbled, shoving past his friend, but then he stopped, too. “Oh… yeah.”

The street in front of him looked much worse in the bright light of midday. The road was a torn-up mess, more patches of dirt and gravel than actual asphalt. Most of the large-scale debris had been hauled away, but black scorch marks covered the sidewalks in long, dark smears. The walls of several businesses also bore charring along the facades, but most of the damage was focused in the center of the street. A crater nearly six feet deep was carved into the middle of the road, and the buildings on either side were blackened, their broken windows gaping voids.

And then there was the hole in what Bakugo remembered as your second-floor apartment. A tarp hung over the wound, but one of the corners had come undone, flapping in the wind and giving split second glimpses into the darkened room beyond.

Guilt crept up on him again, but Bakugo shoved it down, hunching over the fruit basket and nudging Kirishima.

“Come on,” he muttered before he started moving forward, and a moment later he heard the crunch of boots on gravel as the redhead followed him.

There were more people on this street than on the last several, but Bakugo could immediately tell they weren’t customers just passing through. People swept sidewalks, clearing away the last of the rubble and glass in front of their shops. Then a few old ladies stood under one awning shaking their heads, their hands laden with containers of food or gifts.

Guess Kirishima hadn’t been wrong with this stupid idea.

Then Bakugo realized some of those people were starting to look back at him, so he ducked his head further behind the fruit basket, grateful for his hoodie and sunglasses.

But then suddenly he was there, standing in front of your ruined shop. His red eyes immediately flickered upward, but if there was a sign there before, it was gone now, burnt to ash.

“What kinda shop did you say this was?” the blond asked under his breath as Kirishima paused beside him.

“I’m… not sure,” the redhead said with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think she said on the phone. No time like the present to ask, though.”

Before Bakugo could stop him, Kirishima shifted the bags in his arms, lifted one hand, and knocked on the charred metal frame of the front door.

“Hello?” he called through the broken windows, followed by your name. “Anyone in there?”

“Shit!” The squeaking voice was followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the shadows of the store.

Bakugo didn’t speak a lot of English, but he did know curse words, and the sound of it made his lips twitch in amusement.

“Are you okay?” Kirishima called out. “Can, uh, we come in?”

“Yes, I’m fine!” the voice answered back in flustered Japanese. The words were fluent, though, with barely the hint of an accent. “And, um, I-I guess you can come in, but—”

That was good enough for Bakugo.

The blond shouldered past his partner, boots crunching over glass as he ducked into the darkened shop, and Kirishima sighed as he followed.

The interior, if possible, looked worse than the outside. The room itself wasn’t very big, but it was a mess. Two metal rods had been embedded in the left and right walls at odd angles, obviously caused from the explosions, though Bakugo couldn’t tell what they used to be. Several pieces of blacked mannequins were scattered through the debris, and one wall was a charred mess of shelving and fabric, spots of color peeking through the black ash here and there.

In the back, left corner were the remains of a tri-fold standing mirror, the ones where you could see yourself from different angles. Large shards of glass were missing, though, so the image of Bakugo and Kirishima standing backlit against the street was fractured.

Last but not least, in the rear, right corner of the store was a counter that was half collapsed to the floor, behind which stood an empty doorframe that Bakugo assumed led to the back of the shop and upstairs.

And it was from behind this broken counter that you popped up with a dustpan in one hand and a tiny, handheld broom in the other.

The first thought Bakugo had was your face was rather plain… but in a somehow pleasing way. Like if his eyes had scanned over you in a crowd, something about the line of your jaw, the slope of your nose, the delicate quirk of your mouth would give him pause.

His second thought was that his first one was stupid. You were just some extra, of course you would be plain and unmemorable.

But his third thought was something about the color of your eyes was captivating, in a way that was damn fucking annoying.

“Sorry, I was just… cleaning… up,” you said, slowly trailing off as your eyes met Bakugo’s.

He saw the recognition flare in them immediately, followed by fear, and he couldn’t help the frown that twisted his face.

Why were you afraid of him?

“No, we’re sorry for barging in here like this,” Kirishima barreled on, oblivious to the stare off the other two occupants of the room were engaged in. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Oh! I’m being so rude. My name is Eijiro Kirishima, or you might know me as—”

“Red Riot,” you breathed, finally tearing your eyes from Bakugo’s, and you flashed the redhead a half-smile that trembled along the edges. “We spoke on the phone.”

“Yes.” Kirishima grinned, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light of the shop, before his gaze flickered over to the blond beside him. “And this is—”

“Dynamight,” you finished once again, and you looked like you were trying desperately to maintain eye contact with the hardening hero, but then your eyes clicked back to Bakugo. You didn’t flash him a smile. “We’ve met.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Kiri chuckled awkwardly, and his arm jerked like he was going to rub the back of his neck, but the bags in his hands crinkled and stopped him.

“What… do you have there?” you asked, frowning at the bags and the fruit basket the heroes were carrying.

“Gifts!” the redhead declared as he hefted his arms up, and then he shuffled forward over charred fabric and glass and extended the bags to you.

You blinked at him for a second, but you set the dustpan and handheld broom on the counter, where they promptly slid to the floor since the whole surface was slanted. You winced at the loud clatter and tried to cover it up by taking the bags from Kirishima, which crinkled loudly again as they transferred hands.

Bakugo would be annoyed if he wasn’t more grateful that he could actually hear the innocuous little noise.

“O-Oh, um, you shouldn’t have, really,” you started as you peeked into the bags, and then Bakugo swore he saw your eyebrow twitch once you saw what was inside.

“It’s not much,” Kirishima said, and he was finally free to rub the back of his head and neck as his smile turned a little sheepish. “But, what with the state of your… apartment, we thought you might need some new clothes! And comfy clothes are the best after stressful days. These especially are super soft, we made sure of it. And, if you don’t like them, you could always sell them for a good chunk of change.”

The redhead winked at you, not in an overly flirty manner, that was just how he was, but your cheeks flared as crimson as his hair, and your eyes dropped to the floor.

Bakugo took the split instant to get a better look at you and noted you were wearing patched, faded jeans, solid boots, and a bleach-stained orange sweatshirt with some English writing he couldn’t read. Usually, he didn’t really see what other people wore because he couldn’t give less of a shit, but somehow he found your obvious cleaning clothes… endearing. The orange looked good on you, too.

Fuck, maybe you didn’t heal him as well as he thought. He had to be hemorrhaging into his brain to be thinking this stupid shit. Or maybe it was a side effect of your quirk?

He needed to get you alone and get answers.

“Well… thank you, this was very thoughtf—oh, wow, that is soft,” you murmured as you partially drew a sweatshirt out of the bag.

Bakugo instantly recognized the forest green and orange color scheme, and apparently so did you, because your face twitched, and you dropped the garment back into the bag and traded it for fuzzy socks with Red Riot’s signature gears stitched into them.

“These will definitely come in handy, my feet are always cold,” you said with an awkward giggle. Then you cleared your throat to cover up the sound. “Thank you, um, Red Riot.”

“You can call me Eijiro, or Kirishima, whatever you’re comfortable with,” the redhead said with another easy grin. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Oh! We also got you a fruit basket, and I think there might be a few other sweets tucked in there.”

Kirishima nudged Bakugo forward, and your face rippled through a range of emotions, like your brain was taking a second to catch up to everything the pro hero just spewed. First, flustered embarrassment colored your cheeks, then confusion buckled your brow, and your eyes widened before they looked at the fruit basket Bakugo was extending at you.

“Oh, you can just put it down… um…” you trailed off as you turned to the counter and remembered it was half destroyed. Then your eyes jumped around frantically for some kind of flat surface, but the ruined shop didn’t offer any solutions.

“Told ya we shouldn’t of brought this shit,” Bakugo grunted, shooting a scowl at Kirishima.

“Yeahhhhh, we probably could have just delivered it to your room at the agency, my bad,” the redhead laughed. “But don’t worry, we’ll carry it back for you, along with any of your other things.”

“My… things?” you echoed, sounding out the words like a child, and a frown marred your face. “I-I think I must be misunderstanding you, I’m sorry, I’m American. But did you say my room at the agency? As in… your hero agency?”

“You’re American?” Kirishima asked with wide red eyes. “I wouldn’t have even guessed! Your accent is almost perfect, I thought you were maybe just from like the countryside or something.”

“I thought you said we were supposed to be nice to her,” Bakugo snorted at his partner like you weren’t in the room, and he saw you frown at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, shit, no, that wasn’t what I meant!” Japan’s Number Three Hero immediately began waving his hands in front of his face, his mouth moving twice as fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I really think your accent sounds nice! It’s very cute!”

Now, not only did your cheeks flush again, but the red hue traveled down your throat and across your collarbones, peeking out the stretched collar of your orange sweatshirt.

Bakugo found himself half distracted by the sight, but the other half was wondering why he suddenly felt irritation flare up in his gut.

“Okay, you don’t have to take her out on a date now,” the blond snapped, shifting his burden of fruit and plastic.

“I-I think we might have gotten off track,” you stuttered as you clutched the bag of Dynamight and Red Riot merch to your chest. “You said something about your agency.”

“Yes, right.” Kirishima cleared his throat. “We would have mentioned this in our follow up email after you sent in your insurance info, but—”

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” you cut him off with a grimace, and you actually dipped your head and shoulders into a bow. “I meant to send that yesterday, but my laptop is broken, and my cell service isn’t great—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” the redhead interrupted this time. “You obviously have a lot on your plate. I just meant that this might seem kind of sudden, but—”

Fucking hell, this was taking too long.

“You’re staying at our agency until we can pay for the repairs to your apartment and shop,” Bakugo said bluntly. If he didn’t step in, the two of you were just going to stammer circles around each other all day. “Starting tonight. We have rooms with beds and shit, so pack whatever clothes or crap you need.”

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at Bakugo. “I… what?”

“You deaf or something?” The words rocketed from his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about what he was saying, and he saw the way the question struck you like a physical blow. You flinched, your cheeks paling, and he saw dawning, guilty horror glint at the back of your eyes.

He’d been right. You did do something to his ears.

“Bro, you were just talking about being nice.” Kirishima frowned at Bakugo before he turned back to you. “Ignore him. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience this whole… incident has caused for you, but we’ll take care of everything you need until your shop’s grand reopening, so you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?”

You continued to stare at the two heroes in shocked silence, your wide eyes clicking back and forth between the two of them as you clutched the bags to your chest like a lifeline.

“That is… all so generous,” you finally breathed, your tone rising in pitch like you were growing increasingly flustered. “It’s, um, a lot to take in.”

“Of course.” Kirishima nodded fervently. “What else can we do to help?”

“Could you leave?”

Bakugo blinked in surprise and then had to stifle his snort.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” you quickly followed up when you saw the redhead’s falling expression. “I didn’t mean… I just meant, could I have some time to process this? Um, alone? L-Like Dynamight said, I need to pack a few things, a-and there are some people I need to speak to before, uh… well, is it okay if I tell someone where I’ll be? Like, at your agency?”

“Yessss?” Kirishima said with a confused frown. “Why wouldn’t that be okay?”

“O-Oh, I just don’t really know how the whole hero and media thing works here,” you quickly lied, and Bakugo clocked the way you averted your eyes, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I wasn’t going to post on social media or anything, I barely use that stuff anyway, but one of my customers, Mrs. Kojima, would be upset if I disappeared without saying anything.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.” The redhead grinned before he glanced at the shadowed ruins around him. “What kind of shop is this by the way? I don’t think you mentioned.”

“A-Alterations,” you said, ducking your face in embarrassment again. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited this place from them.”

“I thought you said you were American?” Kirishima asked, but not in an accusatory way. He was just too curious for his own good and didn’t possess much of a filter.

Bakugo usually didn’t care for small talk, fucking waste of time if you asked him, but he found himself focusing intently on you, awaiting a response.

“I am.” You nodded. “My parents were both born here, but they moved to the States after they married, and I was born there. After my grandparents passed, my dad was going to sell the shop, but I was looking for something… new, so I decided to move here instead about a year ago.”

Bakugo pursed his lips at this new information. If you had a healing quirk, why were you patching up clothes in some little shop all the way across the world from your surviving family? Could it be because your quirk was dangerous?

“Wow, that’s cool,” Kirishima said with an impressed expression that quickly turned sheepish. “Except about your grandparent’s passing. My condolences.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips, but then you quickly shook your head. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to give you my whole life story, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Red Riot laughed like he did when he was meeting shy little kids on the street, flashing his sharpened teeth jokingly and winking in an overexaggerated fashion. “I promise, we look scarier than we are.”

“Speak for yourself, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo scoffed, which made you jump, like you’d forgotten he was there.

And that rubbed him the wrong way for some reason.

Kirishima merely smirked before he partially covered his mouth with his hand and lowered his voice into a stage whisper directed at you. “All bark, no bite, I’m telling you.”

“Stop making me seem lame, you bastard!” the blond growled, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fruit basket crinkling in his hands again.

This actually seemed to startle a giggle out of you, and the two heroes whipped around, one with a grin and the other a scowl.

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” Kirishima said before he slung an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “But we’ll get out of your hair for now so you can have some time to pack and everything. Don’t worry about picking up too much, though, we’ll have cleaning crews in here before we start the remodel, and we don’t want you to get hurt in here. If there’s stuff up in your apartment that you don’t want to bring with you to the agency but don’t want thrown out, make a list, and we’ll be sure to keep everything safe.”

“O-Okay,” you said, still standing there with the hero merch clenched to your chest and a dumbstruck expression on your face. “T-Thank you again, Red--, erm, Kirishima.”

“Of course!” He grinned. “I have patrol tonight, but we’ll send a car to pick you up—”

“No,” Bakugo cut in as he locked eyes with you. “I’ll pick you up. What time?”

The blond could see Kirishima shoot him a look in his peripherals—probably because they both had patrol tonight—but Bakugo ignored his partner, maintaining eye contact with you.

You, meanwhile, squirmed under the explosive hero’s intense scrutiny, your face paling and flushing in turns. “I… no, you don’t have to do that, I can take the train—”

“I insist,” he interrupted again, narrowing his eyes so you would realize he wasn’t going to back down. “Like Shitty Hair said, we caused this… inconvenience, so I’ll pick you up. What. Time?”

You swallowed thickly, your throat audibly clicking. “S-Seven?”

“I’ll be here at seven sharp,” Bakugo said. “And you better be out front or at least answer your phone this time.”

You better not run, he didn’t say, but by the look on your face, you understood.

“Seven sharp.” You nodded, biting your lip as a resigned expression settled over your features. “Got it.”

“Great. See you then.”

With that, Bakugo turned on heel and crunched his way out of your store, leaving Kirishima stuttering apologies in his wake.

But that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was, tonight, he’d finally get you alone and get to the bottom of your damn quirk.

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andreafmn · 3 years

Text

Collision - Chapter 2

Word Count: 1,477

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at it’s first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 2/?

A/N: There’s no Cullen’s in the first chapter, we’ll see them soon though. Also, Esme is in the story but her and Carlisle are not together romantically. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 2

The next day she awoke at half past ten. She looked at her bedside clock flustered, knowing she had wasted almost all morning. She could smell breakfast already prepared and her mother downstairs doing some light cleaning.

She hurried into the bathroom and took a small time to finish her morning routine, flying down the stairs. Allison laughed as she noticed her daughter stumbling with hurry down the stairs, clearly heading to the door.

“Eat some breakfast before you go, darling!” Allison shouted as she swept the floor of the dining room.

“I’ll just get some on the way,” (Y/N) said as she put her jacket on, seeing in the distance dark clouds adorning the sky.

“I made you a sandwich so you can take it with you and a travel mug filled with coffee.”

“Thanks, mom. You’re the best,” (Y/N) kissed her mother’s cheek and grabbed the food from her hands.

“And be careful on the streets, the tires haven’t been changed on the truck and the roads are supposed to be very slippery today.” Allison called out to the girl who was almost completely out of the door.

(Y/N) barely heard her mother’s warning as she jogged up to the truck parked on the driveway. There was a sandwich hanging from her mouth as she backed up and sped to the main road. It was quite a long ride to Port Angeles, and she wanted to be back before dark. She spent the ninety-minute drive listening to background music and noticing how the sky changed from blue to dark grey to a lighter grey as she passed and left Forks. She rarely visited the neighboring town, listening to the stories by the elders gave her enough reason not to. Unlike most of her friends and even her own brother, she believed the string of words that they sewed. There were so many things that were unexplained in the universe that it would be ignorant of her to not believe that the supernatural could exist. Although, the past four years she had started to disregard the tales as made up stories, not being able to prove that they were veracious.

Once she arrived, she parked in front of an antique store and started perusing through the various stores in the strip mall. Before she knew it, five hours had passed. Her feet were sore from walking back and forth, her arms were read from all the bags she had carried, and her head was hurting from a lack of food. It was already five in the afternoon and (Y/N) was ready to go home. She got back into the truck and started her drive back home. An hour into the drive the sky darkened more than it should’ve, and heavy rain cascaded from the clouds. Her vision was impaired from the thick droplets and her heart was beating hard, scared of what could jump out in the darkness.

(Y/N)’s worries were confirmed when a deer jumped onto the street and had her swerve the truck. The car spun for some seconds and slid off the road, crashing into a tree. The girl’s head flew forward on impact and connected with the steering wheel in front of her. Her vision blurred and her headache grew exponentially. She could hear her name being called from far away but couldn’t distinguish whose it was. As it came closer, she could finally make out the frame of the sheriff, Charlie Swan. He was speaking to her, but no words registered in her head.

Charlie moved closer to the truck and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The sheriff reached into the open window and carefully tried to retrieve the wounded girl. She wasn’t in the right mind and in this rain an ambulance would take too long to get here. He laid (Y/N)’s head on his shoulder as she mumbled incoherent words, then reaching his arms under hers to pull her softly. He was careful not to scrape her body too much against the broken window, laying down his jacket first to cover most of it. Charlie tried his best to see amid the harsh rain, praying to whatever being was controlling the weather to stop. The blood that was gushing from (Y/N)’s forehead had washed off as soon as her head had exited the car but it didn’t stop flowing. After what felt like hours, the sheriff had the teenage girl in his arms and carried her to his cruiser. Turning his emergency lights on he sped as carefully as possible to the hospital.

He felt the ride eternal as he heard the hurt girl in the back of the car moaning in pain and noticing the shirt he’d wrapped around her forehead was soaking up too much blood. As he neared the bright lights of the hospital, he slowed the speed down as to not slam on his brakes and cause more damage to (Y/N). He carefully grabbed her limp body and entered the hospital. It seemed like the emergency room had a slow night, but he only brought trouble.

“I need some help here!” Charlie called out, worry laced in his voice.

“Sheriff Swan, what happened?” A nurse asked as she accompanied the team wheeling a gurney for the unconscious being in the officer’s arms.

“This is (Y/N) Uley. She hit her head in a car accident, I assume her car swerved as she avoided an animal in the street. She’s been unconscious since I got her in my car. When I found her she was barely coherent.”

“Okay, why don’t you wait for us in the waiting room. We’ll let you know as soon as we have some news.” The nurse smiled.

All Charlie could do was nod and sit down for a second, later pulling out his phone to dial Allison Uley’s number.

“Sheriff, to what do I owe this pleasure,” Allison chimed.

“It’s not good news, Allison. (Y/N) has been in a car accident.” Charlie could feel the panicked energy coming from the other side of the phone. Close to this time last year he had gotten news that his own daughter was hurt through a phone call. “Now, Allison, I know you want to speed off to the hospital but I would advise you not to. The roads are really bad over here and we can’t have you both admitted.”

“But I can’t leave her alone,” she sobbed. “I need to be there for my baby.”

“I know, but she won’t be alone. I’m gonna stay here until she’s good to go and I’ll take her back to your house. Now don’t you worry, you know she’s a strong one.”

“I know,” Allison sighed an air of defeat. “Alright, just please keep me updated on everything. Doesn’t matter how late.”

“Will do. I’ll have my buddy pick up the truck and leave it at Billy’s.”

“Thank you, Charlie, so much.”

“No problem, Allison. Try to get some shuteye, it looks to be a long night.”

And a long night it was.

Thankfully, (Y/N)’s injuries were minor and she would be able to leave as soon as she woke up. Charlie spent all night in the hospital, calling a friend to drive (Y/N)’s truck so that Jacob could see if it was worthy of repair and leaving a message for his daughter that he would not be coming home that night. The nurses were nice enough to bring the officer a blanket and some coffee as it seemed he wasn’t going to leave and come back the next morning, keeping his promise to Allison that he’d stay beside her daughter.

Once a room was given to (Y/N), Charlie managed to catch up on a little bit of sleep on the armchair next to her bed. The girl slept even through the morning light that slipped through the window that woke the sheriff up. He updated Allison on the persistent status of her daughter. Once again, the nurses showing kindness by bringing him a cup of coffee as he waited for (Y/N)’s eyes to open.

(Y/N) was engulfed in darkness during what felt like a second. She tried fluttering her eyes open but was met with a painfully bright light and a pulsating headache that rang through her body. Her eyes closed once again to try to minimize the discomfort, to much avail. She barely remembered what event befell her to end up in this situation, but she could hear she was not alone.

“Are the lights bothering you, (Y/N)?” Sheriff Swan spoke, noticing the girl had awoken. She promptly nodded and he stood up to turn off the lights as the room door opened. “All right, they’re off now. Hello, doctor.”

She tried opening her eyes again and was met with the most radiant eye color she had ever seen.

Golden.

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diaco1968 · 3 years

Text

Thrill

Shigaraki Tomura x f!Reader

WARNINGS! +18, lemon/smut, heavy NONCON!, Forced! , implied cheating, dirty talk and degradation, unprotected, yandere-ish

The sound of the sharp knock resonating off the walls of the otherwise completely silent apartment had you almost jump out of your own skin, a cold sweat immediately beeaking out all over your back despite the heavy warm blanket you were under. You muted the video even though you assumed it was already too late for the unwelcome guest not to have heard it. Another sharp knock and you knew your assumption was right. Either way you quietly slipped out from under your blanket, feet meeting the cold floor and worsening the already cold shivers rolling down your spine, no one had business visiting you at 3 in the morning. Reaching up you looked through the peep hole. The silhouette of a familiar person with light hair was visible but mostly blocked by a smear of something dark across the glassy cover making it extremely difficult to make out the face.

This time instead of the sharp knock, fingers almost gently rapped over the wooden door as if the person knew you were standing right on the other side, the rapping playing a familiar and serie rhythm. Eerie because you only knew one more person who knew this rhythm.

Your hand rose and your fingers wrapped around the doorknob all on their own accord. The rude knocking was his way of respecting you actually, cause you knew as well as he did that this flimsy door could not stand in his way if he had decided to come in already. Chills from your cold feet on the floor made the whole experience worse than it needed to be. With a quiet shaky intake of breath and a shake of your head to regain your stoic composure you pulled the door open slowly, enough space so that your whole frame was in the doorway and not more, one hand still on the door for emotional support.

And surely you needed that.

He was way more terrifying than you remembered him from last time. His white hair glowing and almost reflecting the moonlight that seeped inside the corridor from the window at the end, the white light engulfing and giving his form a ghostly appearance, with bright crimson eyes staring at you expectantly. And that was not the only crimson in the mix. A big splash of red was covering one whole side of his face as it had either dripped down from his own head, which was likely cause strands of his hair was also still dripping with crimson, or had sprayed onto him from some other poor soul, down his neck, disappearing in the black of his shirt, making it look even darker, all the way down to his left hip. He was leaning his bloodied hand on the doorway, looming over you with his nonchalant yet completely insane face, lips slowly parting into a smirk, knowing by the pale look of your face that he absolutely had not given you a choice for this surprise meeting.

"May I use your shower."

Your jaw went slack staring at him with an open mouth as you clutched the door unable to answer what wasn't really a request.

"Of course, what a dumb question."

He pushed off the wall and gestured for you to get out of his way as he pushed the door wide open, stomping right past you. Feeling way out of your comfort zone you glanced left and right in the corridor before succumbing to your fate and closing the door behind you, staring at the muddy bloody shoe prints going to your living room. You followed them and watched him kick his shoes off in the middle of the living room on the creme carpet, lean in to look at the pictures over the chimney, scoff then make his way over to the kitchen.

"That's not the bathroom-..."

He totally ignored you as he went to the fridge grabbing a cold beer, all the while making sure he smeared everything with the blood on his hands.

His eyes glanced sideways towards you as he chugged the bear in one go, putting the bottle on the very edge of the counter.

"Ahhh."

His eyes locked onto yours, beginning to show a slight bit of annoyance. And as his mouth split open into a wide grin he tipped the bottle over the edge. It hit the floor with a noise that sounded way louder to you than it should've before it shattered on the kitchen tiles.

"Oops. My bad."

Your eyes snapped onto him from where they previously were glaring at the broken bottle on the floor, grinding your teeth together in annoyance.

"The bathroom is the other way."

"I know."

You hissed out from your clenched teeth and he waved his hand dismissively, stepping over the glass and walking towards your bedroom. Of course he was going to use the master bathroom. What else. He stopped in the doorway to the bathroom and looked at you.

"Join me."

You crossed your arms over your chest this time glaring at him directly.

"I see no need for that. You're a big boy."

He faked a pout before shrugging his shoulders and stepping into the bathroom.

"Well I thought you wanted me gone as soon as possible. Apparently not, so I'm gonna take my time then."

You shook your head and sat on the edge of the bed, every single muscle in your body rigid from stress. How long could he take anyway?

Apparently too long.

An hour of chewing your lower lip and tapping your foot nervously later, you decided to check up on him. You knocked on the door but got no reply. Three times. So you opened the door slowly and carefully to peak inside. Unlike what you had imagined the bathroom wasn't filled with steam from the shower. But sure enough he was standing under the running water. You stopped yourself before you could rake your eyes down his body you went to close the door.

"Come on now, it's nothing you haven't seen before."

"Shigaraki."

You whispered in a scolding tone but didn't close the door, instead staring at his eyes.

"Eh? What happened to Tomura? Or the one I like more, Tomuooo~"

He attempted to mimick your voice with a whiny needy tone and remembering exactly what he was talking about you flushed bright red stammering.

"Oh my gosh... fuck off..."

He laughed, the sound taking you aback not recalling ever having heard him laugh.

"Fine, but seriously. I need your help."

He turned around to show you the half ass cleaned wounds on his back.

And of course you had to inspect so you stepped inside to take a closer look at the gashes. Two long angry stripes across his middle back, not bleeding anymore but spots of dried blood still sticking around them.

"No way I'm gonna blindly scrub at those. They hurt like a motherfucker."

You heaved a sigh finding the reasoning legit. After all you were used to seeing such wounds yourself. You grabbed a towel for the lack of a better option, finding out that he was too far inside the shower for you to reach. Not wanting to hear his retort on telling him to get closer you decided to step in and that's when the cold water ran over your hands and slid all the way down your arm inside your sleeve.

"Shit! Why so cold?!"

"Why not. Not how he likes it?"

You clicked your tongue annoyed and pressed the towel to his back a little too harshly making him hiss and glare at you from the corner of his eye. If you were completely honest it was a terrifying glare but you didn't budge and instead started to scrub away at the skin lightly enjoying the silent tease-less mood. Not for long though.

"Speaking of him. Where even is he?"

'As if you don't already know.'

You bit back your retort and settled for somthing else.

"We were and are not going to be speaking of him."

As if to emphasize, you scraped the towel a little harder over his skin and watched as his shoulderblades rolled and rippled right under the skin but he ignored it.

"We're not? Having a naked man in his shower makes you feel guilty?"

Your nails dug into the towel and you paused.

"Shut it."

"No. He is away working, not even dreaming of his little fiance being unfaithful to him. Trusts you a little too much, huh?"

"I said shut it!"

You growled and slammed the towel onto his back, right into the gashes. His shoulders twitched angrily and he reached back and grabbed you right before you could storm off angrily. A loud surprised gasp left you as your back got slammed into the wall, cold water from the shower pouring over you and soaked you to the bone in a matter of seconds.

"And I said no."

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp or wiggle away from under the onslaught of cold water to no avail.

"Fuck! Let me go!"

His hands grabbed at your wet heavy hoodie ripping it enough to make space to slip it off your shoulders and expose your chest then let it hang around your waist. With your hands still inside the sleeves you felt bounded by the tight heavy cloth unable to do anything but struggle in vain.

"He has no idea his fiance, the love of his life, is secretly a villain fucker, does he?"

"I am not!"

"The love of his life? Cause we both know you ARE a villain fucker."

"Stop!"

"Stop? But you don't really want me to, do you?"

His fingers wrapped around your neck tightly, pressing you harder into the wall forcing a squeak out of you before he shut you up by pressing his lips onto yours and his tongue shoving into your mouth, making you turn your head to the side with a cough.

"You don't want me to stop cause he doesn't screw you like I do,"

His fingers tangled in your wet locks like snakes slithering through the grass, tightening on your scalp with a fist full of hair and forcing your face back towards himself and running his lips over the side of your mouth.

"He doesn't grab you and force you down in your place like the little whore you are-"

"We were on a break! It was one time!"

"It was not one time."

He pressed you into the wall harder with his body, freeing his hand and grabbing your panties. The flimsy fabric turned to muddy dust and washed away down the drain. His hand immediately replaced it and cupped your heat roughly. And for once you were glad for the running water, you could not stand his comments on the moisture gathered between your legs otherwise.

"To your credit, you did try to be a good girl. You just couldn't stay away from me. It must be thrilling, huh?"

