#anyway yeah i was there almost since the beginning for like two hours but was too awkward to say hi earlier skbdkd

[blondedmuse]

MISERY BUSINESS

felix catton x reader

synopsis. ꩜ based off of this request.

author’s note. ∿ i need this man so bad it’s not even funny. smut (fingering, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, praise, marking, voyeurism I guess idk) it's been a while since I wrote something on this account and its not proofread so be nice, also a bit of a rushed ending??

word count. ⨾ 2.7k

The harsh thud of the car door closing awoke you from your mid-day reverie by the lake. The sun was beaming down on you almost bare body, only covered by a bikini. It was hotter than usual and everyone else at saltburn seemed to share your complaints. The heat aside the weather was pleasant—Felix on the other hand looked less than.

He looked annoyed, almost upset, even from far away. When he exited the car Oliver and Felix went their separate ways, Oliver looking just as unhappy. You wondered what happened in just few hours that could’ve soured their moods but it was only a few moments later when Felix approached you, grinning in attempt to hide the scowl he was dressed in minutes earlier.

Once he reached your figure he towered over your body as you laid on the dock. Having well acknowledge the heat now and your lack of clothing he discarded his shirt and quickly lowered his frame over yours so that his was barely hovering over yours.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head with a small grin. “nothing.”

You scoffed. “Liar.” He raised his brows.

“What’s wrong?” You prodded again. He dropped his head in hesitation, his lip between his teeth as he contemplated telling you what happened on his and Oliver’s road trip, what he felt, what the truth was—but he couldn’t. Not yet anyways.

He looked up at you. “I- Oliver just said something and it hurt me more than I thought it would.”

You sat up, the two of you adjusting your bodies as you did so. You stared intently at his face, watching how his eyes glossed over and how he could barely hold your gaze. It was a different demeanor than what other people knew, one of the more human parts that made people fall in love with him.

You lifted his face towards yours. “I’m sorry.” The silence that followed after your statement determined he wasn’t interested in sharing anything deeper than the surface of the matter.

He looked back at Saltburn then back at you. “Don’t be.”

You scrunched your brows. “Hm?”

“I don’t know,” He said earnestly. “It’s not your fault, I should’ve listened to you earlier. You kept saying you had a bad feeling about him and I didn’t really take it to heart…til’ now I guess.”

“Oh, Felix,” You sighed, cupping his face, your hand over his jaw subliminally believing that it would release the tension he held there.

“He’s out tomorrow.” His hand caressed yours as it rested on his cheek.

“Really?”

“Really.” He confirmed. “Maybe now I can get you, alone, yeah?” His body pushed yours back down on the doc so he was hovering over you once again.

"Felix," You laughed. "Always distracting me, aren't you."

"No 'm not," he mumbled, nipping at your earlobe. "You weren't doing anything important anyways."

"I was going to ask another question," You giggled.

"Okay," He answered, pushing himself so that he kneeled above you, a knee on either side of your torso. "What?"

When he was playful like this he was such a beautiful sight in front of you, you almost felt bad asking him a question as if you were ruining the mood.

"You're not really kicking him out are you? I feel bad."

He sighed. "I am kicking him out and you shouldn't feel bad, he’s in the business of misery it’s almost like his job to make people feel bad." He crawled back over you once again, something heavier within him now. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, his clouded eyes. His mouth made its way back to your body, this time trailing down your stomach, beginning to leave marks you knew you’d have to hide at the party tonight.

“Felix,” You frowned. “I just-”

He cut you off. “Enough, alright. He was a creep anyways, you said it yourself,” He told you and you nodded, internally agreeing.

“He’s going home after the party.”

The feel of his voice as he mumbled into your skin was enough for you to stop thinking about the situation for the moment. It wasn’t until nightfall you were reminded of Oliver's unrelenting presence—it was his birthday after all. Still, no matter where you were in Saltburn, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes upon you, you couldn’t help but feel that you were never alone.

"Can we go somewhere a little more private?" You asked Felix and he hardly registered the question. His hands up your dress the lights were dim, colored strobe lights bleeding in from the outside. The room was close to empty but the music could be heard throughout the house. You could ask him anything to anyone and it wouldn’t really mean anything—and it didn't help that the two of you were getting dizzy on champagne.

So, you didn't ask you question again but your eyes flickered to the maze that could be seen from the window and he understood what you wanted.

"Whatever you want, angel." He grinned, pulling his hands away to grab yours, taking you to the garden.

You scrunched your brows together. "I should be calling you that y'know."

He laughed with you. "You have wings too."

"But I'm a fairy"

"Close enough." You laughed to yourself as you and Felix walked through the house and towards the maze. There was a bottle of champagne in your left, Felix’s hand in your right, grounding you with each step. The more the time passed the less ideal it felt to walk in heels—you thought of ditching them all together. Still, they held the integrity of your costume, matching the chosen Midsummer Night's Dream theme. You'd dressed up as a fairy, donning flowers in your hair and a frilly slip dress, the costume obviously incomplete without wings.

Your heels pierced through the dirt once you’d made it to the grass, your feet sinking slightly with each step. You groaned to yourself, not going unnoticed by Felix.

“You okay?” He asked, stopping to turn to you.

“My heels,” You answered.

He furrowed his brows. “What about them?”

“Well…” You hesitated. “They’re killing my feet and they keep sinking into the dirt. They’re gonna get dirty.”

“We’ll we can’t have that know can we,” Felix replied, picking you in on fell swoop, your body now in his arms, your legs dangling from his grasp.

"Felix," You giggled his named through broken laughs, surprised with the immediacy of his action.

"What? You know I'd do anything for my best girl," He told you, returning the wide lipped smile on your face.

"I didn't ask you anything."

"You didn't have to."

You went limp in his arms as you sighed, comparable to an act of defiance as if you were annoyed, as if he did something wrong; but you knew he couldn't if he tried. He shook his head but the smirk on his lips was undeniable as he carried you the rest of the way to the center of the maze.

"You're insufferable, won't even let me carry you," He carped, putting you down and letting you lean against the cold metal of the statue as you put the bottle of champagne on the ground beside you.

"I did and you love me," You retorted, inching your face towards his, leaving a sliver of space between your lips. The bronze on your back that chilled your skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Felix's body, from the warmth of the air around you. It was intoxicating, his breath on your skin and the breeze of the wind. Looking up at him you could see that carnal glimmer in his eyes when his hands roamed your body only moments earlier, and this morning on the dock. It was something you craved and that was something he knew and savored the fact.

"Well I can't deny that," He smirked before closing the gap between the two of you. You could feel the indent of his grin as he kissed you, his lips turned up into a wicked smile, something more depraved, but still, nonetheless, Felix.

"Why don't I finished what I started earlier, love?" He asked against you not bothering to pull away and you only moaned in approval. His lips traveled from yours to the lobe of your ear so he knew you could hear him clearly.

"You need to use your words, darling."

"Yes," You keened, wanting—needing more than what was being given.

"Good girl," He hummed, his hands drawing down the straps of your dress before they traced down the rest of your body all the way to your thighs. He hooked his hands under them, lifting you to sit on the base of the statue.

"This okay?" He asked, looking into your eyes for conformation, the raise of his eyebrows encouraging it verbally as well.

"Yeah," You sighed breathelessly. "But I still need you."

He smirked again. "Let me fix that then."

Felix's hands gently lowered the front of your dress, exposing your breasts and taking one of them into his mouth, moaning around it.

"You're beautiful, darling" He mumbled, groaning as his tongue slid over your hard nipple. His words were genuine but you couldn't help but feel a little cheesy, kicking your foot playfully at his leg and you felt his erection, hard as you did so.

"And you know that already," He chuckled, sucking your nipple more aggressively. "But it's true." His words made you ache with impatience, whine with desire. Felix pulled back before lowering himself to his knees, his eyes not daring to leave yours. Only when he licked an agonizingly slow, sloppy stripe against your clothed cunt his eyes focused on the sight in front of him.

You breath hitched in anticipation as he pulled down your panties with his teeth and taking them off, shooting you a wink as he pocketed them. Immediately after his gaze moved back to your wet pussy, wasting no time in tasting you.

He dropped his head and his tongue slithered to your clit, flicking the pearl a few times before wrapping his lips around it. Your core was hot against his face, your scent, heady and electrifying; he could spend hours between your legs. Your hand went to claw at his hair, your fingers entangling with his brown locks.

"Ri-Right there," You breathed, attempting your best to string a coherent thought together, but it was hard when one of his hands massaged the outside of your thigh while the other came up to your empty hand. Your fingers interlocking, his thumb kneading the side of your palm as he sucked harder at your clit. You squeezed it as you released strangled moans, strained from the attempt to stay quiet.

"You can be louder, love. No one else is going to hear you except me." You didn't believe him, swearing you heard something in the bushes move along with the fact that there was a full blown party happening in his house right now; but you couldn't help yourself either.

He slipped two fingers into you, eliciting a lewd moan with ease. Your legs pressed together and he almost felt suffocated at the momentary feeling of being entirely enveloped by you—but it was exactly what he wanted.

"Oh God, Felix," You fingers digging deeper into his scalp and he groaned.

His movements were mindless and uncalculated, but they had you reeling each time. He knew your body like a book, where to touch to have your head spinning. The longer he spent between you legs, the louder your moans got, your hips helplessly bucking up to meet his fingers and mouth.

"Atta' girl," he murmured against you core. "Cum for me, love, I can feel you squeezing me."

Your movements got sloppier, raunchier, as your orgasm approached swiftly. It struck you like a bolt of lightning, your body overtaken with rapture and relief. Felix watched as you come down from your high, his fingers still working you over.

"You did so well f'me," He coaxed, finally removing his fingers from your core and scaling up your body, his moving to cling to yours and swallowing any soft moans you had left.

"Need you," You whispered as his lips nipped at yours.

"Need me or my cock?" He chuckled, drunk on you.

"You know what I mean," You replied, hands already to undo the buckle of his belt.

He stopped you before you could go any further. "I know, I just want to hear you say it, darling."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, the smile on your lips indicating otherwise. His brows darted up, goading you on.

"Please?" He pressed and you exhaled in pleasure, in desire.

"Need you inside me, Felix." The corners of his mouth turned up into that smug smirk you've known for so long and he nodded in thanks.

"As you wish, my love."

He was rock hard, heavy and hot in your hands, precum dripping from his tip. You were just as wet and desperate as he reached down as he lined himself up with your entrance, sheathing himself inside you without another moment of hesitation. His arms caged your body under him as he hissed at the feeling. He gave you a a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried deep inside of you.

"You're so tight," He praised as he kissed you, moaning into your mouth as he began to move. The pace of his hips started slow, gently rolling into yours, your clit brushing up into his pelvic bone at just the right angle. Felix tuned into how your moans falter when he hit just right spot, the sensation going straight to your core.

"Feels so good," You keened as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you.

"Yeah? Tell me about it," He asked as he increased his pace, the speed of his pounding becoming relentless, evoking obscene noises from you. You wrapped your legs around his torso, heels digging into his back as you gave him the perfect angle to go even deeper as his cock hit your g-spot repeatedly.

You were sure your nails were going to leave a mark as they clawed into his shoulders while his hand slowly travelled to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit to help you reach your climax. You clenched around him in a manner so desperate, cunt fluttering around his cock. You didn’t have time to tell him you were cumming, screaming and sobbing as ecstasy hit you like a brick wall. You arched your back as his name fell from your lips again and again like a hopeless prayer. He followed suit seconds later, soaked with you as buried his head into the crook of your neck. He came with a strident cry as he bottomed out, filling you to the brim. You went limp under him as he panted weakly with his voice hoarse in your ear.

Still hazy from your climax your eyes widened as you saw Oliver walk into the maze. Felix didn't hear him, but he took note of your expression.

"What? Are you okay? What's-"

You interrupted him. "Oliver." Felix's head whipped around to the man standing behind him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Felix exclaimed and you pulled your legs from his torso and fixed your dress. Felix pulled up his trousers, buckling up his belt before fully turning to face Oliver.

"What are you doing here, mate? I mean, really?" You didn't say anything, composing yourself as Felix stood in front of you. Oliver opened his mouth to speak but Felix cut him off before he could explain himself.

"Actually I don't wanna fucking know, I've seen enough." He sighed and looked back to check on you.

“I think you should go,” You said to Oliver. “Before you do anything more to embarrass yourself.” The words were harsh as they came out of your mouth but you didn’t know what else to say. You watched as he walked away with his shoulders slumped, no doubt some guilt weighing them down.

“Are you alright?” Felix asked you, turning back around. You nodded still processing what had just happened as it seemed the champagne had worn off a while ago. You grabbed the bottle off the ground and held it up, offering it to Felix with a smile he didn't hesitate to reciprocate back.

"To Oliver's fucking party!" You laughed confused as ever, taking a swig of the bottle before he grabbed it from you.

"To Oliver's stupid fucking party."

#jacob elordi #felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton saltburn #saltburn #oliver quick #blondedmuse.nsfw #felix catton x reader smut #felix catton smut #jacob elordi smut

[eve175]

Clingy bat

Azriel x pregnant!reader

Summary: You really need to make your mate understand that you need some alone time...

Warning: Talk of pregnancy

Word count: 807

You stroke your now slightly swollen womb as you walk between the tall rows of bookshelves of the Town House, the place you and Azriel now call home. Rhysand and Feyre gifted you this magnificent residence as a mating ceremony present, since the both of them were now spending most of their time at the River House since the birth of Nyx anyway. You halt and smile in contentment when you finally pick up the book you were looking for. You spin around, and almost suffer from a heart attack when you face your mate, who had most certainly been following you for… Mother knows how long.

“Az… you scared me.” You sigh as you regain your calm, placing a hand on your chest. He smiles and places both his large hands on your small baby bump. He stares into your eyes and smiles, apologetically. “Sorry… I thought you had heard me.” You chuckle slightly and slowly make your way out of your personal library, heading for the long velvet couch. It wasn’t surprising that you hadn’t heard your mate following you, he always accidentally managed to startle you, thanks to his skills as a spymaster. 

You lay your back against the armrest, comfortably settling down on the couch. Your mate finds his way between your legs, laying his cheek where their babe was growing up, his hands back on your stomach as if they were pulled by some kind of magnetic force. You start reading, trying to concentrate through your mate whispering sweet nothings to their unborn child. “Az… weren’t you… supposed to meet Cassian or something tonight?” You start off, trying to sound… polite and unbothered by his permanent presence since the beginning of your pregnancy.

It’s not that it bothered you, not really. In fact, you always enjoyed your mate’s presence, you always would but… since the past few months, you barely have been able to enjoy some alone time out of when you were in the bathroom. Even then, he would have to check up on you to make sure you weren’t struggling with morning sickness. You just… missed having some tranquility. You already had to spend every minute of your existence with a baby growing inside of you, at least until its birth, and with Az constantly glued to you… It sometimes felt overwhelming.

“I thought you didn’t feel like going?” “Well… I thought you could go without me, you know.” He lifts his head from your stomach and looks up at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “By myself?” He asks as if I was talking to him in a foreign language he couldn’t seem to decode. 

You smile gently, and stroke his cheek. “Yeah, by yourself. It would… maybe it would do you some good to have some boys time. It’s been a while, I’m sure Cassian would agree on that.” “Mh. Cass can always wait, my pregnant woman needs me… baby too.” He places a kiss on your stomach, and gets back to his previous position. 

You sigh and bite your lip. “Az… I meant that maybe it would do me some good to just… breathe a little… for more than five minutes in the bathroom..?” I talked gently, stroking his hair. His eyes shot back up to me in an unreadable expression… “Yeah?” “Yeah…” You answer him back, giving him a soft apologetic grin.

He pauses, thinking, then gets up from the couch. He bends over, placing a hand beside your face on the armrest before kissing your lips softly, a small grin plastered on his delicious lips. “Alright, then. I’ll be back in an hour or two. You’ll both stay all safe, warm, and cozy until I get back to cuddle you… right?” Azriel knew and understood that you needed some alone time. You always have needed time away from everyone from time to time, and he realized that his protective Illyrian instincts had probably made it hard for you to have it. 

You smile and give him another peck before he leans away. “Alright, we’ll both wait for you and stay really safe in the warmth of our home until you get back…” He chuckles slightly, before winnowing away to meet Cassian, who would have to understand that he would need to get back in not more than two hours at max. 

You sigh in relief, drowning in the love and passion of your book for the following hours. You were glad and extremely grateful to have a mate, a partner who listens, understands, and fulfills your every need. Even if he sometimes needed to compromise on his own desires. You giggle as you gently poke at the shadow that stayed, enveloping the top of your belly, and can’t help but think of how amazing your mate already was as a father to your child…   

#acotar #fluff #x reader #my fic #acosaf #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel spymaster #azrielxpregnant!reader #x pregnant reader #pregnancy #dad!azriel

[faefictions]

Hospital Meet Cute

Eddie Munson x Reader

3.3k words

“What are you in for?”

They were the first words that had been spoken directly to you for what felt like hours. The bright white of the room and the smell of cleaner was overwhelming enough, but you were nursing a headache that was beginning to really worry you. In all honesty, you probably should have been rushed back to be examined the second you arrived to the hospital, but it had been well over an hour wait now with no end in sight. 

You looked to your right, where the boy who had spoken was sitting and looking at you. He looked almost as bad as you, a bloody nose that you assumed was broken, a split lip, and a black eye just beginning to darken. You were almost too exhausted to answer him at all, but what you could muster came out much more rude than you had intended. 

“Can’t be sure until they actually get me checked out,” you sighed, checking the time on the wall yet again. Only 15 seconds had passed since the last time you glanced, it was still nearing midnight, your bad day hadn’t yet ended. 

“How long have you been here?” 

You really looked at him this time. He was young, maybe around your age, give or take a couple years. His eyes were brown and his hair was long and curly, much longer than the men in your hometown. He was calm, calmer than you would have been if you looked like him. Hell, for all you knew, you did look like him, and you had been fighting off tears the entire drive here. But this guy was sitting there like he was a regular in the waiting room, and you sat there clueless to what town you were even in. 

“I’m not sure when I got here, but its been more than an hour at least. Maybe two now.” 

“They’re really off their game tonight,” he said, almost under his breath as he sat up to look behind the desk. You were staring to think maybe you were right about him being a regular here. 

“I think you misunderstood my question though,” he smiled at you as he sat back down, “I’m looking for the dirt, the juicy stuff. The how more than the why.”

His smile was charming, but his happy go lucky demeanor was going to get old fast. You had a feeling that ignoring him wouldn’t do much though, and you could use a break from staring at the clock. 

“Well it’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Hurts like a bitch though. Your nose doing ok?”

“Yeah, probably not broken. It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as last time I broke it, so we’re probably in the clear.” 

“Glad to hear it,” you chuckled. You had never seen someone in such a good mood with blood actively dripping down their face. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

“No, I usually respect the privacy of strangers that I met less than a minute ago.”

“I’m Eddie, now I’m not a stranger.”

“That’s not how that works,” you smiled incredulously. 

“Sure it is! And if you tell me your name, you won’t be a stranger to me. And it’s been more than a minute now, so I think that means we’re in the clear.” 

“You are ridiculous.” 

“I get that a lot, but I didn’t hear an introduction anywhere in that insult.” 

“I’m y/n.” 

He extended a hand, and you hesitated for a second before offering your opposite hand as a compromise. It took him a second to decipher why you raised the wrong hand, but when he look down to your left wrist, he could see the bruising. 

“So, you gonna ask now?”

“No,” you chuckled at his persistence. 

“Damn. Well I was just going to tell you not to worry your pretty little head about it anyway so I guess it all worked out.” 

“Wow. Are you always this charming?”

“You think I’m charming?” he smiled at you, and you half expected to find a missing tooth among his pearly whites, but his teeth seemed to remain one of the only parts of his body unscathed. 

“You’re a bit of an ass. That’s about it.”

“And you’re just a ray of sunshine.” 

“Well sorry for not being so chipper after…” you paused as you were about to reveal what your night had entailed, but shot a look at him before you could, “Damn, you almost got me.” 

“That was a close one,” he smiled mischievously. You couldn’t help but admit that you really liked this guy. He was nicer than the people in your hometown, and the way he dressed was a beacon for someone like you. 

You figured if you told him what had happened, it wouldn’t be as surprising to him as it would be to someone else. The kids in your town had been terrorizing you since kindergarten. The town freak since the ripe age of 5. Things had been getting progressively worse since your father died back in ’79. Now with no mother or father, you no longer had anything in common with the kids in your school. You thought the bullying would stop after high school, but you were wrong. You learned that leaving town altogether was your only hope. 

That is what you had been doing. Your car was packed to the brim with your belongings, and you were set on your way for a small town about an hour away. Far enough for a new beginning, but close enough to not terrify you. Halfway through the drive, you noticed the car behind you getting a little too close for comfort. The sun had just set, but you still recognized the car. It belonged to the boyfriend of a girl that had led the crusade against you in high school, the one person you were most thankful to get away from. You knew if he was driving behind you, she was in the passenger seat, and their friends were probably packed into the back. Whatever they had planned wasn’t going to be good and you were starting to get nervous. 

They started to tailgate you, and you did your best to keep your speed steady. If they rear ended you, that was their problem not yours. But your sentiment quickly changed when you realized that there was no one else on the road. If they forced you to stop, it would just be them against you, and you were worried that that was the plan all along. So you sped up. 

You rode for a couple miles with them on your ass, speeding almost 20 over the limit, hoping to come across some traffic and a well lit stop to get them to pass. But before you could reach your safe haven, they had pulled up beside you. The last thing you remembered was her smiling at you before running into the side of your car. 

They must have sped off, not even stopping to see if you were alive, because when you woke up you were alone on the road again. You could see the lights of a town maybe a mile up the road, and with your car now totaled, your only hope was to walk the rest of the way. 

You hadn’t told the ladies behind the desk about the severity of your situation. You just told them you got into a little accident. You were regretting that now, knowing that if you told them you were ran off the road and had to walk to the hospital after coming to in a totaled car, you probably would have been seen by now. 

“Do you want me to get you something cold for your arm? It looks like it’s staring to swell.”

You glanced down to your left arm again, and he was right. You still weren’t sure what was broken and what just ached. Your adrenaline was pumping during the walk here, but you didn’t feel an ounce of it anymore. 

“That would be lovely, but where are you going to get something cold in the waiting room.” 

“I know my way around,” he winked before getting up and leaving you for a moment. He returned a minute later with an ice cold can of soda.

“Come here often?” you chuckled as you took the can and rested against the tight skin on your wrist. 

“Yeah, actually. I’m on a first name basis with a majority of the staff at this point. Especially the ones who work the weekends.”

“What, are you more accident prone on a Saturday?”

“Oh, darlin, you really think I bruised myself up this good? Nah, not even I’m that talented.”

“You really want to tell me what happened, don’t you?” 

“Only so you’re trapped into telling me what happened to you. No offense, but you look like you’ve gone to Hell and back, and I would love for you to feed into my morbid curiosity.” 

“Then you can keep your secrets,” you smirked at him, and glanced back to the clock. Somehow, 10 minutes had passed. You had begun to convince yourself that you had entered purgatory before you starting speaking to Eddie. It felt like time was never going to progress, and you were going to be stuck waiting for medical attention for the rest of eternity. 

Eddie was about to speak up, but before he could open his smart ass mouth, the doors of the entrance slid open and he glanced behind him to see whose shoes were squeaking as they made their way to you. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. The smirk was wiped off your face when you turned to see a tall man in a police uniform approaching the two of you. 

“Hopper, to what do I owe the pleasure,” Eddie tried to joke. To you, he was clearly nervous, but you thought he hid it well. 

“I’m not here for you this time Munson. But better safe than sorry, you should stick around for a quick word after this,” The officer spoke gruffly, coming off like a disappointed father, “Are you y/n l/n?” 

Your heart dropped. You had never been good with authority figures. Whether it be teacher, principles, security guards, or cops. You were always on the butt end of a bad situation, and you learned from a young age that not even finding an adult could save you. No one was ever on your side. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you replied, barely above a whisper and unable to look back up at him. 

“Thank god,” you heard him grumble under his breath, “Are you aware that your car is on fire a mile up the road?”

“Oh, it just wouldn’t start when I left it.” 

Eddie was soaking up the conversation, looking between you and Hopper like it was a tennis match. It was the entertainment he had been hoping for to distract him from the third time he had been in a fight this month. This time he truly did have himself to blame, after saying something he really shouldn’t have to a man much bigger than him after a show at the Hideout. But as he began to piece the puzzle together, he was growing more concerned for you. 

“You mind telling me what happened to your car? Or how you got here?,” Hopper’s head quickly swiveled to Eddie, “Did you drive her?” 

Eddie just shook his head and glanced at you. He could see your eyes staring to water now, and something in him hated the sight. He reached out and grabbed your good hand, hoping to offer some kind of support or comfort, whichever you needed more. 

“I walked.” 

“And you were in the car when it flipped?”

Your head shot up, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“It flipped?” 

To the best of your recollection, you just swerved off the side of the road. Honestly, you weren’t thinking straight, because there was no reason for you passing out and totaling your car if you had simply swerved. 

“It did. There wasn’t anyone else in the car right?”

“No… Just everything I own.” you scoffed as the weight of the situation really sunk in. This brought a whole new meaning to your “new beginning” idea. There was no fresher start than one with nothing from your past. 

“How long have you been here?” 

You were too stuck in your own thoughts to process that another question had been asked, so Hopper looked to Eddie in hopes of an answer. 

“She was here when I got here an hour and a half ago, but she said she doesn’t know how long she’s been here.” 

“I’m going to go see if I can get someone to give her a once over. Keep her company.” 

Eddie nodded and turned his attention back to you. You were obviously zoned out, and Eddie didn’t blame you, but he needed to reel you back in. 

“So much for keeping your secrets,” he whispered, feigning maliciousness, as if he had personally asked Hopper to come down and tell him. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at him, even as your tears began to tip over your lower lids. 

“I think you have to tell me what happened to you now, if I recall the rules correctly.” 

“Oh, I just got beat up at a bar. Nothing near as exciting as what’s going on over here,” he chuckled as he gestured vaguely towards you. 

It wasn’t until now that you realized that his hand was holding yours, but you were glad to receive the kind attention. It wasn’t something you were used to. 

“So what were you running from?” he asked, the warmth and humor suddenly absent from his voice. 

“What do you mean?”

“You had all your belongings packed into the back of your car, and I am 90% sure you aren’t from around here. So I can naturally assume you were running from something. Honestly I have a feeling I know the answer, but you know, never judge a book by its cover.” 

“Maybe I want to hear your guess.”

“Town freak?”

“Excuse me?”

“Outcast? Pariah, reject, untouchable? I can go on for hours. I’m afraid I have an unfair advantage with all the synonyms.” 

“And why’s that?”

“I’ve been called them all, sweetheart. You are speaking with the resident Freak of Hawkins, Indiana,” he pretended to bow from his seat. 

“Guess it really does take one to know one, huh,” you offered a half hearted smile. 

“So what was it? Weird music? Everyone hate your dad? One person just decide to make it their lives mission to make everyone hate you?”

“If I knew what it was, I would have changed it years ago. I think it’s just genetic though. But your guesses aren’t bad.” 

You adored that Eddie could make you laugh even after something as terrible as this night. You almost didn’t want to get called back anymore, knowing that your time with him would likely come to an end, and you may never see him again. 

When Hopper returned to let you know that your wait was almost over, you were almost disappointed. 

“Y/n, I need to talk to you really quick though. Is that alright?” he asked, and he seemed much more gentle than he had when he arrived. You hated the pity, but it was much better than how you were used to being treated by the police. So you gave him a nod. 

“Eddie, can you give us a minute?”

“It’s ok if he stays,” you cut in quickly, subconsciously squeezing Eddie’s hand harder. 

“Ok, that’s fine with me,” Hopper gave you a smile before he pulled a chair closer to sit directly across from you. He pulled out a small notepad and a pen and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“Y/n, I need to know what you remember from before your car flipped. If you remember anything at all.” 

“Why?” 

“There are… There are some marks on the drivers side of the car that suggest you were hit. I just want to put the pieces together before we start a man hunt, just in case I’m wrong in thinking someone ran you off the road.” 

“It’s ok, there’s no need to look for them. I don’t want to press charges or anything.” 

Your heart began to pick up thinking about the retaliation you might receive from bringing legal charges agains them. You were trying to get away, the last thing you needed was a case to tie you to them. 

Hopper’s head quirked in curiosity, and he squinted his eyes at you before asking, “Y/n, do you know who did this?” 

“Well, yeah, but like I said, it’s…It’s fine.” 

“Can we have a second Hop?” Eddie asked gently, and Hopper nodded before crossing the room to allow you two to speak. 

“The people you were running from, are they the ones that did this?” 

“Eddie, you don’t get it.” 

“No, I do, remember? I need you to take a deep breath, ok?” 

It took you a second to realize how hard you were squeezing his hand and how quickly your heart was beating. So you took his advice and took a few deep breaths before you looked for him to continue.

“I can tell you’re scared. But, y/n, this isn’t school yard bullying. They could have killed you. And it doesn’t sound like they stopped to see if you were alive. They deserve to be locked up for that, you know that right?” 

“But they won’t.”

“Cops don’t like you back home?”

You just shook your head.

“Well look, you met Hopper over there,” he gestured over his shoulder and waiting for you to nod before continuing, “Well he’s different. I promise. He will make sure those bastards burn for what they did. He doesn’t care if their daddy is mayor, he will make sure they do the time the deserve ok?” 

“How do you know it was more than one person?” 

“Those kind of people always travel in packs.” 

“If I tell him who it was…” you paused to organize your thoughts into a coherent sentence as your mind raced, “How do you know they won’t just find me and try again?” 

Eddie gently reached up grab your cheeks and got closer to your face, “I swear they won’t lay another finger on you. And if you decide to stick around Hawkins, I can assure you no one else will either.” 

“You offering to be my body guard?” 

“Maybe,” he chuckled. He could tell you were calming down already. 

“By the looks of you, I don’t think you’re cut out for that line of work.”

“Shush,” he laughed, “So what do you say, can I call Hop back over?” 

You nodded, and a minute later, Hopper was out the door and ready to bring justice to the people who had been making your existence unbearable for your whole life. It wasn’t much longer before a nurse rushed out and apologized for the long wait to both of you and called you both back. Your heart dropped when you realized you may not see Eddie again, and he could sense your reluctance to let his hand go. 

“Don’t worry, I already memorized your full name like the good freak I am, and I will be back to visit you later.” 

“Promise?” 

“Of course. The best thing about the hospital here in the lovely town of Hawkins, Indiana, is that our visiting hours are 24/7. I can come annoy you for as long as I want,” he smirked at you, “I just need to run home and grab my copy of Lord of the Rings after they check out my nose. I think you’ll really like it.” 

“With this headache, I don’t think I’m going to like reading anything.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I wasn’t going to let you lay a finger on it. I like doing the voices.” 

You both laughed, and continued to hold hands until it was absolutely necessary for you to part ways. 