You pursed your lips staring at the ceiling trying not to focus on his fingers running all over you, as if he couldn't decide what to touch first. They ran from your sex to your hips, back to your ass then over your breast, pausing to enjoy the erect nipple rolling it harshly between his fingers, making you bite your lower lip.

"Tell me. Which one is your derive? Is it the thrill of being used like a fucktoy by a villain and not knowing if I would dispose of you afterwards?"

He slipped his hard cock between your thighs, tugging your hair down to expose the length of your neck to him, leisurely kissing sucking and nipping on the soft skin as you shut your eyes and opened your mouth to breath cause the water was now angled right in your face.

"Or are you thrilled by cheating on the poor fucker with his enemy and not getting caught?"

You started thrashing your arms and managed to free one before he pulled you over and slammed you back into wall by your neck again making you Yelp and cling to his wrist tightly.

"Is this really how you want to go? Half decayed and well fucked in his shower? And imagine he is the one who will find your body too... tragic."

He was bluffing... he was definitely bluffing... right?

"Is it?!"

He roared in your face, his voice echoing off the walls and you found yourself trembling in his hands, shaking your head no.

"Then be a good bitch like the horny little slut you are and cooperate."

You felt as if his words smeared over you and make your skin tingle with filth. He was right, you were not used to this kind of treatment. And your quivering legs and throbbing pussy was evidence enough that you did in fact find this thrilling.

Sensing your submission he freed your other arm from the hoodie, throwing it away before leaning down to hook his arms under your legs, picking you up and positioning you over his cock, the tip proding between your folds and poking at your hole. And unceremoniously thrusted himself all the way in, by letting you drop down onto his lenght. You gasped at the sudden stretch, arms flying from the wall to wrap around his neck to hold yourself steady as he stepped away from the wall, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"Mmm your tight cunt never ceases to impress me. Does he fuck you at all?"

"... please stop..."

He chuckled and grabbed your ass with your legs draped over his arms and he started moving you over his cock, the position had you unable to do anything except cling to him tighter and clenching constantly around his dick from the hard angle, moaning into his neck. You could see the goosebumps on his skin and it oddly managed to give you a satisfying feeling.

Untill all sense was drawn out of your head as he started thrusting into you while he moved you up and down, drilling into you deeper and deeper each time. You screamed as your whole body went rigid and hard shivers ran down your spine, your toes curling as you came hard with his cock still screwing into you roughly, your scream drowning out into a quiet gaping mouth.

"Fuck... you used to be way harder to please. Missed me a lot, yeah?"

His nails dug threateningly into your hips but you refused to reply.

He pressed your back on the wall again, moving your legs all the way up over his shoulders, not bothering to pull out while changing the position.

"Still stubborn I see. No problem. I know how to deal with you."

"You're a one night stand gone wrong!"

You spat as you glared at him. Should not have said that. Should. Not. Have.

His fist found its way back into your hair and he pulled it up to expose your neck again.

"Is that right?"

He leaned all the way over you as his hips picked up a bruising pace, slapping against your ass with each thrust with a loud sound. His lips latched onto your neck and he started sucking on the skin. Shocked you went to push against his shoulder and he tightened his fist in your hair, forcing you to grab his arm instead from the pain burning on your scalp.

"What are you doing?! Stop!"

He changed the spot and started sucking another deep purple mark on the other side, before moving lower and sinking his teeth into your chest.

You yelped loudly digging your nails into his shoudlers and in return he move his mouth again biting your other breast.

"Fuck! Fuck! Stop! He will see those!"

"That's the point you dumb cunt. And that's not all either."

Feeling your distress had you clenching around his cock again he moved his hand and started rubbing your clit roughly as you squirmed and struggled.

"I'm going to cum soon with your dirty pussy milking me like that..."

Your breathing was ragged and you were moaning on each thrust and he absolutely loved the way your face scrunched up im horror from the realisation. He leaned in to whisper into your ear.

"That's right. Now tell me, are you a dirty little whore?"

"Please! Please don't!"

You were now half sobbing as you pleaded and gripped onto his shoulders.

"Answer me then. Are you a cheating filthy fucking whore?"

"I am! I'm a cheating whore! Please!"

"Oh but you're not any whore. You are mine. Your thirsty little cunt is all soaked for me alone. Right?"

"Yes! Only for you!"

"Do you think of me when he fucks you?"

You hesitated and he did not like that, delivering a harsh wet spank on your ass.

"Ah! Y-yes!"

"Yes what?"

You were now definitely crying, tears streaming down your face as guilt and pleasure mixed into your system, clinging to him desperate for some little comfort.

"Y-yes I think of you.. when he... when he fucks me..."

"So you missed me a lot, didn't you?"

"I missed you a lot..."

"Address me properly."

"I missed you a lot Tomuooo~"

And with that he rammed himself into you one more time, warmth exploding in your lower belly as to your horror he spilled his load inside you. Your whole body went limp, dread and fear gripping your chest and your throat. He turned off the tab and it was all silent except the sound of the last few droplets hitting the tiled floor before the silence was broken by his evil chuckle.

"Good, cause I'm far from done with you."

#tomura shigaraki x reader #Shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader lemon #shigaraki x reader smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha lemon #bnha #mha

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darkorderaf · 3 years

Note

Prompts 125 & 141 with Alex Reynolds:)

Glad that your requests are open!

Oh hell yeah. I went a little enemies to lovers on this one and it admittedly took on a whole life of its own. Thank you so much for your request and please enjoy!!! <3

Pairing: Alex Reynolds x OFC. Prompts: “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait…are you…what?!” “Use your words.” Rating: M. Warnings/Content: Smut. It gets spicy. Word Count: 2,118.

(I don’t own gif; credit to allelitewrestlings!)

“Is this a joke?”

“Am I in hell? Am I in actual hell?”

They spoke in a furious tandem. She tore the paper out of Alex’s hands and checked it again. The poor hotel receptionist wasn’t prepared for two seething wrestlers at midnight but there they were, completely upended by what the booking confirmation said. The room was indeed assigned to her and one Alex Reynolds. She ran her hand over her face and sighed in agitation. The hotel receptionist awkwardly slid their keys across the countertop. They took them begrudgingly, then looked at each other with all the warmth of dueling street cats.

Was this punishment for arriving last to the hotel? Had she unknowingly upset the Khan man himself? Similar questions ran through his mind.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. She kept a white-knuckle grip on her suitcase as they walked. “We’re not even in the same faction!”

Just last week, she and the rest of The Pinnacle had been feuding with Dark Order! And now her and her worst enemy with the great hair were supposed to share a room? This was all a bad joke. Alex rolled his eyes and checked the room number again.

“How about this? You pretend that I don’t exist,” he said, tone helpful and light but just as biting. He swiped his key and shoved the door open. He shot her a look. “And I’ll pretend that you don’t exist. That’s easy, right? We pretty much do that alre--”

Neither of them checked what kind of room it was. What kind of accommodations they would have. They were too focused on the fact that someone had the audacity to put them together. One queen bed sat in the middle of the small room, daring them to make a fuss. No couch or chair to be seen.

“I’ll sleep in the bathtub,” she said quickly. She didn’t want to cross the threshold because then that would make the situation all too real. “Yup, that’s where I’ll be.”

“Uh, no, that’s a negative,” Alex said as his head swiveled to stare at her. With how close they were, whatever he used to wash his hair rolled over her. It smelled...good. She frowned and he continued. “You’re not going to hold the one bathroom hostage.”

“I’m not going to hold it hostage!”

Alex arched a brow at her in challenge as he crossed the threshold of the room first. Nose crinkled, she followed in after him and tried to assess the floor space available. He seemed to be doing the same thing and that sat strange in her belly. He could just take the bed, claim it for himself and leave her on the floor, but he didn’t seem to be doing that. She eyed him suspiciously as he grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I don’t want you to murder me in my sleep, so…”

He gestured to the floor with an exasperated look.

“Oh come on,” she sighed, a hand on her hip and her head tilted. “I wouldn’t kill you, Reynolds.”

“Oh yeah? Really?”

“Think of all the legal trouble that would be. And over you of all people? Please.”

Their eyes locked from opposite sides of the bed and if there was a rumble of thunder, she wouldn’t question it. The rest of the night was, by all standards, boring. They gave each other a wide berth, barely exchanged words. He was already on the floor with his eyes closed when she came out of her shower. His travel blanket settled low across his bare chest and his arm settled on his belly.

As she towel dried her hair, she tried to think of when it started. Their animosity towards each other. They were part of rival factions so part of it was a given, the nature of the gig, but where did the rest come from? Every time they crossed paths, they jeered at each other. Nothing that dug too far under the skin but enough to rile each other up. It felt like it was almost immediate, as soon as they locked eyes for the first time.

Schoolyard. That’s what it was.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to murder me?”

His voice snapped her out of it. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice that his eyes opened or that he laid back with his hands behind his head. Or that he was looking at her with slow, languid blinks. Or that she had been intensely staring at him. The lighting in the room wasn’t the best but it shadowed and defined the muscles of his chest, his arms. Accentuated the sharp line of his jaw and his perfect brows. Her eyes narrowed at him and that brow of his arched again. Like he knew something.

Who gave him the right to look like the cover to a romance novel? And why was she thinking about that now?

She made a disgusted noise and didn’t answer him. She was just tired and frustrated with the situation, that was all. That was all it could be. There was no layer of hell where she found Alex Reynolds attractive.

Absolutely not.

The heat between her legs and in her low belly an hour later told her otherwise. Her brain, that traitorous asshole, had latched onto the idea of romance novel Alex Reynolds with the perfect hair and heated stare. It tingled her toes, her chest. She was so invested trying to purge herself of those thoughts with her eyes on the wall, half-awake, that she had hardly noticed that Alex had climbed onto the bed beside her. Her under the sheets and him on top. He had grumbled something about the floor being garbage and how he had a match tomorrow but she didn’t hear it.

She clenched her thighs together tight to give herself some relief. It wasn’t happening. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. It would be too obvious if she got up and went into the shower for the second time that night. She slipped her hand down across the warm expanse of her stomach and settled it where she needed friction the most. A quiet whimper-like moan slipped out of her. A desperate sound that he absolutely heard.

“Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep,” he said to her, voice low and agitated. That didn’t help either and a sharp nudge against her swollen clit pulled another whimper out of her. Alex went still beside her. “Wait...are you...what!?”

She froze and slowly, she half-turned to look at him. He was propped up on his forearm, staring at her with a heavy look. His damp hair was swept back from his face and she could see him clearly through hazy, lust-colored eyes. Her instincts told her to get angry, to make a snide comment towards him to diffuse the tension, but her jaw was locked tight. He angled his head slightly, a question.

“Are you trying to get off right now?”

There was that look again. The one where he looked like he knew something. It frustrated her in too many ways.

“Alex,” she started, voice breathy. “I will literally pay you to never talk about this.”

He didn’t seem phased. His gaze swept over her and she involuntarily bit her lip. His eyes jumped back up to hers and his expression smoothed itself out. He shifted, quiet in thought. When did her breath get so loud, her heart so fast?

“Do you want help?”

She rolled onto her back. The sheets felt too hot against her skin. She looked at his hands, the way his fingers curled. His eyes met hers, half-lidded and curious.

“...what?”

“I’m completely serious.”

His tone had a finality to it that had her shoving the sheets down to let her molten skin breathe. She searched his face. Whenever she found what she was looking for, she nodded.

He shook his head and pushed himself up to slowly lean his upper body over hers. His face hovered inches away from hers. His hand went to her bare shoulder and he thumbed along her collarbone. A small smirk formed.

“Use your words,” he said. “C’mon, we know you’re good with them.”

Her pride and her lust met in a lockup. His hand moved down from her collarbone to between her breasts, the strip of skin between her panties and tanktop. A trail of lightning followed and she arched up into him. The way he pressed into her side, she could feel how hard he was. The words that slipped through her lips caused him to groan. That and when her fingers went to the back of his head to tug at his hair.

“Alex,” she seethed. “Please.”

He grinned at her and when their lips collided, it wasn’t far off from their usual. A push and a pull, a test and a challenge. Teeth nipped skin and he tore the sheets off to settle on top of her, his knees by her hips. They broke apart long enough for him to pull her shirt off, to mark her chest with his mouth and the harsh scrape of his stubble as he shimmied down her body. As cool and collected as he was, the pulse of his hands around her hips told a different story. He lightly bit the soft part of her belly and glanced up at her when her knees fell apart in invitation.

“You know I still don’t like you, right?”

He smiled before he answered.

“Uh-huh. I sure do.”

His hot hands skimmed down her sides and tugged her panties off. Given that he knew what she was doing before, he didn’t waste time and got right to it. She appreciated that and told him as much with a low, soft moan when his tongue pressed into her. He didn’t stay there long and she glared at him. Was he fucking with her?”

“Get up,” Alex told her as he got up onto his knees. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to sit up. “I want you to sit on my face.”

She couldn’t even bark a laugh, too stunned at his sudden proclamation to make a nasty remark as she moved with him. His arms hooked under her thighs and pulled her close to his lips. Her nails cut lines into the headboard. She smirked down at him.

“I didn’t think the Dark Order were such giv--Oh fuck.”

Alex set back to what he was doing before in earnest, giving her no chance to complete her thought. For as much shit as he talked, she should have known he was good with his mouth. He played with her, strung her along, built her up then brought her back down. Her back arched when he sucked on her clit just right and a smug hum of satisfaction rumbled from his chest. One hand dropped from the headboard to thread itself into his hair and she leaned against the wood, her body taut.

“Alex, I’m c-close.”

Her voice was a hot whisper and she could barely tell that he nodded. Not until her first orgasm crashed through her and her thighs quivered, tightened around his head. Like an unexpected gentleman, he worked her through it and massaged her aching thighs. Her breath came back to her and her body went lax. He helped her down his body, her muscles warm and a bliss in her blood that made her all the more pliable in his hands. He set her back against the mattress and hovered over her again.

“Better?”

The complete nonchalance to the way he licked her off his lips as he sat up stoked another surge of heat in her. She reached for him and was stunned to see him move away. He smirked at her as he stood up, seemingly not caring about the fact that he was rock hard. Confusion flooded her face.

“What? Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. You were the one having trouble sleeping,” he said, that goddamn brow of his cocked again at her. Her eyes fell to look at his hips. Fuck, she really wanted to touch him and he knew it. Her nails scratched her palms. “Not me.”

“What?”

He leaned into her and kissed her long enough so she could taste herself. Then he pulled away and smiled at her. She seethed.

“Oh, you absolute bastard.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. His voice lowered and took on a conspiratorial tone. “We’re stuck here for two days. You gonna make it?”

He walked away and she watched him leave. But before he stepped into the bathroom and locked it, he glanced back at her.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

#alex reynolds imagine #alex reynolds fic #alex reynolds fanfiction #alex reynolds smut #aew imagine #aew smut #aew fic #aew fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic #dark order imagine

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to-star-lake · 3 years

Text

Mars [ II ]

pairing | kth x reader genre | ahistorical au, military au, yandere!taehyung word count | 5.2k rating/warnings | M, 18+

In the coming days, he had a room made up for you, the one beside his. He had a bed with a wooden frame brought in, and had a lace canopy hung up around it for you. He instructed his servants to bring the best linens to make up the bed, and insisted that it be cleaned and changed regularly to keep you comfortable.

You came to find that the Lady Inah had previously been the head maid of the governor’s estate. Now she runs the servants in this compound, along with a brothel of girls that had been servants of the house before, or were girls from other war-wracked regions, brought here by the men, skin calloused and abused by war.

You learned more about your captor - that he grew up in poverty, an orphan, scraping by a living through stealing on the streets of a desert nation to the east. You learned that of all the captains in the General’s army, he was his favorite, for he was able to lead only a small battalion of men across the plains of the west, conquering entire nations through sheer guerilla force. You learned credit could be given the Captain for the siege of the north and the west, helping the General more than triple the size of his empire.

From the other servant girls you learned he had never taken any of them for himself, but that they’d heard rumors that he took occasional visits to brothels. Amongst the girls of the house, the Captain was to be respected - he was good to everyone in his charge, he never used corporal punishment on any of the servants, and made sure everyone in the compound was properly clothed, fed, and given a place to sleep. A few of the girls had, over the years, even wanted to serve him, offered themselves to him, in fact, with hopes of receiving more privileges due to his status. The most extreme of these girls were so bold as to openly proclaim how handsome they thought the Captain was. They were immediately silenced by the Lady Inah, and were banished to a week of work outside in the stables.

But despite all of this, the girls feared him. One of the servant girls was a water maid, responsible for cleaning and pressing the captains uniform. Her hands were calloused, cracked and dry from scrubbing the blood from his clothes. Another girl once was instructed to tend to the wounds of a spy the Captain held captive. Each day she was instructed to go into the room where the Captain kept him, where she would find the captive beaten, bruised, and cut, puddles of his blood coagulating by a drain on the floor. The Captain instructed her to keep him alive, so he could prolong the torture as long as it took for him to get the information he needed. And she was able to keep him alive, for an entire week, she managed. Through the screams she heard even through holding both hands tightly around her ears and squeezing her eyes shut, until the last morning on the day she found the captive had died, she no longer recognized his face or body.

These stories were validated by the other soldiers in the compound. You’d helped Lady Inah in the mess hall, where if the Captain happened to pass, a hush fell over the men as they watched him walk past, eyes wide as though they’d seen a prophet. They admired and revered him, he was the best soldier among them - the bravest, and cruelest of them. Honorable, but his heart filled with malice.

You didn’t think too much of any of these stories. In the first couple of weeks since you were brought here, your only concern was finding a way to escape.

Every day he made sure there was a vase of fresh flowers in your room. Each day it was a new bouquet, he wanted to know what flowers you liked best. But it seemed to him that you never took notice of them.

The servants were also instructed to purchase fresh clothing for you - everything from plain linen gowns, to dresses made of fine silk.

And last, but not at all least, he had an iron cuff made for your ankle. Attached to a heavy wrought-iron chain locked into a bolt in the middle of the floor of your room. The length of the chain restricted your movement to your room, the Captain’s room and office beside, the bathroom, and just far enough that you could open the door to the balcony.

Twice you had tried to escape. The second time you were caught in the bushes under the balcony of the Captain’s room, the skin of your legs bruised and scraped from falling. The cuff and chain ended these attempts.

He had a daily routine. The early mornings were for meetings, the servants of the house brought him breakfast to his room around 6am. He did not eat much in the morning, opting for just a glass of juice most days.

Around 11am, he would head out with a battalion of his men. He would be in uniform, and so would they. They were always armed with heavy artillery. They returned late in the evening, sometimes late into the night, their uniforms dirty, splattered with blood, covered in dust and ash. He always found you huddled in the corner beside the large credenza in your room when he returned. He’d go into the bathroom, remove his clothes, which the servants would take to clean and press, a fresh shirt and trousers, and a clean coat always awaited him before he woke in the morning, and shower.

He bathed daily, kept his quarters tidy, and would sit down for supper shortly after. He always insisted you join him for his meals. You hardly ate. He noticed.

He watched you in the weeks that passed, concerned, it was as though you were shrinking before his eyes. He never touched you; he did not want to hurt you. But on that day during fourth week of living at the compound, after a long period of good behavior, he became angry with you.

The avoiding eye contact, the refusal to speak to him, and when you did it was to shoot insults at him; all of this he did not pay mind to. But you refusing to eat. This he didn’t stand for.

He’d taken you by the arm, dragged you against your protests into your room and threw you onto the bed. He sat you up and tied your arms to the bedpost. He left the room and returned with a bowl of soup in one hand, and a loaf of bread in the other. He sat down on the mattress beside you, dipping a spoon into the hot liquid. He blew onto the spoon to cool the soup, and held it out to your mouth. You opened up, sipping it, but not soon before you spat it back out into his face.

He blinked, looking down and sighing. He set the bowl of soup down onto the table beside your bed, and cleaned his face with a napkin, saying nothing. He took the bowl back in his hands, and offered you one more spoonful.

You pulled your knee up to your torso, and swung it toward him, knocking his hand back. He almost dropped the bowl, a splash of soup spilled onto his lap, dripping and staining the freshly cleaned sheets.

He’d never been angry with you before this moment. He stood, huffing exasperated breaths. He slammed the bowl onto the table and climbed onto the bed over you, his legs straddling your waist. He sat onto your legs, the oppressive weight of his body kept you from continuing to thrash your legs about. He reached a hand out to grab your face, his fingers closed tightly around your jaw, forcing your mouth open. He reached and picked up the loaf of bread from the table and brought it to his lips, ripping off pieces of it which he proceeded to shove into your mouth.

You tried to spit them back out, but he pushed more into your mouth and you were forced to swallow. The dry, crusted edges cut the inside of your mouth and throat. He did this until the entire loaf of bread was gone, and the inside of your mouth was scratched raw and dry. He then proceeded to pour the bowl of soup into your mouth, streams of it dribbling from the edges of your lips. You choked at the liquid streaming into your throat, coughing, and he finally tilted the empty bowl back and let go of your jaw and stood up off of your body to the side of the bed.

You were gasping, hunched over, huddling your legs to your chest, your arms still tied against the bedposts. He fell back against the wall, his chest heaving.

The early days were like this.

You fought him often. Fought him when he’d force-feed you after days of refusing to eat. Fought him when he made you share a meal with him. Fought him when he wanted you to sit beside the fire with him and read. Fought him when he locked you in your room for a week after you attempted to free your ankle from its iron cuff, only to fail and he found your skin bloody and bruised from the attempt.

But as time went on this spirit dwindled. And even if your mind hadn’t grown tired of fighting him, your exhausted body wouldn’t have allowed you to continue. So you sat down with him for meals like he asked. You ate the food that was given to you on your plate. You brought books to him by the fire, and watched as he opened a particular volume and would notice you watching, and would hand you a book to read. You wandered the confines of his room quietly. But still, you would not acknowledge him.

Some days he observed may have been better for you than others. As the last of the winter months passed, the buds of spring began to appear on the trees outside the balcony. The smoky, frigid winter air gave way to a warm Earthy scent. The silver clouds that hid the sun began to lift, revealing a bright cerulean sky.

On such days, he’d watch you from behind his desk. He’d study your fragile body, hidden and lost under the excess material of the shapeless linen gowns you wore. He watched as you would walk slowly, dragging the heavy iron chain behind you with effort, your bare feet padding softly against the cold marble floors to the doors of the balcony, where you’d open the door slightly, and sit before it, pulling your knees into your chest, and took deep breaths of the air that blew in. He’d walk over and drape a blanket over your shoulders, though most times you didn’t even notice he’d done this. Your mind was too occupied and lost in gazing into the sky.

On those days he recognized that there was something different in your eyes. He would dare say he may have even seen a light in them.

He began letting you out of his room when he went out with the scouts during the day. He’d leave you under Lady Inah’s supervision, and she had you working downstairs in the kitchen with the other girls. You cleaned tabletops and floors and dishes. You peeled potatoes and stirred soups and kneaded dough for bread. And in the evening when the Captain returned, Lady Inah would send you back up to his quarters with his supper.

He learned your name from Lady Inah, but found that he couldn’t use it to call you. Somehow he was afraid. Knowing your name, he would repeat it quietly to himself in his head as he watched you move about your room - sitting quietly by the fire or by the open window, sitting on your bed with a book you’d taken from his desk. He knew you were hiding it. He didn’t mind. But he found himself unable to vocalize your name, as though it were a fragile veil of glass, and his voice, should he call your name, would shatter it.

The sun rose on the horizon on a warm morning in May, and he woke to the sound of birds singing in the courtyard below the balcony of his room. He sat up in his bed, scooting to the edge, swinging his legs over. He stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and tossed his hair back. He slowly made his way to the doorway to your room. He did this every morning.

Peering through the open doorway, he saw you, still asleep in your bed and turned to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. He knew you would be awake once he was out of the shower; it always woke you, it was like this every day. He knew you would wait until he came out and began dressing, and then you’d go into the bathroom to brush your teeth, and wash your face. As he dressed, Lady Inah would knock on the door to his quarters, and she would undo the cuff around your ankle and you would follow her downstairs into the kitchen, where the Captain’s breakfast was being prepared. You would carry the tray of dishes back up to his room, you would set it down on the round table in front of the window, and you would stand by the table and wait until he was seated to instruct you to sit too.

On this morning, as he watched you follow Lady Inah out into the hallway, a frantic Soobin rushed in through the open doors, almost running into you.

“Sir, the General has arrived, and he wishes to see you immediately,” Soobin panted, winded from running up to the Captain’s quarters, saluting quickly.

Taehyung stood, a surge of worry rising in his chest that you might pass the General in the halls. No sooner had Soobin finished his sentence did the General’s booming footsteps arrive. And he was not alone.

Taehyung greeted the General, and the General pulled him into a tight hug, attempting to be fatherly, as he’d always attempted to do with the Captain.

“The years have not been kind to you, my friend. Perhaps the weather here in the north has put you in a perpetual foul mood?”

Taehyung turned to see the face that belonged to the sarcastic voice that spoke. It was Captain Park Jimin, who commanded the forces on the southern front.

“Yes, I’m certain it’s not as enjoyable as the beaches in the south,” he replied wearily. He watched as the corner of Jimin’s mouth lifted in a smirk at his remark.

He’d known Jimin for a few years now, and despised him - the way he indulged in drink and women, his addiction to gambling, the way he held no regard for his fellow men, sending his battalions into battle while he lounged in his fortress with his women and his wine. But he was a brilliant strategist, and the General regarded him highly for this, and turned a blind eye on his other, less commendable habits.

“Well surely with the coming of spring, there will be better weather and prettier sights to ease a wary mind,” Jimin continued to chide. “Speaking of prettier sights, General, you’ve been holding out on me! You said all the girls here were too worn, and none would suit me. But in the hall just now, we passed the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen here in the west, is she one of the lieutenants-”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened and he closed both hands into fists, and the General took notice.

“Oh her? Oh well, she was actually brought here by our Taehyung,” the General took a conscious step into the tense space between his two captains.

“Oh?” Jimin smirked, looking up at Taehyung who stared at the ground, his fists tightening. “My friend, I thought you were above all that,” his grin grew as Taehyung’s anger boiled in his chest. “Well then don’t be shy, tell me...how is she?”

Taehyung made a move to lunge forward, but the General quickly stepped beside Jimin, placing both hands around his shoulders, laughing nervously. “Oh come now, Jimin, must you provoke him? Come, come, let us stop this rabble and go downstairs for some breakfast. You have not lived until you’ve had Lady Inah’s lavender scones, they are simply scrumptious. Oh and with a bit of tea, yes,” he quickly ushered Jimin out into the hall, but looked over his shoulder and shot Taehyung a warning glance.

---

“The house is bustling, what is going on?” Lira, one of the other servant girls who worked with you inquired as she entered the kitchen, sliding an apron on over her frock.

“The General has returned from the southern front,” Lady Inah replied, her hands in a bowl of flour and butter, making dough for scones. “Lira, please, fetch me the lavender water.”

Lira approached the table and handed a pitcher to Lady Inah, who poured concentrated water with careful precision into the dough mix. You stood across the table from her, quietly cutting circular domes out of an already made batch of scone mix and placing them on a baking sheet.

“So the General has returned already,” Lira said, taking a seat on the wooden bench across from you.

“Yes, and he’s not alone,” Lady Inah’s hands stopped moving and she straightened herself up. She sighed, wiping both hands on her apron and looked down at Lira. “He’s brought Captain Park Jimin back from the front with him.”

You watched as Lira’s whole body tensed at those words, a shadow falling over her eyes. Her face became unspeakably pale, like all blood suddenly drained from the vessels in her cheeks.

Lady Inah gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“Surely, he’s brought a girl here with him? Yes, he wouldn’t travel without at least one girl in tow to..” Lira swallowed dryly, stumbling over her words.

“That I do not know,” Lady Inah leaned back over the mixing bowl.

“Is that the man we passed in the hall upstairs? The one with the General?” you asked quietly.

Lady Inah nodded. Lira seemed to shrink further into herself by the second.

“Lira-” you began, but Lira stood swiftly and took up the tray of scones you’d assembled, and walked them over to the oven, her head down.

Lady Inah took a deep breath in. “You must steer clear of Captain Park Jimin if you can,” she whispered, returning both hands to kneading the dough. You looked up at her, studying her expression. “He’s visited here twice before, and both times he chose Lira for himself. He’s always insisted on having the most beautiful girl serve him wherever he goes. And the General has always indulged him. The first time he was here, I sent Lira to him. That is a choice I live to regret every single day. When she returned to her chambers beside mine the next day, her eyes were red and swollen with tears, she had bruises everywhere... She refused to tell me what happened, but I can guess,” she said quietly, turning to look at Lira who stood bracing herself against the edge of the counter beside the oven.

“Tell me, is our Captain pleased with you? You have not caused him any more strife lately, have you? You have not disobeyed him as you did when you first arrived?”

You shook your head. “I haven’t angered him recently,” you replied quietly, thinking. “At least I don’t think I have..”

Lady Inah sighed, gazing over at the calloused and rough skin of Lira’s hands and face due to years of work as a servant. Then she turned to you, and looked at you - your long hair, gleaming in the sunlight, at your eyes, wide and attentive, at your posture, tall and poised, not hunched over after years of bowing. “These days, it’s possible the General holds Captain Park Jimin in higher regard than our Captain..” she began slowly. “He’s a brilliant military strategist that’s helped the General win the three nations in the south. The General was so pleased with him, perhaps more pleased than he’d ever been with our Captain, even though he’s won more battles and more land. But those nations to the south are jewel-mining and merchant territory. It brought countless riches to the General.”

You listened quietly.

“I know he’s seen you…” she stopped, taking a hushed breath in. “If he wishes for you to serve him...I know the General would not refuse him. And I cannot guarantee that even our Captain could save you..”

You couldn’t move. You stood frozen, her words echoing through your mind. You felt something heavy in your chest, and it kept you from moving, from saying anything. Your mind raced, and you felt your breathing fall uneven. You’d made eye contact with the other Captain just upstairs as you passed him and the General in the hall. He looked at you with an inquisitive eye. You could not shake the image of Lira from your head - you pictured her bruised neck, the skin of her face dry and cracked from the salt of her tears. You imagined what other wounds she would’ve had that she was too afraid to even speak of. You swallowed dryly. You recognized this feeling. It was something you’d come to forget in the presence of the Captain of this compound because he never gave you reason to feel this. It was fear.

“Lady Inah..” you began, your voice hushed, cracking at the end.

She glanced up at you.

“May I be excused, I think I should bring breakfast up to the Captain...”

Lady Inah let out a breath of what seemed to be relief. “I think that would be wise.”

You stood quietly outside the Captain’s door, the large serving tray in your hands holding the breakfast you always made for and ate with him.

Think. What could you do? What should you do? You knew that the other Captain saw you. Lady Inah did all but tell you directly that without intervention, he would choose you to serve him tonight. It would be alright if he hit you, you thought. It would be alright if he used you for target practice, or if he slapped you, if he cut you. This wasn’t what you feared.

If he asked for you, would Taehyung really let you go? Think. You knew he cared for you, everyone in the compound knows, though no one spoke of it. You could see the look on his face every time your eyes happened to meet, he always seemed to catch his breath whenever your gaze met his. You could tell him that you did not wish to serve the other Captain. But would that matter to him? Would it not anger him that you would even verbalize this possibility?

Think.

“There are many invirtuous ways you could serve the Captain,” you heard Lady Inah’s voice in your head. This was something she said to you late one evening as she was preparing the Captain’s supper, and you sat stiffly on a wooden chair beside her, not wanting to go back to his room. That afternoon he had returned from scouting a village west of the compound, and you saw as he burst through the doors of his room he was holding onto his shoulder, and there was blood streaming from between his fingers.

He’d been grazed by a bullet. You’d heard the clanging and rustling of the metal first aid kit from inside the bathroom. Slowly and silently, you walked over, peering through the open doorway and you saw him standing in front of the sink, running a needle and thread through an open gash on his arm. He’d cut his shirt from his body, it lay in a bloodied heap on the floor beside him. You saw the scars on his back. There were so many - blotched, circular ones like a flesh-toned plaque from old bullet wounds, long slender ones you could tell were lashes from a whip, small, precise cuts from a knife.

When he tied off and cut the thread, he had looked up and saw you in the reflection in the mirror. And before you could back away, he turned, advancing towards you with long strides. He closed a hand around your throat and pushed you against the door frame. You felt one of the straps of your gown fall off your shoulders. You watched with shuddered breaths his eyes as they gazed back into yours, as they fell to your collarbones and to the curve of your neck where it met your bare shoulder. You felt his hand close tighter around your neck, moving closer and you audibly whimpered.

He seemed to find himself then, quickly releasing you from his grasp and you slithered back into your room. “I’m sorry..” you heard him say softly from the bathroom.

“If you cease to please the Captain, there are worse fates than death that will befall you. I would recommend you do everything in your power to not lose his favor, he has been good to you,” Lady Inah’s voice played in your mind again. “There are many invirtuous ways you could serve the Captain. But some are less so than others.”

You entered his chamber and found him seated beside the small dining table by the window. You knew he would be. His elbow rested on the tabletop, his hand held to his lips, lost in thought as he often was of late.

He glanced up when he heard you enter. You set the tray of food down onto the table and stood in front of him.

“How many times must I tell you, you do not need to wait for me to give permission,” he sighed, impatient, leaning back in his chair and looking up at you. “Sit, eat.”

“Captain..” you said quietly.

“And how many times must I tell you, you do not need to address me as Captain, use my name.”

He had. He had told you many times to call him by his name.

You nodded quietly.

His brows furrowled in a concerned frown. “Is something wrong?”

You took a slow, deep breath in.

“Captain..I- I wanted to apologize for the trouble and worry I must’ve caused you when you first brought me here..” you swallowed, reaching a shaking hand up to the strap of your gown and brushed it from your shoulder. You looked directly into his eyes, and watched as they grew in shock, his lips pressed together tightly. You brushed the other strap from your shoulder and felt goosebumps grow on your skin as the starched linen material of the gown slipped with ease from your body.

You stood, naked, and attempting to hide your shivers in the cold room before the Captain, who stared back at you, incredulous, unmoving and addled from his seat.

You moved closer to him, standing in between his legs. “You’ve been kind to me. You didn’t hurt me to punish me when I tried to escape. You’ve taken care of me.” You reached a hand out carefully, and brushed a strand of his hair back from his forehead. His eyes seemed to soften as he looked up at you.

“I’ve been wanting to thank you..” your voice shook, and you hoped he did not notice. But you knew he did. He never missed a thing.

“Y/N..”

Hearing him call your name for the first time caused you to freeze for the briefest moment. You dropped down to your knees before him, gliding the palms of your hands along his shoulders, down his chest and stomach. Your fingertips grazed the leather of his belt and he reached out to take your hands in his.

“You don’t have to do this..” he leaned forward in his seat, moving to pull you up, but you felt his thigh twitch at the contact of your arm against him.

“I want to,” you whispered, gazing up at him with sleepy eyes, your lashes fluttering with a purposeful effort. You pulled your hands from his grasp and ran your palms along his thighs.

You heard a moan escape from deep in his throat, and saw his hand moving to grasp the edge of the chair. You slid your hands up to the silver buckle of his belt, undoing it. Slowly, you unfastened the button of his trousers, sliding the zipper down and you could tell for a while now even beneath the thick cotton material, how he stiffened. How he grew.

Carefully, you slipped your fingertips under the opening in his briefs, and brought his full length from under the dampened cotton material.

“Y/N-”

You scooted closer to him, up on both knees as you leaned your head over him.

“Y/N..”

You felt his whole body shudder around you as you leaned your head down and licked the drops of precum from him, the salty, bitter taste lingered on your tongue as you sucked in your cheeks, collecting the saliva in your mouth and pushed it out between your lips. It dripped slowly onto him and you slid your mouth down around him. You closed your eyes and could hear his breathing become more shallow and ragged as you clamped your lips around him and worked him slowly in and out of your mouth, pulling in your cheeks to maintain as much suction as you can. You did the best you could to maintain steady breaths, but the air around you grew thick and sticky, and began to cloud your mind, and the sensation of all the ridges of his cock on your tongue made you hazy.

He slid in his seat, quickly reaching a hand out to grasp the edge of the table to stabilize himself. “Fuck..Y/N..” a deep moan emanated from his throat, breathy and heavy, the sound seemed to travel like a wave of electricity through the air, sending a rush of heat through your body. You squeezed your thighs together in protest of this sensation, but you were helpless to stop it. The combination of the taste of him in your mouth, and the sweet, musky smell of his skin made your mind feel foggy, and made you salivate over him, and you tilted your head, your jaw aching from his girth, you could feel your own wetness slipping between your legs.

“Y/N...ah...mm..I-”

You quickened your pace, holding your tongue firmly against him as more drool dripped down around him, pooling around your hands held firmly at the base of his cock. You felt a vein quiver against your tongue, and you moved your hand, taking more of him than you had been, and you whimpered, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, the air around you filled with the sounds of his gravelly moans and the wet, slurping sounds of you deepthroating him.

“Y/N...fuck, I’m gonna cum..”

Your muffled whines sent vibrations through his body and with a shuddering breath, you felt the hot stream hit your throat, and you felt your own body shake, moaning as you tasted him, feeling the compulsive ache in your core grow even more. You moved him in and out of your mouth a couple more times, swallowing all that he had pumped into your mouth before releasing him with an audible pop from between your lips.

You sat back on your heels, and looked up to see his gaze meet yours. His eyes were soft, sleepy, under heavy lids, his lips parted as he huffed rasped breaths in. After a few quiet moments, the rise and fall of his chest slowed and his breathing began to even out.

A cool breeze came in from the open window behind him and he sat up and leaned down, reaching a hand out to tuck away a strand of hair that fell over your eyes, caressing your cheek as he did so but-

You flinch. You didn’t mean to. But it was all too lucid now, the fog had lifted.

You stand, taking a few steps back and turning from him. You reached down to the floor and pulled up the gown you had dropped before, pulling the straps over your shoulders hurriedly.

“Y/N-” he called out, his voice barely a whisper.

“I apologize for interrupting your meal, Captain,” you sped through those words. “Please excuse me, Lady Inah still needs me downstairs.” You bowed quickly, and turned hastily out the doors of his room, speeding down the hallway and stairwell to the servants’ chambers.

After you left, Taehyung sat, frozen to his chair for a few moments. Partly because he was still affected by the euphoric haze you left him in. Partly because he did not know what to do next. Why did you rush off so hastily? He wondered if he’d done something wrong. Or if he should have said something. Perhaps he should’ve done more to stop you from doing this. Perhaps he should’ve kept you from doing this. He regretted now that he did not have the strength to stop you. Perhaps he should’ve kept you from leaving him. He wanted you to stay.

After a few moments he stood, zipping himself up and sliding his belt back through its buckle. He ran a hand through his hair and gazed around the empty space where you had just been with him.

He took quick strides from his room, out into the hallway and down to the kitchen.

“Captain,” Lady Inah greeted him, a flash of concern flew across her mind as she caught sight of the anxious expression on his face.

“Y/N. Where is she?”

“She..she’d just gone upstairs to bring you your breakfast as usual, sir..” Lady Inah exchanged a nervous glance with Lira. “Perhaps she’s gone to the servants’ quarters? I send her there sometimes to fetch fresh towels for the kitche-”

He was gone before she could finish, picking his stride up in a small run as he leapt up the winding stairwell, flying to the door at the end of the hall and as he burst through it, was met with the startled and petrified faces of the servant girls that were cleaning the room.

“Y/N. Is she here?” he huffed.

“....Yes, sir, she just came in not a few moments ago...” a girl’s voice squeaked quietly from the far corner of the room.

“Where?” he charged toward her, and she was so startled the broom she held fell from her hands, clattering against the floor. She held up a shaking hand, and pointed to the adjacent room.

He swung through the open door, and was met with a dense cloud of condensation and heat in the air. It was the servants’ bath.

At the end of a line of stalls he could make out a silhouette of your body from behind the steam of the shower. He could see your head dropped, hunched over against the wall, your hands across your chest, clasping both of your shoulders.

He let out a slow exhale, falling back against the dampened marble wall beside him, leaning his head back against the warm stone. Seeing you like this seemed to confirm for him what he already knew to be true, only he didn’t want to believe it - that you did not actually want him.

Of course you didn’t, he thought to himself. Why would you? Of course you’d be disgusted by him. Of course you’d want to wash the smell of him, this memory, from your body as quickly as you could.

He stole one more glance at you and turned from the bath, walking back through the servants’ quarters, not seeing the distressed looks on the girls’ faces.

#bts x reader #bts series #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts military au #taehyung au #bts authors #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #taehyung series #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung scenario #yandere #bts yandere #taehyung yandere #taehyung military au #taehyung x reader #mars the god of war

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

Text

Prompt My Own Damn Self # :He’s Not the Guy You Marry, But He Is The Guy You [REDACTED] in the Night Club Bathroom at Two O’Clock in the Morning, Which is Also Important

Summary: Literally what it says in the title, except we find out what [REDACTED] means, which is very fun and exciting. That’s right, everybody, we’re 👏 going 👏 there 👏

Warnings: ‼️18+‼️ Extremely Explicit Sexual Content. Do NOT be uncool and read it if you’re not of age. Otherwise, there’s alcohol involved here (wow what a surprise 🙄), like one mention of drugs, and smoking. Aside from that, it’s pretty straightforward.

Genre: Mediocre Smut

Pairing: Hatter/Fem!Reader

Notes: There are two types of people in this world: people who are very attracted to the weird sexy hat guy who started a death-game pyramid scheme, and LIARS.

Real talk, though: this is pretty explicit. More explicit than I’ve gone in a very long time, so I’m a little rusty. It veers into “hate sex” territory, which was kind of fun to write, honestly. I live for the banter. (Also, the “you” character in this is kind of great? I like her.)

HEY! Just another reminder! This is 18+ so if you’re not of legal age, do yourself a solid and ditch this little thing, okay? Okay.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

It starts with tequila shots.

Salt licked. From your wrist. His chest. The hollow of your throat.

Lime bitten. Held between your fingers. Between his teeth. Between your pushed-together breasts.

Music pulses. Lights flash. He’s got a hand on your ass. You’ve got your lips on his neck.

“Wanna go somewhere?”

“Yes.”

And he leads you, hand on the small of your back, away from the bar. People stare. You like it.

‘Somewhere’ is, apparently, a two-stall women’s restroom, tucked away in a narrow little hallway which runs to the left of the bar. A place for shooting up drugs. A place for scribbling on the walls with permanent marker.

A place for sex. Hot, sweaty, anonymous sex.

...Well, semi-anonymous, anyways. It’s impossible to live at the Beach and not know who the man in red is, the man who sells a shot at salvation for nothing more than a few playing cards.

You lean against the tastefully cream-colored counter which hosts, among other things: a sink stained pink with cheap soap; three forgotten tubes of lipstick; a small mirror, holding an abandoned credit card and two small lines of cocaine; a crumpled up hand towel; a half-finished bottle of Asahi beer; and what was probably once a wedding ring.

“Great ambiance,” you murmur flatly. The harsh light of fluoresent bulbs burn your eyes, diverting your gaze to the white floor, “Been ages since I got fucked in a classy place like this.”

“Ages?” Hatter flicks the lock on the door with a low thunk.

“Hours,” you answer, mournful tone betrayed by a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, “Had you not come along, my dry spell might’ve gone on through the morning.”

“Perish the thought.”

And he does not so much approach you as he descends upon you, mouth sucking at your collarbone and leg pushing between your thighs.

“Tell me,” he pants into you ear, breath hot and fingers deft as he unties the strings of your bikini top, “How do you want me?”

“Now,” you hiss back, “Don’t care how, just—fuck, just give it to me.”

“Then, if you would be so kind?” He holds a condom between his index and middle fingers.

In truth, you’re glad for it—you’d rather not deal with the mess after all is said and done—but there’s no way you’ll give him the satisfaction of a ‘thank you.’

“Fine,” you huff, snatching the foil square from his grasp, “Don’t suppose you have anything better to—oh!”

Hands on your hips spin you around so you’re facing the mirror. You grip the edge of the counter, knuckles straining, and watch as he reaches around to palm your breast.

“Apologies,” he makes eye contact with you in the mirror, “but I seem to have my hands full at the moment.”

And that’s when you feel fingertips slipping beneath the seam of your bikini bottoms, an insistent press against the slick of your slit.

You spit a curse and fumble with the condom, desperation setting in as his hands continued to dance across your flesh. After some moments (too many for your liking), you’re successful in your endeavor, and pass the unwrapped nuisance over your shoulder.

“Much obliged,” he thanks, removing his hands to sort himself out, “You know, I appreciate—“

“I didn’t come here to talk,” you snap. He laughs in response.

“Ooh, you’re mean!”

And he’s sliding the crotch of your swimsuit bottoms to the side, exposing only what is necessary and lining himself up—and, okay, that’s the kind of semi-impractical hotness you were looking for from this particular encounter. Your muscles clench involuntarily around nothing and you cant your hips back to get him to move it along...but nothing happens.

God, what is this guy’s problem?!

“But, I wonder,” he whispers into your ear, “are you desperate enough to say ‘please?”

Of all the guys to pull for a quick fuck, of course you get the one who’s a total tease. So smug, arrogance blooming as he presses a soft kiss to your left shoulder. There’s no way you’re giving in to this asshole, so you glare at him in the reflection of the mirror.

“Fuck you,” you spit, teeth bared and mouth formed into a malicious smile.

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Close enough.”

You both cry out when he fills you with a single, fluid thrust. And—fuck, fuck, fuck!—that is good. One of his hands curls around the jut of your hip, while the other splays across your collarbone, thumb and forefinger framing the base of your throat in a firm but gentle touch.

Otherwise, he remains still—perhaps he’s being gentlemanly and allowing you time to adjust? No, no, he’s definitely being a tease again.

Seriously, what is his goddamn deal?

Since he seems content to take his merry time, you take matters into your own hands, moving against him in a somewhat-awkward but still satisfying rhythm.

“You,” he says between heavy breaths, “seem eager.”

There’s something in his voice that seems amused, as if he finds your candor endearing. You lean forward a bit, angling your hips so his length is able to sink deeper and, oh, that’s much better.

“Want something done right,” you pant, “gotta do it yourself.”

“You don’t think I’d do it right?”

“Sweetie,” you coo with a condescending smile, “I know you wouldn’t.”

And you’re lucky that guys like him are all the same—arrogant, showy, desperate to prove their sexual prowess—because he finally (finally!) decides to get his sorry ass into gear and make something happen.

The hand that was around your neck gropes at your breasts, the cool metal of that stupid-ugly-tacky ring catching on your skin in an annoyingly tantalizing way. The other shoves its way between you and the edge of the countertop, deft fingertips circling your clitoris in a way that makes your toes curl in your sandals. You bite your lip to keep from crying out as he fucks into you, hips snapping hard but steady against the plush of your ass.

“You know, the people I fuck usually try to be nice to me,” he says, “nicer than you, anyways.”

The hand on your breast pinches your nipple, earning him a sharp gasp.

“Why be nice?” You clench around him, causing his rhythm to falter, “You’re just the means to an end.”

“And here I thought we were making love.”

Teeth scrape down the length of your neck, and fuck—you’re getting close. Your arms are shaking. Your heart is racing. You hate to admit it, but he’s good at this.

“Darling,” he growls into your ear, “I do believe you’re about to come.”

“Shut up,” you snap, trying desperately to sound cool and unaffected despite the fact that your composure is about to shatter and there is not a goddamn thing you can do about it.

“Well, go on then. After all,” he hisses, “I don’t have all night.”

What starts as anger is quickly overtaken by pleasure—white-hot and blinding, enough to make your knees shake and your eyes spring with tears. It’s exactly what you were looking for, exactly what you had been expecting from the most notorious sex fiend at this God-forsaken place.

Apparently, he must’ve come too, because he’s pulling out with a surprising tenderness—gentlemanly in one way, at least. He even makes sure to right your bikini bottoms, making sure that they’re once again covering you completely before turning his attention to himself.

“You know, I didn’t know people could glare their way through an orgasm, but you made it happen.”

“I’m a woman of many talents.”

Before you choose to look in the mirror, you fix the rest of your bathing suit with a tremble in your fingers. You can feel him watching you, and honestly, you’re not sure how you feel about that. Good, mostly, but tinged a bit orange with annoyance. You try not to think about that too much and, with a deep breath, look at your reflection.

The first thing you do to assess the damage of your little liaison is check your makeup—your eyeliner is a bit smudged, but that’s easily fixed with a few swipes of your littlest finger. Your hair, however, is another story, so you set to fixing it with a dissatisfied huff.

You hear the snick of a lighter behind you and the scent of fresh-burning nicotine hits your senses. You turn around to see him leaning against the tile wall with a cigarette between his lips and smoke curling in wisps towards the ceiling.

He raises an eyebrow when you approach him, then chuckles when you snatch the cigarette right out of his mouth and take a long, deep drag. It’s almost as good as the sex.

“You know,” he says, “I think you might be a bit in love with me after my spectacular performance.”

That makes you choke, your lungs switching from laughter to coughing and back again.

“Spectacular?” You quell your sputtering with a gulp, “You were passable. At best.”

“Careful, sweetheart. You’re getting awfully close to giving me a compliment.”

You take a step closer to him, shoulders squared, fingers ashing the cigarette onto the floor.

“Not your sweetheart,” you say, taking one last drag and blowing the smoke directly into his face. You smile when he flinches.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you say, pressing the mostly-smoked cigarette between his lips, “I have somewhere to be.”

You turn on your heel and begin to walk away, making sure to sway your hips just so as you do. There’s no way his eyes aren’t glued to your ass, and the thought makes you smile triumphantly.

“Until next time, then,” he calls—and it’s cute that he sounds so sure that you’ll come crawling back to him.

You exit the bathroom with a self-satisfied smirk, enjoying the thought of him lighting another cigarette and trying not to chase after you.

Three days, tops. That’s how long it’ll take for him to beg.

You can’t wait.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

also just in case you were wondering, he DID leave the sunglasses on—BUT they were on his head kinda holding his hair back because I truly believe he would do that. also the kimono has pockets and he thinks it’s very cool to carry around all his stuff in there (for example he keeps a granola bar on his person at all times because sometimes you just get hungry yknow?)

#spicy boy #writings and such #hatter #hatter x reader #danma takeru #danma takeru x reader #alice in borderland fanfic #alice in borderland #this took me WEEKS to write oh my god #I’m gonna convert y’all to hatter fans no matter what #it’s a thankless job but someone’s gotta do it #he’s got great hair and a weird outfit what more do you people WANT?!?

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

trivia love | knj

⇥ pairing: kim namjoon x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au with fluff and smut

⇥ summary: in which the reader and namjoon become ridiculously attracted to each other over weekly late night trivia sessions

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, terrible trivia team names, namjoon being devastating, low-key exhibitionism, smut in a bar bathroom, oral (f receiving), sub!joon, switch!reader, everyone being nerdy af

Weekly trivia used to be so fun. Your team - The Multiple Scoregasms - used to demolish the competition with ease. You used to be able to think so clearly and answer so correctly. You used to revel in the free drinks earned with your $20 bar credit winnings.

Keywords: used to

For the last two Thursdays, not only had your team lost miserably, you seemed to have lost all recollection past your own name.

The reason? Team Text Us, We're Single.

First of all, their team name was highly deceptive. There was no way that all seven of those beautiful team members were single. It was absolutely ludicrous.

Second of all, only one member of the group seemed to even take trivia seriously. And they still won. Twice.

And last of all, you were high-key attracted to said member. You sighed, thinking back to simpler times before you first saw him two Thursdays ago…

The first thing you saw when you walked into Queenie’s Bar was a squad of middle-aged men debating the merits of Draco Malfoy’s redemption arc.

And the second? Just the cutest smiling boy you’d ever seen in the entirety of your existence. He was tall and deliciously tan, with cute dimples that surfaced suddenly when he smiled at the bartender in thanks.

As you stood in the archway of the bar gaping at this dimpled god, you got jostled from behind by your friend Olivia. “What’s the hold up? Go claim our usual table, (y/n)! I’ll get the drinks.”

You snapped out of your reverie. Cute boy or not, he was likely to be part of tonight’s competition; and, therefore, you needed to annihilate him accordingly.

Nodding inwardly, you stalked past the men who now had moved on from Draco to a heated argument surrounding house-elves and their rights.  “Hermione just dropped her whole campaign! S.P.E.W. was never mentioned again!” One man thrust his hand through his thinning hair in exasperation, “God, did the campaign buttons mean nothing?”

You cracked a smile as you settled into your usual table in the middle of the crowded bar. You loved Thursday night trivia with everything you had.

Thursdays brought in an eclectic sort of crowd to Queenie’s. The groups scattered throughout the bar represented everyone from middle aged Potterheads to skulking e-boys to nerdy young adults (READ: you) and - apparently - to models (READ: Dimples).

You spotted your roommate Jordan and your friend Marlene hurrying through the door and raised a hand to wave them down. Marlene noticed you first and yelled, “Yo, (y/n)!”

Typically, you would have been embarrassed by this behavior, but it happened each week without fail. So, you just gave a half-assed salute.

The only thing that Marlene, the only extrovert in your circle of friends, loved more than being the center of attention was forcing the rest of you into the spotlight with her.

Her reasoning? Something about comfort zones and shit. Your reasoning? Pure evil.

Jordan rolled his eyes at you and grabbed Marlene, dragging her over to your table. “She needs to be stopped,” Jordan said in lieu of a greeting, “She’s a menace to introverts everywhere.”

“Puh-lease,” Marlene plopped into her seat dramatically, “Y’all love me. Besides, if you got rid of me, who would do speed trivia rounds for you?”

You and Jordan exchanged a panicked look at the mere thought of being put on the spot in front of a large crowd. “You make a convincing argument,” you sighed, “I guess we’ll keep you.”

“Well,” Marlene concentrated on something over your shoulder, “I might leave voluntarily if other teams are out here looking like that.”

You turned, seeking out the team in question, and locked eyes with Dimples. He blushed furiously and ducked his head, blonde hair falling to cover his eyes. His friend to his left, equally as attractive, gave Dimples a weird look and shoved his shoulder. You whipped back around before you got caught staring - again.

“What the fuck?” Jordan whispers-yelled across the table to you, “Do you know that boy, (y/n)?”

“No,” you choked out, already halfway to whipped over someone you’d never even met.

“Well, damn,” Olivia finally arrived, somehow successfully holding four drinks, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Marlene smirked, “Just a cute boy thirsting over (y/n) from afar.”

“He is not thirsting!” Your disclaimer went by unacknowledged.

“Oooh, we love a thirsty boy,” Olivia slid into her seat next to you and turned around to assess the crowd, “Shit. Which one is he? All the boys at that table are hot.”

“The one with the dimples,” you automatically answered, your mind replaying his squinty-eyed smile in full HD.

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Marlene whipped out her pen and notepad like she was about to take notes, “Now, how do you know he has dimples?”

“Uh,” you sank low in your seat, “A good guess?”

“Nope, try again,” Jordan cackled, “You twirl your hair when you’re lying, bitch.”

Goddamnit. You released your traitorous hand from your hair immediately. “Fine, because I saw him smiling when I arrived, okay?”

“Interesting,” Marlene scribbled gibberish on her notepad, “And how do you feel about that?”

Now, two long weeks later, you still had no idea how to answer that question. However, you did know that you longed to talk with him for hours and absorb the knowledge he seemed to hold in every crevice of his brain. You did know that a darker part of you wanted to see him kneeling before you, completely at your mercy. You did know that his thighs were distracting, to the point where you accidentally dumped your entire beer down your shirt because you were too gaping at the way he leaned over the bar to order drinks.

And, unfortunately, you did know that he seemed to be equally distracted by you. This bit of knowledge came via your friends; and, therefore, you were in full denial.

“Question nine,” the bartender-turned-announcer cleared her throat, jolting you from your inner thoughts. “Who wrote 1818’s Frankenstein?”

“Mary Shelley!” You whispered across the table to Jordan, who then scrawled the name onto your team’s answer sheet. Satisfied, you shot a furtive glance around the bar and frowned as the surrounding teams all seemed to be confident in their answers as well. Your gaze strategically skipped past the table in the back section of the bar before returning to face your teammates.

From her seat next to Jordan, Marlene spotted something in the very direction you had been avoiding and giggled, “Dimples is staring. Bottoms up, fam.”

“Again?” Olivia rolled her eyes and drank from her dwindling gin and tonic. “He just looked at her, like, thirty seconds ago!”

Your eyes swung to Jordan as he attempted to covertly take a sip of his vodka cranberry.

“Please tell me you all aren’t drinking every time he looks over here,” you groaned, crossing your arms, “How are you even sure that he's looking at me?”

“Maybe because his eyes were glued to your ass when you walked by his table earlier on the way to the bathroom,” Olivia cackled, “I mean, I can’t blame the guy. Those jeans really do make you look thick.”

“And that’s ‘thick’ with at least three C’s and possibly a Q,” Marlene added, shooting you a thumbs up and nod of approval.

Jordan arched an eyebrow slyly, sipped his mixed drink, and drawled,“Well, why do you think she wore them?”

That snake!

“Top ten anime betrayals,” you whispered, eyes wide in the wake of being exposed.

Marlene and Olivia gasped in unison and turned towards you. Olivia hissed, “You bitch. Have you been holding out on us? Have you been seducing him?”

“Question ten,” the announcement blared from the bar’s speakers, saving you briefly from the brewing interrogation you felt was headed your way. “What novel begins with the words 'Call me Ishmael’?”

“Moby Dick,” Marlene answered, “Now, back to the matter at hand. I cannot believe you didn’t tell us this crucial information. We could have been scheming together if we knew you liked him.”

“Like him?!” Your shriek drew the attention of the neighboring table, and you shot them a sheepish smile. When they finally looked away, you immediately reverted back to your murderous state, “I don’t even know his name! And when have you been scheming?”

“Fine,” Jordan acquiesced, stirring his paper straw around his drink, “Maybe you don’t like him yet, but you definitely want to sit on his dick. Am I right or am I right?”

Gleefully, Marlene and Olivia faced you with fierce looks of anticipation.

“Fine,” you sniffed, trying to scrape your shredded dignity off the floor, “Yes, I want to sit on his dick. Is that so wrong?”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Olivia rubbed her palms together, grinning deviously, "I mean, we already know he's into you. Why can't you just say something to him?"

You looked at her like she had just spoken Latin backwards, "Have you seen him? He’s so sweet. I could ruin him.”

“I don’t think he’d even mind though,” Marlene sighed, gazing over at the boy in question.

Jordan snorted as you buried your head in your hands and audibly prayed for anyone out there to take pity on you.

"We're moving on to our next category, folks," the bar's sound system crackled to life, answering your prayers, "Harry Potter."

"Oh, fuck yeah," You and Marlene - resident Harry Potter dweebs - exchanged high fives. Finally, a category you could probably win with your mind functioning on minimal capacity.

"Question eleven: In the Goblet of Fire, who poses as Mad-Eye Moody, Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Barty Crouch," you and Marlene said, pausing for dramatic effect, "Junior."