“See you soon,” Eddie smiled down at you before following a different nurse to a room down the hall. 

“See you soon.”

@embrace-themagic​ @fanficparker​  @heartbeats-wildly​ @saturn-aka-six​ @calum-hoodwinked-me​ @peterplanet​ @mischiefmanaged49​ @nicotine-sunshine820​ @itsjusttor​ @emistrash​ @thenoddingbunny-blog​ @sovereignparker​ @raajali3​@eddielives1986​ @eddieswifu​ @chickpeadumpsterfire​ @fluffybunnyu​

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine

[supernovafics]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k words

warnings: explicit language

summary: in which you join steve during his family video shift and help him study for a test

author's note: nothing much to say about this one. short and sweet<33

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

“Can I have some help?”

You looked up from your notebook to see a guy standing a few feet in front of you with a small frown on his face. Your head shake in response to his question was immediate. “Oh, no, I don’t work here.”

His frown seemed to only deepen. “But, you’re sitting behind the counter.”

“Yeah, that probably makes things confusing, but I don’t work here,” You responded with a small laugh. You took a brief look at Steve, who was stocking tapes in one of the aisles. “I’m just here to help a friend and make sure he doesn’t fail out of his first ever college classes. Big English test tomorrow. The first one of the semester, actually.”

The guy rolled his eyes at your unnecessarily long explanation and then walked off, and your attention turned back to your notebook and you continued writing notes, or more so rewriting notes, for Steve. 

When he finished stocking shelves, he walked over to you, leaning on the counter and looking down at what you were doing. You ripped out the pages you had been working on for the past hour and slid them over to him. “Okay, I have compiled all of the shit that you’ll need to know for the test tomorrow on these two pages, front and back. Enjoy.” 

Steve gave you a small smile. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, but it was actually pretty easy since you’re taking the class with the same Professor I had last semester; I mainly just redid the notes that I had for that first test. And it only took me like an hour.”

“Thanks, but shouldn’t you be worrying more about your test tomorrow?”

You shrugged. “I just have to give a presentation on the rise of radio for my communications class, and I’ve been preparing for the last couple days. I’ll be fine.”

Steve nodded at that and started looking at the notes you gave to him. You moved from behind the counter and went over to the comedy section and started to look through the shelves.

“Oh, also, can I get a vest and a nametag? Everyone already thinks I work here, anyway.” 

“No,” Steve responded almost immediately, which made you laugh. After a second, he walked over to you, papers still in hand. “Surprisingly, I actually remember most of this stuff.” 

You smiled at that. “Glad to know you’ve been paying attention in class.” You then showed him the movie you had just pulled off of the shelf. “Thoughts on this for tonight?”

Steve looked at the title for a second before answering. “The person that returned it yesterday said it was shit.”

“Okay, so that’s a no,” You said as you put the tape back in its spot. “Anyway, though, it's good that you remember a lot of stuff already, so when I quiz you on everything later, it’ll be fast.”

He shook his head. “You’re being way too nice to me right now.” 

“You told me that you actually wanted to care about your classes and do well in them, so of course I’m gonna help you do that.” 

You could’ve gone further into that conversation that you two had a few days before the beginning of the semester, but you didn’t feel the need to fully repeat it aloud right then. Steve had talked to you about wanting to figure out his life, finding what he wanted to do long-term that wasn’t Family Video related, and maybe going to school part-time and taking a few classes would help with that. It wasn’t about his parents, it wasn’t really even about you. It was about him and you admired that, and you also wanted to help him figure everything out. Maybe it could help you figure out all of your shit too. 

“Also, if you dropped out after this semester it would actually be devastating to know that our first time ever going to the same school only lasted four and a half months.”

Steve laughed a bit. “I’m not gonna drop out.”

“And I’m completely holding you to that.” 

You went back to searching for a movie for later, and after what felt like forever you settled on something that sounded good enough. 

Things became pretty quiet for the rest of the night, so you were able to quiz Steve on the notes a couple times, and then you focused on the reading you had to do for the Film and TV history class that he suggested you two take together. Your collective eleven o’clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays mainly consisted of you two playing tic-tac-toe with one another in the margins of Steve’s notebook or writing stupid notes back and forth, and still paying some attention to the lectures that were actually pretty interesting. Aside from Steve being in the class, you really enjoyed it for the most part. 

“This article was actually pretty good,” You said. The clock finally hit eleven and Steve went over to the front door to turn the Open sign to Closed. “I think you’ll like it.” 

“What’s it about again?”

“Silent films,” You answered as you started putting all of your stuff in your bag. You then picked up the movie you grabbed earlier and went over to one of the computers, looking up the name of it and changing it from in stock to checked out. “Since I know how to do this, I think I definitely deserve a vest and nametag.” 

“I would say that’s true, but you only do that for yourself, not for any customers,” He responded with a laugh.

“In a way, I am a customer.”

“Paying customers.” 

“I use the “best friend of an employee” discount, which is a hundred percent off,” You said, smiling at him, and then smiling even more when he rolled his eyes at you. 

“What movie did you end up choosing, anyway?”

You held up the tape in your hand, Weird Science. “Now I’m thinking that I should’ve chosen a silent film to honor our history class.” 

“I’m really glad you didn’t,” Steve responded before stepping out from behind the counter. You slung your bag over your shoulder and followed him to the front. 

“Once you read the article, you’ll wish that I picked one of Buster Keaton’s greatest hits,” You said as you flicked off the lights before you two walked out the door. 

Steve locked it and then looked at you. “I truly doubt that.” 

You only overdramatically sighed and shook your head at him in response as you got in his car, tossing your bag into the backseat. You fiddled with the radio for pretty much the entirety of the fifteen minute drive to the apartment, and you held back your laughter at Steve’s playful groans in frustration at your antics. 

When you two stepped into the small space that was your shared home, you changed into your pajamas for the night before settling on the couch, and you quizzed Steve one more time for his test. And then he made you run through your presentation for your class tomorrow because he felt bad about you only helping him study. 

The time was nearing midnight when Steve warmed up some of the leftover pizza from the night before as you started the movie. You two fell asleep barely thirty minutes in, your head on his shoulder and a blanket draped over both of your legs that were stretched out on the coffee table.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Genya with a s/o who basically the enemy of Sanemi but loves Genya a lot headcanons?

Ngl, this request made me chuckle as it just made me picture genya trying to hold back his s/o from punching sanemi XD

Oh my god! Or the meme with the lady holding the dude while pointing at another dude XD

Thank you so much for requesting! Especially since I've not had many genya requests and its an honest to god crime....

Anyway!

I hope that you enjoy and that i've done your request justice, come back to request whenever you like as your more than welcome to return (^w^. )

Genya Shinazugawa with an S/O who's enemies with Sanemi - [Headcannons]

If Genya got paid every single time you and his brother fought, he'd be rich enough to buy you something fancy and a house - but he didn't so bargaining you away with promises of affection and snack would have to do...

You were so sweet with him - so kind and understanding and patient with him that the first time you'd held his hands he'd almost started sobbing

You just hated Sanemi.....

Like, really hated him - "He's an arsehole Gen!" You'd proclaimed hands vigorously scrubbing away at the dirt on the table after dinner "I hate him and his face!"

It was safe to say that Sanemi didn't really like you either but then again he didn't really like anyone to begin with... - "I hate your partners face Genya, (He/She/They) annoy me and I'd punch 'em at any given opportunity"

Your soft words of love (to Genya) turn to hard acid whenever Sanemi makes an appearance - thinly veiled threats and insults exchanged quickly - and Genya always has to take a step back from the poison you spit, thankful (and slightly amused) that it's never directed towards him

Beautiful Smile shifting into a battle-worn snarl (a flash of canine and a vein prominent in your forehead) as you enter a stance that's very reminiscent of a street brawler

9/10 you two end up brawling

It didn't matter where you two went - to the market, training grounds, a mission or on the way home - you somehow managed to lock on and find Sanemi

"I can just feel his annoying, smug energy and it makes me want to punch him"

Genya quickly finds himself developing a sanemi radar too - especially a radar that works whenever the two of you go out - that out ranks yours, specifically so he can whisk you both away before you spot him and a verbal altercation occurs

On the days where your both acting "nice" to each other (which is very rare) you and sanemi still make poorly concealed jabs at each other

In an effort to get the both of you to get along (even if its only slighty) Genya sometimes made you both wear a "getting along" kimono (much like the getting along t-shirt) so that you both weren't fighting

"If neither of you can be nice to each other for an hour, I'm not gonna speak to either of you for the rest of the day" which is quickly followed by you complaining before trying to get along with the enemy (aka. Sanemi)

Also you know the meme where there's a guy in a armchair and he asks the other dude to look at him before calling dude.2 bitch? yeah, thats you and sanemi when genya's not looking

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny genya x reader #kny genya shinazugawa x reader #genya x reader #genya shinazugawa x reader #demon slayer genya x reader #demon slayer genya shinazugawa x reader #x reader #kimetsu no yaiba genya x reader #kimetsu no yaiba genya shinazugawa x reader #kny headcanons #anime x reader

[ussgallifrey]

Home for the Holiday | Part 3

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, arguments, fake dating, hurt/comfort, Jake’s family being fake and generally awful towards him, mentions of divorce, mentions of past abuse, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 9.9k

✦ Author’s Note: Hi, has it been over a year since I posted anything for this story? It must be a Christmas miracle! Anyway, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, slowly getting added to every few months. And here we come to the end of Jake's annoying family. The next two chapters will be decidedly happier, I promise.

[Master List]

You’re woken neither by your own internal clock nor the backup alarm on your phone but by the irritated slamming of something across the hotel room. It takes you a second to properly assess the sound as being of the non-dream variety. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you push up onto your elbow to stare into the unsettled darkness.

The golden light from the bathroom spills out into the entryway where a shirtless Hangman seems to be fighting a losing battle with the foldup ironing board.

“You good?” you call out, voice still hoarse with sleep.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, mustering out an almost guilty, “Shit, sorry Pits.”

You wave him off, sitting up properly - the white sheets spilling over your thighs.

The bedside clock informs you that it’s still early in the morning, though not unreasonably so. He had told you the drive to his father’s place would take a while, so it made sense for him to be up at this hour but less so for whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish across the room.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, scratching at the back of your neck as you pad your way over to find out.

“What’s with the iron?”

There’s a seafoam green shirt on the board with a plugged-in iron on its end, that much you can see.

“Damn thing won’t turn on,” he flicks the buttons on the iron up and down, on and off.

Quirking your brow, “You know it takes time to heat up, yeah?”

He pauses, fixing you with an exasperated look, “Fifteen minutes enough for you?”

Throwing your hands up in a defensive hold, you take a step back.

“Shit. Look, I’m not trying to be a total ass here. Just, I didn’t exactly go packing a lot of options and I can’t go wearing what I did yesterday because Josh saw it already - ”

“Got it.”

He sighs in defeat, grabbing hold of the shirt. Giving it a good flap, you can see the clear wrinkles on the front.

For a lazy day in, the shirt would be fine. But this was a family get-together and Jake Seresin was a naval officer. His closet was likely similar to your own when it came to precision-pressed and properly hung items. Wearing this shirt, the way it was, would not fly.

“Well, before you go complain to the front desk - give it here, and let me try something.”

His own brow rises but he ultimately hands it over by the scruff of the collar. Swiping up your toiletry bag, you head into the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to give him a small smile.

“Let’s see if the magic of steam can’t work a miracle on this.”

His features drop in a way that says he hadn’t even considered that as an option before he grins, “Here’s hoping.”

After hanging the shirt on the towel bar, you take an extra long and heated shower. Letting the water massage your back and shoulders with its pressure. You certainly missed the little things like this when you were aboard the carrier. Uninterrupted, hot, lengthy showers where you didn’t feel like it might be a biohazard to touch any surface.

No, this was nice.

And when you step out of the tub and wrap a towel around your middle, you crack the door open to inform Jake that his shirt is just about good to go.

“But I can hit it with the hair dryer still. We got time, right?”

He hums in reply from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him.

Turning on the exhaust fan, you wipe down the steam-covered mirror with a hand towel and go about finishing your routine. Making sure your feet are actually dry, you step back into the room - walking over to your bag in search of another outfit.

Jake had pushed aside the blackout curtains in your absence, filling the room with natural light. He’s sat on the edge of his bed again, but now he has a plain white tank on to go with his jeans. You can hear the faintest clearing of his throat, making you look back at him.

His gaze drifts down your back for a second before he seems to busy himself with his phone again.

“I’m guessing this one is a little more casual?” you ask, pulling out three different shirts.

“Mmm, yeah,” he clears his throat again with a cough, glancing over towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your shirt out in a minute. I’m just letting the steam work its last bit of magic on it.”

His eyes finally meet yours and he frowns slightly, “I wasn’t - y-yeah… okay.”

And then it seems to dawn on you: you were only wearing a towel.

And while it might be common for the guys of your squadron to walk around shirtless in the gym, or when they were changing out of sweaty flight gear, it wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence for you to be seen in anything but your usual navy-issued tank and shorts. And while Hangman himself had been in nothing more than a towel yesterday morning, during the rush to get ready, that seemed like an entirely different situation to your own.

Your heart races as you become aware of just how exposed you are right now.

Grabbing hold of your entire bag and muttering out an embarrassed: “Sorry, I’ll just - ” as you hurriedly flee back into the bathroom.

Hangman, for his part, seems too stunned to even form a reply and you can’t exactly blame him.

Jesus, what were you thinking? You might be comfortable around your squadron but nothing over the past two days had elicited that level of comfort between the two of you.

Taking far longer than necessary to choose an outfit and get dressed, you’re slow and methodical about your hair and makeup this time too. Only when your nerves have settled down from the encounter, do you finally grab his shirt and return to the room.

“Well, what do you think?”

You hold the shirt up for him to examine. He nods, standing from his spot on the bed to take hold of it by the shoulders.

“Thank you.”

You just nod, tight-lipped, as you go about putting your bag away in its rightful spot. Jake tugs his arms through the sleeves before heading over to the full-length mirror by the front door. You watch as he methodically rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, creasing the cuff perfectly each time. When he’s done, he twists his watch around - back and forth, a few times.

And then he clears his throat, looking over towards you as you slip on your boots.

“You look good, by the way.”

Slowly, your eyes meet his and you offer him a gentle smile.

“Not too shabby yourself, Bagman.”

He ducks his head down for a second, grinning all the same. But then he’s glancing down at his watch and frowning again, patting his front and back pockets as he checks his EDC.

“You ready to go?”

Rising from the desk chair, you fix him with a questioning look, “Are you?”

With a smirk, he shakes his head. Offering an honest, “No.”

Jake holds the door open for you as you leave the room, heading down to the stairwell. You make an off-hand comment about it not being the way to the free dine-in breakfast. But he just keeps walking and eventually, you're in the parking lot. Slipping into the passenger side of the rental car, you watch as he adjusts the rearview mirror and his own seat.

Before he even starts the ignition, he looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Well, someone wouldn’t let us go down to the lobby for breakfast.”

“Ha,” he chuckles. “Come on, I know a better place.”

Raising your brow as you buckle your seatbelt you say, “I’m intrigued.”

Hangman just grins, grabbing hold of the back of your seat as he backs out of the parking spot.

You're not sure what you expected, but when Jake pulls into a busy Sunoco gas station ten minutes later, you can't help but raise your brow skeptically at him.

“Trust me,” he grins - all teeth - as he snags his aviators from his shirt collar.

“Tell me they have the best donuts around at least,” you call, following him out of the car.

He had parked off to the side, away from the entrance of the food mart. Digging his hands into his jean pockets, he waits for you to meet him on the sidewalk in front of the hood of the rental car.

Grinning with all the smugness of a higher power, he nudges your arm with his elbow and leads the way. Avoiding the building entirely, which makes you even more curious. The two of you round the other side of the gas station where the smell of smoked meat and spice fills the air.

There are two food trucks, a yellow tear-drop-shaped repurposed camper, and a smaller red build. Each has its own canvas tent with tables and chairs set up underneath. Fancy chalkboard signs bring the promise of amazing food as do the long-stretched lines outside of them both.

“Okay,” you admit, “You had me concerned for a second there.”

He chuckles, getting into the yellow truck's line, “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart. Anyway, I wanted to give you the chance of having an Austin staple.”

Well, if the menu wasn't enticing enough for you, then the smell certainly was. You find yourself nearly floating along the line with Jake. After ordering, you grab an empty picnic table to yourselves and proceed to dig into the absolutely massive breakfast burritos.

“Have you eaten here before?” you ask after swallowing another absolutely sinful bite.

“No, actually,” he wipes his mouth with another napkin. “This place didn't exist until two years back. Found it online when you were, uh, getting ready.”

Your chest aches as you recall the awkward encounter from this morning. Slowing your chewing, you manage out a pinched, "Well, god bless online reviews. This is incredible."

After another bite, you rub your lips with the back of your hand, glancing across to meet his gaze - his sunglasses remain folded on the table now, so you're able to see the green of his eyes once again.

“I mean it,” you swallow. “This might be the best breakfast I've ever had.”

He stares for a moment, swallowing his own bite before a slow smile graces his lips.

“Better not let your momma hear you talking like that.”

You laugh, “I'm sure she'd understand.”

Jake gives a warm chuckle, shaking his head, “Hell, think you know more about my family than I do about yours at this point. Not even sure I can remember you ever talking about them.”

Setting the burrito down carefully in the foil wrapper, you contemplate his small accusation. While you had certainly heard your fill of just about everyone else’s families while on deployment, you can’t recall if you really ever dove into talking about your own.

Obviously, you had heard all about Jake’s very extended family at this point. But even you knew about Freud and his weird association with his mom’s current husband - her fifth husband if you were remembering things correctly. Cosmo had a close relationship with his sister Cecilia but not his sister Lucia. Slab had a complicated connection with his adoptive parents but got on okay with his older brother. And so on.

“They’re not very interesting,” you finally settle on.

He raises a single eyebrow, “I highly doubt that.”

“Compared to yours?”

That makes him smirk, “Fair point.”

From there, it takes you a little longer to realize that you’re both eating at a leisurely pace and that Jake isn’t constantly checking his watch or telling you to speed it up. It’s a strange occurrence, given his usual attentiveness for being timely. Jake Seresin lived by the motto that if you’re early, you’re on time and if you’re on time, you’re late.

So, as nearly a full hour of the two of you sitting there and shooting the shit passes, you start to grow the slightest bit concerned. Going on to ask:

“How far did you say your dad’s place was?”

His lips immediately fall into a sort of scowl as you pull him away from a very amusing story about his time in officer’s school.

“Two hours,” comes the almost robotic reply.

“Does that mean we should start, you know, heading out?”

Your breakfast had long since been finished and the wrappers thrown away. Your drinks were little more than melted ice and semi-chewed straws at this point.

After ruffling his hair and twisting his watch around a few times, he finally sighs.

“Yeah, probably.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you slap his shoulder as you finally stand up from the picnic table.

“Come on, Seresin. You got me as your wingman for a second round today. No time like the present.”

Grabbing hold of both of your near-empty drinks, he too lifts his leg over the side of the bench and stands up with a playfully annoyed, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now, Pits.”

The ride to his dad’s house is filled with Christmas music played by two different country radio stations. As the odometer slowly creeps up mile by mile, you can see the difference in your companion’s composure. He started out relaxed, almost lounging in his seat. And then it grows more rigid; with his hands clutching the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him.

Last night, the two of you had talked about the upcoming shitstorm of a holiday get-together.

You knew Josh would be there again. But you would also be meeting his other brother, Justin, and his wife and kids of course. And then there was his sister, Jess, and her brood - as he had put it.

Just from the way he talked about his siblings, it was clear that Jake did not get on with - nor keep in close contact with - any of them. He seemed particularly hung up on his sister more so than his older brothers. And while you were sure there was a story - or two - there, you didn’t feel it was the time, or place,to pry.

And then, of course, there was the infamous Mr. Seresin himself. Of him, you knew the least amount of information. Only being told that you should keep your conversations limited if not just nonexistent. You weren’t sure how well that idea would apply in reality, but for your friend’s sake, you promised to keep things to his plan.

As the radio DJ announces yet another Thomas Rhett song, Jake finally hops onto an exit ramp, signaling that you were close to the inevitable get-together.

In almost two hours, you had covered a variety of topics pertaining to work. But seeing the great amount of tension currently attacking your wingman, you finally relent with a different story.

“I got my pilot’s license at seventeen.”

Only because you’re at a stoplight does Jake look over at you, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar as the beginnings of a smirk curl into place.

“Do tell.”

You chuckle as he turns the wheel.

“Whole line of aviators, actually. Great-grandpa was a paratrooper during Korea and I guess he just missed the adrenaline when he came back to the States. His son took up commercial flying and my dad got his license just because it seemed like everyone else in the family was doing it.”

“And you?” his sage green eyes meet yours for a quick second before he focuses back on the road ahead of you.

With a shrug, you draw your knee up on the seat and stare out the passenger window. Swatches of dusty farmland and wooden fences pass you by.

“Guess I was always just growing up around them. My grandpa took me flying all the time when my dad was busy working. Did my first solo ride at fifteen in a glider and got my license two years later.”

You can see his grin from out of your peripheral and count it as a victory.

“Any other incredible talents you’ve kept hidden under that smartass exterior?”

“Hey!” you gently slap his arm, pulling a fake pout. “If there was, I’m not telling you now.”

“Alright, alright,” he bites his lip, tapping the steering wheel as a sense of ease washes over him. “I’ll play nice.”

With a roll of your eyes, you mutter under your breath, “Fat fucking chance.”

There’s a seemingly dramatic sigh from him which is immediately followed by a hand being jabbed into your flank and a screech of laughter erupting from your lips as Jake proceeds to tickle your side.

“G-god fuckin- STOP, y-you asshole,” you try to squirm away from his touch, but his fingers seem to know your exact weak points and there’s only so far you can scramble away.

“Give it up, Pita,” he croons sweetly, still somehow managing to drive the car steadily down the road with his left hand.

“Mercy! Mer-cy, you jackass!”

You shove at his hand until he finally relents. Absolutely beaming as he looks over at you, unable to stop his own chuckle from seeing the state of you. He sighs, the bubble of laughter on his lips as he turns down a dirt road.

“Sure know how to distract a guy.”

With a huff of indignation, you say, “I’m sure there’s more alluring ways to do that.”

Only when Jake chokes on his own spit do you throw your head back in a howl of laughter.

“Christ, the look on your face, Seresin.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans, catching your gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Cause we’re almost there.”

That does seem to sober you both up almost instantly.

The radio sways in and out between bits of static break-up. As the houses fall further and further back from the road, it seems like you’re looking at nothing but straight-up copper-dusted fields.

Hangman leans forward on the wheel as he peers out at the stretch of dirt road, checking the numbers on the mailboxes that pop up every mile. And then, at last, he finally slows the car down to a steady roll.

And while Lady A is singing about it being an absolutely Wonderful Christmastime, you watch as all signs of joy seem to drain from your friend’s face as he turns onto the long-winding drive of his father’s ranch. The tires kick up dirt and pebbles, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You’re jostled in your seat from the rough terrain of the unpaved driveway.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” he murmurs, staring up ahead at the trucks already parked next to the white barn.

The house itself is a massive ranch-style home, with wood siding that almost makes it look like an older cabin. But the windows are clearly modern and sleek. It was no question at all that Jake’s father had some serious money to his name here. If the accompanying acres of farmland weren’t already a dead giveaway.

You wait for him to park, killing the ignition and resting his arms on the steering wheel with a resigned look in place of his usually bright eyes.

“When, uh, when was the last time you were here?”

With a sigh, his chin resting on the wheel now too as he stares up at the sprawling house.

“All the time as a kid. It was my granddad’s. Went on to my uncle until he ran himself straight into debt from all the gambling and drinking. Then this one - ” he jerks his head in the general direction of the house once again, “ - got it passed onto him. Haven’t been back since my granddad passed. So maybe… fourteen years?”

With a singular blink, you mutter an equally pressed, “Jesus, Seresin.”

“Yeah, well…” he just shakes his head, having already given you the gist of everything last night. No point in rehashing old news.

“Looks like everyone is here,” you comment after glancing around at the other numerous vehicles in the drive.

He nods, finally pulling the keys from the ignition and swinging the chain into his hand.

You follow him up the path to the front porch – a once beautiful piece of craftsmanship now deteriorating and stained. The floorboards of the deck squeak under your shoes and a handful of the railings seem to be either broken-off or missing entirely. A black bear carved out of wood greets you both with a simple welcome sign held in its fur-textured paws.

Jake gives a solid rap to the door before he grabs hold of the handle and shoves it open. More of a courtesy knock than anything.

With a little squeeze to his bicep, you give him your best encouraging nod and follow after him as he slides through the entryway where a massive pile of boots and shoes has been deposited.

You’re only afforded a sliver of a proper view into the main living space, but the noise level is already on par with an F18 ready to take off from the flight deck.

As you kick off your shoes into the sprawling mess of footwear, you’re assaulted by the sound of screaming children, raucous cheers, a football announcer blasting through surround-sound speakers, and the faint twang of Christmas music radiating out from a speaker somewhere in the middle of it all.

Mixed with the pungent smell of sweat-soaked shoes and rosemary-scented turkey roasting in an oven, you reach out to grab hold of Jake’s arm – simply from the overwhelming amount of things happening all around you before you even see a single person.

“You good?” he murmurs, a shocking amount of concern etched onto his usually playful features.

“Mhmm,” you manage.

A warm hand eases its way onto the small of your back and you feel the madness fall into a pinpoint tunnel where it’s easily manageable and not so disconcerting.

“Never better,” said through a set of clenched teeth is all you can work up for him.

With another squeeze to his arm, you allow Jake to guide you – by the hand still on your lower back – down the front hall to the large open-plan living space. To your left, several women lean against the russet-colored cabinets, with glasses of dark red wine in hand and ringing laughs as short blonde-haired children weave their way through the space.

To the right, near the stone fireplace sits the majority of the men on overstuffed leather couches and recliners as they stare up, with rapt attention, at the game currently projected on the large flat screen mounted above the mantel.

“Uncle Jake!”

Your eyes lock onto the blur of yellow and red that comes charging toward you both. Stepping out of the fray, you watch as your companion drops to his knees to scoop up the girl with the maroon ribbons laced through her platinum hair.

“Kenna Kenna Kenna,” he grins, grabbing hold of the young girl around her waist as he hefts her up and swings her back and forth in his embrace.

A smile that you can’t seem to control graces your lips as you watch the scene play out.

Oh, the guys back on the carrier would kill to see this side of Hangman right now. What a privilege it was for you to bear witness to.

From over his shoulder, you’re presented with the curious brown eyes of the girl who then jabs her hand against Jake’s chest and demands:

“Who’s that?”

You watch as your companion’s grin slips down for just a brief second before he forces a tight smile.

“That,” comes the familiar voice of the older Seresin brother, who rises from one of the leather recliners with a beer in hand, and a too-smug smile on his face. “Is Uncle Jackie’s girlfriend.”

The girl gasps, staring up at Jake with a pure look of wonderment, “You have a girlfriend?”

Out of instinct alone, you wrap a hand around his right arm – encouraging the act from him.

“I do,” he nods at last, glancing over at you with those piercing green eyes. And then he’s laughing, dropping the girl back down onto her feet as he says, “God, when’d you get so big?”

“Probably sometime between your last visit and now.”

Your gaze snaps over to the woman in a denim blouse in the kitchen area, swirling her wine before she finishes it off.

If you had to take a guess...

“Jess,” he greets, short and to the point with a curt nod of his head.

Bingo.

As the girl, Kenna, skirts off to join the other kids currently hanging back by the patio doors near the massive Christmas tree, another man wanders over. Similar to Josh and Jake, he’s got dimpled cheeks, darker blonde hair, and a distinctive swagger to his walk.

“Hey man,” he claps Hangman on the shoulder, presenting him with a bottle of beer in his other hand. “Long time no fucking see. Look good though.”

Jake takes hold of the drink before he slinks his arm back around your waist, guiding you forward and into his side.

“Justin,” he nods, half in greeting, and half in explanation for your current confusion.

Ah, brother number two.

“And you’re the mysterious girlfriend,” his eyes slip past his brother to land firmly upon your face.

You offer your hand in return, along with your name.

“Never thought we’d see the day,” he grins in return. And then he’s backing away, gesturing toward the fridge, “Something to drink? Beer, wine, Coke?”

Surrounded by so many people who all seem to be particularly interested in scrutinizing your every move, you merely shake your head, “Think I’m good for now, thanks.”

Jake squeezes your side and you look to your left to see him already staring down at you with a soft smile. Emboldened by his apparent approval, you begin to make your rounds with him never far from reach.

You’re introduced, quickly, to Gwen. His bubbly stepmother with dark roots and straw-colored hair who hands you a glass of wine without taking no for an answer. She’s brightness personified and the definition of a doting host. Beside her stands a rather quiet fixture in the kitchen.

Marissa is the curly-haired young wife of Justin Seresin. She watches on with a bottle held between her chipped-red nails as Jess hollers at Kenna from across the room when she tries to drop a handful of slime on her uncle’s head.

The woman remains silent, though she holds an amused smile, as she watches the madness of her inlaws take place. There’s a brood of children that moves and weaves through the adults who remain largely indifferent to their antics.

From the countertop, where an array of appetizers are laid out, you watch as the two seven-year-old twins – Dawson and Dixon – gulf down scoops and scoops of bean dip. While their sister - Brynlee, as Jake’s stepmother manages to tell you over the noise of the get-together – seems content to cling to Marissa’s pant leg as she stares up at the towering adults overhead.

Your nerves begin to ease as a sort of familiar feeling washes over you. If you convinced yourself hard enough, you could almost pretend this was one of your mom’s extended family reunions.

Sure, you weren’t well-acquainted with everyone yet. But if you forced a good smile and made an effort to be courteous, you were sure you could get through the ordeal without tarnishing your wingman’s reputation.

Slowly, Jake guides you through the room, until, at last, you’re sat on the armrest of one of the leather recliners, watching with distant interest as the announcers recount the last play in the game before halftime.

“So, you gonna introduce us properly?”

Your eyes shift toward the couch where you spot the gray-haired tresses and stern sun-baked face of Daniel Seresin. Your companion, who had been standing off to the side of the living room speaking in quiet conversation with his eldest brother, seems to straighten up to full attention as if an admiral had just entered the room.

With a twinge of discomfort, your gaze tracks Jake as he strides over to you, a hand resting on your shoulder when he finally comes to a stop. You can feel his breath on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

In a rigid tone bordering on inspection-line worthy, he introduces you by name and rank to his father.

A smile flits across the older man’s face as he beams up at you, rising from his lounged position on the couch to properly shake your hand. He looks the part of a typical rancher with his light-washed jeans and buttoned-down shirt tucked in with a flashy belt buckle.