You cracked up as Jordan and Olivia shook their heads. "I question our friendship every damn day," Olivia joked, gazing off into the metaphorical distance - aka at the wall.

"You love us, bitch-ass," Marlene aimed a kick in Olivia’s direction under the table.

You grinned at their antics and went to take a sip from your beer, only to discover it empty. "Another round?" You ask your friends, standing to head over to the bar.

"Yes, please," Jordan groaned, "Anything to make it through these next four questions."

"Anyone - besides Jordan - want another round?" You revised your original statement aloud.

"Wow, have I mentioned I love Harry Potter lately? Like, yes, ten points to Hogwarts, bitch," Olivia thrust her empty glass in the air.

"That's not even how House Points work, Liv," Marlene sighed, "Solid B- for effort."

You turned to leave. "Wait!" Jordan drew your attention back to your group, "Stick your ass out when you order. He'll be watching." He shot a quick glance in He Who Shall Not Be Named (Because You Don't Know It)'s direction. "Oh, wait. He already is. Go get 'em, Hedwig."

You inwardly screamed at the knowledge that you were being watched by the current focus of your attraction and decided not to comment before leaving.

"Hedwig?" You heard Marlene addressing Jordan as you walked away, "Did you mean Hermione? Hedwig is Harry’s fucking owl. RIP, by the way."

God, you loved your friends.

Arriving at the large wooden bar running the length of the room, you flagged down one of the bartenders and circled a finger in the air to indicate another round. You and your friends came often enough for most of the staff to know your orders by heart. It was awesome.

"Question twelve!" The sound jolted you upright. You hadn't noticed you were standing right next to one of the extra speakers the bar used for trivia. Idiot, you cursed yourself, why must you be like this?

"Why was the Whomping Willow planted?" Cringing again at the volume, you craned your neck and located Marlene, who gave you an affirmative nod of 'I got this, fam.'

"Here you go!" The bartender placed your drinks in front of you, "Same tab?"

"Yes, please," You nodded, attempting to smoothly grab all four drinks, "Thank you!"

"Need some help?" The sweetest voice you had ever heard in your life sounded from your left side. You slowly turned your head to face its source and was equally as stunned by the beautiful boy in front of you.

This was one of Dimples’ teammates - one of the Team Text Us, We're Single boys.

"Um," your brain resembled the scene from Spongebob where he forgot his name. Your eyes darted over the boy's shoulder in a deliberate attempt to avoid his cute scrunched eyes and wide smile. But, you were only faced with something even more devastating.

Six boys openly gaped at you from the back table. When you caught their eyes, three looked away, two grinned shamelessly, and one blushed right to the tips of his ears.

Cute. Your insides turned to mush over how adorable your Dimples was.

"They're the worst, right?” The boy in front of you commanded your attention once more, "So nosy. Now, let me help you. I'm Jimin, by the way, from Team Text--"

"Us, We're Single," you finished, "Yeah, you guys beat us the last two Thursdays. We had such a nice winning streak going, too."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Jimin smiled wide, "Most of us don't even care about trivia."

"That makes it even worse," you groaned, sliding two drinks his way, "I'm (y/n), from The Multiple--"

"Scoregasms," Jimin laughed, "Awesome name."

"Thanks!" Your confidence soared at his praise and you smiled genuinely, "It's some of my best work."

"Question thirteen!"

"Oh shit," Jimin muttered, "Let's go before I miss any more questions. Joon will have my ass on a platter."

You nodded, mind whirring to try to determine which team member this 'Joon' was. Maybe the intimidating-looking boy with the bleached blonde hair pushed back in a headband? Or the really muscular one in all black with the doe eyes and long brown hair?

"When Dumbledore and Harry first visit Horace Slughorn, what is he disguised as?"

At the question, you grabbed the two remaining drinks and head back to your table with Jimin following close behind. As soon as you began your journey, you rolled your eyes at the completely obvious way your friends were pretending they hadn’t been watching you and Jimin interact this entire time.

You had never seen them having such an animated conversation about... "Bagels are so good! I love how you can choose from so many different types, like cinnamon raisin, sesame, blueberry, honey wheat--"

"Hi," you forcefully placed the drinks down in front of your friends and succeeded in interrupting Marlene's riveting tirade about bagels, "This is Jimin. He was kind enough to help me."

"Hey, Jimin," Jordan eyed the boy appreciatively, "Decided to scope out the competition, huh?"

"Honestly, sort of," Jimin chuckled. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, not liking the sly edge his grin took on in the slightest.

"Well, hopefully (y/n) didn't give much away," Olivia giggled, staring up at Jimin with heart eyes, "She's our team leader."

"Damn straight." You plopped back down in your chair, "Want to sit with us? We can grab an extra chair from a nearby table."

"Nah," Jimin glanced over his shoulder at where his teammates were probably still staring, "I should get back. Want to hang out after trivia though? We can merge tables!"

Before you could even answer, Marlene enthused, "Yes! That would be so fun. Don't you think, (y/n)?"

You gave her your most lethal side-eye, catching onto what seemed to be happening here, "Yes... so fun."

"Great!" Jimin ignored your dry tone, "Talk to you later then!"

You all watched as he sauntered away.

"Damn," Olivia sighed, "That boy is fine." You nodded sagely as your eyes stayed glued to Jimin's firm ass as he walked away in those tight jeans.

"So, what's the plan, team?" Jordan clapped, "We have T minus twenty minutes to get 'Operation Get (y/n) Dicked Down' up and running. Let's do this."

God, you hated your friends.

Twenty minutes later, your team had solidly lost. However, unlike the last two weeks, your loss did not come as a surprise or alongside any hard feelings. You four were too busy prepping to hang out with seven intimidatingly hot boys.

You were the only one not excited.

“And that concludes trivia for tonight, folks,” the bartender announced, “Team Text Us, We’re Single wins once again. Please come to the bar to collect your bar credits, lads.”

“Oh my god, okay, it’s happening,” Jordan bounced up and down in his seat as you all watched the bar start to clear out, “Stay calm. Stay fucking calm.”

“I don’t know how you have any room to call (y/n) and I nerds while you straight up quote The Office, Jord,” Marlene laughed.

“The Office is an Emmy award-winning show,” Jordan sniffed, “Come at me when Harry Potter wins a Pulitzer.”

“The Pulitzer is only for American authors,” Marlene cried.

“I rest my case,” Jordan lifted his glass.

“What?” Marlene yelped, “That makes literally no sense.”

“As much as I hate to interrupt this fascinating argument,” Olivia drawled, “We’re being summoned.”

You gulped, glancing behind you. Sure enough, Jimin was flagging you all down from across the bar, while a few of his teammates dragged over an empty table towards their own.

“Shit, I guess this is it,” you sighed.

“Jesus, you’re not going off to war, (y/n),” Jordan rolled his eyes, “You’re literally about to meet the your trivia daddy.”

“Please— and I cannot stress this enough,” you paused, “Never say that again.” With that, you stood, grabbing your drink and sauntering over towards Jimin with all the confidence you could possibly summon.

You heard your friends’ laughter behind you, and you discreetly flashed them the middle finger behind you back.

“Hey, Jimin,” you smiled at the boy as he greeted you and your friends.

“Hi, welcome!” His eyes were completely encompassed by his cheeks, and you internally screeched at his cuteness.

“This is Taehyung,” Jimin gestured to the curly-haired boy to his right. Taehyung greeted you all with a deep ‘Hi’ and a peace sign.

“Yoongi,” Jimin pointed towards the intimidating boy you noticed earlier with the bleached hair and the headband. Yoongi only nodded in your general vicinity as greeting.

“Hi, I’m Jin!” The stunningly handsome boy at the end of the table burst out, evidently unable to wait until he was introduced. Jin blew you all a kiss as his friends groaned.

“Please ignore him,” Jimin rolled his eyes before moving on, “Those two are Hoseok and Jungkook.” Jimin gestures towards the bar where two boys were collecting two pitchers of beer.

“And, last but not least, our trivia leader Namjoon,” Jimin’s grin turned devious as the boy in question raised his hand in greeting and ducked his head back down.

“Please sit,” Jimin gestured towards the scattered empty chairs amongst his group.

“(Y/n)!” Jin called suddenly, his arm flopping frantically in the air, “Come sit next to me!”

Your eyebrows shot all the way up as your heartbeat accelerated. Sitting next to Jin meant sitting next to Namjoon - your Dimples.

Nodding, you made your way over. It would be rude to refuse his request, and you could not help but wonder if Namjoon’s friends were also schemers.

You rounded the corner of the table and plopped down between the two boys. “H-hi,” you offered, eloquent as ever. You sipped your beer to cover up your burning embarrassment.

“Hi,” Jin grinned at you, “Thanks for joining us at the handsome end of the table.”

You choked on your beer, before cracking up, “The handsome end?” You loved this boy already and couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, “Oh, you meant Namjoon.” You shot the boy you just mentioned a sly smile as Jin spluttered.

Namjoon cocked his head slightly as he slowly broke into a shy smile, “Yeah, he definitely did, (y/n).”

Lord Almighty, the way he said your named almost sounded like a confession.

“Oh, this is insane, you fools!” Jin shook with incredulity, “I am worldwide handsome. Not Namjoon. Ugh, I need new friends.”

Jin stood and skulked over to the other side of the table as you all laughed. He was so extra, you could already tell. However, his antics had done wonders for your nerves.

Turning back to Namjoon, you leaned in closer, “Did he just make an Always Sunny reference? Or was that just me?”

Namjoon nodded, eyes glinting in amusement, “He did. You watch that show, too?”

Your conversation delved into your favorite shows, your favorite movies, your favorite meals. You felt like you had known Namjoon forever with how comfortable you already were with each other. Yet, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes strayed to your lips every so often or how his hands crept closer to your thigh with every parting word.

The boy was into you. You were almost 85% sure of it. So, you decided to test him.

In the middle of Namjoon’s story about the time Jungkook almost burned down his apartment complex, you slid your hand over his. Namjoon paused, and you looked up innocently. He gulped and continued.

You smiled viciously on the inside. Your fingers played with his, intertwining with them, playing with his rings, brushing over his palm.

As Namjoon’s story drew to a close, you tugged his hand onto your thigh and released it. Nonchalantly, you picked up your beer and took a sip.

Shooting the boy a quick glance in your periphery, you found him staring openmouthed at his own hand encompassing your thigh. He gave your thigh a tentative squeeze, and you hummed in content. His eyes shot to yours.

“W-what are you doing?” Namjoon’s pupils were dilated as he blinked at you.

“I just wanted your hand on me, Joon,” you pouted, “You can take it off if you want.”

You moved to shift his hand off you, but his grip tightened. “I like having my hands on you, (y/n),” he said, his voice deeper than ever, “I also like you calling me ‘Joon’.”

“Two more things we can agree on,” you smiled at him, stomach full of butterflies and anticipation. Glancing around you, you realized that your friends were dispersed throughout the bar.

Marlene, Jordan, Hoseok, and Jungkook were dancing wildly in the middle of the bar’s tiny dance-floor. Jimin and Taehyung were bothering the DJ to presumably keep playing an assortment of random songs from the early 2000s.

Olivia, Yoongi, and Jin sat at the bar, watching the others and laughing as Jungkook kept hitting the whoa no matter what song played. Currently, he was hitting the whoa to Baby Got Back.

Turning back to Namjoon, you find him looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” you questioned, eyes searching his inquisitively.

He shoved a hand through his messy hair. “You’re so intimidating, (y/n). You’re so smart and beautiful, and it messes with my brain.”

“You’re intimidated by me?” You arched an eyebrow before smiling sweetly, “I promise I don’t bite… Unless you want me to.”

“I do,” he answered automatically. You both paused. His eyes widened comically, “F-forget I said that.”

“You want me to bite you, Joonie?” You sighed into his ear, relishing in his shiver, “You want me to mark your pretty skin?”

“Yes,” he breathed out.

“Okay,” your mouth descended to his neck, searching for a weak spot. His breath hitched as your mouth neared his thrumming pulse point. Bingo.

You placed an open-mouthed kiss onto his warm skin before sucking lightly. Namjoon moaned, shifting in his seat.

You bit down, and his hips bucked instinctively. Pulling back slightly, you licked over the mark that was slowly blooming on his neck.

The clear imprint of your teeth on his neck had you grinning like a fool. You really wanted to own this cute, shy, intelligent boy.

You looked up at Namjoon. He was watching you with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, eyes focused on his. He nodded frantically, and your lips tugged up in a small smile.

Slowly, you inched your mouth closer towards his. Your breaths mingled. You pressed your lips to his gently and wrapped your arms around his neck.

You kept kissing Namjoon until you finally had to come up for air. Leaning your forehead against his, you locked eyes, breathing each other in.

“Can I sit on your lap, Joon?” You asked in between peppering kisses on his reddened cheeks.

After getting a nod in confirmation, you straddled his lap and returned your lips to his. The small part of your brain still thinking rationally reminded you that you were in a very public bar. The much larger and irrational part of your brain urged you on as your hips shamelessly grind onto Namjoon’s. The hardened cock that you felt through his jeans was too tempting. And, besides, exhibitionism was fun, right?

You bit down on Namjoon’s bottom lip, and he thrust against you.

You broke away and turned your head to the side, needing another moment to breathe. Namjoon began to kiss your neck, and you let out a small laugh as he nipped at your skin. He was marking you right back.

Namjoon lifted his head again as your lips parted. His face was inches away from yours. He stared at you like a starving man.

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon said lowly, “I’m beginning to think you might be the devil, because you just snatched my soul.”

You stared at him. “That was so goddamned cheesy.” Your giggles made him turn an interesting shade of maroon.

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Jin-hyung,” you heard him mutter before you captured his lips once more.

As you kissed, his fingers slowly inched downwards, caressing you. You decided then and there that you would have this boy.

“Undo my jeans,” you commanded after pulling away from his mouth. His eager fingers dropped to your zipper, fumbling in their haste. Once your jeans were undone, you felt him hesitate. You instructed him, “I need your fingers.”

He thrust a finger into you. “Mm, Joon,” you dropped your head into the crevice of his neck as he pumped another one in, stretching you. His fingers curled inside you, as you shifted your hips.

“Rub my clit,” You demanded, and he pulled his fingers out and circled it immediately. You moaned at both the new sensation and at the loss of his fingers inside you. “Keep your fingers in me, use your thumb.” You gripped onto the back of his head, pulling on his hair in punishment.

His fingers thrust back into you without warning as his thumb circled your clit. You felt yourself clenching around him, so close to coming just from his hands. Still, you needed more. You were definitely a greedy bitch.

You pulled his hand from your pants, and he stared at his fingers, which were sticky with you. You watched enraptured as he lifted his wet fingers to his lips and sucked.

His eyes widened, “Fuck, (y/n), you taste so good. You have to let me eat you out. You need to let me put my head between your thighs. Please.”

“Bathroom,” you gasped out, “Now.” You shimmied off of Namjoon’s lap and onto shaky legs.

“Follow me in one minute,” you kissed his cheek and tried your best to casually make your way to the bathroom. However, you were pretty sure you had already blown all efforts to be casual as soon as you sat on Namjoon.

Finally, you entered the empty single-stall bathroom and let out a sigh of relief.

Two seconds later, a knock sounded. You barely opened the door wide enough before Namjoon was all over you. His hands gripped your ass as he backed you against the wall next to the sink.

He gazed down at you with hooded eyes, “You still want this, right?”

“Yes, Joon,” you leaned up to kiss him one more time.

Namjoon sank to his knees before you.

You audibly moaned at the sight. Quickly, you tugged your jeans down your legs and kicked them to the side. Your underwear followed suit.

Namjoon cursed lowly as you lifted a leg onto the ledge of the sink, baring everything to him. “Well,” you smirked, “You wanted to put that smart mouth on me.”

“You are going to kill me,” he muttered. His hot mouth closed over your clit. Parting your lips, he caressed you as he sucked and licked. His fingers thrust into you once more, pulling out slowly then pummeling back in.

“Harder,” you moaned. He fucked you faster, adding another finger, stretching you.

He pulled his mouth away from you, his lips swollen and pink. “How the fuck can you taste this good?” He panted as he carried on fucking you with his fingers, grabbing at your ass with his free hand.

His mouth returned to your pussy, circling your clit with his tongue and moaning against it. His fingers continued to push into you relentlessly.

You felt your toes curl as your orgasm approached at a maddening rate. “J-Joon,” you cried his name, your back arching as the pleasure built up with each stroke of his tongue and movement of his fingers.

Without warning, he sucked on your clit harshly, and you came, clenching around his fingers. Namjoon continued to pump them in and out of you, carrying you through your orgasm. He licked your pussy, lapping up everything you gave him with his tongue. After a bit, your fingers wound into his hair and pulled. “Stop,” you begged, legs shaking with overstimulation.

He pulled back immediately and lifted his head, looking thoroughly fucked-out. His lips were more swollen than ever. His hair was a tangled mess. You had never seen anything better. “God, you look so sexy right now,” you mused, reaching a hand to stroke at his cheek.

“Are you guys finally done in there?” You cringed as Jordan’s amused voice shouted at you through the bathroom door, “You have work tomorrow, (y/n).”

“Jesus H. Christ, Jordan! Go away!” You screamed back at your infuriating roommate.

“…I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’,” he replied, laughing, “See you out there, champ.”

“I’m going to murder him,” you seethed, accepting your jeans from Namjoon who held them silently out to you.

You scanned the floor of the bathroom, “Wait, where’s my underwear?”

Namjoon’s cheeks flooded with color as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, “I needed some form of reminder of tonight.”

You shrugged, giggling as you tugged on your jeans, “Let’s make a trade.”

“I’m listening,” he grinned, goddamned dimples popping out and making you want to kiss him forever.

“You keep my panties; I keep you,” you grinned back at him.

He blinked rapidly, “Keep me?” You nodded, nerves erupting. Had you misread the situation? Did he just want this to be a one-time thing? Shit, had you royally fucked this up already?

He kissed you suddenly, and you relaxed.

“Please keep me,” he mumbled, “I’m a mess, but I can be your mess if you’d let me.”

“We can be messy together,” you gripped his hand in yours, “Now, come on. We have to go face our friends.”

Namjoon gulped, looking rightfully terrified at that prospect. “Or we could sneak out the back?”

A smirk wound its way onto your face, “I really do like the way you think, Joonie. Let’s go.”

With that, the two of you snuck out of the bathroom and out the backdoor of the bar.

“I knew it!” Marlene and Jimin greeted the two of you with triumphant fists thrust high in the air. Jimin whipped his phone out before you or Namjoon could even say a word. “Hey, hyung? Yeah. They’re out here.”

Ignoring the gloating pair, you turned to Namjoon, “We could still make a run for it?”

He met your eyes; and, without a word, you both took off.

Shouts of your names followed you down the dark alley as you both cracked up. This was definitely not how you had pictured your typical Thursday trivia night to go down, but you were not disappointed. No, you shot the boy running beside you an affectionate look, you weren’t disappointed at all.

#bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btsbookclub #180knet #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon #knj #namjoon x reader #knj x reader #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #namjoon smut #knj smut #kim namjoon

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jelly-drabble · 3 years

Text

Loosen Up

Synopsis: (Kind of) A sequel to a Butcher fic a friend wrote for me (Found here) Warnings: None AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35044057

The cheap linens scratched at Rat’s exposed ankles. Every few minutes he’d pull the legs of his sweatpants down to cover them again, but every time he shifted even slightly they’d just ride back up. This is what he had to worry about. Itchy bedding in a cheap motel. To say he was bored would be a huge understatement. It was downright painful for him to sit and do nothing, even for a few minutes. Hours had passed since sundown.

Leaving would mean their deal was off, though. And breaking their deal meant… well, presumably, death. Rat was happy with their arrangement. Ecstatic, even. But sitting still for this long almost made him want to break the rules just for the sake of immediate attention.

Off and on he took a few minutes to flip through the channels, none of which caught his eye. Something familiar would pop on and he’d stay put; he needed the noise. The TV was the only source of entertainment in the room, unfortunately.

He looked back and forth between the screen and the curtain drawn across the window. Not even light could leak in from behind the fabric, but he felt he had to check on impulse alone.

Before the faint jingling noise could register with Rat as the door being unlocked, it swung open. Drenched to the bone, The Butcher shoved past the door, slamming it shut behind him, and went straight to the bathroom.

By now, Rat knew Quentin wasn’t much for conversation, so he wasn’t really expecting a greeting when he first walked in. It didn’t stop him from following close behind.

Layers of sopping wet clothes were shed haphazardly onto the floor. The Butcher was in the process of peeling his undershirt off when Rat stepped into the bathroom. Deep purple bruises spotted his back and sides, and as he turned to face the smaller man, Rat realized the bruises and cuts covered his chest and face as well.

“Jesus, what happened?”

Quentin looked unimpressed and/or uninterested, as always.

He dropped his shirt, and inspected his black eye in the mirror. Luckily, Rat had picked up rubbing alcohol last time he was out. While Quentin poured generous amounts of it over the scrapes covering his hands and arms, Rat slinked around behind him to get to the tub. He knew he was being side-eyed the entire time.

“I know you’re big on whore’s baths, but uh-“ Rat turned the knob and began testing the temperature of the water, “Why don’t you take a real one?”

It was hard to decipher Quentin’s vacant expression as actually vacant, or a full on glare.

“You don’t even have to do anything, just lay down. You look like you got hit by a truck.”

To Rat’s credit, it took far less coaxing to get Quentin in the tub than he’d expected. Though he couldn’t lay down, and the tub was just wide enough for him to fit without being pressed up against it on either side. The soft groan that left Quentin’s lips spoke for him. Rat sat next to the tub, resting his arms on the edge.

Whatever this was, it was new. This had to be the first time Rat had seen him relaxed. Scratch that, the first time anyone had seen him relaxed. And even now, it was obvious he was still very aware of his surroundings. He could crush Rat’s windpipe in an instant if he wanted. Apparently, he didn’t.

Rat soaked a washcloth in the water, and with a generous amount of body wash, made broad circles on Quentin’s chest. Dark eyes focused on him, despite being half-closed.

“Here, can you, uh-,”

Quentin leaned forward, pressing his knees to his chest. As soon as the cloth touched his back he hissed, and Rat jerked back.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“Well I-,”

“Don’t fucking stop.”

Rat resumed, as gently as he could manage, scrubbing his back. Up and down, stopping only when he noticed a knot he could try and massage out. The Butcher, still spotted with blood and viscera, was unusually vocal. If he wasn’t already literally bathing the man, Rat might have been flustered. Quentin’s moans were deep, as if pulled low from inside his chest; they matched his voice perfectly.

It felt good to be wanted. To make someone else feel good. And God what a good excuse just to touch him. For Rat to get to feel Quentin’s coarse skin beneath his fingers. Even after a few minutes Rat found himself lost in the patterns he was making on his skin.

Parallel lines into figure-eights on his back, then up to his shoulder blades with more pressure in more concentrated points. Lighter lines down his arms, gently squeezing his biceps to gauge how much pressure was too much. Not that he got a real response.

In fact, he didn’t even need direction to allow Rat to squeeze a glob of shampoo into his hair. There was no way Quentin was afraid of Rat, for a handful of reasons, but he was shocked he would take his eyes off of him for a moment. He didn’t take the gesture for granted; his hands kneaded previously greasy curls, massaging the soap through them and into his scalp.

“You have such pretty hair…”

There hadn’t been any thought preceding those words, they just kind of slipped out. If Quentin was bothered by it, he didn’t care enough to say or even give him a look. Rat took that as his sign to continue.

Once the water was a light, reddish brown, Rat let the rag hang over the side of the tub. The brute in the bathtub looked at him from over his shoulder, pulling the plug. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

Before Rat could break that silence, a large hand cupped his cheek.

No fucking way.

The palm was soft from the bath, but the raised calluses were still very evident. He didn’t mind the feeling. The Butcher rubbed the smaller man’s cheek with his thumb.

Now neither of them knew what to say.

Being left in a now empty tub was only slightly more uncomfortable than their shared silence. Combined, it was enough to get Quentin off his ass and reach for the towel Rat had set out for him. Rat’s mouth hung open, but The Butcher didn’t wait around to hear what he might have to say.

Naked, but nevertheless clean, he left the room, patting himself down as he walked back to the bed. Still holding the towel in one hand, half-heartedly using it to dry his hair, he began flipping through the TV’s channels.

There was no breaking news tonight. No headline about The Butcher striking again. Presumably, it was what they’d both been expecting. They waited through the entire news block for at least a mention of missing people or mutilations or Butcher sightings, but they never came.

“No news is good news, right?”

Rat crept over to the side of the bed, and sat with his feet still hanging over the edge. This version of silence didn’t make him feel much better, though he was sure Quentin was doing just fine. He cleared his throat, though this wasn’t dignified with a glance.

“Ah-... As much as I like looking at your ass, you’re kinda blocking the screen.”

Though he didn’t see it happen, he imagined Quentin rolled his eyes. He dropped the towel in front of the bed and took a seat on his side of the bed.

Rat gestured to the now unlit bathroom, “You’re not getting dressed?”

“What’s the point of bathing if I’m just getting back into dirty clothes after?”

Good point.

It’s not like he had a change of clothes either, and Rat’s were at least three sizes too small.

“Hey, I’m not complaining, but how are you ever planning on getting them clean? You can’t leave the room like that.”

Quentin made himself comfortable, as if he owned the place. He stretched out his legs and rested his arms behind his head. With a slow exhale through his nose, he shrugged.

“That’s a problem for tomorrow.”

“You’re not crashing on me now, are you? You just got back!”

“Got a better plan?”

“I… I know some drinking games.”

“With what booze? You’re not leaving the room without me, and I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

Dramatic as ever, Rat groaned loudly and fell onto his back next to Quentin. He hated being alone. Even if he wasn’t really alone, being the last one awake made him feel alone.

“We can watch TV,” he suggested.

“There isn’t shit on. You weren’t even watching it while I was gone.”

Also true. He was grasping at straws, and it was beyond apparent.

“We can-…” Rat drummed his fingers on his hip and dug deep for whatever bullshit he could come up with.

“Rub my back.”

In an instant, Rat sat straight up.

Christ, show a little self restraint.

A half smile cracked The Butcher’s lips, and he rolled over onto his stomach. “Self restraint” lasted all of two seconds before Rat ran his fingertips lightly up his spine. Quentin shuddered, goosebumps rose on his skin. It wasn’t something he’d ever admit, but it was fairly obvious, he’d never been touched quite like this. Not in a gentle, non-sexual way.

Ever the impatient man, Rat straddled Quentin’s ass to get a better position. Had he wasted even a second to start rubbing circles into The Butcher’s lower back with his thumbs, he probably would have been thrown off the bed. There had never been a point in time where Quentin wasn’t in complete control.

Tonight was a good night for firsts.

“Jesus fuck-…” he exhaled.

There was no point in searching for knots, as his entire back was tight, and there was only so much a hot bath could do on its own. Though the man on his stomach didn’t seem to be complaining at the moment.

Rat took to using his knuckles under the shoulder blades, trying to work out the strained muscles. Despite burying his face into the pillow, Quentin’s occasional moans were still audible.

Cute had never really been a word Rat would have used to describe him before. Even now it wasn’t one he’d say directly to Quentin’s face. He’d think it, even after the massage, and hope that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d get to do it.

“Higher,” a muffled voice directed from inside the pillow.

He tested between his shoulder blades, and even if he couldn’t feel how tight it was, the noises Quentin was making told him he’d found the right spot.

Tenderly, his knuckles worked around and against the knot. Deep, but not too forceful. If it were physically possible, he could tell Quentin would have melted into a puddle right then and there. All of his limbs fell limp into the mattress, his face sank into the pillow.

It wasn’t until Rat realized the gratified sounds had stopped that he suspected trouble. He half expected to be flipped onto his back within the second, but Quentin didn’t bother to move.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Rat froze. Physical touch would probably come off as superficial at this point.

“I-... Why wouldn’t I be?”

He knew why he shouldn’t be. It felt redundant to call him a butcher.

Quentin didn’t say anything else, he just started to lift himself up, signalling Rat to get off of his back.

“Maybe I don’t have a good reason. I just like you, I like being around you.”

Apparently, that was the right answer. Two enormous hands cupped either side of Rat’s face and brought him in for a slow but deep kiss. The softest kiss they’d ever exchanged. When Quentin broke it, he placed another small one on Rat’s forehead and pulled him into his chest.

“You’re mine,” he said, without threat or passion. It was simply a fact.

He belonged to The Butcher.

#freaky (2020)#the blissfield butcher #quentin shermer #the blissfield butcher x oc #slasher fanfic #slasher x oc #mine

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

If you’re up for more of a series could you possibly write the part of Remus recovering at home after leaving the game (the one with the stick to the face) and Sirius having to take care of him and all that?

Yes, I can! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying the continuation of something I wrote so long ago <3 Side note: I would give my left foot to be part of the Lions groupchat. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bruises and blood

Sirius was worried. Even though Remus claimed he felt fine, he was just fine, everything was fine, a small seed of doubt lingered in the back of his mind. He had dozed off in the car on the way home—Sirius’ heart had stuttered for a moment before the swelling-enhanced snores started. His phone lit up every few seconds, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the road for even a millisecond, just in case.

Remus woke when the car stopped and immediately winced. “What’s wrong?” Sirius asked, taking the hand that rested on his thigh.

“Just hurts.” Remus kissed his knuckles as best he could. His skin felt strange, and the edge of the tape was an unfamiliar sensation next to the softness of his lips. Sirius collected their gear from the trunk, then helped him up the front steps; just as he went to unlock the door, he felt Remus’ hand tighten on his forearm. “I hate not being able to see well.”