“Real pleasure to meet you,” he grins. His hand is large, calloused by years of work. “I can’t tell you the last time Jake mentioned a girl catching his interest. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

You feel rather than hear the clipped mhmm that Jake gives in return. His gaze remains largely focused on the wall behind his father where an array of framed family photos resides. Never affording the man with the respect of holding his gaze.

Daniel claps your shoulder warmly and invites you to sit down with promises of their dinner being a real feast.

“She’s a saint, Gwen,” he tells you as you resume your position on the side of the armrest.

Jake, pointedly, slouches down in the actual recliner, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle as he stares – unseeing – at the TV.

“Hell, damn near blew myself up last year with the fryer. Don’t think she’ll let me in the kitchen, will ya, honey?”

He shouts the last part, to be heard over the crowd. Followed by a ringing you bet your ass I won’t coming from the vicinity of the stove.

You watch as Josh shakes his head in amusement, cradling a wriggly toddler in his arms. But your attention ultimately falls to the man seated to the side of you. Lost in his thoughts, trapped in his own head.

Reaching down with a tentative hand, you squeeze his fingers with your own.

It takes a minute, but then those welcomed meadow-green eyes meet your gaze and you can almost see the momentary relief that crosses his face as he squeezes your hand in return.

Dinner at the Seresin house is a decidedly casual affair in comparison to the meal you had shared with Patricia the day before. Gwen dishes out the seasonal fixings onto Christmas-themed heavy-duty disposable plates. Accompanied by wrapped bundles of plastic cutlery in Santa Claus paper napkins.

Balancing your plate on your lap is a true feat of talent as you’re the main entry and exit point to the kitchen, still settled on the armrest beside Jake.

The nieces and nephews, all eight of them, are situated on the floor on a big fleece blanket that quickly becomes an absorbent towel for their stray food bits more than anything else. Your hostess has the foresight to turn the game down to a more reasonable level, though the noise in the living room is still on par with a jet engine firing.

You find yourself shouting to be heard whenever anyone graces you with a question, which isn’t many... at first.

“ - anyway, after he pulled them over,” Jess continues her story about her husband, Nick: the Statetrooper. “He told them that he – god damnit! MacKenna Jaymes, are you or are you not watching your sister?”

Your attention, involuntary, falls to the oldest grandchild who has a mouth full of food as she stares helplessly at her younger sister who’s let her plate slip and spill all over the blanket.

“Fucking Christ,” Jake scoffs in heated breath, too quiet for anyone besides you to hear. His anger isn’t directed at his niece, of course, but at his sister.

Shoving his plate onto the other armrest, he peels himself up from the chair and crouches down to the oblivious toddler who has orange cheese sauce all around her lips – which he wipes clean with a napkin.

Jess, for her part, rolls her eyes and continues on with a biting tone about children needing to take care of their own messes. But Jake merely scoops up the girl’s food and settles the plate back down on the floor in front of her with a gentle ruffle of her sweet blonde locks.

You hold his plate for him when he returns to the chair, running a hand through his own hair.

“Thanks, honey,” he says in a cadence so natural it almost makes you drop his plate.

When he’s settled, you chance a look at him before you find your gaze trailing over to the far too smug brother seated on the chair adjacent to yours.

“See? This is the shit I was talking about last night,” he waggles a finger between the two of you as an example.

“Dad, do you remember when he brought over that girl? God, Jackie, what was her fuckin’ name?” Josh perks up, sitting on the edge of the cushion as he grabs his father’s attention, and, inadvertently, Jake’s as well.

“Oh, gosh,” Daniel starts, slapping his knee in thought as he stares up at the ceiling for the answer.

After a beat, you hear the soft utterance of, “Sarah.”

You glance down at Jake who keeps his head bowed under the weight of old memories.

Josh snaps his fingers, “That’s it! Fucking head cheerleader wrapped around his damn finger and did he even spare the girl a glance? I swear to God, he - ”

“Christ, can you knock it off with the swearing already?” Jess snaps.

The mischievous brother merely grins at you in a way that seems to say you see what I’m dealing with here?

“Must be all that growing up that’s got you so enamored.”

Settling your hand on Jake’s left shoulder, you give him a reasurring squeeze. You’d already dealt with his brother’s annoying antics and personality last night, what was a few more hours of unending torture under a familial microscope?

He lets out a long ragged breath, but you can feel his shoulders loosen marginally.

You almost miss the biting sound of the Seresin sister when she mutters, “Doubt it.”

But Jake doesn’t.

And he latches on to it like an enemy target on his radar system.

“Something you wanna say?”

The room falls to a stifling silence like the distant whistle of a falling shell about to make impact. You fear for the fallout from the impending crater.

She has the audacity to look aghast, a hand held to her heart in surprise as she manages to finish off her potato salad in one quick bite.

“Jacob. If you can’t say something nice, you don’t say anything at all.”

“And yet you always manage,” comes his lightning-quick response.

“Well,” she drawls. “On a holy day like Christmas, I think you can find a way to keep your opinions sealed up.”

The other occupants watch the sparring of words like a tennis volley. But someone seems to have had enough.

“Oh, bless your heart dear!” Gwen says, standing quickly from her position on the couch beside her husband as she makes her way over to you. “You’re all out of casserole. Come on, now. Let’s get you fixed back up.”

Your chest tightens as you’re literally pulled to your feet by the determined woman, who quickly leads you into the depths of the kitchen. The words from the two siblings are still just as biting, but slowly the trickle of grandchildren also make their way into the kitchen.

Just another Christmas get-together for them as the grown-ups row.

As Gwen tops your plate to the point of sagging with more food, you watch MacKenna as she settles her younger sister on her hip while holding a hand on top of the toddler’s head.

“You’ve got your hands full,” you manage to say, hoping the smile you offer her isn’t tight with worry as the noise in the living room continues to grow.

The girl shrugs, as much as she can with a one-year-old in her arms. She tracks her siblings as they settle onto the hightop stools and begin to rummage through the lower cabinets.

Josh has his hands out as he tries to delegate between the bickering siblings, but Justin and Marissa just have the peace of mind to leave the scene altogether – also journeying over to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” the eldest brother says to you, leaning on the counter as he carefully pushes his twin sons away from the bowl of Chex mix. “They always get into it when they’re together. Has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can say in return.

“Here, hun,” his wife says to the nine-year-old struggling to hold onto her baby sister any longer. “Give your arms a break.”

With a handful of chips in his mouth, Justin points at his wife, “We’re not having another one.”

She nods congenially, patting the baby’s back with her hand, “I know that.”

Jess is on her feet now, pointing a dangerous finger at Jake, but you feel rooted to the spot because this was never a discussed topic of possible scenarios between the two of you back at the hotel.

“Abandoning your fucking family because you have goddamn daddy issues. Get the fuck over yourself, Jacob!”

For all the hostility his sister throws his way, your companion remains level and coolheaded as always.

He stares up at her with a perfectly blank face, “Can’t go one damn holiday without throwing a tantrum can you?”

Gwen coughs, pulling your attention away for just a moment as she all but shoves a platter of cookies in your face.

“Want one? Got more than the two of us can eat here. I made peanut butter, peppermint, pecan – ”

“ - and you think you can just show up here like it’s all water under the bridge and everything’s fine and dandy just because you have a girl on your arm? That doesn’t make up for the last decade of your shit.”

You take a step toward the living room, where even Josh has shrunken down onto the couch with his head between his hands. Daniel remains completely stock still as he watches the seemingly one-sided fight drag on.

“Just ‘cause you found the first broad to give you the time of day, doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here and – ”

Before you can even register the words, Jake is on his feet.

Staring down at his sister with a heaving chest and balled fists.

You break away from the cluster of family members as you make your way to his side. Tentatively, you reach for his hand – easing his fingers away until you can entwine your hands together. His nostrils flare as words that have been building up since childhood begin to battle their way up to his lips, but it all comes to a halt when you murmur a gentle:

“Baby?”

With a slow turn of his head, he looks down at you – fight dissipating from his eyes as you squeeze his hand. Giving a gentle tug, Jake follows you over to the sliding doors of the back deck.

Behind you, you can hear Josh give an admonishing, “Never known when to close your massive fucking trap, do you?”

But you push aside the door and lead your wingman into the fresh afternoon air before you can hear her likely cutting response.

Having no real idea of the lay of the land, you pull him down the back steps and find yourself traversing a small pebble path around the back of the house. Jake, still in a state of silence, allows you to guide him forward without so much as a peep.

Near the back wooden cattle fence dividing the backyard from the actual farm property, you stop under the shade of a large tree. The billowing branches bring not only cool shade but a sense of privacy away from the prying eyes of the bickering family inside.

Releasing your grip on his hand, Jack takes a few unsteady steps forward before he drops down onto a faded old wooden porch swing. It creaks under his weight but seems sturdy enough as he eases his heels into the ground and pushes back and forth.

You stand there, staring out at the vast fields for a long long moment before you hear your name whispered into the breeze.

Turning back to your wingman, you take a seat beside him, your knees brushing as he continues to make the old swing sway.

Out here, if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine you’re in the cockpit on a smooth return flight. The only noise comes from the gentle breeze drooping over the tall grass that bends like ripples in the water.

But your attention ultimately falls to your friend. With his knuckles gripped white on his knees, his head bowed down with his shoulders hunched high to protect him.

This version of Hangman would never be seen by your squadron, nor would it ever be mentioned.

With a steadying breath, your voice cracking as you force out the words, you say, “I have a soft spot for disco music.”

It takes a second for the words to register, but Jake slowly lifts his head and stares at you with pure confusion.

“What?”

“Disco. It’s my... thing? And I’m swearing you to fucking secrecy, Bagman. But... I belt out ABBA songs when I’m alone. Donna Summers too.”

The making of a grin begins to form on the corner of his lips.

“I’ve got it bad for the Bee Gees.”

His brow raises ever so slightly.

“Do those private serenades also include a dance number?”

With a bark of laughter, you tuck your hands between your knees as he rocks you further back on the wide swing.

“Oh, absolutely.”

When you look up, you find his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. But not in a harsh way. More like you were a puzzle he was just only now figuring out the missing pieces of.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Giving a shrug, you say, “Because I wanted to. Also, no one will ever believe you.”

There’s a beat of silence before his lips tug up into a radiant smile that has him shaking his head.

“God damnit, you’re right.”

You let your left shoulder bump into his right as his laughter slowly ebbs away to silence once again.

He spares the house a furrowed expression before he lets out a slow exhale of breath.

“This thing,” he starts, twisting his watch back and forth on his wrist. “Between me and Jess, it goes back years.”

“You don’t have to explain it,” you assure him with a soft utterance.

But he presses forward despite it.

“Josh and Justin were already out by the time things got bad. Just me and her in the house. Not that she paid much mind. She was ‘bout to graduate and I was just some snot-nosed ten-year-old.”

He eases into the swing, dipping his head back over the headrest to stare up at the swaying green leaves above the two of you. You find yourself turning to face him, pulling your left knee up onto the seat.

“Mom started drinking ‘round then after she found out he was fucking his bowling buddy. Had been, for the last two years or so. But Jess didn’t know that shit, just saw Mom passed out on the couch with an empty bottle on the floor.”

Jake shakes his head, pushing away the memory.

“They never said it to my face, but I know. I was the save the marriage baby.”

“Jake...”

Offering you a tight grimace, he continues.

“Spoiled as hell, got whatever I wanted and then some. Private school, the works. Brothers didn’t care much, but Jess...” he trails off.

Your hand settles onto his forearm, offering a squeeze of comfort when your own words fail you. He dips his chin in return, welcoming the touch of familiarity.

“That’s what I meant by it the other day. They sided with him and I went along with her because I found out what was really happening. Don’t get me wrong, Gwen’s a good lady and the two of them are better off divorced. But... put a wedge between me and the three of them.”

Clearing your throat, you ask, “Is that why you left to join up?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Couldn’t fucking stand to be around either of them by the time I graduated. Just wanted to start over, do something for myself on my own terms.”

And then he scrubs his palm over his face, wincing as he does so.

“Christ, I don’t know why I’m fucking telling you any of this.”

“I said you didn’t have to, you know,” you nudge him with a teasing tone.

With a look of pure exasperation, he holds his hands out like a confession, “Got me bleeding my heart out here like I’m Freeze or something, Pits.”

“Eh,” you sigh, twisting your body to pull up both of your legs onto the bench – only to deposit them both right across Jake’s lap with little fanfare. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.”

Something funny flits over his features for a moment before he places his hand over your calf and resumes his gentle rocking of the swing.

Eventually, you both manage to peel yourselves off the swing and wander back into the house. Jake says something about being completely okay with ditching the whole thing and heading back to the rental car. But you have to remind him that your shoes are still currently lost in the massive pile in the front entryway.

He then tries to convince you to leave them, going so far as to say he’ll buy you a new pair before your flight.

But, reluctant as he is, you walk hand-in-hand back into the house. You get lost in the excitement of the kids who want to open up all their presents right this very second and it seems like, for the moment at least, the fight has been put on hold to allow the true joy of Christmas to take place.

Though Jake and his sister remain on opposite sides of the room for the entire duration of the madness that is eight kids scrambling to unwrap their numerous presents the fastest.

While Justin plays the role of gift hander-outer, Jess lounges on a barstool in the kitchen, watching the mess play out with a stink eye. Jake, for all his hold-ups on the day, also drops to his knees to help the younger nieces unwrap their gifts.

Which leaves you, surprisingly, with a small bundle of drooling baby in your arms since her own mother would rather watch from afar than interact with her own children.

June is happy to suck on the left foot of her new stuffed buddy, lounging out in your lap as you rock the recliner back and forth. Jake shoots you several amused glances before he gets tugged into the decidedly un-fun realm of opening up all the plastic-wrapped toys for the kids.

The living room floor is heaped with wrapping paper and ribbons, loose twist ties, and chunks of cardboard and plastic molds by the time he returns to your side. This time, he’s the one resting on the armrest as he gently taps the snoozing baby’s foot with his fingers.

“Out like a light.”

“No better way to celebrate the day,” you agree.

The sleeping babe must be used to the chaos that is the Seresin family, as her siblings and cousins run amok with their new toys that beep and jingle. Tiny feet thundering against the hardwood floors as they zoom up and down the long hallway separating the living area from the rest of the house.

“Now that’s a picture if I’ve ever seen one.”

You lift your gaze to Gwen as she rounds the corner, a wine glass in hand as she settles in next to Daniel on the couch across from the three of you.

“Think you two will ever settle down stateside?” he asks with a true glimmer of hope in his graveled voice.

Jake winces, hand falling to your inner thigh for support.

“I, uhm, I could never ask Jake to put his career on hold for that,” you find yourself saying.

“Same for you,” he adds a second later.

Gwen, for her part, gives an understanding nod – settling a hand on her husband’s arm to stifle the topic down.

“How long have you two been flying together?”

Your wingman seeks out your gaze as the two of you mentally run through the tangle of memories.

“Three, almost four years now?”

“Mhmm.”

“And what set this all off, if you don’t mind me prying?”

Jake clears his throat, and you have to turn your head to hide the beginnings of laughter that bubble up to the surface. He shifts his weight, draping his right arm over the back of the chair, a finger playfully tugs at the fabric of your shirt.

“It was after a mission debrief. Fourteen hours, dead on our feet,” the story, completely fabricated, comes to him with a true sense of ease.

“And, I dunno. Everyone was shuffling outta the room and I just looked over and saw Pita and thought...”

At the pause, you turn your face to look up at him only to find his softened eyes seeking you out.

“Wow. I can’t have this girl out of my life.”

That piercing expression nearly takes your breath away and you want to applaud Jake for his terrific acting on the fly.

Pulling your gaze back to the seated couple, you add, in jest, “I’m sure my greasy hair and flight suit was what did it for him.”

“Hundred percent!” he grins, tugging a strand of your hair.

At some point, the others filter back into the room and Marissa kindly takes the snoozing June from you. You have to shake out your arms just to return the blood circulation. Who knew kids that little could be that heavy?

And while you get lost in the rushed conversation of two seven-year-olds trying to tell you all about the mechanical workings of their new RC cars, Daniel pushes up from the couch and weaves his way over to Jake, before saying something in his ear. You can feel the way he goes rigid as he slips his arm away from you and slowly stands and follows after his father.

You watch as the two men disappear down the hall, toward one of the bedrooms or office from the looks of it. A cold dredge of worry washes over you, cooling your insides and twisting your stomach into another uncomfortable slosh of concern. He had just started smiling again.

“He’s really got you bad, doesn’t he?”

Pulling your gaze away from the empty hall, you find the piercing eyes of Josh inspecting your face as he leans across his chair to speak to you.

“You. You’re worried about him.”

“Comes with the job,” you say.

A smirk tugs his lips into a twisted look as he too glances down the hallway.

“He’ll be fine. Little testy with whatever Dad’s about to try pulling. Won’t be too surprised if that’s the end of our little visit.”

Your brows pinch, “That bad?”

He chuckles, easing back into his recliner, “Always.”

You try to focus on the happy children occupied with their new toys and the soft lull of the TV sportscaster, but you find your primary focus pulled toward the long empty hallway.

He had told you all about the history between him and his old man, both in the backyard confessional an hour prior and the day you arrived in Austin. Yet now your mind was conjuring up worse and worse scenarios of what was happening in a closed-door room several feet away.

Another few minutes pass where you try your best to ignore what could be transpiring a few yards away, but the sound of a door opening followed by a pleading voice saying:

“Jacob, come on now. Jake. Jake.”

You crane your head just in time to see your companion striding down the hallway, directly toward you – pushing both Justin and Gwen gently out of his way. You’re on your feet by the time he reaches you and before you can even ask are you okay, he’s grabbing hold of your arm.

“Think we’re done here, sweetheart.”

Trying to get a read from his expression alone is useless, so you merely nod in return.

“Okay.”

As Jake directs you toward the entryway once again, with a trail of family members walking a few steps behind you both in silent anticipation, Daniel Seresin finally makes a reappearance.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he just shakes his head in return to his wife’s questioning look.

Hangman can’t seem to move fast enough, even as the nieces creep past you to get to him.

“Are you leaving now, Uncle Jake?”

“When am I gonna see you again?”

He’s halfway between tying his left boot when he looks up at the little faces curled with worry and childhood innocence. Frozen, unable to find the right words to explain his hasty escape as he peers up and over their heads at his father standing silently at the end of the hall.

“Oh, that’s my fault, I’m afraid,” you say, leaning down to grab your own boots as three braided-blonde heads turn to look up at you.

“We need to hurry to the airport to catch our flight, don’t we, honey?”

A flash of gratitude in his eyes and a slow exhale has Jake nodding, quick to play along to your tune.

“That’s right, sweetheart. We have to go see Pita’s family now. Wouldn’t be fair to keep her away on Christmas, yeah?”

Shelby clings to his leg, her face squished into his thigh as she murmurs, “But I’ll miss you.”

Jake shoots you a clear help me look, but your rescue comes in the shape of Josh Seresin who swoops in and collects the five-year-old up into his arms.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from Uncle Jackie soon. Won’t you?”

Your companion gives a fast nod, “That’s right, kiddo. Soon as we’re back on the carrier, I’m gonna call you right up.”

The little girl peers over her uncle’s shoulder and you meet her soft gaze.

“And Pita too?”

Jake almost laughs, but he curves it into a smile instead.

“Yeah, her too, honey.”

Oh, your breakup in a few weeks was gonna be fun to talk through with a kindergartner.

Pushing that thought from your head, you righten your boot into place and fall back into Jake’s easy embrace, his hand finding a too-familiar spot on your waist.

The drive back to the city is shared in silence with only the familiar Christmas tunes from the radio there to fill the void between you both. And even then, the holiday spirit has already seeped out of the vehicle and into the vast countryside. No amount of classic jingles could fix that at this point.

When you arrive back at the hotel, it’s as though you’re waiting for the missile to hit. That weapon of course being Jake himself.

But the man in question is as silent as ever as he drops down onto the edge of his bed. Too tired to even remove his boots as you carefully tread around him to take care of your own shoes.

His silence makes you even more cautious in your moves, tiptoeing across the carpet to your bag and back again. Afraid to make any noise that could set him off. Oh, you could handle the fallout, of course. You’re just not sure if he could at this point.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed in your sleepwear, Jake is lying flat on his back with his legs hanging over the edge. His eyes open and staring, almost unseeing, at the popcorn ceiling.

After spending a moment to assess your situation, you unceremoniously flop down on the bed beside him, a hand plopping down on his right knee.

And there you sit, in the stillness of the hotel room for a series of long-passing minutes. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, curling your fingers tighter and then looser on his jean-clad knee. Until, at last, he speaks.

“Should have never did this to you.”

You wait until his eyes land on you before you respond.

“Oh, fuck off, Bagman.”

It takes a second, but he eases up onto his elbows.

“I’m serious. Yesterday with my mom was one thing. But this shit? Today? God,” he drags a hand down his face in annoyance.

Releasing a breath, you lay down beside him on the bed. He stares down at you for a long moment before he falls back down next to you.

“I told you, I don’t care. I agreed to this entire insane endeavor and I told you I was gonna see it through no matter what. So, lose the bullshit grief, and don’t worry about me.”

Tugging on the loose fabric of his seafoam-colored button-down, you give him the space to respond or not. Hell, you were gonna be the last person to try and press the man for anything right now.

“I just...” he exhales, resting a hand on his chest. “I dragged you across the country, away from your own damn family, just to do this.”

Rising up slightly so you can stare down at him, you retort, “Which I agreed to. If I didn’t want to do this for you, do you honestly think you could force me to do any of this? Honestly?”

Jake glances back at the ceiling before a smile graces his lips.

“Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you reply, dropping back down.

“Well... at least it’s over.”

You hum in response.

Come morning, you would take the rental car back to the airport and board separate flights. You up to Michigan and Jake back to California. You would enjoy a family-filled holiday and he would be...

Your stomach turns at the thought.

Alone.

After everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours, after all that he was dragged through. Jake would be alone come Christmas day. Alone with his own damn thoughts and whatever reemerged trauma that came with this particular visit produced.

Maybe that’s why, after several more minutes have passed you both by, that you turn toward him and say:

“Do you... I don’t – well, that is to say, uhm...”

You can feel the look he gives you but you have to crane your neck back to properly look him in the eyes. There’s something there in the meadow green of his irises that emboldens you – allowing the words to come easily.

“Jake, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?”

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun fan fic #series: home for the holidays #my fic

[lightlycareless]

✨ consensual smut

Heya anon! Thank you so so so much for being patient with me!! I don't usually write smut that often so it does take me quite a while to do so, specially when I was already writing other things, but oh my god was this the perfect opportunity to write the nastiest thing I've written in my life. I have really no idea where this came from, I just—well, I just wanted to write it :))))))) and it's finally out.

Anyways, the warnings are: smut. straight up smut. oral, vaginal, anal, a bit of exhibitionism I believe, and yeah. Minors, do NOT interact pleaseeeee

So, without further ado, happy reading!!!

Sorcerers can be known as lonely wolves amongst the community from time to time; tending to keep to themselves, both inside and outside missions, for a wide variety of reasons.

Beginning with ego, preferring to brag about a job well done when completed by themselves (the riskier the job, the better). Saying you finished it with someone else just didn’t have the same impact.

Or… they didn’t like the competition, not like this, at least. It felt almost like cheating to “join forces”, circling back to the first point, where some would think that doing so would label them as weak, or worse, losing their ground.

And just as the story often goes, the higher the rank, the bigger the ego, and that would be the case with none other than Naoya Zen’in, who was anything but elated to hear that his next mission would be a team effort.

In other words, he’s going to be paired up with someone else. A fellow sorcerer.

You.

It wasn’t either’s fault, really. It’s just that the nature of both of your and his technique gave way to an unusual synergy.

You didn’t complain of this arrangement, being used to it due to you being more of a supportive sorcerer. If anything, this was just another Tuesday for you: same movie, different actor.

Oh, but for Naoya, this was the absolute worst.

“I’m not taking the mission” Naoya firmly declares. “So, find someone else to do it.”

You don’t say anything against Naoya’s words, for it was well known that while he didn’t like taking missions with others, he didn’t like taking missions with you. Or you in general, he just… can’t stand you. Why? No one knows, it’s just the way it is.

“But—Zen’in-sama—” his poor manager would always, always, try to rationalize with him, make him understand that every mission he’s assigned to is carefully catered to his talent, and not because they had something personal against him…

But it’s easier to move mountains that change Naoya’s opinion—and this always led him with problems with other fellow sorcerers and managers, having to profoundly apologize in his name whenever Naoya decides he’s too good for anyone else.

Thankfully, you were a good sport when it came to dealing with Naoya; since you were often paired together, you already knew how his tantrums would usually go.

Doesn’t mean you liked hearing every time.

Oh well, at least you’ve learned what to do to tune out his madness.

“It’s fine” you say. “If he doesn’t want to do it, I’ll gladly take the job myself.”

Naoya’s eye twitch.

“What, think you’re better without me?” he scoffs, it’s always your subtle arrogance that he hates the most.

“I didn’t say such thing” you responded, not bothering to look at him. “I just said that if you didn’t want to do the job, leave it to me. I’ll do it.”

“No—I’ll do it” Naoya frowns. “It’ll serve to show you how the job is done.”

The manager wasn’t happy Naoya ended up taking the mission by berating you, but… well, he was glad it worked.

And after overseeing the mission’s details one last time, your manager is the one that ends up driving the two towards the location where both would be spending the next few hours: an abandoned school just outskirts of the city.

To say that the drive there was awkward would be an understatement—it was overwhelmingly silent, tense, mostly from Naoya, who felt could be irked by the slightest mishap.

Your manager would try his best to ease this sensation, strike casual conversation by commenting on the weather, how work has been calm compared to other seasons, or how he knew that the two would finish this mission quickly, per usual fashion.

The only one answering would be you, though, in an attempt to escape this uncomfortable situation, but you were only able to do so much when Naoya’s occasional scoffs ruined the mood.

A discreet sigh of relief managed to escape your manager’s lips upon arriving, for it meant that he’d finally be freed of the crossfires of your and Naoya’s rocky relationship—he hated to desire this on you, but whatever happens from this point forward, it’s solely your issue.

“Check-ins are every hour” he reiterates. “All you need to do is—”

“Search the building, assess the amount of cursed energy, identify said energy, and get rid of any lingering curses.” You repeat, he smiles. Naoya rolls his eyes.

“Once done, just call me and I’ll pick you up.”

Aside from the irritation caused by the obvious flirting nature of your manager, Naoya was exasperated that he’d been essentially assigned to a recon mission. Why is he even considered for such things…?

“Thank you” you say, giving the manager one last nod; knowing his job to be done, the man turns around, gets into the car, and drives away.

Now alone, Naoya is the first one to voice his consistent displeasure for this arrangement.

“Let’s get this sham of a mission done.”

You remain silent as you trail him, careless if he was being followed by you or not, to the entrance, with him eventually opening the doors and stepping inside.

Naoya gives the main hallway a quick look of disdain, while well kept, the building has obviously been abandoned for quite some time. Nothing scary, not thrilling as he usually strives to partake—this really couldn’t be the worst mission of the—

“A school” you say, unsure if he knew.

“Huh?” he frowns, thoughts interrupted. He didn’t.

“This used to be a school back in the day.” You continue. “Apparently, this place has been plagued by rumors of curse sightings since forever, but it isn’t until one of those rumors was eventually linked to a gruesome incident that the principal decided to take them seriously, but it was too late; the parents were deeply upset by it and demanded the school to be closed. And that’s how it’s been since then.”

Naoya remains quiet, but his face carries a look that tells you he wasn’t interested in whatever history this place may or may not have, all he wants to do is finish and go back home.

You press your lips together, before sighing.

“From the top” Is the only thing Naoya says in response, and soon the two head to the last floor, starting to check every room from left to right. Naoya suggested that both go separately in order to cover more areas faster, but you counter by hinting that curses might know they’re there, so it was better to leave your technique set up to inform of future movements.

Naoya ends up unwillingly agreeing to your observation, staying behind as you set up a net of cursed strings, perfectly applied so that as soon as the slightest movement, disturbance, and all in between happens, you know of it.

Going through this same process through every room was tedious work by itself, enough for Naoya to slowly grow more and more irritated—but his emotions do not culminate until after you set up setting everything up and do one last checkup, coming to the realization that there was no threat to begin with.

No major cursed energy, or lingering curses. Nothing

Nada.

This whole mission had been for nothing, and all because everything was cleared before they even arrived.

And this made Naoya infuriated.

“Are you serious? We came here to an empty, ugly building that’s supposed to be filled to the brim with cursed energy, only to find out there’s literally nothing?! HQ is turning into a joke!” He hisses. “I should give them a piece of my mind when I return—who do they think they are, wasting the time of the Zen’in heir?! What are we supposed to do know?!”

He didn’t know what he was expecting as a response from you, possibly to agree with him, although you calling your manager to pick them up was very high up the list—but he can at least safely say that you gently wrapping your arms around him from behind and pulling him against you was not one of them.

An action so unexpected that it was enough to keep him silent while you rest your head against his back.

“I don’t like it when you get angry” you murmur softly. “It makes me sad.”

Any other person would’ve probably kept their distance from him, waited for him to cool down and then approach him. Or maybe never at all, depending of the severity of his words.

But that was for the majority, if not everyone else but you. Because the relationship you had with him was different, far from the fellow, heavily disliked sorcerer that has the misfortune of commonly getting paired up with him.

Oh, it was far more intimate than that. It was the reason why Naoya treated you the way he did, and why you treated him the way you did.

Why he had to act like he disliked you, like the mere thought of you was enough to make him vomit, no other woman in the world holding this privilege from him.

Because the two were dating—had been for a bit over a year now—and due to the noisy nature of their families and the prospects of their career, had to act like they didn’t.

“It’s not like I enjoy getting angry too, princess. But look at this shit show they pulled us into” he scowls, you feel him tense up a bit. “I’ve told them many times before that I don’t want these shitty missions when I’m clearly capable of doing more!”

“Not even with me?” you pout, gently squeezing him. He sighs.

“It’s nothing against you, baby” Naoya admits, placing his hands over yours. “I just can do more.”

“I know” you smile, hugging him tighter “I know you can do more.”

“What are going to do about this failure of a mission? I should report them for even putting us in something like this—”

“Actually, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” You say, he raises an eyebrow. “Because I know why there’s nothing here to begin with.”

“And why do you know that…?”

“Because I was the one that cleared it out” you state proudly, he blinks.

“What? What do you mean you cleared it?” he frowns.

“It was easy—just had to ask my manager to inform me of any missions HQ was considering putting us together, and work from there.” You reveal. “And as soon as I knew the type of mission it was, I went ahead, cleared it up, and the rest is history.”

“How’d you get the manager to do that?” Naoya asks. “I thought we couldn’t—"

“Let’s say I’m very persuasive.” you chuckle, he frowns. “Not like that of course.”

“Didn’t look like it earlier…”

You pout.

“I just want you.” You murmur, he smirks.

“I know.”

Silence.