Sirius kissed his temple. “That’s what you’ve got me for.”

Hattie stopped in her tracks as soon as the door opened, and Remus frowned. “Hatters? Where are you, sweet girl?”

“She’s here.” Sirius whistled for her and crouched, setting their bags aside while Remus sat crosslegged on the floor and held his arms out. Hattie’s tail wagged low, almost as if she was afraid; she glanced up at Sirius, who tilted his head back toward Remus. “Go on, mon chou, he’s not going to break.”

“C’mere,” Remus said softly, shifting in her direction. “C’mere, babycakes. I need some cuddles right now—there we go. Okay, Hat Trick, okay.”

Sirius carefully closed the door as Hattie climbed into Remus’ lap and let him hug her, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Good girl,” Sirius said softly. A quiet sniffle led to a flinch. “Re? What’s wrong?”

“I fucking love our dog.” His voice sounded even more clogged than before.

“Are you alright?”

“It really hurts.” A shuddering breath made Hattie nuzzled closer. “Hey, good girl. I love you.”

Sirius sat down next to them and wrapped his arm around Remus’ shoulder, tracing a pattern with his thumb. “Deep breaths. You can take more Tylenol in a few hours. Let’s go get some ice, yeah?”

“Can I stay here with her?”

“Of course.” Sirius kissed the top of his head and gave Hattie a gentle pet before walking into the kitchen and grabbing an ice pack out of the freezer, as well as a towel to wrap it. The last thing Remus needed was a freezer-burned bruise. They were in the same position when he came back, though Remus raised his head from her thick fur when he heard him coming. “I’m going to put it on your face, okay?”

“Okay.” Remus sighed when the ice pressed against his eye and one hand came up to cradle Sirius’, running carefully down to his wrist. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. I was thinking about making some soup if you want to hang here for a bit.”

Remus nodded silently, though his lower lip wobbled in the one spot it wasn’t puffy. Sirius carefully transferred the ice pack to his hand and ran his thumbs over Remus’ cheekbones—usually they were sharp enough to cut glass, but now they were purple and overheated under his touch. He kissed each one before going back to the kitchen.

After grabbing some soup from the freezer and turning the stove on, he finally took his phone out. You Have: 20 New Messages

Message From: J ;)

Did you get home safe?

Call me when u can

Lil is worried ☹

Tell Re we send big hugs

Message From: Tremz <3

Lmk when you get home

Leo is making soup for u

Bringing it over demain matin and won’t let us have any :(((

Message From: Bliz

Nat sends her love for Re

Remember ice packs and NO IBUPROFEN DUMBASS

Ily

Message From: Dumo

Sa mère est inquiète

Send text when home safe, love you

Message From: Walkie Talkie :P

U okay? Sending lots of love

Lmk if you need soup or smth <3

Message From: Hope <3

Thank you for the call honey <3

Tell Remus not to look at his phone and keep us updated please

Love you so much <3

Message From: Baby Rookie

I’m bringing y’all soup and that’s a threat

NO IBUPROFEN OR I’LL TP UR HOUSE

Big hugs for Re <333

Sirius laughed under his breath.

Message To: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

Home safe. Re is fine, getting lots of cuddles from Hattie. Thanks for the messages.

He sent a few more texts to the individual people and, after a quick conversation with Hope, stirred the soup until it began to bubble. Remus entered the kitchen a few seconds after he took two bowls out of the cupboard. “Smells good.”

“It does. Are the lights bugging you?”

“Nah. At least I can see.”

Sirius poured out two portions and set one in front of Remus, handing him a spoon as well. “Careful, it’s hot.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Can’t cook it cold.”

Sirius’ phone began to ping several times in rapid succession and he turned the ringer off quickly, checking the screen to make sure there wasn’t an emergency. “Leo’s bringing us soup in the morning.”

“Neat. Is everyone else okay?” Remus blew the steam off his spoon.

“The guys are all worried about you.” Sirius glanced back up, only to see Remus staring down at his soup bowl, frozen in place. “Re? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Is this my mom’s?” he asked in a small voice.

Sirius wracked his brain. “…I think so? It was in the freezer. Is that okay?”

He nodded silently and a tear dripped down his cheek. “ ‘s fine.”

“Are you sure?” He reached across the counter and pressed Remus’ hand between his own, wiping his cheek dry.

“God, I miss them. You called her, right? To let her know I’m fine?”

“I did. She told me to give you something.”

Remus’ eyebrows drew together and he looked up. “What?”

Sirius scooted around the table and wrapped his arms around Remus, pulling him in for a tight hug and pressing his face into his curls. “This.”

“Thank you.” Remus went a little boneless against him. “I needed that.”

“I bet. Do you want me to give them another call so you can talk to her?”

Remus squinted at the clock. “It’s pretty late.”

“They’re still awake.”

“Could we?” Remus dug around in his pocket and handed it to Sirius, who dialed Hope’s number and put it on speakerphone.

The call connected on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, mom.”

“Are you okay, love?” Hope sounded like she was on the verge of tears already. “You sound a little funny.”

“A little banged up, but I’m alright.” Remus gripped Sirius’ hand tightly. “We heated up the soup you left us.”

“Oh, I’m so glad. Have you taken any Tylenol? Ibuprofen is bad for bruises, but I don’t know how much pain you’re in.” Her voice hitched at the end of the sentence.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Remus said gently. “It’s okay, I promise I’m fine. It looked worse than it was.”

Looks pretty bad to me. “Hestia took really good care of him,” Sirius said instead. “We got home safe and we’re icing up now.”

“What’s the healing look like? Sirius said you didn’t have a concussion.”

Thank you, Remus mouthed before turning back to the phone. “About two weeks, mostly for the little scrapes.”

The ‘little scrapes’ were held together by strips of medical tape, but once again, Sirius kept his thoughts to himself. “The blood was just a regular old nosebleed and a cut on the lip.”

Hope paused and they heard a new voice in the background. “Alright. Is it okay if Jules and your father say goodnight?”

“Yeah, totally.” Remus sniffled and Sirius silently handed him a tissue.

The line crackled for a moment. “Re?”

“Hey, buddy!” All trace of pain and exhaustion disappeared from his voice. “How’s it going?”

“Are you still bleeding?”

“Nope, my nose is a-okay. I’ve got a pretty cool black eye, though. Kinda look like a pirate.”

“The announcers were saying you were really hurt.” Jules’ voice wavered and Sirius’ heart broke a bit.

“Well, they were wrong.” Remus leaned closer to the phone, as if he could reach right through it. “In two weeks I’ll be good as new. I was really lucky.”

“Okay,” Jules still sounded unsure. “Mom says I have to go to bed.”

“Yeah, it’s late, buddy. Sleep well. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

There was a rustling noise. “Remus?”

“Hey, dad.” The exhaustion returned and Sirius rubbed his back gently, letting him lean on his shoulder.

After a moment of hesitation, Lyall sighed. “Alright, they’re in the other room. What actually happened?”

“High stick from the Ravens caught me in the face. No concussion, just bruises and swelling.”

“Do I want to ask Sirius to send me a picture?”

Remus winced. “Probably not.”

He sighed again. “I’m sorry we can’t come out and see you.”

“Don’t worry about it, dad,” Remus said softly. “Really, I’m okay. It sucks, it hurts, I’ll ice it and be fine.”

“Sirius, are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“If he starts pulling some ‘go back to practice early’ bullshit—”

“Dad—”

“—don’t let him. If you have to lock him in the bathroom, I promise to cover for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Sirius laughed.

Lyall chuckled on the other end as Remus groaned. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. If Sirius locks me in a bathroom, I’m citing you in the court case.”

“There won’t be enough witnesses if he does it right. Sleep well, kiddo. Thanks for calling.”

“Love you,” Remus said again as the call ended. He blew out a long breath and leaned his forehead on Sirius’ chest. “Thank you for that.”

“Ne rien, mon loup. You should eat and then take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?” Remus teased.

“Yes, I am. I also think you’ll feel better if you do.”

They ate in silence; both were hungry, so it wasn’t long before Remus walked carefully up the stairs. Sirius checked the groupchat as he poured himself a third bowl of soup. You Have: 7 New Messages.

Message From: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

DETAILS CAP

That is the blandest fucking response I’ve ever read

I’m guessing y’all are alive then???

Y’all

Haha y’all

Ok gator boy

Give Hattie lots of kisses from us and also GIVE US DETAILS

Message To: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

What do you want to know??? We got home, ate soup, called parents, and now Re is showering

You’re so fucking nosy jfc

Also cut Rookie some slack it’s hard being so far from his swamp

Message From: STANLEY CUP CHAMPS FUCK YES

From the bottom of my heart, go fuck yourself.

He doesn’t have to he has Remus

Pots I’m going to remove your kneecaps

Sirius paused just before responding. Despite the quiet of the house, he couldn’t hear the shower running. “Re?”

“Up here.”

“Did you take a shower already?”

“Not yet.”

The bathroom door was ajar and the light was on when he entered their bedroom; Remus stood at the sink, staring into the mirror as he felt along the edges of the butterfly tape at his lip. “Did something happen?”

“It’s worse than I thought.” Sirius stepped inside and joined him, staring at their reflections. The stripes that marked the stick’s edges had turned almost indigo since they left the rink; no less than six pieces of tape decorated the places between mottled bruises. Remus reached up to touch his cheekbone and Sirius guided his hand back down.

“Poking it won’t help.”

“Two weeks, huh?”

“That’s what Hestia told me.”

“Will you help me get the tape off?”

Sirius patted the edge of the counter and Remus pushed himself up on it, leaning forward for easy access. The first one was easy—a small cut just below his brow. It slid away without an issue and Sirius pressed a gentle kiss to the spot, then moved on to the next one. They fell into a rhythm—one side, second side, slow pull, and a kiss, until only two were left.

Remus hissed in pain as he lifted the edge of the tape across the bridge of his nose and Sirius shushed him softly, moving to the other side. “Two more, sweetheart.”

“Just rip it off.”

Sirius gave him a look. “Absolutely not.”

“I’ll do it.”

“No, you won’t, because that would be a stupid idea.”

Remus huffed, but didn’t protest. His jaw ticked as Sirius pulled the last bit off. “Can we leave the lip one?”

“Not unless you want an infection.”

“You’d be a good PT.”

“I would be the worst PT.” Sirius worked the inner edge free. “I know, like, ten stretches and basic first aid. My bedside manner sucks, too, and I’d pass the fuck out if someone asked me to set a bone for them.”

“Good points all around,” Remus laughed.

The motion pulled the last of the tape off and Sirius held it up with a grin. “All done. Hey, your swelling is down. I can see your eyes now.”

The slight gleam of amber brightened as Remus smiled. “I thought I could see a little better.”

“Do you want company?”

Remus thought for a moment, prodding the cut on his lip with his tongue. “As much as I’d love to invite you in, I think I need a second to myself.”

“Cool.” Sirius kissed his cheek and stepped out of the bathroom. “Yell if you need anything. I’ll be in bed.”

He made a pit stop downstairs to gather Hattie and bring Remus’ ice pack up, and by the time he finally slid between the sheets it was nearly midnight. Remus came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, looking happier but still incredibly worn out. He took another Tylenol and snuggled up against Sirius’ side with a quiet hum, laying the ice pack over his face once again.

“Sleep tight, Re.”

“Love you.”

205 notes · View notes

barbarasbae · 4 years

Text

My Best Guy

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: smut, 18+

for the very sweet and patient @vader-kai

request: “ Would you do a fluffy/smutty billy x reader where the reader is working really hard at work and college and that day she has a really bad day, she comes home and is crying and stressed, so billy runs her a bath and lays behind her and helps her calm, and then some lovey smut in the bath? “

@mistress-gif is the original owner of this gif

You had had it. College fucking sucked. You felt like right now, everything that could go wrong was. You had failed not one but two tests last week, your front tire went flat and someone stole your battery pack from your backpack while you were eating lunch. To top it all off, you ended the day with a pop quiz that you definitely failed. As you turn onto your street, the panic of failing all your classes set in. You feel yourself panting, tears welling in your eyes as snow starts to fall. You pull into the driveway and stop. You turn your car off and let the tears fall. “I’m a fucking failure. This semester was awful. Oh my god I ruined everything!” You cry, pressing your forehead against your arms that were resting on the steering wheel. Panting, you give yourself a few moments of a meltdown before trying to pull yourself together. Billy didn’t need to deal with your shit. You know he was struggling with work and his classes too. You sniffle and grab your backpack, wiping at your face as you lock your car. You let out huffs to calm yourself down, plastering on a small fake smile as you open the door to your little apartment. Billy was sitting at the kitchen table, textbook open in front of him. “Hey baby! Where’s the take out?” He said, brows furrowed in confusion but a smile gracing his warm face. Fuck. You had completely forgotten today was your night to bring home food. You shut the door and look at your feet as you pull off your outer layers and boots. “Babe?”

The tears are falling before you even know they’re coming, the sound of a chair scraping the floor telling you Billy was getting up. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” He asked, hands on your upper arm, gently trying to pull you up into a hug. “I-I’m sorry.” You gasp, wrapping your arms around him. “I am just having a really bad day. College sucks.’’ You whimper, Billy resting his chin on top of your head. “I know baby, I know. I’ll order something on the phone; What do you want?” It takes you about a minute, but you gain some composure and answer him. “Can we get pasta from the Italian place on Main?” He nods. You sigh and pull away, hearing Billy ordering pasta as you took a gulp of water. “Should be 30 minutes.” He announced. “What are you doing?” You ask, coming over to the table. “Calculus homework. The university didn’t take any of my credits so I’m taking calculus again.” This was his third time. When he moved to Hawkins in his senior year, they stuck him in calculus because that was the highest math they had available, despite Billy having already passed it as a junior. “I have an idea; come upstairs with me.” He pulled you through the apartment by the wrist gently, bringing you to the bathroom. “Take a bath with me?” He pleaded, tugging you closer by the waist. “Okay.”

“Good. I need a break from all this homework and you need a break from...well life.” You rolled your eyes, smiling. Billy left you to pick bath bombs while the hot water filled the tub to clean up the kitchen table where he’d been doing homework. “Almost ready?”

“Mhm.” He kissed your temple, pulling his sweatshirt off. You sigh contently when your feet finally touch the hot water of the bathtub, Billy climbing in behind you. “Babe, sit.”

“So demanding.” You tease, sitting in between his legs.Wrapping his arms around you, Billy relaxes deeper into the water, closing his eyes. You rest your head on his shoulder, him taking the opening and nipping at your neck. “Ouch.”

“Such a big baby.” He murmurs, continuing to lick and suck on the same spot. You moan quietly, Billy smirking against your skin. “You want something?”

You shrug, kissing his jaw. “Maybe. Talk to me after pasta.” That gotta laugh from the blond and then said pasta had to ruin the moment. The doorbell rang, both of you groaning. “I’ll get it.”

“Such a gentleman, babe.” He flipped you off, both laughing as he went to the front door in a towel.

“I think I scared him.” Billy called, doing something in your kitchen. “You probably did.”

“You calling me scary?”

“No. I mean that’s a lot of dick to just see when delivering pasta.” No response. “You want something from me?” You squealed, Billy’s voice in your ear. “I mean, it would be nice.” You shrug, stealing a kiss. “Oh I see. I’ll be back.” He wagged his tongue at you, drawing a giggle from you. “I’m not prepared to do any work at all.” You warned as you call out to your boyfriend. “I had a feeling. I’m down.”

“I love you.” He snorted, ripping the condom wrapper open. “Love you too, babe.”

“I resent your sarcasm.”

“Well I resent you using me for my big brain and bigger dick.”

“I’m dating the biggest douchebag.” You laughed, Billy sticking his tongue out at you and climbed into the tub behind you. “Oooh. From behind?”

“You’re gonna get nothing if you don’t stop being a brat.” He hissed, teeth nipping at your earlobe. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh!” Thick fingers found your clit, rubbing slow and gentle circles. You settled against him, resting your forehead against his chin. “If I had known that’s all it would take I would have started rubbing you off yesterday.”

“So romantic.” You sighed dreamily, Billy huffing in annoyance as you laughed. You managed to twist yourself around. “But I liked-”

“I’ll turn back around. Just wanted to give you attention.” You cooed, tucking a damp curl behind his ear. He pressed his lips against your gently, humming softly as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. “Mm.”

“Yeah? That feel good.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to do any work, babe.” He commented, pressing a kiss to your jugular. “I can’t just leave my best guy to take care of himself.” You coo, Billy pinking. “I feel like a fucking blushing virgin. Stop.” You giggle, stealing another kiss. “I’m so sorry, big bad Billy.”

He rolled his eyes, slipping a finger inside you, curling expertly. “Shit! How’d you do that so fast?”

“You make it seem like I don’t know my girl.” He smirked, stroking skillfully, drawing soft gasps from your lips as pleasure shot up through you like electricity. You slump forward, panting on his shoulder, Billy adding another finger. “Think you can take three, baby?”

“Oh my god.” You whined, clenching as he managed to wiggle in another finger, the cooling bath water sloshing around you as your back arched. “Woah woah don’t wiggle away.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, I like it. Now I know I’m doing a good job.” You kissed up his cheek to his ear, cooing he was doing a fantastic job. “I’m gonna cum so you better stop.” You whisper, thighs clenched around his. “Baby I know. I want to watch you cum on my fingers. Like being in you after you’ve already cum.” You felt sheepish, your boyfriend always very brash about what he wanted and how. “Okay. Oh shit-Billy!” You yelped, thighs coming together as your orgasm shook through you. “F-fuck baby.” You whined, wrapping an arm around his neck. “Fuck...amazing.” You purr, kissing him passionately. “Just getting started sweetie. Turn around.” He helped you turn and then helped you lower yourself onto his cock. “We could just sit here.”

“Like hell we are.” Billy growled, liking up your neck. Billy thrust upward, slow and steady (you were both too broke to replace damaged floors if water got all over the floor), the blond huffing. “Baby, You gonna cum so soon?”

“Fuck-no-shut up.”

“Its okay. Does it feel good?” You squeezed around him, Billy groaning hot and heavy in your ear. “Fuck baby. Fuuck.” He moaned loudly, hips jerking upward as he came. You laid in the tub for a minute, Billy rubbing a gentle circle on your tummy as he relaxed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to eat an entire pasta dish by myself.”

“You feel better?” Billy asked, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Yeah. Thank you. I’m ready to eat an entire pasta dish and go to bed. Maybe watch a movie.”

“I can make that happen.”

“That’s why you’re my best guy, B.” He squeezed you a little tighter before leaning forward and pulling the plug from the drain. “Just a fare warning, there’s only two breadsticks,”

“How could you?”

“It’s all we could get! Or, I could get.” He said after tossing the condom and pulling on boxers. “What-?” He took off toward the kitchen, leaving you naked in the bathroom. “Not fair!” You cry and run after him. Best guy indeed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Please send me an ask or dm if you would like to be tagged in any of my works

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#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x reader smut #lemon #smut #mo writes requests #25 years after she gets them #mo writes #barbarasbae #vader-kai #it wont let me tag you #😭😭

189 notes · View notes

halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- SNAPE VICTORIOUS

Sirius tried to start as calmly as he could, even trying to sound curious instead of outraged at what was being done to Harry. He'd never heard of someone being left on the train before, honestly if he'd thought about it he would have said there should be some magical means to stop this happening. No matter what his mind tried to offer in peace though, he began reading so hectically, they all had to concentrate very hard to even understand him, as if they weren't doing that anyways.

Harry could not move a muscle. He lay there beneath the Invisibility Cloak feeling the blood from his nose flow, hot and wet, over his face, listening to the voices and footsteps in the corridor beyond. His immediate thought was that someone would surely check the compartments before the train departed again. But at once came the dispiriting realization that even if somebody looked into the compartment, he would be neither seen nor heard.

"Maybe somebody else will come in and step on you!" Remus said half hysterically, while Sirius gave a mechanical laugh for a sentence he never thought he'd want to hear.

His best hope was that somebody else would walk in and step on him.

Sirius was so distracted he didn't even seem to realize there had been a repeat for once.

Harry had never hated Malfoy more than as he lay there, like an absurd turtle on its back, blood dripping sickeningly into his open mouth. What a stupid situation to have landed himself in... and now the last few footsteps were dying away; everyone was shuffling along the dark platform outside; he could hear the scraping of trunks and loud babble of talk.

James was jittering so much in place he looked like he had to run to the bathroom, Lily half expected McGonagall to shout any moment for Potter to sit still. Of course she was as stressed as the rest of them, but she really couldn't understand the guilt he was trying to smother with that same expression.

He caught his wife staring at him and tried to martial his expression better, hoping not to give her any extra worries, as if they needed them now, by saying, "surely Ron or Hermione will notice he's gone and tell someone! This won't be a problem!" He still ended in an agitated grimace that this was happening at all. How was it possible of all the times his son had used the only gift he'd left him, it had ended up worse more times than useful! Why couldn't anything ever work out like it should!*

Ron and Hermione would think that he had left the train without them. Once they arrived at Hogwarts and took their places in the Great Hall, looked up and down the Gryffindor table a few times, and finally realized that he was not there, he, no doubt, would be halfway back to London.

Lily was distracted from James at once, making a high agitated noise this was happening to him! Everybody would be panicking, any number of things would go on before the spell began to wear off hours later and Harry somehow managed to get in contact again!

He tried to make a sound, even a grunt, but it was impossible. Then he remembered that some wizards, like Dumbledore, could perform spells without speaking,

"The difference is, they're still holding their wands while they do!" Remus uneasily corrected, clearly trying to rid the awkward silence hanging above them all for this. "You'll actually be starting to do that this year, assuming of course-"

"I get off the train first," Harry finished for him, causing Remus' mouth to snap shut again at once.

so he tried to summon his wand, which had fallen out of his hand,

"Let's just be grateful Malfoy didn't take that," Sirius muttered.

by saying the words 'Accio Wand!' over and over again in his head, but nothing happened.

"Do you even know how to get yourself out of that spell?" Remus couldn't seem to help but question. "I've hardly heard anyone tell you Finite Incantatem, though you certainly picked up on other spells just by watching them-"

Sirius gently placed his hand on Remus' back, but insisted threatening, "Moony, if you don't shut up, you'll need much more than that spell to be able to speak again."

Remus had to use a conscious effort to keep himself shut up, he knew not to take that threat ideally.

He thought he could hear the rustling of the trees that surrounded the lake, and the far-off hoot of an owl, but no hint of a search being made or even (he despised himself slightly for hoping it) panicked voices wondering where Harry Potter had gone.

James gave his sons shoulder a shaky pat, not at all blaming him for that one, they were all wondering that same thing.

Lily was biting her tongue in the effort to stop herself hoping aloud the train wouldn't even take back off if a student stayed on for some reason, surely some magic would hold it there; or even better, it wouldn't move at all until the end of next year, and why would it! Obviously someone would find him by then, they were panicking for nothing...

A feeling of hopelessness spread through him as he imagined the convoy of thestral-drawn carriages trundling up to the school and the muffled yells of laughter issuing from whichever carriage Malfoy was riding in, where he could be recounting his attack on Harry to Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson.

Harry groaned miserably, as if this wasn't all bad enough! He couldn't believe those around him weren't laughing yet either, it was quite close to the most humiliating thing since Skeeter's articles.

The train lurched, causing Harry to roll over onto his side. Now he was staring at the dusty underside of the seats instead of the ceiling. The floor began to vibrate as the engine roared into life. The Express was leaving and nobody knew he was still on it...

Lily couldn't help but grouse none to silently with her fingers at her temple, there went that wish! Her mind was steam rolling as fast as that train with all the horrible ways this was going to go!

Then he felt his Invisibility Cloak fly off him and a voice overhead said, Wotcher, Harry.

"Tonks is back!" Sirius whooped at once with so much joy he nearly tossed the book across the room again. The others were so relieved that finally this had been resolved so quickly, they hardly even noticed his shout, let alone to question yet why she was there.

There was a flash of red light and Harry's body unfroze; he was able to push himself into a more dignified sitting position, hastily wipe the blood off his bruised race with the back of his hand, and raise his head to look up at Tonks, who was holding the Invisibility Cloak she had just pulled away.

"Yes, yes, yes!" James kept repeating over and over, a ridiculously stupid smile stuck in place as suddenly all their worries before just seemed silly now. Even their kid couldn't get into all the trouble they'd been imagining because of such a sideways scenario.

She told they had to get out of here, quickly,

"And thank Merlin," Lily breathed in agreement, she didn't fancy the idea of that being decided any farther away from the school than was necessary.

as the train windows became obscured with steam and they began to move out of the station. She said they'd have to jump for it.

Harry hurried after her into the corridor. She pulled open the train door and leapt onto the platform, which seemed to be sliding underneath them as the train gathered momentum. He followed her, staggered a little on landing, then straightened up in time to see the gleaming scarlet steam engine pick up speed, round the corner, and disappear from view.

Remus still couldn't help one more uneasy laugh, whoever would have thought he'd find a train menacing.

The cold night air was soothing on his throbbing nose. Tonks was looking at him; he felt angry and embarrassed that he had been discovered in such a ridiculous position. Silently she handed him back the Invisibility Cloak, asking who'd done it?

"A dead ferret," Sirius vowed, Malfoy would pay for this, surely someone would see to that!

Harry bitterly answered Malfoy, before awkwardly thanking her.

She returned it wasn't a problem, without smiling.

"I'd hope not," James sniffed. If there was anything not funny, they'd certainly found it.

Harry looked a little dumbfounded he so clearly thought this, he'd been sure at least him or Sirius would get a chuckle out of it eventually.

From what Harry could see in the darkness, she was as mousy-haired and miserable-looking as she had been when he had met her at the Burrow.

"Oh dear," Lily murmured, in unease again at once. Considering all Tonks had just done for Harry they all hated the idea there was something so clearly wrong with the bubbly girl they'd first been introduced to. She again worried about the poor dear's health, that maybe that fight at the Ministry had done something permanent to her and she truly was sick with something.

She offered to fix his nose.

"Last I checked she couldn't fold socks, not sure I'd trust her with something so vital as my face," Sirius tried to crack a grin again, though it fell flat with everyone still uneasy about what Harry had just avoided and at immediately falling into worry about a girl they didn't even really know.

Harry did not think much of this idea; he had been intending to visit Madam Pomfrey, the matron, in whom he had a little more confidence when it came to Healing Spells,

"Well Tonks is a trained Auror," Remus defended half-heartedly, both Sirius and Harry still looking like they agreed with this, but Tonks deserved this credit. "Give her a break, I'm sure she's plenty good at her job, aside from stumbling over her boots now and again."

"Let's hope her aim doesn't rely on her balance then, I'd not like all my cartilage removed this time," Harry huffed, easily ignoring whatever was wanting to make him laugh about Remus vouching for Tonks like that.

but it seemed rude to say this, so he stayed stock-still and closed his eyes, as she said Episkey.

Harry's nose felt very hot, and then very cold. He raised a hand and felt gingerly. It seemed to be mended, and he thanked her gratefully.

She gave no acknowledgement, just telling him to put the cloak back on, still unsmiling.

As Harry swung the cloak back over himself, she waved her wand; an immense silvery four-legged creature erupted from it and streaked off into the darkness.

"Ooh, wonder what her Patronus is," Sirius said at once with high curiosity, he loved knowing about those.

"If I would have guessed before that, Peacock," James snickered, easily imagining the girl turning into a brightly colored bird.**

"It does make one wonder though, if she chose to be an Animagus, could she change that animals coloring at will," Remus' mind at once began spinning curiously to all the possibilities her biology would offer to other means of magic. "What of Polyjuice Potion? Or simply Charms in general meant to change your physical appearance? Would the effects simply not work on her physically, or she'd hide them well enough?"

Lily looked highly interested as well, she certainly didn't know of many studies done with this considering Metamorphmagus were so rare, but Sirius interrupted the pair, "I will never understand your mind! I asked one bloody question and you go on a full essay about the woman!"

"It's interesting, I'm sorry it's not about snogging some broad or you might have a care as well," Remus said a little snappy, what was the harm?

"Hurtful," Sirius rolled his eyes, "and not relevant! She's not hear to be doing this now, so can we remain on subject."

"You just want to hear Harry getting revenge on Malfoy," James pointed out to Remus rolling his eyes right back.

"Well he could have just said that," Remus conceded, he did want to hear that too.

Harry asked if that was her Patronus, he'd seen Dumbledore send messages like this.

Lily interrupted this time just to tick all of the boys off, "I honestly hope Dumbledore's working on developing that method of communication now, I can't wait to learn it."

Sirius groaned loudly and tired to keep going around her no matter how much he agreed.

She agreed she was sending word to the castle she had him, or they'd worry.

"Guess I should be relieved," Harry muttered, though his mind was now on the curious topic of how even Tonks had noticed and found him, but he kept his mouth shut in hopes he'd ask her.

They set off toward the lane that led to the school as Harry asked how she'd found him?

She'd noticed he hadn't left, and seen that compartments blinds closed, so she checked it out.

"Thank Merlin the woman does her job," Lily sighed in relief, they were all feeling the same for that deduction.

Harry asked what she was even doing here?

Her job, she was stationed at the school now for extra protection. It wasn't just her, Proudfoot, Savage, and Dawlish were around as well.

Harry recalled Dawlish as an Auror Dumbledore had attacked last year.

"I'm sure he's just thrilled with the assignment," James snorted.