“So… what do we do know? What’s gonna happen to the paperwork? Or the rest of the hours…” Naoya asks, but thankfully, you’ve long anticipated all that, given the way your hands slowly trail down to the waistband of his hakama.

A gesture that unwillingly tenses him at first, before smirking.

“What’s gotten into you?” he teases, you pout.

“…What? It’s the first time we’re alone since a long time…”

“And that’s what got you in the mood?” He might be acting like he isn’t amused by your antics, like he’s above your feelings, but the reality was so different.

Naoya can admit that he wasn’t expecting this turn of events, but what he won’t deny is that he’s all for it.

You nod.

“I missed my boyfriend…” you murmur. “But I’m upset with you too.”

“Huh? What for?”

“Because of the way you were treating me. Acting like you hate me…”

“It’s just an act, baby—we can’t have them finding out our relationship.”

“You could’ve been a bit nicer.”

“I’m sorry” he chuckles, turning around to see you and your adorable face pouting at him. “Shall I make it up to you.”

You nod.

“Let me call a taxi, then. We can at least use the hours for—"

But you stop him before he can even reach for his phone, making him confused.

“I thought you wanted—"

“I can’t wait” you insist. “I need you now.”

Naoya’s eyes widen, and then, he smirks.

“I knew you were deprived—but never to this extent.”

You don’t respond, at least not with words, opting to instead pull on his collar and bring him down to face level, where you’d lips would take his into a heated kiss, your tongue moving past his lips and into his mouth, eagerly showing your desperation for him as your hands pull him even closer to you.

Naoya expresses the same sentiment by placing his arms around you, his hand on your back and the other behind your head, keeping you still but close to him—and whatever anger he had for this wrongly assigned mission is quickly discarded in favor of drowning in his desire for you.

The only reason they ever separated from the other is because of air, had this not been an issue, the two would’ve overlooked this detail and kept on like that.

However, another reason for this distance would be your needs, those that could only be met with something more than a kiss, so when you finally pull away from him, you waste no time guiding him into the next course.

“Let’s go upstairs—I know where.”

“Here?” Naoya breathes, somewhat dizzy from the kiss. You nod. “I wouldn’t call this the best place to do that.”

“I know… but I want to” you admit. “I’ve been planning this for a long time.”

“To do it on a mission?”

You bite your lip—Naoya’s cock twitches.

“You vixen…” he hisses, allowing you to take his hide and move to the stairs.

You never understood the thrill behind the exhibitionism of doing it on… anywhere, really. More so in morally correct places.

Like a school, for example, which was the most common place where you’d heard these things happen, more so when you were still a student.

Whenever professors discussed this distasteful situation amongst the class, reprimanding them in hopes of lessening their occurrence, you knew someone had recently been caught doing such a thing, which made your face scowl out of disgust, wondering who in their right mind would fuck at a high school??

And that’s what you consistently thought through your whole life… that is, until you met Naoya.

That’s when you understood why couples couldn’t keep hands off each other, no matter the place, no matter the time—and it didn’t help that Naoya was a really good lover…

So eventually, everything you did, everything you said, everything you breathed was for him.

It’s like you stopped existing all together, or more like you solely existed for him. Completely making you his.

Oh, how you loved Naoya.

And loved fucking him too.

So now that you get the thrill behind doing it in questionable places, you have a checklist of where you want to be with him. A mission just happened to be on the top of the list.

“On the second floor” you say. “We can do it there.’

“You really did plan everything, didn’t you?” he snickers, you squeeze his hand.

“I just missed you so much, Naoya…” you murmur.

“And you couldn’t wait for the weekend?”

You shake your head.

“I want you now.” You frown.

“Alright, alright—I’m all yours.”

The two eventually arrive to an abandoned classroom, one you previously disclosed as adequately prepared for your… lascivious activities, due to the desk it had. Once inside, you waste no time to push Naoya against the wall and begin to kiss him passionately yet again, with your fingers nimbly unbuttoning his shirt, throwing it to the floor before moving onto his pants, untying his belt and easing him out of the garment, leaving him with nothing but his underwear and his hardening cock.

The sight of his bulge makes you smile, finding it adorable that even the smallest of gestures could get him like this; it was flattering, really, the effect you had on your boyfriend… and it just made your desire for him grow even more.

“Y/N—” he moans against your lips, hands trailing all over your body, starting by your breasts, kneading them harshly before going down to your waistband, tugging and pulling at it as if to urge you to act. “Y/N—take off your clothes, now.”

His wish is granted soon after, with you quickly removing your skirt and tossing onto the nearby pile of clothes, giving him a sight that makes his breath hitch up to his throat.

If his cock wasn’t completely hard by your previous actions, it is now.

“You’re not wearing underwear” He breathes. “All this time, at the car—you were wearing nothing.”

“I wanted to be ready” you say. “I didn’t want to waste my time with silly things.”

“Fuck—Y/N” he laughs. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You don’t respond, instead, you get down on your knees, pulling down his boxers and taking out his cock, which now sprung completely up to life.

“Maybe” you lick your lips—his size remains impressive even after all this time. “Most definitely after this”

You wrap your hands around his throbbing member, relishing it’s warmth underneath your skin as you stroke it, eventually leaning forward, giving it a kiss before taking out your tongue and circling the tip with him.

Naoya hisses at the warm, wet sensation of your tongue teasing over and over again the head of his cock, before it moved down to the shaft, passing through the prominent vein on the underside and eventually settling at the base, where you’d fondle at his balls also giving them a kiss, before finally taking him into your mouth. 

Keeping eye contact with him was of your upmost priority when doing this, because the sight of his tightly shut eyes, clenched jaw, and the harsh grapples to your hair, always made you coo. For as much as he liked to behave arrogantly, as if he were above indulging in these pleasures, it really didn’t take much for him to succumb to your touches.

You take him deeper and deeper into your mouth, only stopping when his cock was finally nestled deep into your throat, nose touching his pelvis, and staying there as to get used to the intruding sensation.

Once you do, you do not hesitate to pull back, all the way up to the tip as you slid your tongue against his shaft, before pushing your head back down and taking him completely once more, bobbing your head up and down, loudly slurping as your tongue licked whatever on it’s way, covering his cock with a thick layer of your saliva so as to prepare him for what’s to come.

As you continued to do so, Naoya slowly began to feel more and more warm, mind going fuzzy at the sight of you earnestly devouring him, with the sounds of your slurps, or the fact that you were completely naked before him, sucking him off in a place he would’ve never once considered, highlighting your true debauched nature underneath that innocent play you always put up.

His orgasm was already on its way the moment your mouth graced his cock, been thinking of nothing but seeking his own release, grappling the back of your head and moving you to his pace of preference—but the moment you look up to him, with those damned doe eyes that always drove him crazy, is when he finally knows he’s about to cum.

So, he tightly grapples your head even further, keeping a steady speed he knows will make him cum soon enough, more so when you’re moaning and groaning, sending vibrations to his cock that just make his knees buckle, fingers dwindling their hold on you as his breath becomes ragged, more erratic, lightheartedly debating whether to finish inside the warmness of your mouth, or raunchily mark your face with his seed—one thing is for sure, no matter what he chooses, he’d loose whatever inhibitions he had left.

However, that was not something for him to decide, perhaps never was, for the moment you hear a familiar whimper from his mouth, the one that let you know he was near, you pushed your head further into him, taking his cock completely and placing your hands on his legs to keep him from moving, which he immediately tried to do when startled by your intentions.

“Y/N—Y/N” He breathes, trying his best to not completely succumb to his pleasures, but of course, that was nothing but silly dreaming of his. And in a deeper part of himself, he didn’t want to miss out on this. “I’m going to—”

It didn’t take long for him to come undone. Not when you continued to bob your head up and down his shaft, groaning and moaning at every movement, licking just where you knew he liked, making his cock twitch and then—thick spurts of his seed fill your mouth, it’s warmth briefly burning your tongue before swallowing whole, hollowing your cheeks so as to not allow any of it spill and quickly liking your lips to clean up any remnants once you free his cock from your grip.

You’d look up to him, with a flustered, expectant look that gave off the idea you were looking for approval, his commendation for a job well done, for taking him like a good girl…

Or not—

Because Naoya wouldn’t be able to say a word before you’re him back into your mouth, and wasting no time to do the same as before, bobbing your head up and down, all with the intentions of making him cum once more.

Naoya wasn’t even done coming down from the mind-numbing sensation his first orgasm gave him, before he’s already on his way for the second—and it’s here that he realizes he might’ve underestimated your lust, making him worry, for the first time in his life, what the hell is going to happen to the mission.

“Y/N—you—what’s—what’s gotten into you?!” He breathes, doing his best to distract himself from the heat and nasty slurps coming your mouth, the lewd noise of your fingers now swiftly playing with your dampened cunt, and the possibility that called your intense actions to be result of being possessed by a demon of lust—or—or something!

“The—the mission!”                         ��                                                                        

Naoya would whimper, not that he really cared for something he didn’t even want from the very start, but that was all he could muster in defense of the overwhelming pleasures you were giving him, causing you to slowly free his cock from your warm mouth, tip connected to your lips by a string of saliva.

“We were given 3 hours to complete this mission, weren’t we?” you breathe, licking your lips. Naoya nods. “Then we’re going to be just fine…”

If this is how it’s going to be for the next hours, Naoya isn’t so sure he’ll live to tell the tale…

But if he was being completely honest, however, the thought of being completely subdued in pleasure with the woman he loves most, alongside the unconventional place this was all partaking in, is one that has him thrilled with anticipation, a debauchery he didn’t think himself capable of ever experiencing in his life, yet here he is, proved wrong.

So, after you reassure him for the second time that day that the mission was taken care of, he completely gave himself to you.

You’d end up making him come two more times before finally freeing him of his torment, giving him one last clean, pick-up whatever traces of cum were left behind with your tongue, before giving the tip a kiss, standing up soon after and removing what was left of your clothes, the two now completely naked.

From there, Naoya seizes your lips into a heated kiss where he was able to taste both himself and you before placing his hands over your waits and guide you to the nearby desk, where he intends to take you for the first time that day.

“Turn around” he breathes in between kisses, expecting you to obey, but instead of doing so, you whine.

“No— I don’t wanna.” you pout, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, kissing him again.

“Really, princess?” he smirks, loving the vivid contrast in your behavior: acting all shy as if you weren’t a complete, desperate whore seconds ago. “What do you want, then?”

“I want to ride you” you confess, and to your words, all he can do is chuckle out of amusement.

“What’s gotten into you?” he says—you’re rarely this assertive, always the one to let him take control instead (although he’s the one that pushes himself into that position, you just let him)

But now, you’re all over him, and not only that, but you seem to have a clear vision of what you want, he was only there for the ride.

And this… was so much better than he ever thought it would be.

“I missed you, baby…” you murmur, pulling him closer to you. “I missed you so, so much.”

His heart squeezes with longing at your adorableness, and the desire to please you in anything you wanted, anything you said, completely overrules any previous sentiment.

Yet, there’s another side of him that stops him from it—tells him to not comply easily.

That he could make you work for it a bit before finally indulging you, especially after the way you treated him a few moments ago. And could you blame him? It’s all in his teasing nature, to see you beg for him in the same adorable way you’ve done before.

Something he knows you also love no matter how much you complain about it.

“If you’re always going to be this needy, then maybe we should keep apart for longer—”

But his teasing stops being fun when you, instead of begging him as he was expecting to see, give him a stern frown, followed by pressing your hands against his chest and beginning to push him away, showing how annoyed you were by his “playful” suggestion, which had nothing of playful—to you, it was straight up hurtful, because you truly did miss him…

And Naoya is quick to react, giving you a soft chuckle before pulling you closer to him—you keep retaliating.

“Ah, don’t be like that princess.” Naoya coos. “You know I was just teasing.”

But you don’t respond, instead, you look away, trying to peel away from the kisses he began to place on your cheek, down to your jaw, and to your neck…

“That not—that’s not nice” you whine. “I don’t like being away from you for too long….”

“I know, I know… I can see that” he murmurs. “and feel it too.”

Naoya doesn’t give you any further warning before plunging his fingers deep into your cunt, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch your walls as much as possible, only to find himself with failure, a feeling that proved to be much sweeter than what one could imagine, for he wholeheartedly relished on the fact that the tightness of your walls barely allowed him to move his fingers, less stretch you as he initially anticipated.

If anything, all he could do was tease and rub the spots he just knows would make you come undone, which he started to prepare given the way you began to squirm and whine against him, tightly holding onto his arm as you try to move him away, make him stop, but the forming waves of your orgasm just made your mind warm, fuzzy, the closer and closer you got to your release.

“N—No—Naoya!” you gasp, closing your eyes. “I don’t—I don’t want it like this!”

“Oh, I thought you did, my love.” He teases back, fingers unrelenting. Naoya just loves seeing you getting a taste of your own medicine. “After all, you’re squeezing my fingers so tightly, you’re going to cuck them off!”

And the thought that his cock will be in the same predicament in just a few moments… it’s enough to harden him even more.

How do you even do it?

“No… please” you whine again, unwillingly clenching on his fingers. Naoya hisses.

“Then what do you want—tell me what do you want” He breathes against your ear, moving one of his fingers to your bud and teasing it, mercilessly, and this is when Naoya finally feels you’re seconds away from cumming.

“I want to ride you” you cry desperately, almost as if depriving you for one more second of your release would be your death. “I want to ride you, Naoya—please, please, please.”

And who is he to deny his princess, after she begged so nicely?

“Alright, baby” he says, freeing his fingers from your warm tightness and licking the remnants of your slick; the sudden void inside your cunt made you whine in protest, but you were swiftly quieted with a heated kiss, where he’d moan against your lips, before smiling, pulling away, and signaling the beginning of the long day ahead of him.

“I’m all yours.”

Already drunken with his presence, you waste no time guiding him onto the nearby pile of clothes, which you used to form some kind of mat for him to lay on, gently pushing him so he’d lay his back completely onto the floor before proceeding to straddle him.

Naoya’s hands rest on your hips as you begin to accommodate yourself by lightly raising your hips and grabbing his cock with your left hand, rubbing the shaft against your dampened cunt for lubrication, before aligning the tip towards your tight rim.

You were just less than a few seconds away from pushing the head of his cock into you, seconds that seemed eternal to both you and Naoya, but even when completely captivated by your hypnotizing pleasures, your boyfriend was still able to remember one last caution, snapping out of the alluring sight of his cock millimeters away of entering your cunt and using his hands to stop you in place, an action that made the impatient you frown and look to him in turn.

“Baby—the condom” Naoya explains. And while he’s loved the idea of fucking you raw for as long as he could remember, he wasn’t ready for the risks that came after.

But just as you hinted, you had meticulously prepared everything for this evening, down to the smallest details—and there was nothing that would ruin it. Not even the scare of a baby.

“I’m on the pill” you murmur, moving your hips against him. Naoya groans. “Today, I only want your cum to be inside me—whether on my mouth, pussy… Or ass”

Truly, he must’ve died and gone to heaven.

“You’re amazing.” He whispers, before hissing when you finally decide to sit down on him, plunging the head of his cock past your tight rim and into your warm walls, groaning as his member is now completely engulfed in dizzying tightness of your cunt, slowly stretched as he moves deeper and deeper, until he’s bottomed completely, nestling just by your cervix.

Once he felt he’s gotten as profound as he could, Naoya sighs, tossing his head back and enjoying how you slowly begin to jump up and down his cock, as if testing the speed, before finding a pace of your liking and committing to it—his hands, while resting on your hips, do nothing to control you, instead he just lets you guide him through your pleasure, letting you use him as your own personal sex toy, while taking care of his pent up stress caused by this stupid mission and other endeavors.

His mind turns into a blur at the sight of your tits bouncing before him, which he didn’t take long to take a hold of, fondling and pinching to his liking which in turn caused you to moan louder, barely overcoming the lewd noises of your skin slapping against him, which he knew would’ve made him cum instantly had he gotten the fortune of seeing your ass bouncing before him instead.

But what he gets is good too, specifically your contorted face, eyes tightly shut, mouth agape and letting out your lovely voice, which sweetly whined and moaned his name whenever his cock hit that sensitive spot, and as loud as your heart desired for there was no one around to hear.

“I’m going to run out of a name, my love” Naoya would still find it in him to tease you, even when you relentlessly continued to bounce over him. And on the same note, he would still overestimate the neediness in your actions, given the way you’d respond, hazily looking down to him.

“I love you.” You murmur, leaning into his face for a kiss, which he obliges all too happily. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You’d chant between kisses, squeaking every so often when he plunges his hips upwards, directly ravaging your sensitive spot.

“You’re so adorable, Y/N” He breathes, continuing to rut against you. “So pretty, so cute—How did manage to get so lucky?”

His words seem to have a positive effect on you, as seen with the tightening of your walls and the loudness of your moan while hastily moving against him, up and down his cock to achieve that ecstatic rush, that sensation that makes your head go blank and your vision white.

“Nao—Naoya—” you stammer, gasping as you lean back up while continuing to jump on him. “Naoya—I’m—I’m almost—"

“I know, baby—I know” he hisses, having felt your orgasm building up long ago by the way your hips sloppily moved against him, the hindering of your fingers intertwined with his, and of course, the drunken look on your face, slightly crossed eyed, cheeks flustered, evidently made from nothing but pleasure.

The perfect excuse to tease you—he just had to.

Thus, he presses his hands deeper into your hips, with such force that manages to stop you from moving, keeping you still no matter how much you tried, much to your dismay.

“Naoya” You try to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his sly smirk tells you all. “Stop it—please.”

“What? I’m not doing anything” he says. “You keep doing you, baby—”

“Stooop iiiiit!!” you whine once more, trying to remove his hands, but his fingers only dent deeper into your skin. “Naoya! I want to cum!”

“I’m not stopping you” he chuckles. “Come on—show me how much you want to cum.”

Pressing your lips together, you frown.

If he’s going to play like that, then you guess you could give him a taste of his own medicine, see how he likes being teased too.

“I don’t want it anymore” you say. “I’m leaving—you can get off by yourself!”

“Don’t be silly, Y/N—"

“I don’t care” you interject. “And while you stay here, I’m going out there to find someone that will fuck me good—maybe even better…”

Oh.

Oh.

Is that how you’re going to play? Oh, you’ve done it now.

“Excuse me?” Naoya frowns. “What did you just say?”

“I’m going to find someone that will give me what I want.” You continue, a bit satisfied by the anger showing in his face—he didn’t like it so much now, did he? “Whenever I want it, and when I want it.”

“Oh, is that so?” he murmurs darkly. “That’s what you’re going to do? Find another man to fuck you?”

“Yes, I am—so if you excuse, I have to fi—”

You don’t even know how or when Naoya gained control over you, only that you were now on his position, with your back laying against the ground, legs raised over his shoulders and pressed against your torso while his arms encased you, all whilst looking down at you with such fury in his eyes that lets you know you’ve personally offended him.

“Do you think anyone else can do what I do?!” He hisses. “Think anyone can fuck you as I do? Make you cum as I do?!”

He’s asking as if he’s searching for a response, but you both knew he wasn’t, not when he began to plunge deep into your cunt once again, fast, deep, like a mad man completely lost in both his lust and anger, berating you once again.

“You’re wrong” He groans, huffing as his skin slaps against yours, keeping you closer, tighter, and beneath him. “You’re wrong Y/N—you’re mine.”

You moan, tightening at his words.

“You’re wrong—all of you is mine, you’re mine, mine, mine, mine!” Naoya groans, completely in trance for the warmth of your pussy and the anger in his mind, the jealousy, for the barest notion of you being out there with someone else was enough to do so—he wouldn’t allow it. Couldn’t allow it, you’re his and only his.

And he—he would die if it weren’t that way.

“Naoya—” you cry, his harsh ministrations managing to bring tears out from your eyes, but far from being those of pain, it was nothing but pure pleasure, as if you haven’t been losing yourself to that sensation moments ago,

There was just something of his possessiveness that always drove you to the edge, his dominance which you could never fight, allowing him to stretch your cunt in ways you didn’t think possible, ravaging your cervix as quickly, yet painfully good, in an unrelenting way you just had to take it.

And you loved it.

Naoya thought he’d gotten control of you, but really, you played him like a fiddle; knew what buttons to push, what words to say to rile him up.

In your defense, though, you didn’t like how arrogant he was being, more so after disclosing how much you missed him, past the way he was actively avoiding you even if it were to keep up appearances.

Besides, you doubt he’s going to care that much after this, considering the way he’s plummeting against you.

“Yeah—say my name” he groans against your ear, pushing your legs deeper towards your chest, keeping you there to treat you like a toy, his own cumdump, and nothing more. “Say the name of the one that’s making you cum, whore!”

“Na—Naoya~” you whine with each thrust, a surge of hotness washing over your body at the lewd name. Any other moment you would’ve refuted him, but here, like this—yeah, you were his whore.

The only one.

“Naoya, Naoya! I’m—It’s so—It’s so good! I’m going to cu—”

“Take it” he hisses, leaning impossibly closer to you—and you feel as if you’re about to pass out. “Take what I give you—take my cum—take me, take me!!”

The desperation on his voice, alongside the subtle twitch of his cock and the sloppiness of his hips tell you his very, very close to his orgasm.

The louder his groans, the hotter his breath felt against your ear, the more you shivered underneath him, and when he hits that one angle, you tightly close your eyes shut, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, whimpering his name one last time and then— your mind goes blank.

Naoya cums, spilling his warm, sticky seed as far and deep as he could into your cunt, coating every inch of your walls as he fills you to the brim—a sensation that only heightens your orgasm, eyes dizzy and mouth agape as your walls tighten once more, letting the waves of your release numb your body, all while he keeps you in place, forcing you to take all of him, just as he promised.

It might’ve been his 4th load of the day, but Naoya still felt like there was so much he could give, especially after seeing you like this, prettily sprayed out underneath him, taking his seed like a good girl while you proclaim your love for him, chanting it as some kind of mantra that would kill you if you didn’t continue to do so, even for the briefest of seconds…

Could he really be blamed if he desired to continue, after seeing all this? Besides, this was barely the minimum to make up for the weeks you’ve spent apart from him, he needed much more than that.

After coming down from the haze of his orgasm, Naoya gives you one last look before smiling.

Naoya wasn’t lying when he asked how he’d gotten so lucky to find a partner as perfect as you; he just… couldn’t believe that he had managed to find his better half in this life, or at all, when he once considered himself to be a skeptic in these matters.

But he did. Naoya found the one that would accept him as he was, with his defects, his faults, his virtues, and achievements. Someone that would look at him lovingly, even after ravaging them, and still seek for their affection, just as you were doing right now by weakly reaching for his lips and softly kissing him—undoubtedly reeling in the aftereffects of your first orgasm of the day.

…

…

…

Yes.

There’s no denying it, he had to admit it now.

The fact that even though you were the first one to declare how much you missed him, and planned all this as consequence of such, he was the one that missed you the most, and was ecstatic to hear that the main thing that kept the two apart would finally bring them together.

Oh, how he hated it when his duties as sorcerer came in between the two. How he also had to act like he didn’t care for you, show disdain at the mere mention of your name, see how others wished to pursue something more intimate with you, and not be able to tell them you were already his.

There’s not a single day he doesn’t think about you.

In fact, you’re all he ever thinks about—you.

You.

You.

“I love you” overflowing with affection for you, he eventually murmurs, leaning down to kiss you. “I love you, Y/N.”

You give him a soft smile, heart flourishing upon hearing the words you’ve always wanted to hear from him—the things that he’d only disclose when in the confines of your arms, away from the prying eyes of the world, and just between the two.

“I love you too, Naoya.” you whisper back, softly kissing him.  And something about your soft gesture, the tenderness behind your voice or the way your cunt twitched ever so lightly, immediately springs his cock back to life, wasting no time to slowly rutting his hips against you once again, making you whine in turn for you were still sensitive past your orgasm…

But that didn’t matter, not when you’ve already lost all inhibitions, allowing yourself to dive into the pleasure the man you love was giving you, and forgetting the world around you.

Naoya would take you once more in that position before moving you to your knees, amongst his favorite ways to take you, where he’d be able to knead and slap your ass to his liking, marking it bright red to the point where he’d knew you’d have issues doing the simplest of tasks such as sitting down—but it’s ok, he reassures you, he’s going to make it up to you just the way you begged him to; starting by filling you with his cum over and over again.

He'd didn’t want to move from this position, certainly not after seeing how eagerly you were throwing your hips back to him, putting up a pace even he considered to be unusual for you, but he doesn’t fight it, if anything, he allows you to take lead  it’s the least you deserve after treating his cock so nicely, squeezing it just how he likes it, or frantically keeping it warm as given the way you’d reach for his cock whenever it would accidentally slip out of your cunt, quick to put it back in and continue.

“Aren’t you the desperate one?” He laughs, his right hand loudly smacking your ass as he continued to plunge his hips against you, the sharp pain makes you moan, but not falter in your pace. If anything, you just go faster. “What? You’re too fucked dumb to answer me now?”

“Naoya—Naoya please” you whine, eyes closed, tears falling down your cheeks, thinking in nothing but the way his cock stretches and fills you deliciously, rubbing all the right places not even your fingers would dream of achieving. “I want to cuuummmm!”

Wanting to take you up on your offer, Naoya then moves to your ass. He begins by down before him, ass up, allowing him to place his fingers right into your tight hole, stretching and teasing to ease the pain he knows you’re going to feel in the beginning.

And while you were delighted that he was doing so, in more ways than one, it wouldn’t take long before his good-natured intentions began to frustrate you, specifically because he seemed to be leaning more into the teasing side of things, doing so for what you considered an eternity.

“Hurry up, Naoya!” you’d whine, moving your hips to denote desperation, but he just chuckles.

“I don’t want to hurt my princess’ ass.” He says, curling his fingers inside you and making you gasp. “Who’s going to keep my cock warm if Ido?”

“You can—you can always use my pussy….” You breathe, and he has to stop himself from—wait. Does he even have to?

“You’re a whore, did you know that?” Naoya smirks, spreading one of your cheeks as he finally presses the tip against your rim.

“Yes—but only your whore.”

Even as malicious as Naoya can be, more so after the way you teased him and the hypnotic state the pleasures of your body put him under, he was still able to contain himself while moving into your ass, showing his gentleness—always reserved for you, of course— by leaning forward and kissing your cheek whenever you groaned out of what he considered discomfort, patiently moving his cock alongside your walls, letting you get used to the sensation, while asking you if you were ok.

“Does it hurt?” He’d whisper, kissing you softly.

“N—no…” you murmur back, instinctively squeezing his cock. “I’m ok.”

And the cute way you respond makes him smile, giving you one last kiss before pushing deeper and faster into your ass once you tell him you’re ready to continue.

He keeps a steady pace, one that makes both see stars, specifically Naoya who has yet to make sense as to how could you possibly squeeze him so tight, but keeping him rooted in reality, enough to hold you close to him, reassuring you it was fine whenever you whined, or praising you for being a good girl and taking him whole, like you always did.

Naoya ends up losing count of how many times he’s cum by that point, and you didn’t care to keep count either, for all that both could care about was staying as close as possible, until neither knew where one began and the other ended.

Both just wanted to think of each other, of their body, their warmth, the safety they felt when together, as well as the passion of their desires—their adoration.

The thought that the two were perfect for one another, in more ways than one, was constant, but today, it was nothing but clear.

It’s all that resonated inside Naoya’s mind as he thrusted deep inside you. Not even the need for a break was enough to sway him away from it, even after going at it for hours, forgetting to do the hourly check-in’s they were supposed to do—and that was nothing but the fault of the lewd sight before him, of his cum having filled you to the brim to the point that whenever he moved his cock drops would flood past your rim.

The rest of the world could burn, for all they cared, but as long as they had each other, that’s all they needed. That’s all they wanted—

He doesn’t think he can do it anymore.

Deny his feelings any longer, not when he’s given this, relentlessly, lovingly; a warmth that made him feel at ease whenever near, wanting nothing but to be in your arms, see your face, hear your voice.

Feeling himself become delirious if you’re not there, to the point of throwing everything overboard if he doesn’t get to see you soon.

These weeks were pure agony, and Naoya doesn’t want to handle that kind of pain anymore. Not when he can feel like this, every day, for the rest of his life.

Even as weeks passed, his sentiments to you remained the same. Unbudging, if only growing stronger…

You were his heart, his home…

And perhaps… it was time to let you know.

So, while holding you tight, in place, and against him, Naoya would cum one more time, softly groaning against your ear before moving to your lips, where he’d catch them into a tender kiss, eventually revealing the desire that has been on his mind for a while, but only now was his heart ready to disclose.

“Marry me.” He’d murmur, his tone gentle, sweet, hinting nothing but the truth behind his words—

Yet, caught by surprise, all you could do is freeze against him, tensing underneath his hold as you wondered if you heard wrong—or perhaps… correctly?

“Wh—what?” you whisper, as if afraid to have heard wrong… or perhaps, correctly?

“Marry me, Y/N. Move in with me” he breathes, giving you another kiss. “And marry me.”

“Naoya…” you murmur, but too enthralled in his excitement, he continues to ramble on.

“Come with me to the estate, or we can buy an apartment—it doesn’t matter. But don’t leave me alone anymore. I can’t—I can’t live without you any longer. So please, marry me.” Naoya begs while his face on the crook of your neck, as if embarrassed, but eagerly waiting for your answer.

But instead, he’s received with silence, alongside the acknowledgment of the tension of your body against him, and the undeniably lack of excitement he thought you’d have for his words, for he believed you’d feel the same, and such, he slowly began to realize that maybe he should’ve kept it to himself.

There was a reason why he was afraid of being disappointed, after all, and why you hadn’t said anything of the like before.

If you wanted to marry him, perhaps you would’ve let him know by now. But you hadn’t, and now, he asks himself why he ignored his instincts for something so fleeting, ruining what little time both had for one another.

“Forget it, Y/N.” He begins, pulling away from you. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was uncalled for, something at the heat of the moment, I didn’t mea—"

“Do you… mean it?” you begin, low as a whisper, but loud enough for him to stop. He could hear the fear in your voice, his heart squeezing with sadness, making him feel even more guilty. “Do you really… want to marry me?”

“I never knew I wanted something so much… until I met you.” Naoya immediately says, in his usual fashion to see you happy, more so when seeing the corners of your eyes begin to tear up—whether remnants of previous activities, of because of this surprise… he doesn’t care, he’s quick to cup your face and softly kiss them away. “I love you, Y/N. And I want to spend the rest of my days with you.”

“Are you… sure?” You ask, a hesitance that reflects fear of being hurt, or that this was nothing but a dream; too good to be true.

But if there’s one thing you’ve come to know about Naoya, is that even in his playful nature, he’d never, ever lie to you. Less with the intention of hurting you. Not when he’s already told you over and over again, that you’re the love of his life.

“I mean it. I mean all of it.” He’d reassure you, thumbs swiping your tears. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and the next one, and the one after that, if you allow me.”

You tried to find any hint of deceit, anything that might indicate he was lying; but as mentioned before, Naoya is a man that holds no fear when it comes to being assertive, and as all that surrounds you, he’s nothing but honest.

“So please” He murmurs as he slowly begins to rut against you once again, pressing his lips against your neck and making your breath hitch. “Marry me.”

You moan, beginning to feel pressure building up in your cunt for the nth time as he continues to chant the words you’ve longed to hear since the moment you knew he was your soulmate.

“I love you, Y/N’ he breathes, clenching his teeth as the buildup of his orgasm comes far earlier than he anticipated, perhaps it was the sensibility of this tender moment, or because you just had something that drove him crazy; but he doesn’t give it much attention, nor does he care how many times he’s cum or how much he’s got left. All that matters is being with you, close, like this—and the notion that this might be a permanent thing now, if you so desired it. “Marry me, my love.”

That he’ll come back from a long day of work to the home the two will build, and you’ll be there, waiting for him, as loving and adorable as you always are, ready to ease his sorrows away.

“I love you.”

Naoya ends up coming inside you at the thought, all whilst holding you tightly against him, taking in your scent, while you remain still arms wrapped around him and taking one more load, which you thought to be impossible since your tummy felt full beyond capacity, proven right when his seed begins to drip out your cunt and beneath you, a clear fault against your condition; but a minor complaint when it comes to what just happened.

You just wanted to focus on the man who just disclosed his desires to be with you… and telling him that you want the same thing.

“I do.” You whisper back, this time, you cup his face. “I want to marry you—I love you.”

And so, you seal your compromise to him by wrapping your arms around him and kissing him; your cunt equally holding onto him as his cock twitches a few more time, letting out the last spurs of his seed.

A sensation that warms your heart when you imagine that one day, you’d be doing the same thing in hopes of having a child.

But for now, you’d both continue to enjoy each other’s bodies, now with another level of adoration and anticipation for the future, until of course, Naoya decided it was time to be the responsible one, much to his dismay for he would’ve liked to not be, when said future begins to concern him—specifically, how long has it been since the two started.

“What—what time is it?” Naoya breathes, taking a deep breath as he lays beside you, resting as he slowly comes down from his nth bliss that day; he’d been in a constant state of fuzziness, it’s a mystery how he even thought of anything but you.

“I don’t know…” you murmur back, following him by placing your head over his shoulder, draping one of your arms around him and sighing contently. “But it’s still not enough for me…”

“Princess, as much as I’d like to stay inside you all day, we need to get back.” He says, you pout.

“Do we really?”

“I never thought I’d say this myself, but we have… duties to tend to.” You sigh again.

“Fine, I guess you’re right, but… we can’t leave like this.” You say, and the devilish smirk on your face passes undetected to him. “We need to get cleaned up.”

“What do you propose?”

It was quite easy, and nothing Naoya could disagree to at first, until he eventually realized this was just an extension of your lust, not willing to let him go just yet—but even then, he complied.

You’d have him lay down on the floor again this time, giving him a quick peck before you carefully hovered over him, adjusting yourself in a way that set his cock right before you while you pussy faced his. Once ready, you began to lower yourself over him in a position that easily allowed his tongue to tease your walls, while you, his cock.

Naoya slightly shudders when you take his cock in your mouth once again, beginning to do what you claimed to be cleaning, although he knew better than that, specifically by the way you’d lick the edge between the tip and his shaft, the areas you knew as sensitive, and how he ends up coming not so long after that.

“I thought you were supposed to be cleaning me.” He breathes; Naoya might be “annoyed” by your deceiving act, but it’s nothing but a hypocritical act for he ends up making you cum as well. “You’re just getting me dirtier.”

“Re—Really?” you whine, instinctively clenching your walls against his tongue by your orgasm. “Try not to get hard then…”

“That’s impossible” he says, clenching his teeth when your tongue licks that same vein that was always have him grow sensitive. “Not when I have my slutty wife’s cunt in front of me.”

At his words, you moan, unknowingly pressing your pussy into his face, making him grab your hips instead and keep you there, moving his tongue deeper into you and inciting another orgasm out of you.

Neither you nor Naoya know how they’re going to make it to the rest of the day, feelings virtually sucked dry by their strenuous actions, yet unwillingly to let go of the other; seems like the two were far more pent up than initially disclosed.

But even then, neither considered too bad—specially Naoya, who was thrilled by the notion that you would have to dress up in your uniform once again, head back to headquarters with your pussy filled with his cum, and with nothing, not even some panties to hold his seed from sliding down your thighs.

It certainly doesn’t make him want to “clean” your cunt as initially planned, not when it twitched so beautifully before him, as if teasing him, his seed overflowing past your rim, evidence of the countless times he marked you as his.

Well, he guesses he could reward her for her arduous work instead, succumbing to do so by beginning to softly kiss it, relishing on the combined flavor of his seed and your slick, a taste that immediately has him moaning, cock hardening as well. 

You moan too upon feeling his cock harden inside your mouth, instinctively pushing your hips deeper into him, completely smothering him.

“Naoya—” you breathe, pulling away from his cock once his tongue graces a sensitive side of your walls that has you clenching on him. “Naoya—”

He only groans in response, particularly louder than before, coarser too, which only makes you feel prouder, hotter, as if he were enjoying himself even more than before. Did this really have to stop?

“Ah, yes, Naoya—” you whine, curling your toes. “Right there—Naoya, right—There!”

And your beloved future husband obliges, prodding and pushing his tongue just where you wanted, how you wanted it, pushing you closer to your release while greatly relishing your taste, as you imagined so due to the incessant, loud groans he was giving you. It was such your enjoyment for both your and his pleasure, that the need to turn around and see him began to overrule your senses.

You definitely want to lose the adorable face he must be having right now, didn’t want to miss this type of intimacy after being so far apart from one another; so without much time to waste, you give up on his cock, giving his shaft one last lick and the tip a quick kiss before licking your lips clean and leaning back, carefully to not hurt him as he kept eating you out, until you felt safe enough to turn around and see him.

The anticipation was killing you, you wanted to see him! But… just as you raised your dizzy eyes, thanks to the orgasm he was able to put you through that every moment, something before you catches your attention, temporarily hindering your movements as you attempted to focus your vision…

Running cold when you finally manage to see what it was, completely petrified when realizing the following revelations: one, that the groans you once believed came from Naoya and his undisputable enjoyment didn’t come from him, but rather, someone else.

And two, that the place was not as curse-free as you previously proudly assessed.

In other words, the one groaning had been a curse all along (Whether it had been aware of your activities from the very start, or just noticed it, you don’t know.) But most importantly, you’ve let your guard down and now placed both in danger, delicately so, since the two were in a very, very vulnerable position!

All sense of lust you had for Naoya quickly disappeared into thin air, now replaced with the urgency of leaving the goddamn classroom and getting him into safety.

“Naoya” you fret, trying to move, but he keeps you in place by the tight hold of his hands on your body. Great! “Naoya!”

“Yeah—yeah I know” he groans, completely consumed by your cunt—any other moment, you would’ve loved this, but now—this wasn’t the right time! “Keep squeezing my tongue, baby. You’re so cute when you—”

“No, Naoya!” you squeal. “It’s not that!”

Naoya has heard you scream a plethora of ways, most of them of his authorship—but even when this tone was scarce, he was still able to recognize it as one he did not want to hear from you ever in his life, certainly not like this, on the moment you should’ve been feeling nothing but worshiped.

So, alarms quickly begin to ring in his head, finally lifting his attention from your ass to you, wondering what could’ve put you in such a rush, eyes widening when finding out soon after.

“Y/N!” he gasps. Naoya doesn’t bother to ask why, or how such thing appeared before you, instead he focuses on maneuvering you off him and keeping you away from the imminent danger, swiftly using his technique to do just that.

Once Naoya completely exorcizes the curse out of existence, he was finally able to focus on you, regaining his breath as he tried to calm down the commotion.

“Are you ok?” he asks, to which you hesitate to respond at first, but you eventually nod.

“Yeah—I’m… I’m ok.” You breathe, trying to fight off the guilty beginning to settle into your heart; the one caused by the mere miscalculation of your surveillance. “But—"

Or worse, how you now compromised this area and mission, simply because you were too excited to see Naoya again…

“But the—the mission—I—what have I done?” you gasp, clasping your hands over your mouth once guilty finally roots itself in your mind. “Oh, Naoya—what did I—"

“Don’t worry about it” Naoya quickly intervenes, hating to see you like this, quickly wrapping his arms around you to take away your concerns. As stated before, he didn’t care about how the cursed spirit came to be, he just worried about your safety. “Sometimes curses can pass undetected, even to the most talented of sorcerers.”

“But I’m—I’m supposed to be one of the best!” you fuss. “How—why—”

“What matters is that we’re both ok.” Naoya reassures once again, and with enough insistence, you begin to take deep breaths, finally calming down, at least… a bit more.

“Oh, Naoya… what are we going to do now?” you still manage to fret. He chuckles.

“Well… we ought to leave by now, shouldn’t we?” He says, and you press your lips together, frowning as you wondered how he could be so… at ease?

“But the mission… I filed—”

If there’s another thing you can count on (and shouldn’t forget so easily), is that Naoya always has a solution for everything. Perks of being a Zen’in, one supposes.

“I’ll worry about that” he says. Nothing money can do if that’s the case. “And instead… you can worry about our wedding.”

“Our wedding? But how could I—” you suddenly go quiet as color of your skin returns, but this time, a flustered bright red, as if finally remembering the shocking advancement that occurred today. “Our wedding…”

After a few seconds of thought and acknowledgement, you can finally enjoy the nice ring it has to it.

Our wedding. You repeat. In due time, you’ll be his wife and he’ll be your husband. Taking his name as you’d begin to live together… undoubtedly preparing for the future both will build the children you’re going to have…

If that’s the case, a simple mission does seem a bit redundant to this fact, but even then, you couldn’t help but worry—

“I have ways.” Is all that he says when noticing the slightest turmoil in your face. “I know they’re not the best, but for this occasion I think it can be… forgivable.”

“…are you sure?”

“Didn’t want you finding out like this, but I’ve done worse.” He says.

“Like in Sendai?”

“Yes, like in Sen—Huh?! Who told you that?!”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “I just said a random city, you’re the one that snitched on yourself.”

“Ah, hahahah, don’t act all smart on me, princess. You heard something, didn’t you?”

You shrug again, smiling.

“Y/N!”

“Let’s just hope that your skills in hiding things are better this time, my beloved husband.” You chuckle, and the nickname makes his heart skip a beat.

“You’re lucky you’re so adorable.” Naoya says, you chuckle, leaning in to give him a peck on the lips. “But yes, I’ll do my best to keep this hidden… we might only need to get creative to make up for the… six hours we’ve been away.”

Your concerns return. “Do you think we’ll be able to pull this off?”

Naoya still wants to show off.

“Of course, have you forgotten who your beloved husband is?” He smirks. “My love, the Zen’in name holds an amount of power no other family can compare to, not even the Gojo’s—so don’t worry about anything. In fact, I think that finding an excuse might not even be necessary; we’ll just say there was a curse of higher grade that managed to pass undetected, we dealt with it, and that’s it.”

“Sounds simple… do you think it’ll work?”

“Told you, didn’t I?” he says, leaning in for another kiss. “There’s nothing a Zen’in can’t do—and you’ll know so soon enough once you become one too.”

Y/N Zen’in.

… yeah, it has a nice ring to it. You wouldn’t mind being called that from now on.

“So don’t worry your pretty little head about anything—your husband will take care of it. Until then, worry about our wedding, or where you want to go after this…”

“A hotel.”

“You’ll be the death of me.”

If… headquarters didn’t get to him first.

“—what do you mean there was a curse?” Your assistant frets upon receiving your updated report, one that is intended to work as a patch to the one you previously filed. A rare occurrence in your career, for you were known to be meticulous, nothing ever escaped your gaze, not that common in Naoya, but he believed that since you were on the case, this would’ve been easily dealt with!

So… why was it different this time?

“I thought you said there weren’t any!”

“There wasn’t” you respond. “At least… when I checked first.”

“Things like this happen.” Naoya intervenes, doing his best to not lash out completely for he hated how you were being treated right now.

“I—I get it, it happens” he stammers, quick to sense the threatening aura coming from Naoya and composing themselves, sighing. “I guess what surprises me is that it took you six hours to realize that. But also, there’s a lot of things that don’t add up!

First, as soon as the two called the sighting of a higher-grade curse, we began an investigation… only to find out that there weren’t any remnants of cursed energy to match a curse of said level. In fact, there was nothing at all, as you initially said, Y/N!

From there, if you were truly fighting this curse as long as you did, you would’ve died. No one can go on that long without, well, facing repercussions! Yet here you are…

Just—please, be honest with me if you want me to help you. What where you two doing during all that time?!”

Your eyes and Naoya’s quickly dart to one another, bearing a look that told the other this turned out to be far bigger than they expected, certainly out of the norm for the heir who was bragging of their seemingly untouchable status.

But even then, neither worried, because they knew that once their relationship was made public, your assistant would be able to place the pieces together on their own. It’s going to be anything but obvious when it does.

“So?” He insists. “What were you two doing?”

Better keep it a surprise, then. Oh, how Naoya wants to see his face the moment he finds out you've been fucking him all this time, and to believe he really thought he had a chance with you...

“Nothing.” you eventually say, a smile on your face. “Just… catching up.”

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen #ask

[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains - Part 1

Series Masterlist

➪in which a freshly broken up with bradley agrees to throw a back-to-school party and it’s there where he comes up with a cruel way to win back his ex.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Bri, don’t be like this,” Bradley mumbled as he watched her pace around his room from his spot on the edge of his bed. When she passed by him he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Come on.”

She stopped walking and turned to glare at him. “No, Bradshaw,” she seethed and roughly pulled her hand out of his grasp. “I can’t do this anymore. You don’t take things seriously! You don’t take me seriously!”

Bri turned once again and picked up her discarded shirt she had taken off not even an hour ago. She had shown up at his frat house, a needy mess for him like she always is, and now that he was done fucking her she just had to bring up the fact that he doesn’t put enough effort into their relationship. 

It was bullshit, because Bradley felt like he put in more effort than most guys would, and it started out as a casual thing, anyway.

Sure, it developed over time and he was going onto almost eleven months with her, but he felt fine at the pace they were going at. He was only twenty two, he didn’t need something super serious right now. 

He thought what the two of them had right now was good and enough. But apparently he was wrong. “You haven’t taken me out on a date since the beginning of June,” she continued as she shrugged the shirt on and looked at his sticker-covered mirror to fix her hair. 

When he just lifted a brow and set his phone aside, she met his eyes in the mirror with a harsh glare. “And?” He asked in self-defense. 

She spun around and put her hands on her hips. “It’s the end of August, Bradshaw!” She nearly yelled and Bradley winced, hating how she never used his real name. No one did, but she did it even after he told her he preferred if she used his first name. “I want someone who takes me out every once in a while, and not just to frat parties. I mean, I stayed here all summer with you instead of going back home and spending time with my family. You only took me out once and it was to pick up dinner from that stupid fast food place that is literally a few streets down from the campus.”

Bradley huffed and caught his shirt when she picked it up and threw it at him. “Oh, come on,” he muttered as he put his graphic tee back on. “That’s not true. I took you to that…” He trailed off when he realized he couldn’t complete that sentence. 

He looked up and gave her a boyish smile, and she really did not like that one bit. “I need a man, Brad,” she muttered and picked up her bag. “Not some boy who won’t meet me halfway. I’ve put almost a year of my life into this relationship, and for what? So you can just have me on the side? You don’t know how to treat a girl, Bradshaw. You don’t know how to be a decent boyfriend.”

She grabbed her heels and held them in one hand as she opened his door. “Bri,” he said quietly, his eyes pleading with her and saying all the words his mouth couldn’t. “Babe.”

Briana just laughed and shook her head. “This was a waste of time. It was fun, yeah, and you do not disappoint in bed, but I need more than that,” she shrugged. “Honestly, I think that’s the main reason I put up with this for so long. You’re a good fuck, Bradshaw, but a terrible guy. So we’re done.”

He scoffed and felt a little more than beyond objectified, but he still, for some dumb reason, didn’t want to lose her like this. “Briana,” he called as he stood up and made it over to her in three strides. “We’re good together. I can be better, just give me a chance.”

She shook her head and kissed the hickey on his neck that she had given him an hour ago. “I’ve given you one too many chances,” her voice was so monotone, it was actually kind of eerie. She ran the tip of her finger down his chest and stopped just above his jeans, where she full on groped him. “This is all you’re good for, and even that isn’t enough.”

Even though Bradley was currently getting chewed out by her, he still didn’t want to break up. He didn’t want to have wasted nearly a year of his life by not fighting for her. If she wanted more, he’d do more, but she wasn’t giving him the chance. “Bri, I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed quietly, gently taking her hand in his. “Or this.” He gestured in between them with his free one, and she sighed. 

“Sorry, Brad,” she patted his chest. “We’ll still see each other. Maybe we can even continue the sex part of our relationship, but that’s it. I’ll seek you out if I need someone to get off with, but for now, we’re over. I’m sorry.”

And then she was pulling away from him completely and leaving his messy room with her head held high while he was left with a broken ego. 

He heard her bound down the stairs and the sound of the front door closing before he slammed his bedroom door shut and fell backwards onto his bed. 

All she needs him for is an easy lay? That’s all she thinks of him now? How did he possibly miss the signs? Actually, now that she put the idea in his head, he couldn’t remember her ever giving him a sign. He couldn’t even remember her ever complaining about any of the things he apparently did wrong. 

This had to be a test. She was testing him, right?

She’ll be back. After she spends a little time away from him, she’ll come crawling back. Unless she just wanted him to fight for her. Or maybe she wanted him to prove her wrong, prove that he is way more than just some good fuck. He can be a good guy, and he can be an even better boyfriend. 

Bradley shakes his head as he grabs his phone and clicks on the group chat he shares with his friends and housemates.

Bradley B: Bri broke things off with me. I’m gonna get her back, though.

Eli H: Fuck her. Let’s throw a party tonight.

Bradley scoffed as he read the reply, not at all surprised that his friends couldn’t care less about how he was feeling and cared way more about getting drunk.  

Bradley B: I’m kind of sick of parties.

Westley E: Yeah right. I’m down for a party. It can be a back to school thing. It’ll also be a good way to get a rebound. 

Of course that was all they were thinking about. Rebounds, girls and partying. 

They had so many parties at their frat house last year, and had the cops called on them more than once. Bradley wasn’t kidding, he really was getting sick of the partying. He’s here to start his career, not find someone to settle down with when he’s still trying to figure out his life. He’s not here for the parties or the girls or whatever else. 

But no one would take him seriously. They never did. 

He really couldn’t wait to get out of here. 

School starts again tomorrow, and he should really be spending his time getting himself ready and organized for his final year, but he was agreeing to another pointless party. 

Bradley B: Fuck it. I’m in.

-

“Ooh, a party!” Sam says excitedly as she enters your room. You look up from your place on your bed, your hand shoved in a box as you tried to find your notes from last year. “Y/n/n, there’s a party tonight!”

You scoff as you resume your rummaging, not even glancing at her twice once you locate your notes. “Already? School hasn’t even started yet,”

“Yeah, well, you know how college boys are,” she pointed out as she moved to sit across from you. “What do you say? Wanna come to a party with me tonight?”

You look up at her with a blank expression on your face. “Not really,”

Sam rolled her eyes and moved to lay back against your pillows. “Oh, come on,” she whined, typing something on her phone. “You’ve been so moody lately, it’ll be good for you to get out and have fun for once.”

You scoff again and stand up, taking the box with you. “I’ve been moody? Hm, wonder why,” you muttered as you set the box down in your closet. “Maybe we should ask your brother.”

Sam looked up with you, her phone dropping from her hand as she lifted them both up in surrender. “Hey, I had nothing to do with that,” she says and gives you a smile. “Speaking of, when are the two of you going to get back together? I still want you as my sister-in-law one day.”

Shaking your head, you close the closet door and move onto your suitcase. “Yeah, maybe tell your brother to stop acting like a dick and then we’ll see about me becoming your sister,”

“Luke’s always been like that,” she brushed off your words and sat up. “And you still fell in love with him somehow. Come on, you were together all through high school, don’t waste those years just because you two got into a fight.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “I’m not wasting them,” you mumbled. “And it wasn’t just a fight. We want different things right now, that’s it. This break from each other will be good for us.”

Sam lifted a brow and gave you a skeptical look. “So it’s just a break? You’re not broken up?”

“No, we are,” you give her a shrug and a smile. “For now.” 

“Then it’s rebound time! Find a hot frat boy at this party tonight and experience someone else for a change,” she suggested and you grimaced at her words. “But don’t do anything more than that. You’re still going to be marrying my brother in the future.”

Then she was pushing you out of the way and tearing through your closet for something you could wear at the party, and you knew you would be fighting a losing battle if you were to decline more than you already have. 

What’s one stupid party, anyway?

-

This is exactly why Bradley didn’t like parties anymore. He wasn’t drunk yet and there were far too many topless girls around for him to be able to think straight. 

 It wasn’t even twelve yet and the party was completely out of control already. The frat house was big, but it felt way too small with the amount of people that filled every room. 

Bradley was holding his third beer of the night when he finally found Eli and Wes. They were in the living room, a girl in between them on the couch as they passed a joint back and forth. “Hey, there he is!” Eli called out as soon as he saw him. “Come here, man.”

Eli pushed on the girl’s shoulder in an attempt to get her to move, and she did with a scoff. Bradley gave her an apologetic smile as she pushed past him before Wes reached forward and tugged on the sleeve of his flannel. “Get down here, dude,” he laughed, holding the joint up once Bradley was sitting beside them.

“Nah, I’m good,” he waved off his friend’s offer of the joint. “I don’t feel like getting high tonight.” Actually, he didn’t feel like getting high ever, and the few times he did was because he was pressured into it by the very two guys beside him.

“Wow,” Eli mumbled as he took the joint instead. “You don’t feel like getting high? Bri really did a number on you, huh?”

Bradley shrugged, bringing the cool bottle up to his lips. “I’m going to get her back,” he repeated what he said over text and turned to Eli when he just laughed. 

“Dude, just get over her,”’ he said. “You were with her for so long, what’s left to experience with her?”

Bradley really hated the way his friends talked about girls. It was as if they were just an object to use then discard once they got bored, and Bradley couldn’t ever remember a time when he thought about a girl as just a way to gain experience. 

Sure, he wasn’t much of a relationship guy, but he knew how to treat a girl for the most part. 

He was sure Bri would laugh if he were to ever say that out loud, though.

“I liked her, Eli,” Bradley muttered as he finished his beer. He was definitely drunk now, or very close to getting there since his eyes were blurring and his head was spinning a bit. “I want her back.”

Eli just scoffed as Wes moved closer. “Why don’t you make her jealous? Have her come crawling back to you?” 

Bradley turned his head. “How?”

“I don’t know, man, just…” The blond trailed off as he looked around the packed room. “Pick someone to be your rebound, any girl you think is hot enough, then stay with her until Briana notices you’re not paying attention to her anymore.”

“Right,” Bradley scoffs, then realizes his friend was not joking. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Wes answered and leaned back as the effects of the weed began to take over his body. “If she sees you with another girl she’ll go crazy. You know how jealous she is.”

Bradley just shook his head and stood up. “I’m not in seventh grade anymore. I’m not doing that,” he announced as he pushed his way through the swarm of people. 

“Don’t be such a bitch, Bradshaw!” Eli called out after him but Bradley just shook his head as he held onto the doorframe and scanned the kitchen area. 

He was more than a little pissed off now, and being called a bitch didn’t really help. He was half tempted to go up to his room and call it a night, while the other half of him was wanting to turn around and deck Eli square in the face. But the two of them had only recently made up for the last time they got into a physical fight with each other, and Bradley knew that another one would do as much good as the previous one did. 

His eyes land on Bri, who was hanging off a guy he’s seen around campus. During the last eleven months she had never given this guy the time of day, and now that she broke things off with Bradley she was all over him.

She had every right to be, but this was Bradley’s fucking house, and she’s his fucking ex, and she looks fucking happy. 

He really couldn’t believe the nerve of her. 

Without thinking much, and using his three beers as a source of confidence, he made it over to her in four strides. “Bri,” he rasped, glaring at the guy whose name is Jensen. At least he thinks his name is Jensen. “We need to talk.”

Briana laughed and nuzzled further into Jensen’s side. “Didn’t we do enough talking this morning? We’re done, Bradshaw,”

Bradley glared at her then at Jensen again, who only laughed. “Why are you doing this? Huh? Why are you even here?” 

“It’s a party, right?” Briana leaned up and wrapped her arm around her date’s shoulders. “Isn’t everyone invited to these things? Come on, Brad. We started off as friends, can’t we go back to that?”

Bradley felt his face heat up in both anger and embarrassment, and he knew he needed to walk away before his fist got the better of him. “Sure,” he answered and gave Jensen one last glare before turning around and pretty much storming back over to his friends. “I’m in. I’ll do it.” He said, making both Eli and Wes look up at him with smirks on their lips. 

-

“Whose house is this?” You ask as Sam pulls you with her and into a mass of sweaty people. If you thought the outside of the house was crowded with people, the inside of it was on a whole different level. Everywhere you looked was taken over by students, and you were sure that this is what a club downtown looks like every Friday night. Maybe even worse. 

“I don’t know, but that’s what makes it exciting,” she answered as she guided you into the kitchen. 

You strongly disagreed with her on that, and you were quickly finding out that the smell of weed and loud music was not something you wanted to be around during your final few days before classes started again. “This is lame,” you say over the sound of people chatting around you. “Let’s leave.”

Sam scoffed, turning towards you with an eye roll. “We just got here,” she pointed out and looked at the array of booze lined up on the counter. “Live a little.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You mutter, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hear you very well. Your head was already pounding, and your comfy bed at your dorm was calling out to you right now. Why do you ever bother leaving the house?

“Which one do you want? Vodka or gin?” She asked as she grabbed two red cups. 

You raise a brow at her. “Neither,” was your answer and she gave you a pointed look. You sigh and nod at the vodka, watching as she pours an uneven amount of it mixed with coke into the cup. 

“Drink up,” she stated as she handed it to you, her own cup in her free hand. “We’re here to have fun.”

You give her a thumbs up and take a sip of the drink that tasted like straight up vodka rather than a vodka mix. “Fuck,” you grimaced and she smirked at you.

“Good, right?”

Wrong. “Right,” you force yourself to nod and move off to the side when someone bumps into you from behind. 

“Sorry,” they say, making you turn and meet the eyes of a cute brunet boy. 

He definitely was not someone you’d look twice at, but he was nice looking nonetheless. 

You weren’t able to wave him off before Sam was reaching around you and tugging on the guy’s shirt. “Tan! You came!”

Tan grins and moves to stand beside the two of you. “Oh, hey. Yeah, I was planning on staying in tonight, then you asked if I wanted to meet you at this party and thought what the hell,”

Your eyes narrow as Sam had definitely forgotten to mention that she had invited a guy to tag along. “How nice,” she beamed, glancing over at you. “This is my roommate, Y/n. Y/n, Tanner.”

Tanner lifted his cup in a form of greeting. “Pleasure to meet you,” though the way he said that gave away the fact that he didn’t care much for your presence at all. 

You copy him with your own cup, glaring at Sam as you point towards the dining room area. “I’ll be over there,” you say, hoping she will follow you.

She doesn’t. “Okay, we’ll catch up later!”

And you were left to stay true to your own words as you wandered off into the next room with your too strong of a drink in your hand and a nervous look in your eyes. 

-

“Oh, dude,” Eli nudged Bradley from his spot on the couch. “What about that girl? She’s hot enough.”

Bradley and Wes both look over and see a girl standing in the dining room, her back to the wall as she holds her cup to her chest. 

She looked extremely uncomfortable, and Bradley felt a bit bad for her. He couldn’t remember seeing her around campus before, but he also couldn’t see very clearly right now. She was cute, though, he could admit that. 

“Damn, I think she’s hotter than Bri,” Wes commented, earning a glare from Bradley. “Not that I think Bri is hot or anything.”

“Shut up,” Bradley muttered as tried to blink away the blurriness in his eyes. He looks over at the girl in the next room, his cold gaze softening just a bit. “She’s not my type.”

Eli scoffed, inhaling his second joint of the night. “She is so your type,”

Bradley rolled his eyes but focused on the girl for a bit. She was actually very cute, dare he say cuter than Bri, but he would never admit that. “She seems easy. I want a challenge,” he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth, and he knew that if his mom was still around she would’ve smacked him upside the head by now. 

“Make it a challenge, dude,” Wes suggested, leaning back against the couch with a hazy look. 

How could he do that? He just needed to make Bri jealous, that’s it. Why was he wanting to make it harder for himself? Maybe he just wanted to prove that he is someone who can be loved, and that he is someone who can be in a serious relationship. “I can make her fall in love with me,” he thought out loud and instantly regretted it as soon as he saw the look of mischief in Eli’s eyes. 

“Dude,” he said as if he was just told the greatest idea he’s ever heard. “You could totally make her fall in love with you.”

“Ah, I like it. Good idea,” Wes agreed, slapping Bradley’s shoulder for further effect. 

Bradley’s face fell a bit as he shook his head. “I can’t. I was with Bri for eleven months and she doesn’t give a shit about me. She never fell in love with me,” he tried to talk his way out of his own idea, but his friends seemed fully onboard. 

Eli rolled his eyes. “That was Bri, she doesn’t love anyone but herself. If she were to see someone else with you in that way she’ll come crawling back,” 

“Yeah, maybe you’ll even get her to stay on her knees,” Wes smirked and Bradley physically cringed. “I bet a thousand dollars on it.” 

That had both Bradley and Eli looking over at him in shock. “No shit,” Eli scoffed. 

“I will,” Westley says. “We all have it. I’ve got thousands of dollars saved up, Brad’s got his parents’ life insurance and your dad’s rich.” 

“I don’t like it,” Bradley mumbled but then Eli grinned. 

“I like it,” he said. “Dude, you have to do it now.” 

“What am I even doing? I have to make this girl fall in love with me or I lose? I’d have to owe the both of you one grand?” Bradley couldn’t wrap his head around any of this, or how he even managed to come up with this dumb idea in the first place, but he knew it was slipping out of his control at this point. 

“Nah, just five hundred each will be fine. You get this chick to love you, and you win a thousand bucks. It’s easy money, Bradshaw,” Wes pushed Bradley up so he was standing. “Do it, man.” He encouraged the cruel bet with a lazy smirk. 

Bradley shook his head as he stepped away. “Guys, this seems a bit fucked up,”

“Just do it, man, you came up with this,” Eli muttered. “Don’t be a bitch.”

And now he was once again pissed off. Eli knew he could get under his skin easily, and that was the exact reason they got into a fight during one of the parties they threw last year. 

Now Bradley wanted Eli to owe him money. He wanted to be able to hold that above him. He also wanted to hold that above Bri - that she was wrong. 