They trudged up the dark, deserted lane, following the freshly made carriage tracks. Harry looked sideways at Tonks under his cloak. Last year she had been inquisitive (to the point of being a little annoying at times),

"I remember well, her and Moony would get along swimmingly," Sirius rolled his eyes while Remus made a face at him, it wasn't that uncommon a trait. Sirius could get that way as well when he pulled his head out of his arse.

she had laughed easily, she had made jokes. Now she seemed older and much more serious and purposeful.

"Ironically, that's nothing like me," Sirius tried to grin, though it was soured a bit as he wondered like the rest why the change. Surely it wasn't about him? He really hadn't thought they'd gotten on that well...

Was this all the effect of what had happened at the Ministry? He reflected uncomfortably that Hermione would have suggested he say something consoling about Sirius to her,

Lily made a loud tisking noise to hide her clutched throat for the reminder, speaking quickly to cover that, "would it really take Hermione's voice? Have you no conscience?"

"It seems to appear as her," Harry uneasily tried to laugh back.

that it hadn't been her fault at all, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was far from blaming her for Sirius's death; it was no more her fault than anyone else's (and much less than his),

Sirius had to swallow hard around a heavy lump in his throat and even still managed to give Harry a critical eye. His face however was distant, a now familiar look of trying to hold back a memory, and so Sirius hoped that whatever it was his pup wasn't still holding that against himself now. Sirius was sure he'd made himself clear on that front.

but he did not like talking about Sirius if he could avoid it, so they tramped on through the cold night in silence, Tonks's long cloak whispering on the ground behind them.

Lily did sigh with some disappointment though. Not that she would have been any happier Harry bringing it up, for the successive eighth chapter now, but she'd like some kind of answer for what was wrong with Tonks if it wasn't that. Even not being able to help the poor dear, it would have been nice to get an answer, maybe some clear hope of helping her before the problem even started.

Having always traveled there by carriage, Harry had never before appreciated just how far Hogwarts was from Hogsmeade Station.

"Harry clearly hasn't been to Hogsmeade enough," James mumbled, that idea never not boggling his mind his son didn't know those grounds as well as him.

With great relief he finally saw the tall pillars on either side of the gates, each topped with a winged boar. He was cold, he was hungry and he was quite keen to leave this new, gloomy Tonks behind.

They all winced, Harry hardest of all, no matter how true it felt. As if they needed more depression in their life.

When he put out a hand to push open the gates, he found them chained shut. He said confidently Alohomora, pointing his wand at the padlock, but nothing happened.

"I would be genuinely disappointed if it did," Lily pointed out while the perplexed look on Harry's face turned agitated.

Tonks said that wouldn't work, those had been bewitched by Dumbledore himself.

Harry glanced around himself and suggested climbing the wall.

"I wouldn't recommend that," James snorted softly, both parents enjoying that look growing on Harry as he was clearly expecting an answer from them as well as Tonks any second.

Tonks flatly said that wasn't possible, anti-intruder jinxes would stop him.

Harry, starting to feel annoyed at her lack of helpfulness, just suggested he'd sleep out here till morning then.

"An option, though pointless as you know she's already sent a message," Sirius tacked on while Harry heavily rolled his eyes at the lot of them, glad they were getting their kicks in.

James was just baffled why Harry wasn't silently thinking of getting into the castle through at least two of the entrances he knew of down in Hogsmeade.

Tonks promised someone was coming down for him now, and when Harry turned back he saw a lantern bobbing towards them. He was so pleased to see it he felt he could even endure Filch's wheezy criticisms of his tardiness and rants about how his timekeeping would improve with the regular application of thumbscrews.

"The man's truly a delight if you don't think about him," Remus agreed sarcastically, none of them forgetting he should have been sacked after what he'd tried to pull last year. They'd be as disappointed to hear of him again as they would if Snape had been back.

It was not until the glowing yellow light was ten feet away from them, and had pulled off his Invisibility Cloak so that he could be seen, that he recognized, with a rush of pure loathing, the hooked nose and long, black, greasy hair of Severus Snape.

Sirius' mouth sagged open in shocked disgust, and they all sat like that for a few moments before Lily shook herself out of it, "seems we were wrong on all accounts," with a still snide mutter. She of course didn't hold the position the rest of the boys did, whom had all blamed Snape at least in some part for the events in last year. They'd all accused him of delaying passing along what Harry had told, not trusting Snape to be of any help. Lily vehemently disagreed he'd never shirk such a duty, but it didn't mean she was looking forward to another year of his mouth.

"What is he even doing there!" James demanded, looking physically ill as the news of this chapter never seemed to get better for a single moment! "Slughorn took that joke he referred to as a job! Unless he's actually replaced Filch, and honestly even that laugh isn't worth this!"

Their minds scattered, and then Remus went a pasty color in shock. He bit his lip hard to stop himself blurting out what had occurred to him, but a quick look around showed he didn't need to say it either. There was only one other vacant position in the castle that they knew of...

"No!" James snapped in outrage of his own question. "There's just no way he got the DADA job!"

"I mean, at some point, when there's literally only one person who will do it," Lily sighed, her hands twisting painfully in her lap. Snape had said he'd never had it before because Dumbledore thought it would bring back his darker side. It didn't feel like a good omen he'd finally been given that chance now of all times, when that was more in question than ever.

Sirius still made one last guttural noise of frustration, they really just couldn't have one nice thing! Their hope of the two most irritating people in this castle being gone this year had been ruined back to back, and his bad mood lingered more than ever for all this happening around Harry.

Snape sneered as usual upon arriving, taking out his wand and tapping the padlock once, so that the chains snaked backward and the gates creaked open. He greeted it was nice of Potter to turn up, though clearly had forgone the schools robes to enhance his own appearance.

"It somehow made you look worse," Remus snarked, "I don't blame Harry."

Harry began to explain, but Snape cut across him.

"Why did you even bother?" Sirius sighed.

"I was still surprised it was him, though Filch wouldn't have listened either, so I honestly don't know." Harry sighed.

He told Nymphadora she was free to leave, Potter was in his safe hands.

"If we wanted him back with a body bag!" James sneered.

Lily's hand twitched, looking very close to smacking him for that one, but restrained herself purely because her mind was hovering on something else, something she was not looking forward to the boys realizing but had her rather worried all the same.

Tonks didn't move, frowning at him and saying she'd meant to send that message to Hagrid.

Snape allowed Harry to enter as he explained Hagrid had been late to the feast, so he'd accepted it. Incidentally, he was interested to see her new Patronus form.

"You can have a new Patronus?" Harry interrupted in surprise.

Remus looked thoughtful for a moment before saying slowly, "it has been known to happen, when a great emotion comes along you've never experienced before. Something that would change your very soul," he finished with an uneasy frown, all of their worries greater than ever for what Tonks was going through.

He shut the gates in her face with a loud clang and tapped the chains with his wand again, so that they slithered, clinking, back into place. He finished she was better off with the old one, this new one looked weak.

They all tensed for that hateful comment, wishing to throw a curse at such a thing being said to a woman clearly going through something traumatic! Harry in particular as for some reason he felt that was a slight against more than Tonks, not that this made any sense.

As Snape swung the lantern about, Harry saw, fleetingly, a look of shock and anger on Tonks's face. Then she was covered in darkness once more. Harry called a good night over his shoulder, thanking her for...everything.

Lily gave one last uneasy sigh for her as well, very much hoping the next time she was seen things would somehow be going better for her, someone deserved it by now.

Snape did not speak for a minute or so. Harry felt as though his body was generating waves of hatred so powerful that it seemed incredible that Snape could not feel them burning him.

"I'm actually quite sure he can, he feeds off that after all," Sirius stated.

He had loathed Snape from their first encounter, but Snape had placed himself forever and irrevocably beyond the possibility of Harry's forgiveness by his attitude toward Sirius.

"Was there any chance of that before?" James asked, a bit dumbfounded Harry would think otherwise.

"After all Dumbledore said for the man, maybe, but not now." Yet even as Harry said the words the conviction just wouldn't hold, no matter how much force he put into them. He felt fuzzy, his tongue a bit swollen for saying that, and flattened his hair in agitation his own instincts could never make any sense.

Whatever Dumbledore said, Harry had had time to think over the summer, and had concluded that Snape's snide remarks to Sirius about remaining safely hidden while the rest of the Order of the Phoenix were off fighting Voldemort had probably been a powerful factor in Sirius rushing off to the Ministry the night that he had died.

Sirius sighed deeply for that, but looked up with the faint hope he wouldn't find the same thing still mirrored onto his pup now. To his relief, he was certainly holding himself together enough to prove otherwise. He met Sirius' eyes and tried for a smile, even put up a flippant tone, "I know, I know." It was slightly maddening Sirius honestly couldn't tell though if that was just residual grief holding him back, or he was trying to hide that his own guilt weighed on him as much as he blamed Snape.

Harry clung to this notion, because it enabled him to blame Snape, which felt satisfying,

Lily couldn't help but open her mouth reprovingly, she couldn't judge Harry for whatever he was feeling to cope but she certainly wished he'd find a healthier way of it-

and also because he knew that if anyone was not sorry that Sirius was dead, it was the man now striding next to him in the darkness.

but after hearing that, all that came out was a grumble of agreement. Of course Sirius wouldn't be any better if roles were reversed, but the difference was Sirius wouldn't hang around and taunt everyone around him, making their lives just as miserable for it as Snape so constantly did to Harry.

Snape started off taking fifty points from Gryffindor, then congratulated him for making a record, no one had put their house into negatives before pudding even started.

Harry mock raised his hands in triumph, though a genuine smile did appear when James looked just a bit proud, saying, "couldn't have done better myself! You find the best ways to tick off that tick."

"Remember when he was a first year fretting over five points?" Lily sighed in pity her boy turned into such a rebellious snot, though she was hardly any better. She knew she would have been egging a teacher to do more as well if they were going to be such an arse to her for circumstances like this. It's not as if Snape knew Harry had got himself into the trouble, he just assumed it.

Rightly so in this case, but entirely not the point.

The fury and hatred bubbling inside Harry seemed to blaze white-hot, but he would rather have been immobilized all the way back to London than tell Snape why he was late.

"More like send him back to London in that position," Remus huffed, why hadn't they ever thought of that?

Snape continued his thoughts aloud about Potter wanting to make an entrance, and with no flying cars available decided bursting into the Great Hall in Muggle garb would have to do for dramatic affect this year.

"Yes, because that's something we've seen him strive to do every other year!" James mocked.

Still Harry remained silent, though he thought his chest might explode. He knew that Snape had come to fetch him for this, for the few minutes when he could needle and torment Harry without anyone else listening.

"How he survived all summer without you is anyone's guess, though I still wish he hadn't," Sirius snarled.

They reached the castle steps at last and as the great oaken front doors swung open into the vast flagged entrance hall, a burst of talk and laughter and of tinkling plates and glasses greeted them through the doors standing open into the Great Hail. Harry wondered whether he could slip his Invisibility Cloak back on, thereby gaining his seat at the long Gryffindor table (which, inconveniently, was the farthest from the entrance hall) without being noticed. As though he had read Harry's mind, however, Snape said, no cloak, just as Potter had clearly wanted.

Lily's face was flushed red with hatred as much as the boys for Snape treating Harry like this, the man could clearly never learn his lesson that those hateful statements having consequences!

Harry turned on the spot and marched straight through the open doors: anything to get away from Snape. The Great Hall with its four long House tables and its staff table set at the top of the room, was decorated as usual with floating candles that made the plates below glitter and glow. It was all a shimmering blur to Harry, however, who walked so fast that he was passing the Hufflepuff table before people really started to stare, and by the time they were standing up to get a good look at him,

"No shame, honestly," Remus rolled his eyes heavily for kids doing that.

he had spotted Ron and Hermione, sped along the benches toward them, and forced his way in between them.

Ron was goggling him as much as everyone else in the vicinity as he asked what had happened to his face?

"Yes, but at least he has a right," Sirius sighed, knowing this wasn't going to be any more fun to hear about the second time.

Harry grabbed a spoon at once to see what was wrong with it.

"He's getting as vain as Fleur," Remus half heartedly poked fun.

Hermione worriedly pointed out it was covered in blood, while raising her wand and saying Tergeo. He felt the newly dried blood vanish and thanked her, but said he'd explain later, well aware of all the eager listening ears.

"I can't even blame you, I wouldn't even be wanting to tell Ron and Hermione," James agreed.

Hermione tried to protest, but Harry insisted.

"Trust that, please," Lily sighed, knowing Hermione was one to nag, but surely Harry had earned enough trust if it was vitally important he'd have shared. She could understand her worry of course, but hoped Hermione would trust his word more.

He hoped very much that they would all assume he had been involved in something heroic, preferably involving a couple of Death Eaters and a dementor.

"Right," Sirius drew the word out with a concerned look at Harry. He was very sure he was joking, but even still, the truth wasn't much better than that ghastly scenario that would only cause further questions. "Credit for trying to spin a tale though," he offered.

Of course, Malfoy would spread the story as wide as he could, but there was always a chance it wouldn't reach too many Gryffindor ears.

Lily clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes, her son often seemed to miss the fact those two houses could very well be friends thank you.

He reached across Ron for a couple of chicken legs and a handful chips, but before he could take them they vanished, to be replaced with puddings.

"Honestly, not even a bad reward for the day," Remus sighed, remembering trips where he'd wished he wouldn't be woken up until the pudding started.

Hermione uneasily changed topic to pointing out he'd missed the Sorting.

"How on Earth do you manage to miss that three separate times?" James muttered to himself, he'd enjoyed every one.

Harry asked if the Hat had said anything interesting, and Ron said the same old toff about uniting to face enemies or some such.

Harry asked if Dumbledore had mentioned Voldemort yet, and Hermione said no, and he likely wouldn't until the end of the feast.

Harry began Snape mentioning Hagrid being late, though was interrupted to ask how he'd seen Snape.

Harry evasively said he'd just bumped into him.

"Right, because that's always just a casual conversation," Sirius snarked, even knowing better made his mind want to blame Harry's late appearance and bloodied nose on that dingbat.

Hermione answered Harry about Hagrid only being late by a few minutes, and Harry looked around to indeed see him waving at them now. McGonagall was a few seats over and looking at him disapprovingly for this enthusiastic greeting.

"How dare he show favoritism! It's as if he let a first year onto the house team!" James smirked.

Harry was surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, sitting on Hagrid's other side; she rarely left her tower room, and he had never seen her at the start-of-term feast before.

They all looked surprised at this, but then Sirius deduced, "I'll bet she's putting on a bit of a show after last year, prove she's still around while the toad isn't," he finished viciously.

"I'm sure only you would do something like that," Lily rolled her eyes at him without admitting she wouldn't be surprised if that were true.

She looked as odd as ever, glittering with beads and trailing shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size by her spectacles. Having always considered her a bit of a fraud, Harry had been shocked to discover at the end of the previous term that it had been she who had made the prediction that caused Lord Voldemort to kill Harry's parents and attack Harry himself.

"Thank you for reminding me of that, I'm back to wondering whether I should outright kill her or just shove her in a closet for the immediate future," James sneered.

The knowledge made him even less eager to find himself in her company, thankfully, this year he would be dropping Divination.

"About bloody time," they all sighed in relief. While occasionally amusing, that had been far more grating that anything.

Her great beacon like eyes swiveled in his direction; he hastily looked away toward the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was miming the shattering of a nose to raucous laughter and applause. Harry dropped his gaze to his treacle tart, his insides burning again. What he would give to fight Malfoy one-on-one...

"You never did finish that midnight duel," Sirius sneered. "Challenge him again and see how it goes!"

"And let him pull another slip on me with Filch," Harry disagreed. "I'd have to do it somehow publicly, otherwise he'd always find a way to duck out."

"Cowardly little ferret," James seethed.

Hermione directed the conversation back to the train ride, asking what Slughorn had wanted.

Harry shrugged, saying same as everyone else, to find out what had happened at the Ministry.

Nearly Headless Nick interrupted to say this was even a topic among the ghosts.

Harry huffed and grumbled a bit about that somehow making it no more important to him, but held the worst of it back like he had at the time.

The other ghosts considered him something of a Potter authority when asked about it, but he'd made it widely known they would get nothing out of him if he even knew, he would die rather than betray Potter's trust.

Then his face smoothed and relaxed into a calm grin, happy to know that his conversation at the end of last year hadn't left them on uneasy terms.

Ron observed that wasn't saying much, he was already dead.

Nick's tone was affronted as he replied Ronald was once again showing all the sensitivity of a blunt axe.

"Well he's not wrong," Sirius laughed outright at this, though Harry was unsure if he meant Ron or Nick.

and he rose into the air glided back toward the far end of the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

Hermione gasped in surprise what had happened to his hand.

She was not the only one who had noticed.

"I'm sure it's hard not to," Lily murmured, even picturing it was rather difficult and would surely stand out.

Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry from the Dursleys. Whispers in the room, Dumbledore interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury, promising it was nothing to worry about.

"Yes, because that's always instantly put people at ease," Remus rolled his eyes.

Hermione's expression continued to be nauseated even as he launched into his start of terms notices, she said it looked as if it had died.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably as well, not at all reassured no one in here could offer much comfort for this.

While Dumbledore began Mr. Filch had put a blanket ban on any Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes items.

All three Marauders gasped, looking personally affronted for this, while Lily burst out giggling not only at their faces, but the imagined pride the twins would surely carry their products were that infuriating to the old caretaker.

Then he continued to the staffing change, beginning with Professor Slughorn, who had kindly come out of retirement to take his old post as the Professor of Potions.

The last word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

No one in here even had the good mood to rub in they'd known better. If they'd been able to think ahead far enough, they may have even desperately started hoping he'd come back to teach a new subject, better him for the DADA job than Snivellus!

Ron and Hermione turned accusingly to Harry, but Dumbledore had already continued, having to raise his voice to continue that their teacher Professor Snape, would move to the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Harry sighed and slumped back into his seat, the news being confirmed didn't make it any better to hear the second time.

Harry shouted no so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. He did not care; he was staring up at the staff table, incensed. How could Snape be given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after all this time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Dumbledore did not trust him to do it?

Hermione insisted Harry had told Slughorn would get that job.

Harry had thought so too, but he was now racking his mind to recall Dumbledore actually saying so.

"You hadn't a need to ask," Lily agreed with a sigh on that lapse. "Though now I am going back and wondering all over again why he wouldn't have mentioned this."

"Guess he figured Harry would find out soon enough, stopped him asking the question and getting an early answer he'd just bad mouth," James wisely thought through, knowing exactly that's how it would have gone.

Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, did not stand up his mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Harry was sure he could detect a look of triumph on the features he loathed so much.

Sirius' disgusted sneer went suddenly blank at that, then a high pitched giggle escaped, which quickly turned into outright laughter.

The others waited impatiently for that to subside, but Sirius hardly did, still a little breathless as he exalted, "Snape got the Defense job!" Finally working past his frustration of that man still being around, he could look ahead once again, and all but dance in place, "which means that our celebrating his departure only came one year early!"

The news struck them fast after that, Harry and James high fiving with excitement and Remus bursting into snickers only just more restrained than Sirius had before. Lily rolled her eyes and pressed her lips together to stop herself snapping at the lot of them. She wasn't going to pretend to be happy for this, but she wouldn't deny either it would honestly be nice to go one year without hearing him gloat over her boy, she'd just have to wait a little longer for it.

"What'll you think it'll be!?" Remus demanded, his voice still a bit high from laughter. "Never had a repeat event, so we can sadly rule out being Obliviated, though that's still my favorite."

"Really? I quite liked the idea of locking him in a trunk and his voluntary retirement after that," James smirked.

"Dumbledore's never sacked anyone before. Maybe we'll finally get lucky and Dumbledore will do away with him himself," Sirius' hand twitched eagerly to flip to the back already and find that one out, though he restrained himself by the barest amount as he reminded himself that could potentially hurt Harry.

Harry gave an uneasy laugh of agreement to all of the above, but that squirming unease from before only intensified in him, and he had to quickly beat down the feeling lest they notice too much. It wasn't working, his mother certainly noticed and her worry increased just what would happen to Snape at the end of the year to cause that expression, but Sirius certainly hadn't noticed and kept going with the first hint of joy he'd ever had for one of Snape's classes. He'd be able to spend them all thinking up new ways to get that man out of the castle permanently.

Harry savagely pointed out at least Snape would be gone after this year then.

"I'm pleased how quickly you grasped on that," Sirius beamed with pride at him.

"Always has been able to pick up on the important things," James agreed proudly.

Ron at first didn't grasp what he meant, so Harry went through the list of their past teacher, personally crossing his fingers for another death like Quirrells.

Remus couldn't stop the involuntary snort, while James and Sirius outright laughed again and Lily huffed at all these idiots. He'd never gotten quite that bad, though at some of his lowest points she couldn't pretend she hadn't wanted to hex him herself. Just nothing irreversible.

Hermione was shocked and reproachful, while Ron pointed out he may just switch back to teaching Potions after this year.

"Argh! Ron, don't try to ruin this!" James demanded.

"Besides, no previous teacher has ever tried to stay at the school before either, surely Snape couldn't manage that," Sirius agreed with a slightly bitter tint in his words at the end while trying not to glance at Moony. He liked Hagrid, but surely he might have stepped down for a more qualified person, and it wouldn't have killed Remus to stick around for that one at least. He'd thought this and so many other options for him though since the revelation he forced himself to keep going past it rather than dwell on it again.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart's desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing, that as everyone knew, Lord Voldemort and his followers were at large and gaining strength.

"I'm truly shocked he didn't stop to say, told you so," James rolled his eyes.

The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke. Harry glanced at Malfoy. Malfoy was not looking at Dumbledore, but making his fork hover in midair with his wand, as though he found the headmaster's words unworthy of his attention.

"I'm quite sure that's exactly what he's thinking," James huffed, imagining taking his nose off again for the dozenth time already in retribution.

Dumbledore could not emphasize enough these dangerous times, and implored all students to be on their guard. To report anything even slightly out of the ordinary, and to conduct themselves in the safest manner it was possible.

The four from this time sighed, that was much more like how their start of terms had gone, all warnings and dire cautions. It really had been a pleasure skipping those in Harry's time.

Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more. He knew they all wanted to get right off to bed, so they'd be nice and rested for their lessons tomorrow.

"I always loved how he actually managed to say that without sarcasm," Remus couldn't help a little smile as Sirius no where near managed the same.

Then he gave a casual goodnight.

With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories. Harry, who was in no hurry at all to leave with the gawping crowd, nor to get near enough to Malfoy to allow him to retell the story of the nose-stamping, lagged behind, pretending to retie the lace on his trainer, allowing most of Gryffindors to draw ahead of him. Hermione had darted ahead to fulfill her Prefect's duty of shepherding the first years,

"It's nice to know she ranks that higher than my nose," Harry gave a slight smile at the remembered look she'd flashed him before doing this, he was not out yet from explaining himself with her.

but Ron remained with Harry, asking what had happened to his nose. Harry waited until everyone else was out of earshot.

It was a mark of the strength of their friendship that Ron did not laugh.

"Or he was just infuriated like the rest of us at that blighters existence," James seethed, the anger from that not yet dissipated enough to be surprised Harry would think otherwise.

Ron darkly said he'd seen Malfoy joking about a broken nose, now that made sense.

Harry shrugged it off, mostly, and instead filled Ron in on the rest of what he'd heard. He'd expected Ron to be stunned by Malfoys boasts, but with what Harry considered pure pigheadedness however, Ron was unimpressed.

"Well, Ron is that too," Sirius chuckled while Harry's agitation at his friends denial of this only grew.

He pointed out Malfoy was just showing off for Parkinson, what would You-Know-Who have him doing?

Harry insisted Voldemort could need someone inside Hogwarts-

but Hagrid interrupted from behind them, reproachfully telling Harry he should stop using that name.

"I've been doing it for years now, even Ron stopped flinching every single time," Harry said in exasperation.

"I can imagine some will never get used to it though," Lily shrugged with some defense, though it was an oddity in itself to picture someone like Hagrid afraid of anything, let alone a name.

Harry stubbornly insisted Dumbledore did.

Hagrid waved off that was Dumbledore. Then he asked where Harry was, he'd been worried.

Harry stepped around by just saying he'd been held up on the train. Then asked about him.

Hagrid enthusiastically said he'd been with Grawp,

Harry frowned at first in concern. Even knowing Hagrid could take care of himself just fine didn't make the idea of his friend in the Forest with those Centaurs a happy thought.

had a nice cave now up in the mountains.

"I, can imagine," Lily said slowly, clearly trying to build up a warm, happy voice for this, but the idea a giant was so close to the school still gave her head a bit of a spin.

James and Sirius were just happy it was out of their Forest.

They'd been having a good chat, he was much happier out of the forest.

"Sounds like his English has improved," Remus said in an honestly congratulatory voice, unlike the others who were still just trying to picture such a thing.

Harry was careful to keep his voice neutral and not glance at Ron; the last time he had met Hagrid's half-brother, a vicious giant with a talent for ripping up trees by the roots, his vocabulary had comprised five words, two of which he was unable to pronounce properly.

"I'm sure Hermione will be so disappointed to learn her nickname hadn't stuck," Sirius snickered.

Hagrid hardly noticed their hesitancy, boasting Grawp was doing so well he was thinking of training him as his assistant.

"That would be a sight," James got a laugh out of that.

Ron snorted loudly, but managed to pass it off as a violent sneeze.

"Far more than I could have managed," Sirius shook his head.

They were now standing beside the oak front doors.

Hagrid departed he'd see them tomorrow in his first lesson, he couldn't wait for them all to see Buck- err, Witherwings again!

Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed out of the doors into the darkness.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Harry could tell that he was experiencing the same sinking feeling as himself.

"Why?" Lily asked in surprise.

Harry confirmed Ron wasn't taking Care of Magical Creatures this year, anymore than he was.

"Oh," they all muttered in surprise, that hadn't crossed their minds.

"Well I'm sure Hagrid will understand," Lily said at once. "You just don't have any drive to further advance yourself in that class, you hardly a need for the extra work."

"Right," Harry muttered, still a bit red faced with shame, it felt like a betrayal to his friend no matter his intentions.

Ron half-heartedly asked if Hermione was, and Harry shook his head.

James sighed. The one time he wouldn't have laughed at the girl taking an unneeded class, if anyone could have handled that it would have been her, and he could see how it would offend Hagrid just slightly less if all three of them hadn't dropped it.

Exactly what Hagrid would say when he realized his three favorite students had given up his subject, he did not like to think.

"I finished," Sirius said, shoving the book to Harry with honest relief. That chapter had been nothing but rotten from start to finish, hopefully his pup would get something a little better.

HPHPHPHP

*Is James right about his thought? Let's find out;

Instances of Harry using the Cloak:

The Bad- Getting caught on the Astronomy tower and the subsequent detention, going to save the Stone, going to see Aragog, Snape took it in front of the Whomping Willow, nearly getting caught with his egg, and sneaking into Umbridge's office only to get caught by Umbridge, also this instance of getting caught by Malfoy.

The Good- Using it to go see Hagrid in CoS, but he got arrested that night, but they didn't get caught, so I'll count that as good, getting in and out of Hogsmeade in PoA, sneaking out again to go see Hagrid in GoF, plus using it to leave the Dursleys as extra precaution in five is technically a useful/ good thing. Oh, he technically sneaks into Umbridge's office twice, but got away with it the first time talking to Sirius and Remus, so that's a good.

Technically seven bad to five good, depending on how you would personally count the Stone and Aragog, James may or may not be correct.

Harry using it in GoF just to avoid the school before his dragon task is kind of a good thing but not outright helpful, same as all the other times he randomly uses it through four. I'm honestly at a toss for the mirror, that's a bit of both bad and good. Counting the others total, Harry using it to spy on Snape and Malfoy later is mutual not good or bad as it doesn't amount to much in the end, I don't count him using it to get to the Inferi lake since that would have happened with or without the cloak since he was with Dumbledore, same as all the uses in DH. Only one of those comes to saving him while he's under it with both of his friends, so that's seven for six, though he did use it in the end to literally go die, so the final tally would be eight to six for me.

Let me know if you think that should be swayed in either direction.

Ron or Hermione using it by themselves doesn't count for this, but they did both get away with it their solo times, seems it's just Harry who has bad luck with it like everything else. This is the longest * I've ever had, but the most fun to, counting all that up.

** Actually it was a Jack Rabbit, funnily enough, before it changed. Luna's is a Hare, which deeply amuses me, since I wish we'd gotten a scene of them together. Their personalities would have been great to play off of each other.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #hp #HBP #The Life That Never Lived #Marauders #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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moonb-eam · 5 years

Text

skater boy au part iii

truly back by popular demand

(i sincerely hope everyone who was excited for this is not disappointed!!)

read on ao3

part i

part ii

It happens when they’re outside of an ice cream parlour.

The six of them—Lucas and the girls—are polishing off two giant sundaes with childlike glee, spread out over two pastel-coloured picnic tables, watching people pass in and out of the open glass doors of the parlour.

It’s a Friday, and the sun is hot on Lucas’s face, orange flares passing over his closed eyelids, the faintest breeze cooling the small trickle of sweat trailing down from his hairline into the collar of his shirt. He feels good, pleasantly full and satisfied, warm and sleepy. He thinks about taking a nap, right there on the picnic table, then thinks about finding a nice spot of shady grass, thinks about curling up somewhere comfortable, somewhere safe, somewhere like—

“Lucas.”

It’s Manon, her gentle voice cutting through the sun-drenched haze of Lucas’s thoughts.

“What?” He asks, eyes still closed.

There’s a pause, and when Manon speaks, her voice is small, hesitant. “What’s going on between you and Eliott?”