“Fuck off,” Bradley grunted as he walked towards the girl on unsteady legs. He definitely had too much to drink, and he’d like to think that he would’ve never come up with something like this, or even done it, while he was sober. 

His head was spinning a bit as he wandered into the dining room, though calling it that was a bit of a stretch since it only held a small round table with four chairs. 

What the fuck is he doing? Is he really about to drag a poor innocent girl into his fucked up world and pull a cruel prank on her? He wasn’t that kind of guy. His mother raised him better than this, so why was he now standing in front of said girl?

A slurred, “Hi,” came out of his mouth and she was now looking at him, and it was too late to turn back around. 

Her brow raised as she looked up at him, a shy and timid smile on her lips. “Hi,” 

Oh, God. 

That voice. 

She had possibly the sweetest voice Bradley had ever heard, and his mind went blank as he struggled to find words. “I, um,” he stuttered, his face flushing when she grinned up at him. He was usually fucking great at talking to girls, drunk or not, so this was getting kind of embarrassing. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you starting your first year?”

“No, my second,” 

“Really?” He asked, placing his forearm flat against the wall beside her head. “Weird…you’d think I would’ve remembered seeing you around campus.”

There he was. At least he got his beloved smooth talking skill back. 

The girl hummed. “Yeah, I usually keep to myself. It’s easier that way,”

Bradley lifted a brow and leaned a bit closer. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” he said after a few seconds. “I’m Bradley. I live here.”

She looked at him in surprise. “This is your party?”

He nodded and her smile softened a little bit. “Why do you look so surprised?”

She shrugged, hugging her drink close to her chest. “Well, this looks like a frat party, and you definitely look like a frat guy, but…”

He felt his confidence slipping away a bit as he straightened up his posture. “But?”

“You don’t really act like one,” she shrugged and sipped on her drink. Though she tried to hold back a grimace at the taste of the liquid in her cup, Bradley caught onto the fact that she really didn’t like it. 

Now he felt even worse since it was obvious she was only drinking as an attempt to fit in. 

Bradley furrowed his brows as he raised his free hand and took the cup from her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked over the loud music, noting the grateful smile she gave him when he discarded the drink onto the table.

“It’s not a bad thing,” she quickly says. “Really, you seem sweet, not loud or arrogant like the other frat guys I’ve met.”

His gaze softened at that and he couldn’t fight the grin that was beginning to form on his lips. He leaned in closer and was met with the sweet scent of vanilla and peach, and if he wasn’t already, he was sure he could get drunk off it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,”

The girl gazed up at him, matching his dumb smile as she answered, “Y/n,”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun rooster #top gun maverick #top gun au #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #tgm fic #tgm #bets and bargains au #bets and bargains

[yxngbxkkie]

racing gone wrong (y.j)

it's innie's turn being a street racer! i really liked the idea i had for him, and i hope i executed it to everyone's liking 💓 much love 💓

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

You tuck one of your legs under the other, perking up at the sound of your roommates footsteps. Jeongin walks out of his bedroom door while combing his fingers through his hair.

"You showered?" You ask him with furrowed brows.

Jeongin laughs at your obvious question, nodding his head in response. "Yeah, I told you I was showering," he reminds you with a click of his tongue.

"But, you're wearing clothes to go out, not your pajamas," you point out.

Your roommate nods his head again, grabbing a pair of shoes from the closet. "That's because I'm going out, cutie," he mentions while walking across the living room.

He pats your head as he walks by, and you keep your eyes on him. He's going out? This late? You think to yourself with a frown on your lips.

"It's almost nine-thirty though," you mumble loud enough for him to hear. "It's really late for you to be going out, especially by yourself."

Jeongin pokes his head into the living area, meeting your eyes. "I'll be okay, cutie. I'm going out with a couple of friends. No need to fret," he reassures you.

You stand up from your spot on the couch, heading towards the front door. "You're not going to be out for long, are you?" You question him.

He ties his shoes when you reach the door, and he glances up at you. "A couple of hours at least," Jeongin answers truthfully, noticing the worried look on your face.

"I'm sorry for sounding like a debbie downer. I just care about your health and well-being," you apologize, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just come home safely, okay?"

"Of course, cutie," he sighs while standing up fully.

Jeongin takes a couple of steps towards you, bringing you into a hug. You wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. He squeezes you gently while chuckling, one of his hands stroking your back.

"I gotta go," he whispers in your ear.

You pull away from him, dropping your arms to your sides. You watch as he opens the front door before walking out of the apartment. He waves at you, and you return it as he shuts the door. You take a step forward, locking it for your safety.

As you're walking to your bedroom, you can't help but think where he goes. It's not the first time he's left the apartment this late. It's been happening more frequently these past couple of weeks.

You know that you have no right to worry about what Jeongin does. But, you've had the biggest crush on him since he moved in almost two years ago. So, you can't help but feel worried.

You comb your fingers through your hair, beginning to pace in your bedroom. You're debating on whether or not you should follow him. It's definitely an invasion of privacy, but you just want to make sure he's okay.

Fuck it. You grab a hoodie from your closet, quickly throwing it over your head. You rush over to the hall closet, grabbing your sneakers and slipping them on your feet. You grab your house keys and run out the door, locking it behind you.

Once you leave your apartment building, you can hear a group of voices coming from your right. You slowly walk towards the noise, doing your best to listen intently.

"What'd you tell Y/N?" Someone asks, and your head perks up at the sound of your name.

"That I'm going out with some friends," Jeongin answers the other person. "I didn't lie to her, but I didn't fully tell her the truth either."

You furrow your brows while resting your hands against the concrete building. You peek around the corner, seeing your roommate standing in between two others.

"Is she going to be upset if she finds out?" A different guy asks.

"I'm not sure. I wouldn't think so. As long as I'm safe, I think she wouldn't be upset," your roommate tells them. Your heart flutters in your chest as you listen. "Anyway, we need to get going, or else we're gonna be late."

You can hear the two men pat Jeongin's back, or that's what it sounds like. "Of course. Where is it again?" The first guy you heard speaks, and you focus your hearing.

"It's by that corporate building, remember?" Jeongin laughs, opening the door to his vehicle. "The convenience store that has the really good ramen is right by it too."

I know that place! You think to yourself, deciding to get a head start there. You shove your hands into your pocket while heading towards the nearest train station. "It's only twenty minutes from here," you say to yourself.

After riding the train in complete silence, your leg bouncing during the entire trip, you get off at the stop near the convenience store. You walk down the empty streets, looking around for any sign of what's going to happen.

You turn the corner, seeing the store in question. Your eyes glance towards the parking lot beside it, and they widen at the row of sports cars. "He does not…" you trail off your thoughts, quickening your steps.

Jeongin and his two friends have already arrived as you can see the three of them hanging out together. You blend in with the crowd of people, hearing gossip about tonight's lineup of racers.

"He races too," you mutter to yourself after hearing someone mention Jeongin.

A part of you is in absolute shock. You never expected your sweet, innocent roommate to be a street racer. You fiddle with the hood on top of your head as you continue walking through the crowd.

You notice someone standing on top of their car with a megaphone in their hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention for a couple of seconds," they say into the device.

The people around you stop talking and turn to face the person. You glance towards your roommate and his friends, noticing their attention on them as well.

"We're going to be starting the race in five minutes. I'm going to announce who'll have the luxury of competing tonight," they mention before looking down at the paper in their hands. "The lineup is Haneul, Byung-ho, Do-yun, Jeongin, Jisung, and Eun. If you guys could get ready and park at the front, that'd be fabulous. Stay safe, everyone."

Everyone around you claps, and you join in as well, feeling a bit excited to see Jeongin race. You move through the sea of people once again, apologizing to those you bump into accidentally.

You press your lips together as you watch your roommate drive his black vehicle to the start line. "Wow," you mumble to yourself, taking note of how hot he looks. You admire his side profile, watching him pull his phone out.

Your phone vibrates after you watch Jeongin put his phone away. You tear your gaze from him and grab your phone from inside your hoodie pocket.

Make sure to get to bed at a decent time! I know you like to binge when I'm not home 🤣

You roll your eyes playfully, a chuckle leaving your lips. You type a message back to him before hitting send.

I don't always binge when you're not home 🫣 Don't call me out! 😭

You shove your phone back into your pocket, looking back up at Jeongin. He checks his phone again, smiling widely at your text. Your heart flutters in your chest at the sight of him, not knowing that he looks at your texts with such a fond smile.

Your phone vibrates once again as a woman holding two green flags walks out in front of the six vehicles. You decide to check your phone afterward, wanting to see the beginning of the race.

Everyone in the lineup starts up their vehicle, revving the engines loudly. People around you cheer for them, the sudden screams making you jump. You lean forward and watch the woman raise the flags. You clasp your hands together, and she quickly lowers them, signaling that the driver's may start.

Tires screech, and you quickly cover your ears, keeping an eye on Jeongin's vehicle. You bounce in place as he speeds off into first, keeping yourself from cheering too loudly.

Once the cars are out of sight, you grab your phone from your pocket. You swipe down and read the text Jeongin sent. A smile stretches on your lips, and you hide your face into the hood of your sweatshirt.

But you still do it! Get some rest, cutie 💓 Tomorrow let's get lunch, okay?

You bite your lip gently and agree to get lunch. You look at the time, wondering if you should get home before the race even ends. You start heading back to the train station, deciding to go home.

Just as you reach the stairs to the station, a couple of cars zoom past. A squeak comes from your lips when you see Jeongin's car in first place.

"Great job, Innie," you say to yourself before ascending the stairs.

-

It's been a few weeks since you discovered Jeongin's secret. He still hasn't mentioned anything about what he does late at night to you, but you understand why he doesn't.

You've read some stories from a community post, knowing that street racing can be dangerous. You've continued secretly watching his races from within the crowd.

Which is where you are currently. You sit down on the bench with a couple of others. You've chatted with a few since you've been coming. It kills time while you sit around and wait for the racers to come back.

"Who are you rooting for?" One of the women asks you, smiling.

"Jeongin," you answer with no hesitation. The dark-haired woman gives you a smirk, and you roll your eyes. "I don't even want to hear it."

She gasps playfully, raising her hands up. "I have no idea what you mean! It just seems like you only root for him," she wiggles her brows, nudging your arm.

"Do you root for more than one racer?" You ask out of curiosity.

"Yeah, of course! Most of us have a top five," she explains to you.

You nod your head in understanding, gripping the edges of the bench. "To be honest, I've got a crush on Jeongin, which is why I only root for him," you tell her with flushed cheeks.

The girl beside you squeals before shaking your arm. "No fucking way! That's so cute. Have you spoken to him?" She asks excitedly, whipping her head around to look for him.

"No, no, no," you panic, urging her to calm down. "That's okay. I don't - "

The crowd around you gasps, causing you to whip your head around. You stand on your feet as you notice smoke coming from the end of the street. People start running in that direction, and you find yourself doing the same.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you see Jeongin's car flipped over. Oh no. You curse to yourself and sprint towards the smoking vehicle.

"Jeongin?!" You call out his name, kneeling on the ground. You crawl closer, noticing that his seatbelt is half off. The left side of his body is leaning forward, and you notice a streak of blood running down his face.

"Hey, we called an ambulance," the girl you were talking to earlier states.

You thank her kindly as you do your best to carefully pull him out. It doesn't take long for the rescue to get here, and one of the paramedics orders you to step back.

You do as they say, taking a couple of steps back. You pace in your spot while chewing on your nails, hoping that he'll be okay. When the paramedics finally pulled Jeongin out, you could see that he was unconscious.

"Do you see his phone?" One of the guys asks, searching your roommates clothes.

"I-I know him," you speak up, taking a step forward. The two medics look at you, and you continue explaining, "I'm his roommate."

The older medic nods his head, motioning to his coworker to help him. They put Jeongin on a stretcher, making sure he's secure before wheeling him into the ambulance.

"Would you like a ride?" One of the medics asks you, and you nod your head instantly.

You climb into the back, sitting down beside Jeongin. You resist the urge to reach for his hand, and you place your head in your hands.

The ride to the hospital doesn't take long, twenty minutes max. You sit in the waiting room for what feels like hours. Your legs are shaking constantly as your eyes glance towards the double doors.

"Y/N?" Someone calls out your name, snapping you from your daze.

"Yes," you say while springing up from your chair.

A doctor and a nurse walk over to you, both giving you a smile. "Good news is that Jeongin will be fine. He's got a minor concussion, a couple of bruised ribs, and some scratches from the debris," he explains to you.

You let out a sigh of relief, placing a hand over your heart. "Thank goodness. Can I see him?" You ask the two of them.

"Of course. She'll show you the way, okay?" The doctor motions to the nurse beside him.

You thank him again before following the older woman. Jeongin's room isn't far from the waiting room. She opens the door for you, allowing you to walk in.

"Thank you," you politely tell her, walking into his room after.

Jeongin's eyes meet yours instantly, a smile coming to his lips. "Hey," he greets you quietly.

You shut the door to the room and make your way to the side of his bed. "Hey, Innie, how are you feeling?" You ask him, grabbing his large hand.

"Other than my ribs being bruised, I'm okay," he mentions with a slight wince, his free hand covering his torso. "I'm sorry for making you worry."

You grab the plastic chair beside you, sitting down on it. "It's okay," you smile at him, squeezing his hand gently. "Maybe we should both spill our secrets."

Jeongin looks at you with a confused look, not knowing what you mean. "Secrets? I don't have any secrets," he laughs a bit, his thumb stroking your hand.

"I know about you street racing," you whisper loud enough for him to hear. His eyes widen, and he attempts to sit up. You gently place a hand on his chest, stopping him from getting up. "It's okay. I'm not mad that you didn't tell me."

"How'd you find out?" He asks you.

You drop your gaze to the floor. "I followed you one night," you start off, lifting your gaze again. "And, ever since then, I've attended every race you went to."

"Wait, really? All of them?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I should've told you, but I thought you'd get upset with me," you ramble nervously.

"It's okay," he says, tugging your conjoined hands towards him. "I'm not upset. I'm just glad everything's open."

"There's one more thing," you mention, taking a deep breath. "I have a crush on you."

Jeongin smiles lovingly at you, his hand squeezing yours again. "I have a crush on you, too," he confesses, tilting his head a bit. "I have for a while."

A chuckle leaves your lips as a weight gets lifted off of your chest. "You like me," you state, scooting closer to him.

He slowly lifts himself up, and you go to stop him when he presses his lips against yours. Your breath hitches in your throat as Jeongin breaks away from the unexpected kiss.

"I like you a lot," he whispers before kissing you again. "Will you still get lunch with me?"

"Of course," you laugh, grinning ear to ear. "How dare I deny my boyfriend food."

Jeongin grins and kisses the back of your hand. "How did I get so lucky with you?" He asks, stroking the spot he kissed.

You shake your head, dipping your head to hide your embarrassment. "It's me who got lucky, Innie."

~

tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @luckieleaf @stayconnecteed @tiaxa @yoonrimin @sunny-future @daysofskz-ateez @endzii23 @sweetbutpsychovalkyrie @bunnies-only @sleepyleeji @hhwangsmoon @emily505

#yang jeongin #yang jeongin imagines #yang jeongin imagine #yang jeongin fluff #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x y/n #yang jeongin x you #yang jeongin fanfiction #yang jeongin fanfic #yang jeongin fic #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #skz street racing au #skz imagine #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz

[nvoirs]

𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘮𝘣

Summary: An after party for exams is missed because of salient reasons! Definitely nothing more..

ꔫ

Disclaimers: MDNI 18+ only, Fuckboy Leon au, Unprotected sex, Both reader and Leon are in their twenties, cream pie, degrading language, shower sex. Literally this is written bad.. I haven't written in months ok! not proofread because I cannot be bothered. Requests are back open.

⠀ꔫ

An after party was being held as a celebration for everyone completing their exams by a very well known individual in your year, almost everyone was going to it minus the nerds but it had definitely been at least an hour since the party started. Your friends were probably wondering where the heck you were, because it wasn’t like you to show up late to anything.

Leon had decided to let himself into your dorm room, thankfully Claire wasn’t in when he did so otherwise it would have caused a whole lot of controversy. You see Leon and you had been fucking around for the past few months or so, yes quite literally fucking and as you thought about it now you couldn’t help but pinch yourself. Because how did you, a well mannered, straight A goody shoes get with someone like Leon? Claire was very well aware of the fact that you two were sleeping with each other, she’d make jokes telling you guys to not “mess around near her bed or stuff” before leaving for her class.

Leon was notoriously known around campus as a fuckboy. Definitely not something to be proud of, but you didn’t expect anything more than having your back blown by him every time he’d approach you. You wouldn't even call it friends with benefits, because you and him had never just hung out without him leaving you all sweaty and flustered on your bedspread telling you he’d “catch you later” basically telling you the next time you’d get to fuck.

So when he decided to let himself into your dorm room while you were in the shower, you didn’t expect someone to fling open the shower curtain exposing your naked body to whoever was behind it.

“What the fu-! Leon, what the hell are you doing?” You gasped, covering your breasts and trying to squeeze your legs together.

“Relax sweetheart, I’ve seen it all before you don’t have to hide from me.” The shit eating grin made you sigh before removing your arms from your naked body.

“How did you get in here? What if Claire was home! Wha-!” He’d pressed a palm to your mouth muffling your yelling.

“I just wanted to see you, that's all.” He shrugged his shoulders.

You slapped his hand from your mouth sighing, “Leon if you wanted to see me you wouldnt come charging into my bathroom while I’m taking a shower, you wanted to fuck me admit it or your getting nothing.”

“Oh, that’s easy then I wanted to fuck you ok? God those other girls just don’t know how fuck like you do.”

You cringed at his words but laughed, “Ok I forgive you, but don’t say those words ever again, its cheesy as fuck got it?”

“Deal, so can I join you?”

“Lock the damn door first.”

“Oh your right, my bad.”

He quickly shuffled to the half cracked open door to the bathroom, snapping it shut before making sure it was locked.

He's taking his clothes off before you know it, and hopping into the shower your back to him as you reach for the soap bottle.

“Let me help you with that princess, I’ll help scrub your back.”

“Thanks.” You replied dryly, rolling your eyes at his attempt to slow things before they got too heated.

He was humming, rubbing the soap into your back and massaging your shoulders making you release a quiet moan.

“Hm, what was that?” he teased, finger ghosting over your clit.

“Nothing! Just help me wash up. I can't be late, and why aren’t you coming anyways?”

He laughed, “These types of parties aren’t my thing, they're more or less for nerds sorry to shake your pretty little head, princess.”

He really needed to stop calling you that, it made your hole clench around nothing, cunt beginning to dribble slick out.

“Yeah whatever, I’ve got better grades than you at least.” Your voice cracked at your last word, as Leon began to stroke your clit causing you to buck your hips upwards in shock.

“I knew you’d like it.” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver in delight.

“God I’m going to cream pie you and make you walk around the nerd party with my cum inside of you.”

You moaned at the thought of it, “Please” you whined grinding your ass on his now erect cock.

“Fuck, I’m going to give it to you so hard just wait.”

He rubbed your pussy this time, smearing your arousal across your clit and entrance. He slipped one finger inside, began to push it in and out and looked at your turned back for a reaction.

You cried out in pleasure and pain as he inserted a second finger beginning to finger yourself open.

“Mhm yeah just like that, stretch me out”

He growled in response before sliding his fingers out of your soaked hole.

“Mhm Leon help a girl out would you?”

Rubbing your ass against his hard cock, you arched your back like a feline whining.

“Help you with what exactly? Speak up.” He growled becoming impatient from the sheer like of not being inside you right now.

“Help fill me up please, need your cock massaging my insides and stretching me out.”

“Well fuck if you insist.” Without any warning he parted your pussy lips and pressed the tip of his cock into your hole making you moan.

“Fuck princess, your literally sucking me in god you can't live without this fat cock breeding your pussy can you? Leaving a fat load inside of you”

You mewled in response, as you pushed your ass backwards, forcing your pussy to swallow him all.

The warm water cascading down your back and dripping down where you and Leon were connected made you feel drunk.

Still cockwarming Leon he gently tugged on your hair, slapping one of your hardened nipples.

“Aren't you going to be late to your little party.” He chuckled.

“Ah don't care about it, anymore.” You winced from the stretch your pussy took sliding such a fat cock into your tiny little pussy.

“Well this is my way of celebrating your end of exams.” He grinned, beginning to move.

He grinded his dick inside of your cunt hitting your g spot repeatedly making your cry out.

Leon reached out to cup your tits in both hands, massaging them both before pinching the nipples.

“Such pretty tits.” He mumbled. “Prettiest I've seen, and I've seen a lot.”

“Leon.” You groaned. “Don't have to brag about being a slut.”

He groaned as your pussy squeezed around him, close to milking him. “I think you like that I’m a slut, squeezing around me so tight like that.”

“I’m going to cum, go faster.”

He quickened his pace, but his hips stuttered as you came on his cock. The orgasm aftershocks leaving you in a frozen state stuck to the shower wall. Your face became flustered as Leon thrusted his cock in and out of your wet hole, the squelching sounds echoing off the walls.

“That’s right, cream my cock baby.” 

His hips faltered before stilling completely, his thick, warm cum filling you up nicely. You felt woozy but full, Leon’s cum dripping out of you.

“Nice cream pie you’ve got there.” He slapped your ass lightly.

“Leon!”

“You missed the nerd gathering.”

“This was better.”

“Oh?”

“Now turn the damn water off before we use all the water on the whole of campus.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

ꔫ

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #nvoirs #leon kennedy x you #resident evil smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy #!fuckboy leon

[cecilysass]

Shine On (14/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 14: Rotten Wood

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 25, 2015 Two days later

The house is silent when Mulder steps through the kitchen door. At first he thinks no one is there, and he has a little corresponding stab of anxiety.

Then there’s a screech as Scully pushes her chair away from the kitchen table and stands to face him. He sees she’s set herself up there to work, her laptop nearly buried by drifts of paperwork.

He’s been having trouble interpreting Scully. Yesterday morning she drove off in his car with cryptic explanations, then reappeared an hour later with her laptop, a rolling suitcase full of clothes, and no further comment. Mulder assumes that means she’s planning on staying around a while. He hopes it does. He’s been superstitious about asking too many questions.

“Mulder,” she calls out, taking an awkward step towards him. He’s only been gone forty minutes to the hardware store, but her expression suggests she’s relieved to see him, like he’s been gone for months.

“Hey,” he says casually. “I think I found everything I need.” He holds up the two bags in his hands as evidence, kicking the door shut behind him. “Where are…”

He doesn’t finish, suddenly self-conscious about his choice of words. He’d almost said “the kids.” Way, way too strange.

“They went for a run.” A hint of a crease in her forehead. She pushes some errant strands of hair back behind her ears. Then she repeats the gesture, once, twice, three times as she walks distractedly to the front window. He gets it now: she’s anxious, she can barely keep herself still. “It’s been about twenty minutes since they left.”

Mulder follows her across the room, setting his hardware store bags down next to the boarded-up door frame, his project for the afternoon. He begins to pull the items he purchased out of the bag, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She’s wearing some soft gray sweater and tightly cut jeans that cling to her figure, making her look girlish. She leans against the window, her eyes scanning the road.

“Twenty minutes isn’t that long,” he comments, pulling some caulk out of the bag. “I ran with Jackson yesterday. He knows the route.”

She nods absently, still peering outside, her eyes searching up and down the road.

He stops what he’s doing, setting his repair supplies on the floor, and walks over to stand behind her, placing his hands on her small shoulders. Her sweater is so soft it melts under his fingers.

“You know,” he says gently, “you should probably worry more about us elderly mortals than about those superhero youngsters. They can take care of themselves.”

“I know,” she says, twisting her head around to flash him a smile that evaporates quickly.

“They’re what you might call resilient,” he says. “They’ve literally survived death, Scully.”

“You’ve survived death, too,” she says, her shoulders rising and falling under his hands. “And I still worry about you.”

“Do you?” he says in a low voice. His hands slide possessively from her shoulders to circle carefully around her waist, drawing her firmly against him.

She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t relax into his embrace either. She turns to him, as tense as a coiled spring. “I worry about everything,” she admits. Her voice drops to a choked whisper. “Mulder. Didn’t you say you wanted us to be sure…?”

I’m always sure, he thinks. “Yeah,” he says, letting his arms release from her waist gently and reluctantly. “I did say that.” Be sensible here. Wait for more direct signs. He runs his fingers through his hair, breathing through his anxiety. “I need to get to work anyway, and I bet you have things to finish up, too.”

She watches him as he returns to his new supplies from the hardware store, seemingly hesitant to go back to her work.

“What did you get at the store?”

“Oh, I’m getting rid of rot,” Mulder says blithely. “Cleaning house. Same old, same old. I hope I’m more successful than I used to be.”

She frowns, crossing to stare at the damaged door up close. “Rot?” She folds her arms over her chest. “That’s not good in a wooden house, Mulder.”

“I noticed it around the cracked jamb,” Mulder says. “Just a little. I think it’s because there wasn’t a good seal and some moisture’s been getting in. So I can clean it out and fix it now before any more damage is done.”

“How lucky hybrid assassins decided to kick your door down. Or you would have missed it.”

There’s a certain snap to her comment that takes him back, makes him think of earlier iterations of their relationship. And she’s not walking back to her laptop. She’s staring at the door frame with crossed arms, idly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“So are you going to help me?” he asks casually. “Or just sit around and make smartass comments?”

She turns her head to regard him. “Let me consider my answer.”

“Come on, Scully,” he says with a hopeful chuckle and a sideways glance.

***

She mostly watches him work, even though he knows she’s handy herself, probably more than him. He’s taught himself a lot about maintaining a house since moving here, but she grew up knowing how to use a wrench. Her father raised a daughter who knew her way around a toolbox, she always said. When they first moved in, they’d fixed up a lot of this house together, taking breaks to make love in any room they were in.

“You should probably get this whole place inspected,” she comments, sitting on the floor with her knees hugged to her chest. “Rot can be insidious.” He’s using a crowbar to pry the rotted wood from the frame, and she’s wrinkling her nose when he’s successful.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I should. I will. Especially if I put the place on the market soon.”

“The market?” she says sharply. “You’re selling the house?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

She sits up straighter, dropping her knees, taken aback. “But you love this house, Mulder.”

Mulder digs his crowbar in deeper. “I did love this house,” he corrects her carefully. “I’m not sure I love it in the same way I used to.”

She seems to digest this a moment, looking around the room as though seeing it anew. “But where… where would you move?”

“Somewhere closer to work, I thought,” he says. “More intown. If we’re going to be back in the Hoover building. Maybe Arlington? I don’t know. And, uh—” He successfully ejects several shards of wood onto the floor. “I’d like a bigger place, maybe.”

“A bigger place?” Scully shepherds the discarded wooden shards into a pile with the inside of her foot.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “So that, you know—maybe these new family members could all stay over. Have their own rooms. No more couches and air mattresses. Big old Mulder family holiday or whatever.”

She stops pushing the shards with her foot, her eyes on him. “You’re assuming Rose and Jackson are going to remain in our lives.”

“Yeah,” he admits simply. “I’m assuming that.”

He doesn’t say what they’re both thinking: that Jackson’s criminal charges are still unresolved, and that even if they were resolved, the two of them have no legal standing in his life at all.

“You’re … considering Rose your family member, too?”

He gives her a look. “She’s Jackson’s sister, isn’t she? Also, I think I might know her mom from somewhere.”

The corners of Scully’s lips lift, but she doesn’t say anything right away. “We’ve barely talked, Rose and me,” she says in a monotone voice. “She seems a little … distant.”

Mulder digs the crowbar in again. “She probably has understandable reasons for that, huh?”

“Yes.” Scully’s voice doesn’t waver. “I know she does.”

“But acting distant doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t care,” he says, pushing on the crowbar’s handle. He gives her a sly look. “Right, Scully?”

Her expression doesn’t change, but her eyebrow twitches. “Right.”

He manages to catapult another cascade of rotten wood chips onto the floor, and Scully watches him silently.

“You’re sweet, Mulder. To think about Rose and Jackson staying at your new house. To … plan around it.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sweet.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “Truthfully, I was also thinking you might be there.”

“Oh yeah? Do I get my own bedroom, too?”

He stops working and turns to look at her. “God,” he says. “I hope not.”

Her return gaze burns into him. With painstaking slowness she licks the rim of her bottom lip. He knows he needs to find this out.

“If I could shine into your head,” Mulder asks, “and see what you wanted, Scully … would I see you living with me again? All the time? Or is that just something I want?”

She doesn’t answer right away, pushing herself up from the floor, brushing herself off. “Mulder, I’m very grateful you can’t shine me,” she comments. Her hands, rapidly smoothing down her sweater, begin to slow down, and her tone softens. “But I think you would see … that. Us living together again. Yes.”

His heart rate picks up. Good, but this isn’t all he needs to hear. “And … this Mulder who you’d want to live with.” He leans his head back, feeling at a rare loss for the right words. “Who is he, exactly?” She reacts to his question, obviously puzzled. “William’s dad? Agent Mulder? The guy who runs errands to the hardware store?”

“Aren’t you … all of those?”

“I don’t know,” he replies shortly, and he’s surprised that there is such a crackle of resentment in his words. “I know that I’m the man you left. The one you could have moved back in with at any point in time. Anything that’s changed recently, to make this situation different—that doesn’t have anything fundamentally to do with me. I’m the same guy.”

“I don’t think you’re the same Mulder as when I left,” she replies. “I don’t believe you really think that either.”

He doesn’t, as a matter of fact. He turns away from her, setting his crowbar down meticulously, and he walks to look out the window.

“And I didn’t leave you, Mulder. I left a situation,” she adds to his turned back. She seems to search for her next words. “Something was destroying both of us, and we couldn’t help one another.”

Mulder turns around again, scratching his face. “I was the one having mental health problems though.”

She huffs, then smiles sadly. “Your perception of that says a lot,” Scully says. “We could barely see what the other was going through.”

He says nothing, considering her words.

“Losing William was something we never dealt with,” she continues. “We let our guilt and our pain sit with us for too long. We told ourselves we could handle it…”

“And we couldn’t.”

“And we couldn’t,” agrees Scully. “And it got worse. Until you couldn’t leave the couch, and I couldn’t stop working, and we couldn’t listen to each other or give one another what we needed.” She kicks idly at the wood pieces on the floor. “That’s why I had to leave.”

Mulder nods stonily, gazing up and down the door frame. He can see that she’s right. He can even see that she’s been saying this, in some form, all along, but he hasn’t been able to hear her.

“So maybe,” he ventures, gesturing broadly to the door, “we had to, you know, pry out all of the rot so the frame could survive.”

“Wow,” she says, “there’s a tortured metaphor.”

“You have no poetry in your soul, Scully.”

“All the great poetry being about fungal growth, of course.”

“The frame is … surviving, right?” Mulder says, his voice turning vulnerable.

Her eyes lock on his instantly. “You’re the one who turned me down,” Scully reminds him.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know. I … wasn’t sure if… I could…”

She walks over to him, cradling his cheek in her hand. Her fingers brush against the light stubble there. His breathing steadies.

“Tell me why you did that,” she whispers.

He stares back at her, his mouth cracking open in hesitation for a moment.

“I wanted you to want me again,” he confesses to her. “Not the family, not the job–although I want those things, too, of course. But I miss when you wanted me. Just me. Like you did in the old days.” He studies her face: smooth, unruffled. “At least I think you did.”

She says nothing, then slowly lifts her mouth into her closed-lip smile.

“What?” he says querulously.

Her smile evolves into a full-on, throaty laugh.

“Jesus, Scully, you’re laughing at me now? Really?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “But you are being a little ridiculous.”

Her fingers move up to ruffle his hair, and it reminds him of when she used to pretend to check him for head injuries for a transparent excuse to touch him. He permits himself to close his eyes and enjoy her touch.

“Don’t you have any idea how much I want you? How much I have always wanted you?” she asks, in the most sexy voice he’s ever heard. “If you could shine me, Mulder, it would only be you. Always.”

It’s such a silly and obvious statement, but it’s such a relief he could sob, he could sink to his knees and collapse. Instead, he retreats to familiar territory and makes a joke.

“Oh yeah? All Mulder, all the time? It sounds like it might be fun to shine you, Scully.”

“You did shine me once. Remember?” He cracks his eyes to stare at her and she’s smiling, Sphinx-like, continuing to run her fingers through his hair and down his neck. He realizes he is subconsciously leaning towards her, drawn in. Always drawn in, since day one.

“Yeah, but your thoughts were much more chaste then,” he sighs. “You hadn’t been ruined by my perversions yet.”

She snorts, which might be unattractive coming from anyone on earth besides Scully. “My thoughts about you, Mulder,” she whispers, her fingers lightly skimming down his jaw, “were never what I would call chaste.”

He slides his hands around the back of that sumptuous gray sweater. He draws himself into the familiar aura of her body heat, and he kisses her, unable to keep the reflexive smile off of his lips.

It feels so good to kiss her again that he thinks he could never stop.

His palms sculpt her silhouette, the curve of her waist and the line of her rib cage. She’s so soft, so touchable everywhere. She smells like Scully, like something sweet and sharply herbal, like coffee beans and clean sheets. He feels like he could sink into her forever.

He takes eager nips at her pillowy lips, and in response, Scully hums: a relieved, tension-releasing sound.

His mouth pushes in, tasting her again and again. His hands rest on her rib cage, his thumbs tracing the curved underside of her breasts. As soft as heaven. What a very good sweater. He’s going to ask her to wear this sweater everyday.

He breaks the kiss to walk her backwards, pinning her against the wall between the door and the window.

Then he stares down at her, amazed, and she stares back at him with a smile in her eyes. His beautiful Scully. He loves her looking like this: lips kissed hard, hair mussed, neckline of her sweater akimbo. It reminds him of their early days making out when they were still partners in the Hoover Building the first time.

He’s filled with the heady idea that this could be them for decades. That they could have this forever. Something ebullient fills his chest.

Taking hold of her waist, he leans down to bury his face in her neck. She makes a muted sound when his tongue meets her skin, something between a laugh and a gasp. And that sound, from her, causes his mind to leap to a hundred memories—his mouth nuzzling her collarbone, his mouth lapping at her nipple, his mouth buried between her thighs. His whole body begins to vibrate; he hardens fast. He pushes against her like an eager teenager, seizing her wrists.

“Mulder,” she sighs, not sounding exactly disapproving.

He pushes his nose past her hair and lets his mouth trail adoringly around her ear, suddenly wondering if this should continue right now. Because his mind races with possibilities. He could slide his hands underneath the sweater and avail her of it, or maybe cop a good old-fashioned feel over her bra. Or his hands could slide around and cup her ass—Jesus, he loves her ass—and hoist her up further on the wall, lift a leg, unbutton those jeans.

There’s no time to decide on any of these appealing options when other thoughts interrupt his.

Minor child returning to the house.

As before, the words come into Mulder’s head unbidden. Young innocent boy returning to your house in five minutes. Please, please be prepared.

Mulder closes his eyes, releases her wrists, and presses his forehead to Scully’s.

“We gotta stop right now,” he breathes.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers, her own breaths still coming heavy.

“Jackson and Rose are on their way back,” Mulder says. “I, uh, got a warning just now.”

“A … warning?”

“Uh huh.” He chuckles sheepishly.

He feels her muscles tense in his arms as she realizes. “Oh my god.” Scully slips her face down and buries it in his chest. Her words are muffled. “If he knew to send a warning… that means he knew there was a reason to warn you.”

“He’s thirteen, Scully,” Mulder says, arms encircling her. “He knows how babies are made. He’s been reading adult minds his whole life. I think he’s not going to be shocked or traumatized to know we might—”

“No, Mulder. Don’t even say it. It’s absolutely mortifying,” she moans. “We have some ... logistical problems to solve.”

“Sure,” he says warmly. “A few.” He pulls her even closer, rocking her back and forth, her head pressed against his heart. He’d never tell her, but he fucking loves these logistical problems. They are the best problems he can imagine.

For so long he couldn’t see anything to look forward to. Right now he can’t stop himself from looking forward to everything.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

[httpskuzuu]

Handsome boyfriend

here in spain it's 5 am and I should be sleeping

anyway, here I made the reader's gender expression male, but always remember that you are valid, no matter how masculine or feminine you look 👍

Dazai x Ftm!Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

tw: transphobia on the part of parents, gender dysphoria, reader's gender expression male

Dazai was not an idiot, he had noticed from the beginning that you were not comfortable being a cisgender girl.

He noticed from your first interaction, you treated yourself with male pronouns and when Dazai also treated you by those same pronouns you seemed so happy, as if it was the first time someone referred to you correctly.

He didn't mention anything about it, he understood that you were strangers and that if you hadn't told him from the beginning, he wasn't anyone to be nosy.

As your relationship grew, he noticed how you looked at yourself in the mirror with a disgusted expression, how you sometimes did exercises to make your voice more masculine and how in your last Google searches there were things related to the topic of starting a transition as a trans person.

When you started dating, he thought you would talk to him and tell him everything that was on your mind, but you never did. He himself tried to bring up the topic of conversation regarding the trans community, but you always refused to talk about it and seemed uncomfortable, so he didn't push you anymore.

He decided it was best for you to take the first step one day, one day like today.

It was in night, Dazai couldn't sleep because of his insomnia, and you should be at your parents' house.

He saw your number appear on his cell phone screen, he knew from that moment on that something wasn't right. As much as you might have trouble sleeping, you didn't usually stay awake at a late hour like this, let alone call him.

"Hey Belladonna! What are you doing up at this hour, uhm?"

The first thing he heard on the other end was a suppressed sob from you, that's what confirmed that something was wrong.

"Hey, darling, what's wrong?" He used the most reassuring tone she could and hid his concern.

"Uhm, Dazai, can I come to your place...? Please..." It was obvious from your voice that you were crying, so broken and weak, that Dazai was almost heartbroken to hear you.

"What happened? I don't know if you should come, it's too late, something might happen to you, do you want me to come to your place better?"

"No, no, I'm not at home, I, uhm, I know it's late, but I don't have anywhere else to stay."

He was quiet for a moment, thinking about what you had just said, worst case scenarios came to his mind.

"Yeah, sure, you can come" He was going to ask if he could come to where you were and at least walk together, but you quickly mumbled a 'Thank you.' And you hung up.

He just sat there on the futon with his cell phone in his hand, thinking about what the fuck had happened to you.

Within 10 minutes there was a knock on his door and when he opened it he saw you, with wet cheeks and watery eyes, you had a backpack on your back.

Two details of your appearance caught his attention: you were wearing baggy clothes, he could recognize that you were wearing a T-shirt that he himself gave you days ago, it was not usual for you, since you always wore clothes considered "feminine". The other detail was your hair, your long mane was now gone, you wore your hair short and somewhat badly cut, a sign that you probably cut it yourself.

Before you could speak, you dropped on Dazai's figure and hugged him tightly as you cried into his chest.

"Hey, hey, will you tell me what happened?" he tried to reassure you by placing one of his hands on your back and the other on his head, stroking your hair. "You've had a makeover, I see." He said with a smile.

"Dazai, I'm a trans guy, is that okay? Are you still my boyfriend?" He knew you were, but was surprised by your last question: didn't you know he would love you no matter who you are?

"Of course I'll still be your boyfriend, I love you and I don't care what you are as long as you're comfortable. If you're a boy that's perfect, you will still be my handsome boyfriend."

Dazai put his hands on your tearful cheeks and made you separate your face from his chest, so you could look at him. He wiped away your falling tears with his thumbs and gave you a reassuring smile.

You felt the weight on your shoulders disappear. He accepted you, Dazai accepted you, it felt so good to know that. You cried harder.

"Let's go inside, okay? And then we can talk more comfortably."

He moved his hand to your waist and guided you inside his house, to the couch. He sat you there and gave you a kiss on your forehead. "I'll get you some tea, don't move." After that in no time you were alone again.

You wiped your tears as best you could and thought about everything that happened: you had a fight with your parents, they always insisted that you be as feminine as possible, but you couldn't anymore, you weren't comfortable. You decided to cut your hair in a fit of dysphoria and when they saw you they got angry, you tried to explain and tell them the truth about your gender, but as soon as they heard you the house became a place full of screams, and finally they threw you out of the house, saying they never wanted to see you again. Your parents themselves rejected you, that was so painful, how could they reject the person they share blood with just because of their gender identity? You didn't understand.

A hand on your shoulder brought you out of your thoughts, there stood Dazai, a worried expression implanted on his face, but as soon as he saw you snap out of your trance he smiled at you. "Ah, you got a little lost in your thoughts, didn't you?" Dazai passed the cup of tea to your hands and you thanked him with a trembling voice.

You took a few sips of the tea as you tried to relax and set it down on the table.

He sat down next to you and put his arm around your shoulders. "Well, will you tell me what happened?"

You let out a sigh and prepared to speak. "My parents always wanted a girly girl and I tried to be one, tried to make them happy, but-" And just like that you cried again. Dazai stayed by your side, giving you support and comfort, it was nice to have your boyfriend by your side. "I couldn't hide this anymore, I wasn't happy.... When they saw me with my hair like that and telling them I was a boy they kicked me out of the house."

You snuggled weakly against Dazai's chest, you were so tired. You really needed this hug.

"Please, Belladonna, don't listen to whatever they said. If they don't let you be happy just the way you are, it's best to stay away from them" You closed your eyes and melted at his words, he was right, he was always right. "You can stay with me as long as you wish, my house is always open for you."

Dazai moved closer to your face and started leaving kisses all over, you laughed through your tears, it did tickle a little. He stopped, and you stared at each other for a few moments until he moved closer and kissed your lips.

"Let's go to sleep, is that okay?" you nodded and let Dazai guide you to the futon where he slept. Dazai always kept one of his hands on your waist, encircling you and giving you comfort.

He helped you lie down on the futon and sat next to you, not lying down yet. He stroked your hair, and you just closed your eyes, relaxing in Dazai's presence.

You finally accepted yourself, and Dazai also accepted you, that was enough to make you feel happy.

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd dazai #dazai #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #dazai x you #ftm reader #male reader

[mint-yooxgi]

{6} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader 

Words: 7,790

Warnings: Violence, some slut shaming (again, not done by any of the guys). This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Happy Halloween!!!! Like I said, this part is a little bit shorter than the rest, but I feel like it set up what I have planned for the next chapter nicely. I really hope you all enjoy this part as I had a lot of fun writing it, and I think a lot of you will like what happens in it hehehe anyways, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Mini Masterlist

“Do we really have to go?” Wooyoung whines, a pout tugging at his lips.

“Believe me, I want to go about as much as you do right now,” Yunho exhales a long breath through his nose.

“Shouldn’t one of us stay back at least?” San voices, brow quirked ever so slightly as he looks around at his brothers. Of course, he’s hoping that he’ll be able to be the one to keep you company once more as his brothers deal with whatever they have to at this council meeting.

“For the last time: it’s unavoidable.” Hongjoong sighs. “We should just focus on why the council has been summoned for now.”

“Yeah, and how quickly we can get back here.” Jongho mumbles, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Well, from past events we know it’ll take at least an hour and a half,” Seonghwa grimaces, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

“The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner we can get back here.” Mingi says, placing his hat onto his head. He doesn’t like this anymore than his brothers do, and if they could stay home with you, they would.

“Agreed.” Yeosang huffs, smoothing out the front of his coat.

Currently, all eight of them stand in the middle of the foyer, putting the last final touches on their outfits for the evening. Since the council hasn’t been summoned in quite some time, they have to wear their ‘official’ all black looks, complete with their hats. Each of their clothes may vary in style, but collectively, they all complement one another, truly looking like the leaders of the realm that they are always meant to be.

A moment of silence passes by.

“I should probably go tell her that we’re leaving.” Jongho says, already taking a step towards your room where you’ve been cooped up all day leading up to this evening.

A hand on his shoulder prevents him from moving more than one step forwards.

“I’ll go tell her,” Mingi practically shoves Jongho behind him as he goes to step passed him.

“Like hell you are,” Yeosang glares at the taller male as he moves to step in front of him to block his path.

“If anyone is telling her we’re leaving, it’ll be me.” Seonghwa nearly rolls his eyes as he moves to shove the younger two out of his way to begin walking towards the hallway that will lead to your room.

Only, Hongjoong’s hand flying out in front of him suddenly halts him in his tracks.

“Will you all calm down.” His eyes narrow. “Listen.”

Sure enough, when they focus back on their surroundings they can hear the familiar sound of your footsteps drawing near. You seem to be walking at a leisurely pace, only causing them each to hold their breaths as you approach them.

“Oh my-” as soon as you round the corner to see them all standing there, you freeze in your tracks. Your breath immediately catches, words dying in your throat as you blink a few times at them almost in shock. Then, you snort out a mild laugh as you grip the book you have held in your arms more firmly. “You guys are really doing wonders to fight against those cult allegations.”

Wooyoung snorts out a laugh with you, grins tugging onto Mingi’s, San’s, and Yunho’s faces while the others straighten slightly in their spots. Each begins to feel that telltale sense of pride within their chests at the way you’re continuously looking at them.

You can’t help it, the way your eyes trail over each one of them individually. You’ve never seen them dressed up like this before, not even for that one dinner you had with all of them all those weeks ago. In fact, their outfits remind you of a certain fictional character whom you haven’t thought about in quite some time. One who is very dear to you. Still, you cannot deny that they all look good.

At the feeling of your gaze roaming over the expanse of their bodies, each male has to suppress the pleased growl that wants to escape their throats. Their minds are battling with one another currently, arguing amongst themselves about who held your gaze the longest, and who you looked the most enraptured by while taking them all in.

San is convinced it’s him, while Seonghwa strongly disagrees. Wooyoung obviously knows it’s him, yet Jongho would beg to differ. Yunho had straightened considerably, smoothing out the front of his jacket as your eyes trailed over him the longest (at least in his mind), while Mingi would swear it was him who held your gaze over the others. Yeosang, on the outside, still looks calm and collected, while internally he’s battling it out with Hongjoong over who caused your lips to twitch upwards even if just the slightest.

You clear your throat, breaking them out of whatever trance they seem to be in.

“So,” you shift slightly on your feet, holding your book more firmly as you pass it between your hands, “you guys are leaving soon?”

At least one thing they can all agree on: they hate how you sound so hopeful. Why do you have to look so excited to be left alone, and to be away from them for any period of time, quirked brow and all? Can’t you at least be a little upset?

Hongjoong nods, naturally pushing his jacket back as he shoves his hands into his pockets. At the way he feels you trail your eyes over his figure as he does so, he has to suppress his own from shifting black in content. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay by yourself for that long?”

One final hand extended to you to get them to stay. Really, you need only say the word and they would blow off the entire council for you. Besides, you are all that truly matters to them at the moment.

You meet his gaze, the corner of your lips tugging upwards, “more than okay.”

Again, why do you have to sound so happy about it? Wooyoung, San, and Mingi all pout, and even Jongho’s lips tug downwards in a frown. Yeosang and Seonghwa cross their arms, while Yunho and Hongjoong just sigh.

“What are you going to do?” Wooyoung voices the thought on all of their minds, genuine curiosity held in his tone.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, demon boy?” You quirk a brow, a devious smirk tugging at your lips.

At this, they all turn to look at Wooyoung. This is the first time you’ve referred to one of them, almost affectionately, by any type of specific nickname around the others, and to say the others are jealous would be a severe understatement. Wooyoung, on the other hand, is absolutely revelling in the fact that you called him demon boy once more, his lips quirking upwards smugly in the corners. It’s like your own little secret.

“I think we’d all like to know,” Jongho mumbles, his pout becoming more prominent on his features.

Of course you’d just have to be thinking about that damn void right now. It’s not like they desperately want to know what you’re actually thinking about, or what you actually think about them, especially in these outfits. You seemed impressed, but with you, they can never be so sure. Besides, it would mean more to them hearing it from your own mouth, or rather, thoughts in this case.

Luckily, or rather, unluckily for them, your next words seem to answer their original question.

“Well, if you must know,” you huff, rolling your eyes somewhat. “I was going to read, but now I think I have a hot date with an old friend of mine.”

“A date?” Seonghwa can barely suppress the growl on his lips, echoed lowly by both San and Mingi. Even Wooyoung’s mood immediately plummets, the high from the nickname you called him mere seconds before crashing into the ground.

“Yeah,” you grin, somewhat amusedly. 

“Who?” Before you can continue, San’s voice, low and ominous, rings out through the foyer, his eyes swirling with that all too familiar blackness. “How?”

“You really think I can go anywhere, let alone meet up with someone else right now?” Your eyes widen in mild amusement as a huff escapes your lips. “No, it’s just that your outfits reminded me of a certain favourite fictional reaper of mine.” You shrug. “Just made me realize I haven’t watched Goblin in a while.”

“Reaper?” This time, Hongjoong doesn’t suppress when his eyes flash black.

“Relax,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as your book is held firm in your one hand, tucked against your torso. “Didn’t pin you guys for getting jealous over a fictional character.” You hum, mildly amused, “then again…"

“We’re not jealous.” Yeosang grumbles, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Denial.” You snort out a laugh. Then, more to yourself, you mutter, “hate to imagine what you’d be like if you ever found out about my favourite character from Jujutsu Kaisen.”

Immediately, Mingi’s nose is scrunching in disgust. “Please tell me you don’t like that stupid, blindfold wearing asshole.”

“Fuck, no,” you snort, mildly amused that he knows exactly what you’re talking about for the moment. “He’s way too arrogant for me.” Then, you tilt your head side to side as if contemplating something, humming all the while, “then again, he’s probably worse.”

“Who?” San’s voice is low, a slight growl to his inquiry.

You sigh, almost dreamily, a wistful smile on your face, “Sukuna.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Wooyoung swears, clearly exasperated.

“Really, I’m surprised you even had to ask considering one of the three plushies I brought back with me was him printed on a small pillow.” You shrug, stating the obvious as your arms drop back to your sides.

“It must have slipped our minds.” Seonghwa hisses out through clenched teeth.

“Well, clearly we’re getting rid of that when we get back.” Yunho states, shooting you a pointed look.

“Excuse you,” your eyebrows raise considerably in disbelief, “Sukuna is a guest.”

“Not in this household.” San retorts, and you notice how a majority of them cross their arms in front of their chests.

“Not to you,” you match his sass, meeting his gaze with a pointed look of your own. “Just because you don’t like him, doesn’t mean I don’t like him.”

“That’s the issue,” Jongho grumbles. 

“The fact that I enjoy a fictional character?” Your eyebrow quirks once more in disbelief. “He’s not even real. He’s literally lines on a page.” You voice, incredulously, tone slightly more high pitched than usual. “Would you rather me going back to thinking about the idols I enjoy?”

“No!” Immediately, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung all respond, taking a small step towards you as the others scowl right along with them.

Then again, they’d never know if that is exactly what you do considering your void is still up. A fact which only makes growls build in their chests once more. There’s always an option to attack your mental void all at once, but they would rather not put you through that type of mental strain. They care about you too much. Plus, they promised they would never hurt you.

“Too late,” a devious smirk stretches across your features as you begin to chuckle, your free hand coming up to cover your mouth in the next second.

However, what you fail to notice is the way Yunho’s jaw twitches. Even more so than the other seven around him who all seem to be clenching theirs in response.

“You’re really testing our patience, Love,” Hongjoong is tense, his fists clenched at his sides as he meets your gaze.

“Oh, am I?” You smile innocently, dropping your one hand back to your side. Then, just as innocently, you say, “aren’t you going to be late?”

That seems to pull them back to reality and the task at hand, scowls on all of their faces.

“This isn’t over.” Seonghwa states, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Isn’t it?” You grin, a teasing quirk to your brow as you chuckle. “It’s so easy to rile you guys up.”

“Then why do you test us so?” Mingi asks, whole body tense as he locks gazes with you.

“Why?” You hum, briefly glancing at all of them once more. “I wouldn’t tease you if I didn’t feel comfortable around you.”

Immediately, they all go silent, your words settling over them as pure and utter surprise courses through their veins. Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Yunho all blink in shock, lips parting ever so slightly. San, Wooyoung, and Jongho all cannot suppress the pleased growls that escape them. Even Yeosang and Mingi have the gall to look somewhat smug for the moment before a bright smile is stretching across Mingi’s lips.

“Anyways…” you clear your throat, your admission finally sinking in for your own self as well. Then, seemingly against your better judgment, you continue, “good luck with the council, or whatever.” You turn around so they cannot see the way you avert your gaze so bashfully as the next words fall from your mouth, nothing but a mere whisper on your lips. “You, uh, all look really handsome.”

The sound of your first footstep is synonymous with the resounding growls of content that echo around the room as you begin to walk back towards the hallway that you’ve just come from. You can feel each of their gazes on your form, and you’re willing to bet that their eyes have flashed black as well. Only, there seems to be one gaze that is piercing your figure much more intensely than the rest.

“Captain.” Jongho attempts to grab Hongjoong’s attention, his brow furrowing as he gets no response from the elder. “Captain?”

Your brow quirks slightly as you turn to shoot them one last look from over your shoulder just as you reach the open archway of the hall. Lips quirking at the corners, you lock gazes with Hongjoong who seems to be the only one still staring at you so intently for the moment. You raise your free hand, wiggling your fingers in a final wave before disappearing around the corner.

“Captain?” It’s only when Seonghwa places a hand onto Hongjoong’s shoulder does the younger of the two finally snap out of his daze.

“Right.” He exhales a long breath through his nose. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, all eight of them are transporting themselves deep within the reaches of their domain near where the council will be taking place. None can deny the way their chests swirl with pride as your last admission lingers in the air between them, each standing a little taller as they land in their own throne room.

“That went better than expected.” Yunho is the first to break the silence between all of them. “Sort of.”

“I still would prefer her not teasing us like that.” San grumbles, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Believe me, I think we’d all prefer her not doing that.” Yeosang sits on the steps leading up to their thrones, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees. The rest of the council will just have to wait for now. After all, it will only start once they arrive.

“But hey,” Jongho chimes in, a lightness to his voice, “at least we know she’s starting to trust us. Especially with everything she’s implied and said tonight.”

“But Sukuna of all characters?” Mingi grumbles, taking a seat beside Yeosang on the steps as he rubs over his face with his hands.

“Isn’t he just essentially us, but fictional?” Hongjoong turns to look at Mingi for confirmation.

“He’s less powerful, though,” Wooyoung adds as Mingi nods, “and less attractive.”

“He’s still known as the ‘King of Curses’,” San mumbles.

“Yeah, and we’re the fucking Kings of the Realm,” Seonghwa spits, arms crossed in front of his chest as his eyes flash. “If she can like him, then she can like us.”

“We are the real thing, after all,” Yunho hums. “Minus the tattoos and extra limbs.”

Yeosang’s eyes narrow at the male standing before him, “how do you know what he looks like? You haven’t even seen a single episode of the anime, or read one page of the manga.”

Yunho quirks a brow, his lips twitching upwards expectantly at his brothers.

Seonghwa inhales sharply as realization crosses his features, “you’ve been able to get passed her void.”

Yunho smirks, noticing how he seems to have their full attention on him now.

“How?” Wooyoung takes a step forwards, eagerness on his features along with Jongho, San, Mingi, and Seonghwa. “When?”

“I can’t do it all of the time, but since the crowning when she opened her mind up to me again briefly, I was able to latch on to that opening and worm my way in.” Yunho explains, noticing how some of them tense at the recollection of that moment in verbiage only.

“You always were the best out of all of us when it came to that sort of stuff, anyways,” Hongjoong nods, impressed, despite that familiar jealous pit burning beneath the surface of his skin right now.

“We all have our own skills that we play to our advantage,” Yunho’s eyes flash as he meets Hongjoong’s gaze. “I simply acted when the opportunity presented itself.”

“What else was she thinking?” Jongho’s gaze is a little too eager as he looks at Yunho.

“I don’t think you want to know.” Yunho shakes his head.

“I think we do.” Seonghwa quirks a brow, noticing how both Yeosang and Wooyoung seem to be on the exact same page as him, even if Yeosang is trying to hide how eager he is at the moment.

“Well,” Yunho sighs, smoothing his hands down the front of his jacket, “I caught glimpses of another idol she apparently likes, only this time she was picturing him as Sukuna.”

“Who?” Both San and Hongjoong snarl at the same time, Mingi and Wooyoung growling right along with them.

“I didn’t recognize him right away, but I could have sworn his name started with a ‘Jae’,” Yunho frowns, attempting to recall the memory in more detail.

“Like, the letter, or…?” Wooyoung quirks a brow.

“No, the first part of his name was ‘Jae’,” Yunho replies.

Immediately, both Jongho and Yeosang tense as the mental image of what you had been thinking about, or rather, whom, flashes in all of their minds, curtesy of Yunho.

“Jaehyun.” Yeosang spits out the name like it’s venom on his tongue, eyes flashing black beneath the rim of his hat.

“I thought she said he broke her heart without cause or care?” Jongho growls, immediately echoed by the seven demons surrounding him.

“Maybe it’s not the same one,” Wooyoung suggests, fingers twitching as his soul calls for blood to be shed right alongside Hongjoong’s very own.

“Oh, I believe it is.” Yeosang scowls.

“How could an idol break her heart?” Mingi frowns slightly, attempting to wrap his head around this situation. “Why would she still think of him, then?”

“Maybe she wasn’t being serious when she told you?” San suggests, holding onto that final hope before his own sanity snaps for the evening. He’s already ticked off about the council gathering enough, the last thing he needs is to not be able to make a rational decision when they need him to.

“Maybe.” Jongho grumbles, taking a seat on the stairs beside Mingi in the next moment.

“This doesn’t change the fact that she’s still thinking about other people.” Hongjoong states, voice firm as his fingers dig into the skin of his crossed arms. “Other men, no less.”

“I don’t know what else we can do apart from brainwashing her to make her like us faster,” Seonghwa mumbles, shaking his head in the next second as several pairs of eyes turn to glare at him.

“We’ve already agreed that that would be something we would never do.” Hongjoong’s voice is low, threatening. “Especially not to her.”

“I know,” Seonghwa exhales an exasperated breath. “It’s just difficult-“

“You think we don’t know that?” Yeosang shouts, standing back onto his feet instantly, eyes flashing once more. “It’s difficult for all of us, Seonghwa, not just you.”

“Maybe if you shared with us what you talked about last week, we’d all be a little bit more understanding,” Wooyoung grumbles, frown prominent on his features as he looks towards the eldest.

“That is not my memory to share, brother.” Seonghwa narrows his eyes back at the younger, noticing how they all seem to back off for the moment in understanding.

Then, a moment later, both Yunho and Jongho are letting out two very exasperated sighs of their own.

“Can we not focus on how she just complimented us before we left?” Yunho’s voice rumbles out, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck.

“Or even how she reacted when she first saw us tonight?” Jongho takes off his hat, running his fingers through his hair in the next moment.

“How long has it been since she’s looked at all of us with something other than caution, or malcontent in her eyes?” Hongjoong asks the question on all of their minds.

A moment of silence passes over them as they let his words sink in.

“Too long.” Yeosang’s voice nearly catches in his throat, overcome by the conflicting emotions swirling within himself at the events that have just taken place mere minutes before.

“We’ve all been making considerable progress with her just in this past month alone,” Mingi breathes. “Just imagine where we’ll be in another few weeks.”

“Believe me, I always do.” Yunho sighs.

“Maybe we should wear these more often.” Jongho jokes, motioning over the front of his outfit with the hand that’s still holding onto his hat as he stands.

“If it means her calling me handsome again, I’ll wear anything she wants.” San voices, a soft smile painting his features as he blinks a few times dreamily, recalling how your eyes roamed over his figure barely ten minutes earlier.

“Her comment was directed at me.” Wooyoung states, matter of factly, as his eyes narrow at San.

“In your fucking dreams, demon boy.” Seonghwa huffs, rolling his eyes as Wooyoung snarls at him in response.

“Every damn night, handsy,” Wooyoung retorts, taking a threatening step towards the eldest as his eyes flash black.

“Knock it off,” Hongjoong snaps, frown prominent on his features as he looks to each one of them. “All of you.”

Yunho sighs, “let’s just get through this stupid council meeting, and get back to our girl, yeah?”

Murmurs of agreement course throughout the room from all of them as Mingi stands back onto his feet. Begrudgingly, they all walk towards the main doors of the throne room in order to enter the grand hall where this council will be taking place. Everyone else should be there already, simply waiting for them to arrive. Besides, the sooner they can get this over with, the better. At least they can all agree on that.

They’re just lucky that the throne room is sound proof. Besides, no one would dare to eavesdrop on their Kings.

In an instant, the doors to the throne room are swinging open on silent hinges, the murmurs within the grand room coming to a halt as the eight kings make their appearance. Immediately, all those who have been summoned bow, taking a knee as the leaders appear before them. Only when Hongjoong flicks his wrist in an upwards motion do the other demons in the room stand back to their feet.

“Is there a reason you summoned us here tonight?” Hongjoong’s eyes narrow at the demons all standing around the room.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the demons standing off to his right, Jax, begins.

“Then what is it?” Seonghwa’s scowl is prominent, annoyed that they couldn’t be told what this council was about in the letter they received summoning them here tonight.

“There have been issues recently between the major clans.” Jax responds.

“Issues?” Wooyoung quirks a brow.

“And you couldn’t figure it out yourselves?” Jongho huffs, unamused.

“There have been many attempts to settle the land disputes and power imbalances, but nothing has come to fruition.” Miyeon crosses her arms in front of her chest, clearly as annoyed as they are right now, if not more. “Not that you would care.”

In a flash, Hongjoong has her by the throat, her feet dangling in the air as she struggles in his grip. His eyes are pitch black and violent, snarl on his features as he blocks her airway.

Just like old times, huh, boys? Her voice resounding through all of their heads has disgust pulling onto their features.