It takes a moment for Lucas to process the question, still riding the soft current of sunshine and sugar, but when he does process it, when his brain is able to grasp the words you and Eliott, his eyes shoot open. They flick over to the other picnic table, where Imane, Alexia, Emma, and Daphné are all laughing together, too preoccupied with a story Alexia is telling to have heard Manon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He responds flatly, then immediately wants to take the words back. It’s an answer that’s too revealing in how defensive it is. Too obvious.

Sure enough, he glances over at Manon, and she’s smiling kindly at him, but her eyes are sharp, knowing.

Fuck.

“Okay.” Manon leans back from him, as though she’s dropping the matter completely, turning her head towards the street, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, but Lucas knows that she knows him too well. She knows that it’s killing him not to ask, that he’s practically vibrating at a low frequency with how badly he wants to ask.

He only lasts a minute before caving.

“Why? Did you hear something?”

Manon bobs her head from side to side, humming. “No, it’s just something Eliott said the other day. It made me wonder.”

Lucas open his mouth, and he hates that it’s automatic but really, since when do you and Eliott talk, what the fuck did Eliott say, only his voice dies in his throat, because he can hear the tell-tale sound of wheels rolling across pavement.

He doesn’t even need to look up and check. It’s Eliott, because of course it is. It’s as though Eliott is tapped directly into Lucas’s thoughts, as though he can hear Lucas’s internal panicking from the other side of Paris and has to come investigate.

Lucas only has to think of Eliott to summon him. Like an evil spirit from a bad horror movie.

Or like a dream.

Or not at all like a dream because Lucas is resolutely staring at the ground, but there is the very real sound of boards scraping to clumsy halts, a very real shiver that wracks Lucas’s body when the girls shout out excited greetings and Eliott gives a small salut next to Idriss’s loud laughter, and when Lucas finally forces himself to look up—just a glance, just for a second—there is a very real boy standing on the pavement, a boy who’s smiling, sweating, and probably smells disgusting.

Eliott’s eyes immediately find Lucas, and he promptly turns away to inspect a particularly fascinating bit of lime green paint peeling from the table, revealing worn, brown wood underneath. His gaze is focused downwards but he can feel Eliott’s eyes on the back of his head, can feel them trailing down his back, across his arms like a phantom caress. Lucas picks at the peel with his fingers, tugs it back to reveal more of the wood.

Idriss is talking to the girls, trading good-natured barbs with Imane and flirting shamelessly with Manon, and Lucas is only half-listening, directing all of his energy towards appearing aloof. Collected. Almost bored.

He hears Emma say something about a party, and he tunes back in.

“Where?” Idriss asks.

“It’s not too far from here, actually. I can text you the address if you want to come.”

Lucas digs his fingers under the paint peel.

“Well…” Lucas can hear Idriss rolling back and forth on his board, drawing the word out. “What do you think, Eliott? Should we grace this soirée with our glamorous selves?”

“Depends if Lucas is going.”

It’s not the words that catch Lucas so much as the way Eliott says them—honestly, bluntly, without a lick of shame. So obvious.

He whips his head up, and everyone is staring at him, their faces showing various stages of confusion and amusement.

Manon coughs delicately next to him. About as subtle as a brick to the face. Briefly, Lucas considers dumping melted ice cream onto her perfect hair.

But what’s more pressing is Eliott. Eliott, who’s currently staring at Lucas like he’s only two moves away from beating him at a game of chess, and the prize is Lucas himself.

And, like. Fuck that.

“I might be there.” Lucas says coolly, which is also, given the circumstances, a bit of a dumb answer because he’s already told all of the girls that he’ll come. He’s hosting the pre-drink.

Alexia is sending him a weird look but Eliott doesn’t seem fazed.

“If I come,” he asks softly, eyes fixed on Lucas, “will you dance with me?”

And there’s Eliott again, knocking Lucas sideways with the way he’s speaking—the unselfconscious hope there. The obvious interest. Too obvious.

It’s a lot, suddenly, to hear that soft, honest voice and have those fucking eyes on him and Lucas loses. He breaks their staring contest to look back down at the table, back at the peeling strip of lime green paint.

“In your dreams, Demaury.” Lucas scoffs, and it’s easier to sound bored when he’s looking down, when he’s not watching the way the afternoon sunlight turns Eliott’s hair into spun gold.

“Exactly.” Eliott says, easily, so easily, almost affectionately, and Lucas exhales sharply, his finger slipping from where it was fiddling with the paint peel, catching on a splinter of wood with a sharp pinch.

“Fuck.” Lucas hisses, pulling his hand back, drops of blood welling from the tip of his finger, bright red drops falling onto the pastel paint. “Fuck.” He repeats, cradling his injured finger in his other hand.

Manon is reaching for him, forehead creased in concern. “Oh shit, Lucas.”

Lucas can feel his face flushing, and it must be the pain, or the sight of the blood, or the summer heat, or all of these things at once.

He waves Manon off, rising from the bench. “It’s fine, I just need to. Bathroom.”

He brushes past the rest of them without meeting any of their eyes, saying “It’s fine,” again when Daphné asks if he’s alright. His face is still flushing, blood pooling in his cheeks, and he’s not sure he can keep blaming it on the deadly July sun. Too obvious.

Inside the parlour it’s hot, crowded and chaotic, but the bathroom is free, a single stall with a bright yellow door that’s hanging open. Lucas practically runs inside, slamming the door shut behind himself and clicking the lock into place.

There’s a single fluorescent light on the ceiling, humming lowly and washing a harsh white over the cheery pink tiles on the wall. Lucas takes a breath, leaning back against the door, small drops of blood trickling down his finger, dripping onto the white linoleum floor.

He’s startled by knocking on the door, three swift raps at the back of his head.

“Occupé!” Lucas bites out, pressing down harder on his injured finger, but then there’s a soft voice coming through the door.

“Lucas, it’s me.”

“Oh.” Lucas murmurs, and he doesn’t think much about it before he’s turning towards the door, the sound of the bolt sliding out of place as loud as a gunshot in the quiet bathroom.

Eliott steps inside, closing the door behind himself and re-locking it.

Maybe Lucas’s earlier hypothesis was wrong, because he wasn’t even thinking about Eliott this time. He wasn’t thinking about anything at all, but here he is, tall and tanned, shoulders slouching downwards, hands tucked into his pockets.

He’s so fucking cute. Lucas wants to scream.

“Hey,” Eliott says, quirking a half-smile at Lucas. His eyes drift down to Lucas’s finger and the smile droops slightly. “Does it hurt?”

Lucas shrugs, and Eliott reaches for him.

“Here.” He guides Lucas to the sink, turning on the cold water and bringing Lucas’s hand underneath it. Lucas bites back a gasp when the water touches his stringing cut, and Eliott notices, frowning at him.

“I’m sorry.”

Lucas doesn’t look away from their joined hands under the sink, watching trails of blood swirl down the drain. “Sorry for what?”

“For this.” Eliott strokes one finger over the back of Lucas’s hand. “It was my fault.”

Lucas coughs to hide a shiver. “You give yourself too much credit.”

Eliott huffs a laugh. “Really? Because it looks like you were really distracted by me.”

“I wasn’t.”

Eliott gently squeezes Lucas’s injured finger, the blood almost completely washed away now. “No?” He asks, and he sounds more amused than concerned.

“No.” Lucas says shortly. He can’t say anything else because the annoying thing is, Eliott is right. Lucas is so distracted by him: by the feeling of his hands against Lucas’s own; by the way Eliott smells, like mint and sunshine and boy, which defies all logic based on how sweaty Lucas can see he is; and by the way Lucas can practically feel the warmth radiating from Eliott’s sun-kissed skin. He’s thinking about a few nights ago, when Eliott invited him over to watch a film and Lucas fell asleep on his chest, face pressed into his skin, surrounded by Eliott’s warmth, more comfortable that he can ever remember being in his entire life.

Yeah, distracting.

But it’s chill. Lucas may be bleeding, but it’s chill. Not obvious.

“I think you’re okay.” Eliott announces, turning the tap off. He pulls out a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser and delicately wraps it around Lucas’s finger. “It looks like it’s stopped bleeding. But you can always ask if they have any band-aids if you need one.”

“I don’t need a band-aid,” Lucas says sourly. “It was hardly bleeding.”

Eliott just hums, brining Lucas’s hand to his lips and presses a dainty kiss to his wrapped finger.

“I missed you.” Eliott whispers against the paper towel.

Lucas feels something, he doesn’t know what, but something rush through his body at the words, at the soft way Eliott says them. He can’t put a name to the feeling, but it’s restless. It rolls through him like a wave, roiling like a storm.

“You saw me two days ago.” His voice is embarrassingly faint.

Eliott rolls his eyes. “Yeah, exactly. Two.” He presses a kiss on the back of Lucas’s hand. “Whole.” A kiss to the inside of his wrist. “Days.” A kiss near the crease of his elbow. “I’m practically dying over here.”

“Hm. Sounds like a you problem.”

Eliott leans back, Lucas’s hand still caught in his. “Oh yeah?” He laughs. “You’re telling me you didn’t miss me?”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“So, should I just pretend that I never received that text message from you at two in the morning?”

Lucas’s face flushes. Again. So obvious.

He goes for plausible deniability, because that worked so well for him earlier. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.” Eliott is grinning at him, eyes scrunching at the corners, and it’s so endearing that it physically hurts not to smile back. Lucas feels his cheek twitch.

There’s a beat where they just stare at each other.

Then Eliott’s tugging him closer by his hand, Eliott is saying, “Okay, enough, come here, please,” and Lucas is pressed up against him, chest to chest, and Eliott really is so warm, Lucas can feel it bleeding into his t-shirt, and Eliott is bending down, eyes on Lucas’s lips but Lucas pulls back, makes him work for it just because he can.

Only, Eliott doesn’t seem to mind. He just smiles, and chases him, leaning in to kiss Lucas gently, their mouths brushing together soft and feather-light. Lucas can feel himself melt into it, tipping his head back further like he’s a flower arcing up towards Eliott’s sunlight.

“You’re sure you didn’t miss me?” Eliott teases, so close Lucas can taste the mint on his breath. “This feels a lot like you missed me.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Lucas groans. “You’re so annoying.” He bites down on Eliott’s bottom lip, partially just to be rude and partially to get a reaction out of Eliott, to see the way his eyes widen, then narrow.

“Fuck.” Eliott murmurs, and he’s diving in for another kiss, releasing Lucas’s hand to wrap both arms around his waist, dipping him backwards with how hard he’s pressing forwards. Lucas’s own hands rise to Eliott’s shoulders, grip the muscle and bone there to steady himself, his back bending at an angle that’s uncomfortable, bordering painful, but then Eliott is deepening the kiss, their joined mouths parting with a slick sound and Lucas is gone.

There’s dirty linoleum squeaking under his sneakers, the hum of the fluorescent light in his ears, and his injured finger is still throbbing, but all of that becomes faint, fuzzy details in Lucas’s consciousness that blur until he forgets where he is. He could be on a beach. He could be in a field. He could be on the surface of the sun. He could be anywhere with Eliott kissing him, holding onto him, breathing him in.

Lucas is gone, gone.

There’s a monologue somewhere in his mind, in some greying corner of too obvious, too obvious, too obvious, telling Lucas that this is too much. He’s feeling too much. He thinks about Eliott too much. He dreams about Eliott too much.

He should have known the first day he saw Eliott, rolling into the school grounds on his board, snapback on backwards, smile blindingly beautiful, every head turning to follow his progress. Lucas should have known he was as doomed as the rest of them.

The entire world is in love with you.

And that it’s for Lucas, that’s what makes him break away from Eliott’s lips, his hands loosening their tight grip on Eliott’s shoulders. Eliott isn’t deterred though, just latches his mouth onto Lucas’s neck and makes his way downwards, pulling aside the collar of Lucas’s t-shirt to kiss the spot where Lucas’s shoulder meets his neck.

“Eliott.” Lucas says, pressing his hands against Eliott’s chest, pushing him back.

Eliott detaches his mouth from Lucas’s skin, his hands sliding up Lucas’s sides until they reach his face, cupping it in his palms. “Please,” Eliott breathes. “Please come back to mine. Idriss won’t care.”

“I can’t.” Lucas says, voice muffled by Eliott dipping in for another kiss. “I’m with the girls, and they—”

“We could just tell them.”

The words leave Eliott’s mouth and they both stop, Lucas pulling his head back, Eliott’s hands falling from Lucas’s face.

“Tell them what?” Lucas asks slowly.

Eliott’s cheeks flush, like he’s embarrassed, but he doesn’t drop Lucas’s gaze. It’s frustratingly attractive, how he always holds eye contact, even when he’s saying something difficult. Because everything about Eliott is maddeningly perfect.

“I think they’d be happy for you, if you told them you have a boyfriend.”

“But I don’t have a boyfriend.”

The memory of it is too fresh in Lucas’s mind, the way Eliott looked when he asked him, Lucas, will you be my boyfriend? Lucas had only felt disbelief, sheer disbelief at the question, at the very notion that Eliott is apparently the type of guy to take a person on one date, and then ask them go steady. Or whatever.

When his disbelief had faded, blind panic took place. And so he’d said the first glib response that came to mind: In your dreams, Eliott Demaury.

Eliott sighs, tilting his head back to the ceiling, to the flickering fluorescent light. “Alright, that you’re seeing someone.”

“Seeing someone.” Lucas repeats dubiously. “Yeah, no, they’ll want deets. And I’m not ready to give deets.”

Now it’s Eliott’s turn to sound dubious. “Deets?”

“Yes. Deets. Everyone thought we hated each other, Eliott. For a long time. So they’ll want to know everything and I just…I don’t want to tell them. I mean, we talked about this.” Lucas finishes weakly, because they did talk about it. Over text, because sometimes Lucas is a coward and he is notproud of it. But the topic was addressed, more or less.

Eliott’s staring at him again, and Lucas fights the urge to shift awkwardly under his gaze. “Okay.” He finally says, letting out a breath. He takes a step forward, bringing their bodies close together again. “But can I ask you for something?”

Normally, Lucas is loathe to agree to any favours, ever, but he will go to his grave without admitting that Eliott is the one exception. The only one.

“I’m not giving you a handie in here, if that’s what you’re going for.”

Eliott makes a scandalized noise, and bursts into laughter. “Lucas! Jesus Christ, no!” He runs a hand over his face, as though he can’t believe Lucas is someone he has to endure in this life. “Although,” his hand drops away and his eyebrows raise. “Now that you’ve put the idea my head…”

He takes another step closer, reaching out for Lucas’s waist and Lucas laughs, slapping his hand away. “Alright, then what?” He asks, pushing Eliott back with a finger at the centre of his chest. Eliott tries to grasp onto Lucas’s hand but Lucas dodges, dancing away until his back hits the yellow-tiled wall of the bathroom.

Lucas had, briefly, forgotten where he was, but now all of the details of the bathroom come back into sharp focus. And it finally occurs to him that he and Eliott have been away for a while. That they disappeared one after another and that they’ll return at the same time. He already knows how that will look to the group. To Manon. So obvious.

“Dance with me.” Eliott says in a rush. “Tonight. At the party.”

Lucas blinks at him. “You really want to do that?”

Eliott nods. His shoulders are hunched again, sloping down towards the floor as though his entire body is frowning. He looks…anxious. It sends a lightning bolt of pain into Lucas’s heart.

So Lucas says, “Okay,” because he doesn’t actually want to play with Eliott’s feelings, whatever they may be right now. He’s just trying to protect himself. He’s preparing for the moment Eliott gets bored of him and picks up something else that looks shiny. Because that’s what he’s always heard Eliott does.

It’s easy for him. The entire world is in love with him.

“Fine.” Lucas says, and he rolls his eyes like it’s a big chore but he smiles. “One dance.”

Eliott grins, bouncing forward on his toes. “Great.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Lucas says, pressing himself away from the wall. “I need to return to the girls before they come looking for me themselves.” He steps around Eliott, bopping their hips together and reaching up to flick Eliott’s nose. “See you tonight, I guess.” He unlocks the door, opens it, and glances over his shoulder to get one last look at Eliott there, bathed in fluorescence but still achingly beautiful, looking like summer personified, like a pool Lucas is dying to dive into.

He drags his gaze down Eliott’s body and says, “By the way, your fly is low.”

The door shuts behind him, but he can still hear Eliott’s laugh.

He speed-walks back out to where the girls are, to see they’re all at the same table now, with Idriss standing next to it, two skateboards at his feet. Lucas can recognize Celeste, the new pale pink wheels Eliott put on her last week already tinged grey by gravel.

“Lucas.” Alexia says pleasantly. “Where have you been?”

Lucas holds up his paper-towel bandaged finger. “Tending to a fatal wound.”

“Right.” Emma has her chin resting on her folded hands, and she smiles toothily at him. “You were gone for a while.” Her eyes widen. “Must have been a lot of blood.”

Lucas feels his traitorous cheeks flush. Don’t be obvious.

“There was queue for the bathroom.” He lies easily, throwing himself down on the bench next to Imane and steadfastly avoiding any and all eye possible instances of eye contact.

“Lucas.” He glances up at Idriss, who’s smiling at him from behind a pair of Ray-Bans. “You’re hosting the pre-drink tonight, right?” He asks, leaning forward one one bent knee, his foot propped up on the table.

“Yeah.” Lucas nods, fiddling with the paper towel around his finger, searching for the phantom sensation of lips pressed against it. “Do you need my address?”

Idriss shakes his head. “I’ve got it. But what time should we come?”

We.

Him and Sofiane, probably. And Eliott. Probably. Not just at the party, but at the pre-drink. In Lucas’s flat. Where Lucas’s bedroom is.

“Uh,” Lucas draws out, blanking out for so long that Manon answers for him.

“Around nine is good.”

Idriss grins. “Alright. I’ll see you guys at nine, then.” He slaps one hand against the table and straightens, bending down to pick up the two boards. “I’ll take these and go find Eliott.” Idriss’s eyes flick over to Lucas, who immediately glances away at the trash bins. “Wherever he may have gone.” Idriss finishes on laugh, taking two long strides into the doors of the parlour.

Lucas can feel Imane’s eyes burning into the side of his head but he keeps staring at the trash bins, watching two seagulls fight over a piece of waffle cone.

Daphné starts talking about potential outfit choices for the night, and Lucas is glad for it, for the distraction it brings, for how she grabs everyone’s attention at the table, and he can take a deep breath.

Suddenly, the idea of going to a party that night is beyond appealing. Lucas needs enough vodka in his system to tranquilize a horse.

Eliott doesn’t arrive at Lucas’s place until nine-thirty.

Lucas has had a drink or two by that point, and some of the anxiety he was feeling earlier—when he’d stood in front of his dresser with the drawers open in the middle of a crisis about t-shirts—has dissipated. He’s talking with Arthur and Yann in the kitchen, and he has a drink in hand and he’s feeling good. It’s chill, he’s chill, and he’s definitely not going to go into his room and change his black t-shirt for a blue one.

Then he hears Alexia excitedly call out, “Eliott!”

Lucas freezes, mid-sentence, eyes drifting to the kitchen entryway, and Yann smirks at him.

“Shut up.” Lucas says, pushing Yann’s face away with an open palm, and Arthur glances between them, brow furrowed.

“Shut up about what?”

“Nothing.” Lucas mutters, taking a sip from his drink to cover. It’s something Emma made him, something with vodka and soda and juice—it’s sickeningly sweet, and will probably give him the most spectacular hangover in the morning, but it also burns pleasantly in Lucas’s stomach.

Arthur shrugs and keeps talking, picking up the thread of a story he hadn’t finished earlier, but Lucas is too distracted to hear, because there’s Eliott, poking his fluffy head into the kitchen and smiling widely when he sees Lucas. It’s probably the vodka/soda/juice combo, but Lucas returns the smile without thinking. Was that obvious?

Eliott comes over to them, bumping fists with Yann and Arthur, and smiling at Lucas. Still smiling. “How’s your night, boys?”

“Just getting started!” Arthur cheers, knocking his glass of wine back. A bit of the liquid dribbles onto his chin, and Yann wipes it off, laughing.

“Do you have any beer?” Eliott asks, eyes on Lucas.

Lucas raises an eyebrow. “Can’t afford your own?”

“Idriss has some, but…” Eliott’s smile sharpens. “I bet yours tastes better.”

Arthur blinks. Yann throws his head back and cackles. Lucas bites down on his lip until he can almost taste blood, cheek twitching.

“I don’t have any, actually.” Lucas says lightly, even though he definitely has a full case in the fridge. “You can have one of Yann’s.”

Yann makes an offended noise and Lucas smiles pleasantly at him, turning away from them to open the fridge. He actually does get Eliott one of his own, because no one has to know and honestly, Yann has terrible taste. He seems to drink shitty beer just for the glory of drinking shitty beer.

“Here.” Lucas says, turning back around, then stops in surprise when he sees the kitchen is empty expect for him and Eliott. He frowns. “Where did everyone go?”

Eliott shrugs. “Don’t know.”

Lucas narrows his eyes, suspicious. “Whatever.” He slams the beer bottle down on the table. “That’s for you, so. Enjoy.”

Eliott beams at him. “Thank you, baby.”

“Whatever,” Lucas repeats, his brain unable to come up with a better comeback, and suddenly he’s itching to leave the kitchen, which feels too small with only him and Eliott inside of it, all of the empty air taken up by Eliott’s bright smile and teasing eyes.

“I meant to tell you,” Eliott says lowly as Lucas passes him, stopping him with a gentle hand on his arm. “You look really beautiful tonight.”

Lucas shrugs. “I know.”

“Do you think I look nice?” Eliott drops his hold on Lucas to spread his arms out, his button-up shirt gaping open across his chest. Lucas squints. There are snakes patterned all over it. “I showered and everything.”

“Is that what that smell is?”

Eliott bursts into laughter. “Fuck off.” He says, but the words have no bite.

Lucas takes another sip of his drink to hide his smile. “Alright well.” He takes a step backwards towards the hallway. “Bye.”

“Wait.” Eliott tugs Lucas back to him by his t-shirt, dipping down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. It happens so quickly, Eliott is holding Lucas close, his breath warm on the side of his face, and then he’s gone, snagging his beer from the table and disappearing into the hallway.

“Byeeeeeee,” Eliott calls over his shoulder, drawing the word out like Alexia always does, voice lilting up at the end, leaving Lucas behind in the kitchen.

Manon finds him like that, with his plastic cup in hand, mouth hanging open, cheeks coloured bright pink, and she smiles at him so, so knowingly. So obvious.

They leave the coloc at almost eleven, stumbling out of the flat like a circus act, a mess of tangled limbs and tripping shoes and drunken rambunctiousness. Lucas shushes them all as they spill out into the hallway, fearful of the neighbours.

“Please.” Mika says as he swans by, a floral kimono trailing after him. “It’s just Gertrude next door, and if anything, she’d want to come with us to the party.”

As if on cue, the door down the hall opens and a tiny, white-haired woman pops her head out. She grins when she sees them.

“That’s it, kids! Live like gods tonight! Put the moon and stars to shame!”

There’s a beat of silence, then Mika, Emma, Alexia, and Idriss rush towards her, cheering, and Lucas plants his face in his palm.

“What even is my life?” He mutters to himself.

Everyone around him is moving, the girls piling into the elevator with Sofiane and Mika and Idriss still talking to Gertrude, Idriss offering her a shot of whiskey, and in the chaos, Lucas feels a hand slide down his side, resting at his lower back.

“You heard her, baby,” a low voice whispers in his ear. “Let’s put the moon and stars to shame.”

Lucas only catches a glimpse of Eliott’s curved eyes, the corner of a lopsided grin, and then he’s disappearing into the elevator, the spot he was touching on Lucas’s lower back burning like there was now a brand of Eliott’s hand there.

“Lucas, come on!” Daphné calls out, everyone motioning him in, and he sighs, then throws himself into the throng.

What even is my life?

They get to the party without any major mishaps or injuries, the only close call when Idriss almost collided into a lamp post on his skateboard, then Eliott, laughing at Idriss, had crashed into the curb with his own board, collapsing onto the grass on the other side of it, long arms flailing out.

Lucas had laughed so hard he nearly cried.

The party is in a townhouse, at the end of a street of tall and narrow homes on the outskirts of the neighbourhood. Lucas knows which house it is right away, from the door that’s propped open spilling light and music onto the dark street. There’s a small group of people smoking outside, gathered outside a low iron gate. Lucas doesn’t know any of them, but they all cheer when they see them approaching, one girl in the group offering a bottle of champagne out to Alexia.

“Enter at your own risk.” The girl says with a laugh. “It’s wild in there.”

Emma lets out a laugh that Lucas can only describe as villainous. “Guys. Let’s fucking goooooo.”

The girl wasn’t kidding. There are people everywhere inside: sitting on the staircase, propped up on the counters in the kitchen, dancing in the living room, talking in the hallways, and crowding out onto a back deck, the back door propped open by what looks like a garden gnome.

The girls immediately go for the living room, Emma waving excitedly at someone she recognizes, Mika following behind them, holding up, of all things, a disco ball. Idriss, Sofiane, Eliott, and Yann make their way towards the back deck, and Lucas gets pulled into the kitchen by Arthur and Basile. Arthur cracks open another bottle of wine and Basile pulls a beer out of the fridge, offering it to Lucas.

Lucas takes it but doesn’t drink from it right away. He’s already a bit drunk and it’s overwhelming inside the house. Bodies crush around Lucas like a pulse, the music so loud it seems to pound directly into his ribcage.

He gets pulled by Basile and Arthur again, back to the living room to find the girls.

From there, Lucas gets caught in a swirl of bodies, passed from Manon, to Alexia, to Arthur, the room spinning around him as he dances. He loses his beer somewhere but then Emma hands him a shot and he knocks it back without question. It burns all the way down his throat but he likes it. He likes how it makes the house more welcoming than overwhelming, how he seems to flow through the crowd now rather than be crushed by it.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Basile crows in his ear. He has one arm around Lucas and one around Arthur. “This is what it’s all about, boys!”

Arthur laughs and trips, making all three of them stumble apart. Lucas flails his arms out, and one of them gets caught by Daphné.

“Come on, Lucas!” She yells. “Let’s dance!”

So, they dance.

The song changes to something new, something upbeat and dance-y and the crowd cheers, Daphné laughing as Lucas spins her in a circle, her hair fanning out behind her. Lucas lets himself be carried away by the music, by the beat that practically shakes the walls, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, swaying his body from side to side.

losing myself, i’m losing myself tonight

Arthur yells something in his ear but Lucas doesn’t catch it, just keeps his eyes closed, keeps moving his body to the beat, uncaring of how ridiculous he might look. He gets lost in it.

So when a pair of hands come to his hips, he jolts in surprise, eyes snapping open. He can see Daphné and Basile dancing together, and can see Imane and Manon talking at the opening of the hallway, but other than that the gang has disappeared.

The hands on his hips tighten, and Lucas swears he knows those hands. He knows the broad chest pressing against his back. Knows the soft hair tickling the nape of his neck.

He says, “Eliott,” before he even turns around and Eliott laughs lowly in his ear.

“You said you’d dance with me, remember?”

“Yeah.” Lucas breathes, and it must be the party, the overwhelming crowd making anonymity a tantalizing possibility. Or it must be the alcohol Lucas can still feel swimming in his veins, tipsy more than drunk now, but still pleasantly hazy in a way that makes grinding back on Eliott seem like a very good idea. The best idea. Or, more than anything, it might be Eliott himself, who’s hands feel like heaven on Lucas’s body, who’s voice is sweet in Lucas’s ear, telling him how good he looks, telling him how badly Eliott wanted to touch him the second he saw him start to dance, and who smells so fucking good. Seriously, it’s going to kill Lucas one day, how good Eliott smells all the time. How badly Lucas wants to press his face into Eliott’s neck, his chest, feel the heat of his skin and inhale.

“Fuck.” Eliott hisses and Lucas thinks for a moment that Eliott really is tapped into his thoughts, because yeah, fuck.

Eliott has his face near Lucas’s shoulder, practically panting into his ear. “You’re so fucking hot.” Eliott murmurs, and Lucas shakes his head. He’s not, he isn’t—

“No.” He says nonsensically. “You.”

But Eliott runs with it. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Lucas turns in Eliott’s arms, feels his hands slide around to his back, to that same place he’d touched earlier, and he feels just as warm from it. Just as claimed. He wonders if, in some way, Eliott has ruined him a little bit. If Lucas will never be able to feel anyone else’s hands on himself without thinking of Eliott, of the gentle but firm way he touches Lucas, as though he’s saying, I’m here, I’m here, if you want me, just with his hands.

But Lucas doesn’t want to think about anyone else touching him. He doesn’t want to think about Eliott touching anyone else.

He tilts his head back to meet Eliott’s eyes. “You.” He says again, and the word gets lost in the yelling and laughing around them, in the music still blaring.

we givin’ up (givin’ up, we givin’ up)

“You’re more than hot.” Lucas says, which absolutely is not what he planned to say, but it comes out, and Eliott must just catch it because his brow furrows.

“More than hot?”

“You’re amazing. You might be the best person I know.” And Lucas’s mouth is still moving faster than his brain. “I always act like you annoy me but it’s because I like you so much. Too much.”

Eliott smiles wide, eyes crinkling, and Lucas feels the bottom of his heart drop.

“And I’m just waiting for you to end it.”

Eliott’s smile falls, lightning-fast, and Lucas wants to disappear into the floor. He wants to pull the words from the air and force them back down his throat, drown them with vodka.

“What?” Eliott asks, and he’s frowning now, and Lucas is waving his hands frantically.

“No. No! That’s not—forget I said that!”

“Lucas. What does that mean?”

“Are we not dancing?” Lucas voice rises an entire octave, still barely audible over the music. “Let’s go back to dancing. Let’s do that!”

“Baby.” Lucas doesn’t hear the word, just watches Eliott’s mouth form it, sees the way Eliott’s entire body is caving towards him, shoulders sloping down, eyes heavy with worry.

Lucas stops. Opens his mouth and closes it.

“Come on.” Eliott grips onto Lucas’s hand and tugs him away from the centre of the living room, out of the mass of bodies still jumping, swaying, spinning, gyrating, heads tilted back, arms in the air.

losing myself, i’m losing myself tonight

Eliott guides him away from the hallway, where Imane and Manon are still standing, staring at them; Manon with concern, Imane with thinly veiled curiosity. Eliott keeps pulling him away, though the back door onto the porch, a rickety wooden platform that steps down to a small backyard with an iron fence, a park just beyond that.

“Eliott.” Lucas tries, but he doesn’t get any further than that. He has no idea what even would have said. Eliott, I’m sorry. Eliott, I didn’t mean to say that. Eliott, I’m just trying not to get my heart broken.

They finally stop when they reach a corner of the small yard, Eliott turning Lucas so he’s pressed back against the fence, Eliott blocking him from the prying eyes on the porch, the small group of people passing a joint around, the two girls making out on a lawn chair.

Lucas is grateful for it, because if he’s going to have an emotional breakdown, he sure doesn’t want it to happen with an audience, but the way Eliott is looming over him also makes him nervous. He can’t look away from Eliott like this, when he’s surrounded by him. He can’t drop his glance anywhere without his eyes catching on Eliott’s lips, on a sliver of his bare chest, on the curve of his nose, the veins on his arms, the face of one of the snakes on his shirt, curling around Eliott’s shoulder.

Lucas can still faintly hear the music, and the song changes to something else, something lower, with more bass, that gets another cheer from inside.

“What did you mean?” Eliott asks, eyes intent on Lucas.

Lucas shrugs, lowering his eyes from the snake on Eliott’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean anything.”

“Lucas, come on.”

Eliott sounds frustrated, and for some reason, rather than cow Lucas into submission, that makes him angry.

“Well, what am I supposed to think?” He asks loudly, getting the attention of the girls on the lawn chair. “You come out of nowhere and tell me that you like me? When I was never nice to you, not once. You could have gotten with like, literally anybody else.”

Eliott blinks at him. “I am…so confused by what you’re saying right now. Did I not tell you that I’ve liked you this entire time?”

“Okay, but.” Lucas makes an angry noise in the back of his throat. He doesn’t want to say this. “I’ve heard things.”

Eliott’s face darkens. “What things.”

“That you get bored! That you move on to the next exciting person when the one you’re with isn’t a mystery to you anymore. So, yeah, I was really rude to you because I didn’t want to be another one of those people. And now I…” Lucas sighs. “Now I fucking am.”

“Alright, firstly.” Eliott looks absolutely pissed. “I have no idea where those rumours started but they aren’t true. I mean, yeah, there was a time last year when I dated a few people really quickly, and I’m not proud about that, but Lucas.” Eliott laughs once. “I wanted to be dating you, that entire time! I was so gone for you from the first time you spoke to me. I’ve never wanted anyone from you. I know it’s not fair to those people, it really isn’t, but I was just distracting myself because I thought I’d never have a chance with you.”

Lucas, too shocked to have a proper thought, says the first thing that comes into his head. “You never said secondly.”

“What?”

“You said ‘firstly’, but you never had a second point. It’s really annoying when people—”

“Oh my god.” Eliott groans, tilting his head back to the night sky. “You’re the most difficult person on the planet, I swear.”

Lucas, grossly offended by that, opens his mouth to respond, but Eliott cuts him off.

“Secondly, I thought I’d never have a chance with you until Yann says something to me, something about how you always bring me up in conversation for no reason at all. So, I thought, maybe I actually have—”

Fucking Yann. “Okay, wait, for the record, I did not—”

“Will you please let me finish?” Eliott is loud enough that Lucas can see a few curious heads popping over Eliott’s shoulder. “Lucas.” Eliott says, and he sounds annoyed and fond and tired and Lucas likes him so much he might explode. He might combust right there, a star going supernova just from the sound of Eliott’s voice. “I asked you out, and I still can’t believe you said yes, when I’ve had a crush on you for so long. And there was a part of me that thought, maybe we’d go out and discover we’re not good for each other that way. But then we did, and…well, I think we really are. Good for each other. So, yeah, I asked you to be my boyfriend on our first date because spending more time with you has just made me like you more. If that’s even possible.” Eliott huffs out a breath. “You’re really stubborn sometimes, you know that? And I don’t understand why you decided to believe some stupid rumours instead of talking to me about this.”

Lucas stares down at the ground, at the gap of flat, brown grass between his and Eliott’s sneakers. “It was easy for me to believe them.”

“Why?”

He keeps looking down, trying to give Eliott back some of the honesty that he’s given Lucas. “Easy to believe anything rather than you’d really like me. That you want a relationship with me.”

Eliott sighs, and it sounds sad. “Lucas.”

“Whatever.” Lucas rubs a hand over his face. “I’ve got issues, who doesn’t these days.”

There are gentle fingers on Lucas’s neck, a thumb tilting his chin up, up, until his eyes meet Eliott’s, bright and grey and intense.

Lucas gulps.

“I don’t understand how you can see yourself that way.” Eliott says. “I think you’re everything.”

“Yeah, well.” Lucas huffs. “You said it yourself, I’m difficult. My life can be difficult.”

Eliott shakes his head. “So can mine. I mean, I know there are things that you haven’t told me, that aren’t my business, but I guess I’m saying that…” Eliott pauses, licks his lips, and Lucas tracks the motion without meaning to. “I want these things to be my business. If you want to tell me things, then I want to listen. I want to be here for you.”

“That’s…” Lucas inhales sharply. “That’s what you want?”

“What I want,” Eliott starts slowly, “is to be your boyfriend. I want you to trust me. I want to take you on dates. I want to hold your hand when we walk places together. I want to kiss you in front of our friends and I don’t give a shit if they make fun of us for it. Okay? That’s what I want.”

Lucas’s exhale is a shudder, his entire body shivering in the late-night air, in the burning touch of Eliott’s fingers on his skin. “I…want that too.”

Eliott smiles, and really, Lucas thinks he never had any chance of self-preservation at all.

The entire world is in love with you.

I’m in love with you.

“Yeah?” Eliott asks, his hands sliding up to cup Lucas’s cheeks. “You want me to be your boyfriend?”

Lucas nods, his forehead brushing against Eliott’s. He can practically hear his heart beating, a runaway train pressing against his ribs. “I want to be with you. Eliott.” He pulls back enough that he can see Eliott’s entire face. Fuck it, Eliott’s not the only one who can make big, romantic speeches. “You should know, that’s all I’ve ever wanted too.”

Eliott blinks at him.

“And I lo—” Okay, maybe not that romantic. “I really, really like you. Stupid amounts.”

“Stupid amounts.” Eliott echoes, and then he’s leaning forward and they’re kissing, under the night sky, standing on burnt grass, before the eyes of an enthralled and stoned audience.

Lucas thinks he might hear a faint applause.

He pulls away from Eliott on a giggle, high and bubbly and uncontrollable.

“I can’t believe this.” He says, laying his hands flat on Eliott’s chest, on the place where his button-up gapes open. “I never thought that…”

Eliott’s hand slide down to Lucas’s back, pulling him in gently. “Me too.” He presses a kiss to the top of Lucas’s head. “I was worried for a second there. I’m all out of romantic speeches.”

“Well.” Lucas tilts his head up, held tightly in the circle of Eliott’s arms. “How about I do one, then?”

Eliott brushes their noses together. “Okay.”

“Let’s ditch this party, and go back to my place.”

Eliott bursts into laughter. “I don’t know what else I was expecting.”

They re-enter the house, making a beeline for the kitchen, where Lucas can see the gang posted up in a corner, in varying states of sobriety.

“Well, well, well.” Emma says when she sees them, wagging a finger at Lucas. “Where have you boys been?”

“Nowhere.” Lucas says, at the same time that Eliott says, “Everywhere.”

Imane and Idriss each raise a suspicious eyebrow.

It’s Basile that goes for the blunt question. “Are you guys dating now?”

Eliott glances over at Lucas. “Uh. Yeah, we are.” He says, but it’s said almost as a question, as though he’s not sure that Lucas still wants this.

Lucas’s cheek twitches.

A chorus of gasps goes up in the kitchen.

“Oh my god!” Mika yells. “Tell me this is true! Tell me!”

“Fucking finally!” Alexia crows.

Eliott and Lucas, however, only have eyes for each other, so Eliott sees it clearly when Lucas mouths, in your dreams, Eliott Demaury.

And Lucas sees it clearly when Eliott mouths back, exactly.

Eliott, of course, gets sucked into a celebratory bro-hug with Sofiane and Idriss. Arthur kisses Lucas on the forehead, Basile high-fives him, and Yann just grins at him from across the kitchen.

Lucas thinks he catches some money being exchanged subtly under the kitchen table, and he can’t even say he’s that surprised.

He hears Eliott trying to extricate himself from Idriss and Sofiane, telling them he and Lucas are going to go home, which just inspires another round of shocked gasps. Idriss immediately starts egging Eliott about safe-sex practices. Eliott, in turn, tells him pleasantly to fuck off.

Lucas watches him for a moment, watches how Eliott’s eyes light up as he listens, watches how he smiles so wide his eyes scrunch up into half-moons, watches how he ducks his chin towards his chest shyly when Emma says something to him, watches how he fiddles with his phone in his hands, long fingers curling around the device.

Suddenly, all Lucas can think about is being close to him, being alone with him, touching him. Eliott.

And maybe, possibly, Eliott really is tuned into Lucas’s thoughts, because his head snaps up, their eyes meet, and it looks like Eliott is thinking the exact same thing.

Their staring contest is broken only by Manon appearing at Lucas’s elbow, a gentle hand pressing into his back.

“You’re being obvious,” she whispers into Lucas’s ear, and Lucas can’t control the smile that spreads across his face.

Yeah. I am.

It’s late by the time he and Eliott are actually able to leave, but the party is still in full force, the bursting house exhaling them both onto the pavement outside.

Eliott reaches for his hand as soon as they pass through the gate, their fingers twining together while their cheeks flush, smiles pointing shyly downwards.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Eliott says, grinning. He tugs Lucas’s hand up his mouth and kisses the back of it once. Then again. Again.

Lucas tucks himself into Eliott’s side, shivering, pressing their linked hands to his chest. “Me too.” He murmurs, and he stands on his toes to kiss Eliott’s cheek.

The air is cool and thick outside, the promise of rain heavy in the encroaching clouds. Possibly a thunderstorm. Lucas considers it, watching the rain fall while tangled up with Eliott in his sheets. He imagines being kissed while a storm rages beyond his window and really, that doesn’t sound too bad.

“You want to stay the night, right?” He checks, and Eliott nods, pressing his own kiss to Lucas’s cheek.

“Nowhere I’d rather be.” He says.

They stumble a bit on the pavement, wrapped too tightly together, Eliott unbalanced with Celeste tucked under his free arm, but they don’t even try to separate, aware that if one of them falls, the other one will too.

"What was the song?" Lucas asks after a beat, playing with Eliott's fingers idly.

"What song?"

Lucas nudges his shoulder. "The song you said reminded me of you."

Eliott bites his lip, shakes his head. "Not telling you."

Lucas frowns. "Really?"

"I'm not telling you yet." Eliott amends, drawing Lucas closer to his side. Lucas pretends to struggle against him, but eventually presses his head into Eliott's chest, already wondering how he can get that song title out of him.

“So, hey.” Eliott whispers into Lucas’s hair. “We’re boyfriends.”

Lucas laughs, pulling his head away. “Yeah. And?”

“And nothing. I just wanted to say it.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Maybe so, but I’m still your boyfriend.”

Lucas has no comeback. He just presses a grin into Eliott’s bicep.

“Huh.” Eliott says thoughtfully. “I’ve found a way to make you be nice to me.”

“Oh fuck off.” Lucas swats at Eliott’s ribs, then leaps away before Eliott can retaliate.

“Nope, never mind.” Eliott sighs. “You’re still mean to me.”

“I’m never mean to you.” Lucas protests, spinning in a circle on the pavement.

“Bullshit!” Eliott laughs. “You so are!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lucas says primly, turning away from Eliott again, but then he hears Celeste clatter to the ground, hears three long strides across the pavement, and then there are hands on his waist, lifting him and throwing him over a bony shoulder.

“What the fuck!” Lucas screeches but he’s laughing uncontrollably, Eliott swinging him around in a circle. “Eliott, put me down!”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“Eliott!”

“Not until you promise to be nice to me.”

“I promise not to kill you in your sleep tonight. How’s that?”

Eliott laughs, then gently tips forward until Lucas’s feet touch the road again. “Tell you what,” he says, “I’ll let it go if you do something for me.”

Lucas’s eyes narrow. “What?”

Eliott tilts his head to the side, to where Celeste is resting against the curb.

Lucas takes a step back. “Oh, no. No way.”

“Babe, come on. I’ll go with you.”

Lucas blanches. “Would that not make it more dangerous?”

Eliott shrugs. “Probably not. Like, no more than usual.”

“Oh my god.”

He caves, because of course he does, and a few minutes later, Lucas is on the front of the board, rolling down another street, and Eliott is behind him, pushing the board with one foot, hands tight on Lucas’s waist.

“This is so stupid!” Lucas shrieks as they round a corner, bodies swaying back and forth, but he can’t stop the giggle that follows, bubbling out of his chest like champagne.

Eliott is laughing too, loud cackles that echo down the quiet street. “You’re having fun, admit it!”

Lucas won’t admit it, but he is having fun. It’s fun to feel the pavement roll away underneath his feet, fun to have the wind sailing past his ears, ruffling his hair, fun to have Eliott there with him, holding onto him, guiding him, keeping him safe.

“Hey.” Eliott calls from behind him. “You know what you said to me, when I first asked you to be my boyfriend?”

Lucas grins. “Yes?”

“Well, you were right. It was in my dreams. You were. This was.”

“This was? Us riding together on a skateboard in the Parisian suburbs?”

Eliott snorts. “No. Well maybe. But more than that, just you and me. Being together. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Lucas says softly, and he lets the wind carry away the words, wanting Eliott to hear them and wanting everyone on the street to hear them, to know it’s possible. Lucas and Eliott. They’re possible. “It was my dream too.”

They take a spill a few minutes later, both of them hitting the pavement. It’s not too bad, they weren’t going too fast, but Lucas scrapes his elbow and Eliott scrapes his hand and his knee, and they both laugh about it the rest of the way home, nursing their injuries and dragging the board behind them, all while their hands are clasped tightly together, fingers entwined.

A week later, Lucas is browsing on Instagram, bored, flicking through stories like they're magazine pages, and he hits an update from Eliott, one that was just posted.

It's a screenshot from Spotify, but it disappears before Lucas can see what it is.

Lucas sits up, scrambling to get to Eliott's profile, tapping on his icon to view the story again.

Over the screenshot, Eliott wrote: for you.

He's not sure if he knows the song, but he looks it up, starts playing it in the quiet of his room.

this is the first day of my life swear i was born right in the doorway

Lucas sinks back down into his bed, smiling dreamily, clutching a pillow tight to his chest.

He lays like that until the very end.

so if you wanna be with me with these things there's no telling we just have to wait and see but i'd rather be working for a paycheck than waiting to win the lottery

besides, maybe this time is different i mean, i really think you like me

#elu fic #fic tag #elu #i can't believe this is over 8k lmao goodbye #hope everyone likes it 🧡🧡🧡

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

How I got revenge on my cheating ex!

TL;DR at bottom.

This story takes place almost 12 years ago so I'll do my best with the dialog and details but admittedly some things are a little fuzzy. Most of my life I've had a problem with picking men that were not good for me, so much so that I even had a phrase for it "saving the world, one moron at a time". One of my more spectacularly bad choices was a guy by the name of "Bob" (obviously not his real name). I met Bob when I was working one of my 2 jobs at the local mall, he worked somewhere else in the mall so we hit it off and soon enough we were in a relationship. Within a few months my lease was up and we ended up moving in together which obviously in hindsight was a huge mistake but I was dumb and lonely.

Soon enough red flags began to fly, he would say things in common conversation that were simply incorrect (like there's only 4 continents and the rest are actually owned by the martian government and thus don't count etc. ) and when challenged would circular talk until you either agreed with him or dropped the subject. He would also make claims that seemed entirely unbelievable such as when I asked where he had been staying prior to his mom's house he said he "camped in the woods" when I asked how he did that for months on end and without any gear he simply gestured to himself and said "this is all the gear I need". The worst trait though by far was his epic LAZINESS! I have never witnessed someone so lazy in my life.

Bob was unemployed for over a third of our relationship and would simply sit in the apartment watching netflix or playing some war game on "his" computer AKA my spare computer typing away in the group chat. He would never clean up after himself leaving dirty dishes in the sink and filth on every surface while only taking a shower MAYBE once a week. The smell that permeated my apartment could only be described as revolting and could easily gag a maggot. I would inquire a few times a week on his "job hunt" only to be dismissed or given a growing amount of excuses such as "but I don't have a car, how would I get there"... "the bus doesn't run in that area"... "the internet went down so I couldn't apply"... etc. etc. Meanwhile I am working double and triple shifts at my job to try to make up the lost income and running him all over town in my off time getting applications and helping him fill them out and turn them in. Keep in mind he doesn't have a cell phone so all of these apps have my contact info on them. Thus begins the era of him "holding my phone" while I'm at work so he can make calls or schedule interviews as well as I can get a hold of him from my store phone if I needed to.

Things began getting weird, he began staying up later and later on this group chat, sometimes till almost dawn. Sometimes we would hang out all evening until it was time for bed. Then he would always make some excuse on why he needed to check the game before bed and he'd be right there.... hours would pass... no Bob. I began to get suspicious but nothing incriminating seemed to be taking place so I just shrugged it off as me being insecure. Then he started asking to use my car to go see his best friend "Ben", now I wasn't super comfortable with this but I did know Ben pretty well and we got along almost better than Bob and I did so I guess to a degree I trusted Ben more than Bob and agreed to it. This happened a few times while I was working the evening shift and he was always back at the allotted time with my car and my phone and relatively grateful for the opportunity to hang with his buds. Suspicious... umm yes, but I'm the kind of person that is loyal and trusting to a fault and don't assume anything without proof and from every angle all seemed to be on the up and u so I took it at face value.

So one day he asks to borrow my car and go with his friends to a card gaming tournament, he put on a great show telling me how the prize money would help us out and with the deck he had there was no way he could loose. I just had to let him use my car and phone this one last time and he would be able to buy himself a phone with the prize money. I wasn't a huge fan of the idea but nothing untoward had occurred in the previous instances and I didn't feel like spending my only day off at a card game convention that I literally couldn't care less about so I acquiesced. I bought myself a couple green monsters and some vodka and had my own little personal drunk party. Hours tick by and no Bob... Eventually I pass out only to wake up at the crack of dawn VIOLENTLY sick, this went way beyond a hangover. I start retching in the bathroom until there was nothing left but bile but the retching wouldn't stop. Hours ticked by and I lay in my bathroom floor sweating and convulsing with no phone, no car and no Bob. I eventually was able to crawl to my room and wrap myself in a bath robe before crawling down my apartment building stairs and began knocking on the closest doors. It took 3 apartments before someone opened the door and allowed me to use their phone to call my mom. My mother was at my apt in 6 minutes flat and rushed me to the ER where I was diagnosed with an aggressive and antibiotic-resistant strain of C-Dif. Bob finally showed up later that afternoon phone and car keys in hand looking very concerned and claiming to be deeply apologetic but my mom hated him from that point on. I was out of the hospital and back to work within a few days but it was the beginning of the end.

During these last months we were constantly scraping by due to his lack of consistent income and poor spending habits. There were jobs gotten and there were jobs lost for various reasons throughout our relationship but the final job was one I helped him get literally 3 buildings down from my own workplace. This company rents furniture and electronics on a weekly/monthly basis and I happen to know most of the employees and the hiring manager as they are regular customers at my coffee establishment . I was able to use what little sway I had to get him on there and he accepted a job as a delivery man.

Within a few weeks I come home from work to find a brand new TV and entertainment system and him grinning like an idiot. I tell him we can't afford this, we can barely afford to eat and are surviving off scraps I bring home from work. He talks about his amazing employee discount and assures me it's no big deal that the rental fee will just come out of his check etc. I was pissed! Not only had he not consulted me, he also had me on the account as well (my info had been taken from the credit app I filled out as a favor to help their numbers) so if HE flaked I was liable. Fast forward another few weeks the rent is late and we are receiving eviction notices on our door, I come home from work and the tv is mysteriously gone. "Thank goodness" I think, "he finally realized we can't afford it and took it back"... he gets paid, rent gets paid and all is as good as it can be. Until I found a pawn slip for the TV in his pocket as I was doing laundry and went ballistic! He assured me he had plans to get it back in the works and to not worry about it, it will be taken care of soon and no one will be the wiser? I was too pissed to catch on to the secrecy aspect of the situation.

A few more tense weeks go by with him working mornings and myself working evenings while we shared one phone and car... Until that fateful day arrived! I woke up that morning with a migraine headache and opted to let Bob take the car but leave me the phone so I can call someone later on for a ride to work. A few hours of uncomfortable sleep go by before I am awoken by my phone.... I answer the phone still groggy "Hello?"

There is a long pause on the other end of the line until a female voice asks "Umm is Bob there?"

I felt a sickening feeling in my gut and began to shake.... is this real? Am I dreaming?

"No, he's at work right now this is his wife (total lie but hey) is there something I can help you with?" I wasn't rude, I phrased it as a genuine question rather than an accusation.

Another long pause before she began to stammer about maybe she had the wrong number but it was obvious she just wanted to get off the phone with me as quickly as possible and I realized in that moment that I desperately needed her.

"Please" I said with an edge of desperation in my voice.. "I don't know what's going on but I just really need somebody to tell me the truth" the last word came out in a sob and I sat there for a moment in silence trying to quell the urge to just cry uncontrollably.

"Listen" the voice on the other end was almost gentle "I need to make a few phone calls but I promise you I WILL call you back". She said it calmly and with so much conviction that I really wanted to believe her...

"Please, you promise?" I almost begged.

"I promise" she replied

"Ok" I took a deep breath and released it, "I'll talk to you soon" and hung up.

I then proceeded to aggressively pace my living room floor staring at my phone while chain smoking and muttering to myself like a crazy person. I knew who she was calling... I was replaying all those little red flag moments in my head from the last few months, pinning down dates or behavior I'd found suspect when the phone rings again. It's her. I froze for a moment... shocked she followed through and called me back, terrified of what this meant... I answered the phone and what followed was about the most soul crushing 45 min of my life

After initial introductions June (again not the real name) and I began comparing stories and it became glaringly obvious what was happening... They had actually been in a relationship several years prior and had run back into each other on the aforementioned war game where they began to flirt on group chat. All those nights he'd been on the computer he'd been chatting with her. All those times he'd go hang out with his "friend's" he been using my car to take her out and my phone to communicate with her. The time I was sick and alone with NO resources... you guessed it... he was with her! Oh but it get's better...

"Do you have a little silver hummingbird necklace?" she inquired. "Yes, my mother gave it to me for my 27th birthday actually I love it"

"Really?" she said "Cause he gave me one for mother's day"

"OMG" I almost yelled into the phone as I ran to my room and tore through my jewelry box... it wasn't in there... it was around her neck.

From there we discovered not only had he been giving her my property as gifts but he'd had her over to our apartment passing it off as his own. I didn't want to believe him capable of doing something so cruel and disrespectful when I have allowed him to sponge off me for the better part of 3 years. Unfortunately as in confirmation she began describing my apartment to a T, all the way down to my bed sheets. June said he even pulled my "secret box" from beneath my bed and offered to use my adult items on her. She said she found it weird and didn't partake but I threw them away due to the sheer ick factor. Finally she uttered the words I didn't know I wanted to hear"

"You know what we should do? We should bust him together."

My mind immediately started racing, indeed we should! I was a mix of fury, adrenaline and despair so my thinking wasn't exactly strait and details begin to get hazy here. We arrange to meet up at my work and find a way to lure Bob over there but unfortunately she lived about 40 min away whereas I only live about 6 miles from our destination so if I got there first I'd need to stall him (assuming he wasn't out on a delivery). I called a trusted coworker of mine at work sobbing and begging for a ride... to his everlasting credit he got somebody to cover and LEFT WORK to come get me and bring me to my car. When I got to Bob's workplace I went inside to retrieve my keys (this isn't uncommon as they know the car is mine) and was stopped half way through store by Bob's manager wanting to talk about the payment due on "our account".

I don't remember the exact dialog but I said something along the lines of "Look, I don't know when you are going to get your payment." I looked utterly defeated and told him we could never afford the TV in the first place and how I had begged Bob to take it back and now we don't have it anymore as Bob has pawned it and I don't have the money to get it out let alone pay him. I was full on blubbering at this point when he stopped me to clarify that his EMPLOYEE pawned a rental TV under contract. I confirmed that this was indeed true and presented him with the pawn ticket. HE WAS MAD! Apparently such an act is illegal and is terms for immediate termination but he assured me that if I could get the TV back to him there would be no harm no foul and he would terminate my contract without any penalties. I thanked him for his understanding and told him to let Bob know I would be over at my workplace.

My heart is pounding in my chest and blood is roaring in my ears... what was I going to say? What was HE going to say? Would June make it here before he did?? My heart sinks when I see Bob's hulking form making it's way in my direction, I frantically scan the parking lot for June's car... she's not here yet and I'm out of time. He hits the door looking out of breath and guilty as hell and I just stare at him stone faced. I walk outside silently to light a cigarette unsure of exactly what to say and he follows me wordlessly outside.

He starts in with the "it's not what it seems" and "it's all just a terrible misunderstanding" and I just let him dig himself deeper into his hole of lies. I listen, I nod, I pretend to understand until a particular car pulls into view. June parks in the space directly next to where we were standing and gets out of the car... "Hey Bob, how ya' doing?" Bob has gone visibly pale, he hangs his head and sits down on the curb saying nothing to either of us. June and I greet each other and awkwardly shake hands before again returning our attention to Bob. June begins berating him on his lies and deceit, unveiling all of our mutual info and subsequent conclusions while I stood mostly in silence agreeing at the appropriate times but mostly still in shock. After 20 minutes of this I finally mustered up the courage to take my stand.

"We are done, I don't want to see you ever again. I'll pack up your things (only 2 boxes worth) and your sister can contact me in a few days to pick them up. Now I want your key." I held out my hand and looked at him. "Not until I get my stuff out, then you get your key" he replied. I tried to argue but he continued to refuse and used his large stature to his advantage knowing I'd have no chance in a physical altercation. He turned and walked away heading back toward his workplace, June and I talked a little more before she handed me my hummingbird necklace and left. I stood there alone staring at nothing trying to wrap my head around what had just transpired and then I cried... oh how I cried.

With nowhere else to turn I had only one call to make... to my mom. The moment she answered I unleashed this deluge of words at her that were half sobs and half rant. "Stay right there, I'm coming" she said. God Bless my mother! Soon enough both of my parents pull up in my dad's truck and my mom gets out to comfort me and give me hugs. I look at the driver's seat and see my father with his jaw is clenched and a death grip on the steering wheel while staring strait ahead... OH Crap! They take me to the pawn shop and my parents write a check for more than $500 to get the TV out, we then drive strait over to Bob's workplace and return the TV to the manager. As the manager finishes up the cancellation paperwork my dad spots Bob pacing around the back of the parking lot talking frantically on the phone. Unfortunately I didn't get to hear the ensuing conversation but my dad returns within a few minutes holding my house key and looking victorious.

"I believe this is yours" he says as he hands me the key and then pulls me into a hug and I cried a little into his shoulder. My dad gave me a squeeze, kissed my temple and whispered into my ear "They're firing him." I leaned back to look at my dad and he just smirked and said "Now he's jobless and homeless." I thought about it for a second before I said in my most sarcastic tone "Ohhh I'm sooo soorrryyy to hear that" We laughed about it a little and my parents gave me some words of wisdom before leaving me to drive myself home where my best friend was already waiting to keep me company.

Bob and his sister showed up a few days later for his pitiful boxes of stuff, he tried to talk to me, to explain... but my best friend descended on him like a harpy if he muttered more than a few syllables in my direction so he was shut down almost immediately. He left that night and I have never heard from him since, I blocked him on social media but there was really no need as he made no effort to contact me on any level. That's Bob... ever lazy, ever deluded and always an a**hole.

So here I am many years later happily married to my high school sweetheart and the mother of two beautiful little boys and grateful to have moved on when I did. The experience with Bob certainly took its toll I lost a lot of weight due to lack of appetite but had a myriad of trust issues moving forward but the point is I moved forward. I have grown leaps and bounds as a person since this experience and am truly content with where my life is now but every now and then when I'm drifting off to sleep I can't help but wonder... what ever happened to good ol' Bob? Is he out there somewhere... in the woods with a stick and his wits as his only gear... waiting for a martian government to make its move.

Ah well, a girl can dream ;)

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to message me with any questions or comments :)

TL;DR: I discovered my boyfriend was cheating so I organized a sting operation with the other woman. Boyfriend ended up chickless, jobless and homeless within a matter of hours.

(source) story by (/u/Jenabear7897)

#prorevenge #by /u/Jenabear7897 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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