“Watch your tone.” Hongjoong growls, tightening his grip on her neck.

Out of all of them, Hongjoong is the one who tolerates any sort of disrespect towards any of them the least. All of them know not to get in his way when he gets like this, but that doesn’t mean they won’t step in from time to time.

“We apologize for her stepping out of line,” Miyeon’s older sister, Mina steps forward, bowing lowly along with the rest of their clan who has decided to show up to this council tonight. “Please, hear us out.”

“Fine.” Carelessly, Hongjoong tosses Miyeon onto the floor at her clan’s feet. “Hurry up, we don’t have all night.”

No sentiment for old lovers? Miyeon heaves a breath as air returns to her lungs, looking up to meet Hongjoong’s gaze. You really have gone cold.

Watch your mind before we break it. Yunho harshly replies, eight sets of eyes glaring at the demon still on the ground at their feet.

The resentment is clear in her gaze as she looks back up at them, but also a hint of hurt lingers there. Wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, she stands back to her feet, too proud to apologize, even to them.

Fixating his gaze on Mina, Hongjoong motions for her to continue.

“The factions you previously divided up are beginning to attack one another for territory in the deeper parts of the realm. Many of the lower ranks are seeking power in any and every way they can, starting with the attempted annihilation of the better known clans.” Mina explains.

“How long has this been going on?” Mingi steps forward slightly.

“Two months.” Jax states.

“Two months?” San is this close to losing his temper, and he’s barely been in the room for more than five minutes. “No one thought to contact us earlier?”

“You seemed preoccupied.” Miyeon spits, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s been over twenty years, Miyeon,” her father, Otis, whispers quite harshly to her as he steps forward to place a hand onto her shoulder. “Let it go.”

Instantly, she shrugs his hand off, standing a little straighter. Her eyes begin to blaze with an untamed fire only five of them have ever truly seen before.

Yeosang sighs, turning to meet Mina’s gaze, “what do you want us to do about it?”

“Killing them all would be nice, considering you usually don’t have any issues with that.” Miyeon huffs out a response instead, a roll to her eyes.

“Would you like to be the starting example?” Seonghwa tilts his head mockingly, eyes wide and wild as he stares her down.

At this, she stiffens, lowering her gaze from the intensity of his own.

Mina shoots her sister a look out of the corner of her eyes. “We would like your permission to protect ourselves without consequence against those that oppose us in our own domain.”

The eight of them all share a brief glance between one another before Hongjoong lets out a long sigh. “Do what you have to do.”

Many of the demons begin to grin around the room. Awful, malicious smirks that paint their features in shadows.

“However,” Yunho adds, drawing all of their attention back to the eight of them at the head of the room, “we will try any that you capture and bring before us if that is what you so wish. We have to make examples out of them somehow.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” choruses around the room.

“Is that all?” San quirks a brow, slightly hopeful that they can cut this council summoning short.

“No, Your Majesty,” Jax replies, suddenly cautious at the way he sees San’s expression fall back into an annoyed scowl. “There are quite a few other things as well.”

It takes them a full hour and a half to deal with each small individual complaint some of the other clans have, each one grating on their last nerve. Some of them are ridiculous, petty arguments that could be settled without their help, but unfortunately it seems some of their subjects cannot think for themselves. Others are there clearly to attempt to impress them, a fact which only makes them dislike them even more. Though, a few of them they can all agree upon that, yes, they did have to attend to that particular matter.

Still, all cannot wait to get back home to you.

Finally, after what feels like forever, they reach the end of the concerns from the surrounding demons. Some of them linger after the council concludes, talking amongst themselves or wanting to chat with their leaders about little things here and there. Of course, they have to keep appearances, so before they know it, Mingi, San, Wooyoung, and Yunho are all being dragged off by different clans to catch them up on whatever endeavours have transpired since the last time they talked to them.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa circle the room, making sure they’ve gotten all the information they can out of the demons who have requested something from them. Of course, their biggest concern is the potential threat to them. Any threat against them is a threat against you, and the last thing they want is for you to be caught in the crossfire in any way, shape, or form.

Jongho and Yeosang both stand off to the side for now, conversing amongst themselves until Jongho is being called over by the two eldest to help settle a small dispute between one of the major clans he rules over that has just seemingly arisen.

Letting out a sigh, Yeosang crosses his arms. A furrow creases his brow as he begins to think about what you may or may not be currently doing back at home. Oh, so badly does he just want to leave. To go ahead of his brothers and see you once more this evening. 

Perhaps it’s too much of a wishful thought on his part, but Yeosang cannot help but to imagine sneaking away while his brothers wrap up here in order to spend some quality time with you before they get back. He could watch an episode of Goblin with you, if that’s what you were doing. Really, it doesn’t matter to him, just as long as he gets to spend time with you. It’s not like he wants to check out this reaper you claim to like, or anything.

“Who is she?” Miyeon’s stern voice from behind him manages to pull him out of his own thoughts, turning around to face her in an instant.

“Excuse me?” Yeosang quirks a brow, slightly amused by her audacity.

“The new whore you all seem to be obsessed with.” She spits, and instantly, Yeosang has her pinned to the wall, cracks appearing from how harshly he’s slammed her into it.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” His eyes are black, a snarl on his lips.

“I knew it,” she huffs out a breath, shaking her head as Mingi is the first to appear beside Yeosang, followed shortly by San and Wooyoung a little ways away.

Carefully, Mingi places a hand on his brother’s shoulder, his own anger from overhearing Miyeon’s words hardly being restrained as he attempts to pull Yeosang off of her.

You’re just giving her what she wants. Mingi’s voice resounds in Yeosang’s head.

I don’t care. Yeosang growls out threateningly as he feels Miyeon begin to struggle beneath his hold, only causing him to harshly push her further into the wall. If she thinks she can say these things about My Dearest, then she has another thing coming.

Most of the other demons around the room vanish in an instant, not wanting to incur the wrath that they are sure is about to be brought down upon Miyeon. However, those few that remain, mainly from her own clan, can only watch on in shock, frozen in fear, and much too terrified to interfere.

“Is the sex that good that you would rather bed a human than me?” Her question is directed at all of them, but really only four in particular. At the way she sees Hongjoong appear beside Yeosang, one of his signature blades clutched dangerously in his hand, she knows she’s struck something.

“I never bedded you,” Yeosang spits, venom laced in every word. “Nor have I ever wanted to.”

Mingi manages to pull Yeosang off of her finally, taking a few steps back as Seonghwa comes to stand beside Hongjoong, his own hand placed on the younger’s shoulder.

“Miyeon, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome-“

“This is bullshit!” She shouts, cutting off her sister instantly. “Since when do Kings submit to dirt?”

The knife is embedded within her left shoulder before anyone can react, Hongjoong’s chest heaving with every breath he takes. Black eyes full of malice meet Miyeon’s own, and she finds no sympathy in any of the other’s gazes, not even those she was closest to.

Clutching the handle of the dagger, Miyeon rips it out of her shoulder, blood trickling out of her wound.

“There was a time when you would have done anything for me.” She voices, somewhat disappointedly. “Now, it’s all for some pathetic human? What a joke.”

“Miyeon.” Her father warns.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Hongjoong tilts his head, nothing but a sinister grin pulling at his lips as he looks at her with mock sympathy. “I never cared for you in the first place.”

Miyeon screams in rage, throwing the dagger directly at Hongjoong who catches it with ease, tutting all the while as he shakes his head.

Instantly, his eyes flash, and the blade is protruding from her opposite shoulder.

Almost pleadingly, she turns to look at San, then Wooyoung, and then Mingi, until she spares a glance at the other four, “are you really going to let him treat me like this? Did I mean nothing to you?”

“Twenty years ago I might have felt a little bad about this,” Wooyoung shrugs, leaning against one of the pillars at the side of the room. Already, he’s barely holding onto his fury, about two seconds away from skinning Miyeon alive for what she’s already said about you.

“You mean nothing to us.” Mingi states, looking down upon her with a blank gaze.

“You are nothing.” San’s eyes swirl with that all too familiar blackness, arms crossed as he attempts to keep his whole body from shaking in rage.

Miyeon’s expression drops only momentarily before a vicious scowl tugs at her features.

“You’ll grow tired of that whore soon enough.” She spits, clutching at the dagger embedded in her opposite shoulder, the blade too deep this time to simply rip out. “From the looks of things, she’s playing hard to get. Must be agony not being able to wet your dicks when you want to.”

Immediately, Seonghwa has her by the throat against the wall, more cracks appearing as he slams her back into the same spot Yeosang had just been holding her against. His eyes flash black as he growls threateningly, teeth bared in a snarl. “One more word form you and I’ll snap your fucking neck.”

“Seonghwa.” It’s Jongho that manages to pull the eldest off of her this time, practically holding him back as the youngest puts a leash on his own anger.

Then, her father is taking a cautious step forward, looking sternly towards his daughter, yet too scared to properly intervene. “Miyeon, that’s enough.”

“Get her out of our sights.” Hongjoong spits, beginning to turn his back to her, not wanting to deal with this situation any longer.

Surprisingly, Yunho has been quiet this whole time, but all of them know that there is a storm raging behind those dark eyes of his as he stands the furthest away from the scene out of the eight of them.

However, before either her father or her sister can reach her, Miyeon manages to get out some final words. Unfortunately for her, they are her very own death sentence.

“That’s right, run back to the little human slut,” she huffs out a laugh. “What was her name, anyways? Oh, right,” a malicious grin stretches across her lips as she watches Hongjoong freeze with his back turned to her as she says your name with nothing but pure venom on her tongue. “I wonder what you’ll all do when she’s dead.”

Before anyone else has a chance to react, Hongjoong has Miyeon by the jaw against the wall. A resounding crack echoes throughout the room, but this time, it’s not from the wall.

“Get My Love’s sacred name out of your filthy mouth.” Hongjoong leans in to whisper lowly in Miyeon’s ear as tears begin to line her eyes, his own as black as night and calling for blood. “If I ever hear you say her name again, I will carve your tongue out of your mouth after I make you taste the contents of your innards from ripping them out of you in the most painful ways I know how.”

Her breath catches, the first of her tears falling from her eyes as his words sink in. He never called her that before. He never threatened anyone who threatened her, so why you? What makes you so special?

Miyeon’s jaw throbs, the broken bone cracked in multiple places as Hongjoong squeezes his hand harder against her.

“What’s the matter, Mimi?” He hums in mock concern, practically hissing her old nickname they gave her back at her, making her whimper as his eyes hold that crazed look in them that she knows all too well. “Cat got your tongue?”

She looks around once more, noticing the other seven look at her just as darkly, eyes calling for her blood to be spilt - for her soul to be torn apart until there’s nothing left but a wisp of a memory in her family’s minds.

White hot fury courses through her veins as she continues being held against the cracked wall by Hongjoong. A jealous fire worse than Hongjoong’s own burns within her, absolutely despising your very existence. Tears fall freely down her face as she blinks, her mind running wild with plans to absolutely destroy you for taking them away from her.

Only, they were never hers to begin with.

At one particular thought, Yunho’s eyes flash and a scream is tearing from Miyeon’s throat as she slumps in Hongjoong’s grip. He releases his hold on her, letting her fall limply to the floor as he steps away from her in disgust.

Of course she would pass out. Yunho only made her feel like thousands of tiny needles were stabbing her mind. Not quite enough to break her, but enough to serve as a warning if she ever were to act on those thoughts and come after you.

Wiping his hands on the front of his coat, Hongjoong turns to face Otis, a look of severe discontent shining in his pure black eyes.

“If we ever see her here again, we will not be so kind.” Hongjoong snaps, the others falling in line beside him as their own eyes flash black. “Now, get out of our sights.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, all of the demons, save for Mina and Otis leave the room. It only takes two seconds for them to grab Miyeon’s body, and to be transporting themselves away from the grand hall, but neither father nor sister will forget the burning gazes of all eight of their leaders boring holes into them as they did so.

Once the room clears, San turns and punches a hole right through the wall beside him, the entire building shaking from the intensity of his fist. “Fuck.”

“You really know how to pick ‘em.” Wooyoung rounds on San instantly.

“Don’t you dare pin this on me, you wanted her as much as I did twenty years ago, too.” San snaps back at the younger male.

“She only used us to try and get to Yeosang, anyways.” Mingi sighs, taking off his hat as he crouches to the ground. “He was the only one she truly wanted.”

“Yeah, until Yunho started training her mentally,” Jongho rolls his eyes, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Then it was like a game to her of how many of us she could try and trap.”

“Don’t remind me,” Yunho sighs, taking his own hat off to run his fingers through his hair. They all know he regrets it the most out of all of them.

Seven heads turn to look at Hongjoong who is currently zoning out and staring intently at the cracked wall, chest heaving with every breath he takes.

“Captain, are you okay?” Yeosang voices the question on all of their minds.

A full minute passes by, and they still get no response.

“Captain?” Jongho attempts to catch Hongjoong’s attention, but the fire he sees burning behind the elder’s gaze has him backing down for the moment.

“Hongjoong.” It’s Seonghwa who manages to pull the younger back to reality by placing a hand onto his shoulder, fingers digging into the material of his jacket.

“I should have killed her.” Hongjoong hisses, eyes flashing black once more. “I should have made an example of her right where she stood when I had the chance.”

“But you did.” Mingi is the first to assure him. “We’ve now warned her clan of the consequences, and we have every right to skin her alive the next time we see her. And if she so much as thinks about harming our love…”

Mingi lets his words trail off, resounding growls of agreement rumbling through the air between all of them.

“Believe me, we all wanted to skin her alive for what she said about our love just now.” Wooyoung snarls, along with both San and Seonghwa.

“It’s my fault for allowing her to bait me.” Yeosang’s jaw clenches as he looks towards the cracked wall once more. “If I didn’t react-“

“You did what you felt was best,” Seonghwa states, voice somewhat reassuring as he drops his hand from Hongjoong’s shoulder finally. “If she cornered me like that I would have torn her head clean off.”

“We all know you wanted to, anyways,” Mingi snorts, rolling his eyes.

“You wouldn’t have complained.” Seonghwa crosses his arms in front of his chest as Mingi raises his hands palms upwards, shrugging in agreement.

“How did she even know about our love’s name, anyways?” San’s inquiry has a growl rising on all of their lips at the memory of mere minutes ago.

“It’s easier to invade someone’s mind without them knowing during times of extreme emotion or distress, especially when they are experiencing uncontrollable anger, pain, or fear.” Yunho states, eyes blankly staring ahead of him. “I fear I trained her too well. It could have been any one of us she gathered that information from.”

“It’s been twenty fucking years,” San voices, exasperatedly. “You think she’d give it a rest by now, and recognize that we’ve moved on.”

“That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” Jongho blinks, his expression unamused. “You’ve forgotten about her, but she clearly hasn’t let go of you.”

“You were right not to get involved back then,” Mingi sighs, directing his comment at the youngest.

“I warned you guys,” Jongho huffs out a breath as he shrugs, essentially telling them all ‘I told you so’.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “The past has passed. We’re not going to change it now.”

“If she so much as even tries anything that she had been thinking in the end,” Hongjoong finally speaks once more, voice low and ominous, like the calm of an approaching storm, “I will destroy her.”

Seven growls of agreement resonate throughout the room, their eyes all flashing black once more.

“There’s no way that she can get into our own personal domain, especially not when we’re there.” Seonghwa reasons, though there’s a hint of worry in his tone. 

You’re now in constant danger due to Miyeon, and if her family cannot control her, then the eight of them will have to act, and fast. No one comes after you without them knowing about it. No one touches you, or will bring you any harm. At least, not while they are around. They will always protect you, whether you realize it or not.

“Our wards are far too intricate for the likes of her,” Yeosang agrees, silently reassuring the eldest with just a glance.

“It’s not like we can’t protect her.” Yunho adds, the other seven humming along with him.

“If we take our beloved anywhere outside of our domain, we’ll just have to be extra careful now.” Wooyoung voices the thoughts on all of their minds.

“Agreed.” Mingi, San, Yunho, and Jongho all say at once, the other three nodding along with them.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’d rather not return to our beloved ready to tear into someone’s throat.” San smiles tightly, noticing how Wooyoung, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho all flick their brows upwards in agreement.

“Why don’t we pay those little demons stirring up trouble a visit?” Yeosang voices, almost nonchalantly.

“Two birds with one stone,” Mingi shrugs, standing back to his full height and straightening out his jacket.

“As much as I want to be getting back home to our girl, considering how long we’ve already been gone, I think this would be best for all of us.” Yunho nods in agreement, placing his hat back onto his head.

“I could relieve some stress,” Jongho hums, brushing off the arms of his jacket.

“Good.” Seonghwa takes in a deep breath before turning to Hongjoong. “Captain?”

They all look to their leader, awaiting his final orders.

Hongjoong grins, a malicious tug to his lips as his eyes darken, “let’s go spill some blood.”

#yandere ateez #ateez scenario #yandere kpop #yandere au #kpop scenario #yandere hongjoong #yandere seonghwa #yandere mingi #yandere san #yandere yeosang #yandere jongho #yandere yunho #yandere wooyoung #wooyoung scenario #yunho scenario #jongho scenario #san scenario #yeosang scenarios #mingi scenarios #seonghwa scenarios #hongjoong scenarios #kpop au #demon au

[thelampisaflashlight]

Shutterbug: Point and Shoot

[Dew and Aeon go to the lake to take pictures of the sunrise. Angst comes and goes in a blink. Baphomet persists.] Below the cut.

"Why do we have to get up so early for this?" Aeon whines, dragging his feet through the tall grass, slumped forward dramatically with an almost comical pout on his face as he follows Dew towards the lake.

"If you want to photograph the sunrise, you need to get up before the sun rises." the older man says, unbothered by the younger's antics, "Simple as that."

Aeon gives a little huff before a yawn slips from his lips, causing Dew to yawn as well, "It's so early though... There's a whole hour before the sun rises, and it only takes ten minutes to walk here from the dorms!"

Dew rolls his eyes and sets down the large backpack slung over his shoulder, gesturing for Aeon to do the same.

"If I let you sleep in any longer, you wouldn't be awake enough to help me set up, let alone take the pictures. You said you wanted to learn how to use an actual camera, and here we are."

The quintessence ghoul hums, "Here we are..."

With a sigh, Aeon casts his gaze over the lake, still lit by the stars that are only now starting to fade from view.

The ground is cool under his feet, and the toes of his sneakers are lightly soaked by the morning dew.

He inhales slow and deep and feels himself slowly beginning to wake.

"At least it's nice out here..." he says, turning towards Dew, who is rummaging through his bag, taking out a tripod and another, compact bag from within that looks worn in a well loved kind of way, "So... I never got to ask, since the others recommended that I go to you to learn about this stuff, but, uh, how long have you been into photography?"

"Aw, geez, it's been a long time..." Dew picks up a flat rock from the dirt, sliding it under one of the legs of the tripod, making it more level, "Couple decades now, I guess?"

"A couple... A couple what?? A couple decades??" Aeon balks, "But you've only been on the surface since..."

He counts on his fingers, but gets stuck.

"H-How is that even possible??"

Dew stands up, bracing against his knees as he does so, "Huh, guess that story slipped through the cracks... I mean, yeah, I..."

He places a hand on his chest.

"I don't mean me." he says, "I mean this guy."

He sweeps his hand up to his face and then downwards.

"My vessel."

Aeon blinks.

"Your vessel...?"

"Ough... they really don't tell you new summons anything..." Dew stretches and then grabs one of the folding chairs he made Aeon carry with them, "Pop a squat, Sparkles, we have some time to kill anyway."

Aeon tilts his head sideways, but does as he's told. Once he's settled, Dew sits down, looking out over the horizon.

"It's all kind of complicated, but the long and short of it is; My body, this face you're looking at, this isn't a glamour. It's not an approximation of what I would look like if I were human... it is human."

"I... Okay." Aeon looks at Dew sideways, "So... You're human then?"

"Was." Dew says, stretching his legs out, "I was, but I also wasn't. Sometimes... Sometimes, when the church needs a ghoul... No, that's... Let's just go with that, yeah?"

Aeon nods.

"The best way I can put it, is that this body belonged to someone else, and then another person -a demon- laid claim to it, but instead of forcing the other soul out... they kind of, I dunno, melded together?" Dew emphasizes his point by making a squishing motion with his hands, "So I'm, like, some kind of weird soul baby of those two people."

"Hehe... Soul baby..."

"Shut up, I said it was complicated."

"Sorry."

"...You are forgiven, for now." Dew snorts, "Anyway."

Dew taps the side of his head.

"Basically means I have memories from two different lives mushed together in the old brain box, and to get to the point already, the first guy was a photographer."

"Ohhh... So you retained all of his memories of how to do this then?" Aeon asks, looking at the bags again, "That's pretty-"

Aeon pauses, brow furrowing.

"...What happened?"

Dew raises a brow, turning his head towards him, "Mn?"

"What happened to the photographer guy? Like, if you're..." he bites the inside of his cheek, "Am I not supposed to ask-"

"I never said you couldn't, and do I look bothered?" Dew questions, his posture too casual, too relaxed for him to be annoyed, "Do you really wanna know?"

Another pause.

"...Yes, please."

Dew closes his eyes for a moment and sits up slightly.

"Here, I'll show you how to set up the camera first so we don't forget why we're out here..."

And they do.

Dew makes Aeon do most of the set-up and adjustments to the equipment himself, "So you can get a feel for it."

When all is said and done, Dew lets him tweak camera's settings a bit more before motioning for him to sit back down.

"I've been into photography since I was a kid, couldn't tell you how old I was when I first held a camera, but I do know what my first clear picture was of." he says, leaning back in his chair, "We had this little terrier, Wilma, when I was little, and the thing couldn't sit still for the life of her, but I somehow managed to get her to stay put for a photo... Probably bribed her with an entire bag of biscuits, but I was really proud of how it came out."

"I don't really remember many of my early, early memories, especially not the ones from this guy, but I remember that." he utters softly, a hint of warmth blossoming on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, subtle embarrassment, "Being proud..."

"I can also remember being fucking miserable."

A cool breeze rolls across the grass, and Aeon uses it to hide the shiver that runs up his spine at Dew's words.

"...Before I go any further, do you still want to hear about this?"

Aeon swallows, then thinks.

"Do you really want to talk about it?" he counters, and Dew gives a little puff through his nose, "Really, though."

He shrugs.

"It was a long time ago, Sparkles."

"Doesn't mean it can't still hurt." Aeon whispers a bit too knowingly for Dew's liking, if the little noise in the back of his throat is any indication of that.

"...I died." he says after a moment of silence, "I died, Aeon."

"You... You died?"

"I don't know the full details, and I don't want to know, but yeah." he nods, "Yeah."

Aeon watches the cattails wave in the wind, processing what his packmate just said.

"I guess I got lost out in the woods nearby, and some siblings found me and brought my body back here." Dew continues, "There's a lot of... little details that flicker around in my head from time to time, fragments of memories, or maybe dreams I'm misremembering, but I mostly just remember, ya know, stuff like this."

He points at the camera.

"I didn't forget how to do things like read or write, and I knew things I liked and didn't like, but I forgot most of what made me this guy."

"Did he have a name?" Aeon asks, taking in Dew's features anew, from the sharpness of his nose, to the gentleness of his brow.

"Probably." Dew laughs, "Actually, yes, but that's also something I've decided I don't want to know. The files are all there, if I decide to deep dive into my past, but I already promised myself I wouldn't do that."

"...But you died."

"You're wondering how I'm here now, right?"

Aeon nods.

"Well, there was this goat-"

.

.

.

"Well, hello, Moonlight, how'd your little photography lesson with Dew go?" Swiss asks, legs kicked up over the armrest the couch in the common room as he half watches the morning news, eyeing a harrowed looking Aeon.

The ghoul stares blankly at the wall for a solid minute before he replies.

"...Have you hear the Bapho-tits story before or is Dew full-on fucking with me?"

Swiss almost pulls a muscle from the involuntary sit-up he does from wheezing too hard.

#lamp writes #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic

[thestruidora]

Sweetheart

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Yandere, Borderline Personality Disorder, Stalker, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Angst, Fluff and Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Therapy, Miscommunication, Plot With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink

Category: F/M

Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary: Dean has borderline personality disorder and the reader is his favorite person.

Chapter Updates: Masterlist

Author's notes: I don't even what to write in here at this point. All I can say is that I really hope you guys enjoy because it took me fucking forever to write.

Chapter Four

The Tower

“The Tower is about sudden, shocking change. Change that can knock you off your feet and alter your future as you thought you knew it.”

“Alright, everyone, good work today. See you ladies tomorrow!” George, the construction site’s foreman, yelled out to the workers the second the clock struck 5 p.m.

“Fucking finally.” Dean murmured to himself, putting down the sledgehammer he was holding and taking off his safety gloves, hands free at last to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“That eager to come home to the wife, huh?” Sid asked him with a knowing smirk, and Dean smiled in return, amused at just how far off his colleague was.

“Oh, you don’t know how much.” He said it with ease, taking off his goggles and patting away the fine dust from his hair.

“I would be too if I had a great gal like Lisa to come home to.” Sid winked at Dean, hands busy with removing his own safety gear.

“Yeah, she’s… She’s great.” The Winchester nodded and looked to the side, the fake smile dying on his lips. “Anyways, I’mma head out. Talk to you tomorrow, Sid.” He bids his farewell, feet moving towards the parking lot, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

“See ya.” Sid waves him off, even though Dean's back was already to him.

Once he's inside his monstrosity of a car — the respectful family minivan —, he lets out a long, deep-rooted sigh.

Out of the windshield, he can see the beginning of sunset, the light blue sky seamlessly turning to a burning orange. If you ask him, the end of his shift couldn't have come fast enough. The days have been longer than usual, each one stretching itself out more than the one before. The hours drag by, and it sure doesn't help that he's been counting them.

But he can't help it, he hasn't seen you in a long time. Too long. Almost two weeks. Twelve excruciating days.

He'll have his session with you in a couple of days, and you'll finally be face-to-face with him again. ‘Cause it's not like he hasn't seen you from afar this whole time, that'd be crazy. He has to keep an eye on you, right? To protect you.

That's what he's been doing. Protecting you. Ever since the very first time he set foot in your office and you told him that the two of you could no longer be friends, he dedicated himself to reverting the situation, but to no avail since you could be so stubborn.

His line of communication with you became thinner and thinner and it felt like the more he tried to reach for you, the more he risked breaking it altogether.

He no longer saw you at the dog park, since your friend with terrible timing had decided to come back from her vacation and get Loki back from you.

You had never officially given your personal phone number to him, even though he has had it for a while now. It couldn't have been easier to obtain, he just saved the contact after seeing your open phone bill atop the table in your living room on one of the many occasions in which he had let himself into your apartment.

So he couldn't just call you out of nowhere, it would be weird and it would raise questions.

He couldn't do it.

It didn't matter that you had canceled his last appointment and that had set him off into a panic attack, which he had never had before.

It didn't matter that he couldn't stop thinking that you had grown tired of him and his stupid problems and his endless daddy issues.

That he literally could not breathe at the thought of how worthless and pathetic you must think he is.

Even though your receptionist had assured him that she made a mistake and overbooked you that week, he couldn't believe that.

You were sick of him, that's what it was.

It had to be.

And even as he sits in the driver's seat of his revolting minivan, knowing full well that he's only a couple of days away from being with you in person, he can't help but want to be near you right now. Just so he can fix it. Whatever it was about him that made you loathe him and despise him, he can change.

He has to see you at that very instant.

It's all he can think about as he turns on the vehicle's engine and drives exactly at the speed limit from the construction site all the way to your house, parking on the other side of the street as he always does.

The big glass windows of your apartment allow for ample observation of whatever occurs inside, giving Dean a privileged view of your form as you turn on the lights on your way from your living room to the kitchen. Your silhouette is bathed in the warm glow of the lamps that shine through its surroundings and light up the space now that the sun has set and night has fallen.

He can see your fingers moving nimbly as you wash whatever dishes you find in the sink, bringing your damp hand to your forehead and then moving to rub at your nape with a sigh when you’re finished.

He can tell you still have your work clothes on as you must have just come home. And it’s not difficult to imagine how tired you are from the frown creasing in the middle of your eyebrows. He can visualize it so clearly now, his own fingers moving delicately across your skin to smooth that frown away.

He has watched you from this exact vantage point for months and it still feels like the first time with the way his heart aches with the need to be closer. The way his hand closes in a fist as though to contain the desire to reach out and touch you in some way.

But alas, he can’t. Because you would turn him away. You would be scared of him. He knows you would, so he just leans back in the car seat, attempting to control the flurrying in his chest, and watches.

You untie your hair from the ponytail you had it in as you move back to the living room and it falls around your face, caressing your neck. Something catches your attention and you walk to your discarded purse on top of the coffee table, retrieving your phone from it. Whatever it is that flashes through the screen causes a smile to appear on your lips before you raise the device to your ear and start to talk.

Dean fidgets in his seat with the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing who is on the other end of the line, but he tries not to let his mind wander to dangerous places. Your sister, perhaps?

You use your shoulder to secure your phone to your ear as you bring your hands down to your shirt and begin to unbutton it. He sucks in a breath at the sight, unsure of what to do with himself as your fingers work their way down till the top is completely unbuttoned, your bare skin peeking through as well as the fabric of your bra.

He notices your mouth moving to form words he can't decipher while you pull your shirt completely off, throwing it on the spacious couch in the middle of your living room before your legs take you back to the kitchen, where you open the fridge to get a glass of water for yourself.

The refrigerator light illuminates the contours of your exposed stomach and collarbone, the supple flesh of your cleavage lightly bouncing up and down with the way your bust is confined tightly by your bra cups.

Dean thinks he might be on the verge of an aneurysm as he witnesses you drink from the once full glass till the water is entirely gone, a couple of drops escaping from your lips in your haste to quench your thirst, running down your jaw to your neck and disappearing in the space between your breasts.

Suddenly his own mouth is dry and he feels as if he's been lost in a desert for ages, those sinful droplets of water that are lucky enough to travel through the valleys of your body being the only source of hydration that can placate his craving.

Once you're satisfied, you leave the empty glass on the sink and go to the living room yet again, this time stopping by the wall adjacent to your flat-screen TV and bending down to freshen up the bowl of kibble for your cat, taking your time to shake the dish side to side till the shorthaired black Bombay saunters into the common area with a regal air about itself, tail swinging lazily and big golden eyes staring affectionately at you as it meows over and over.

You put down the food bowl on its original place on the floor and stretch your arms out to pet the head of the animal, a loving expression taking over your face, more words pouring out from you to meet the phone's receiver, whatever is being said by the other person causing you to laugh unreservedly, the content of the exchange still an unfortunate mystery to Dean.

The cat advances on its dinner and you observe it for a second, before getting up from your crouched down position and moving to stand directly in front of the perfectly transparent glass window from where he can see you.

Instead of making an attempt to hide, Dean props himself forward in your direction, the darkness of nightfall in your poorly lit neighborhood keeping him undetected by your eyes that scan the landscape through the window, seemingly not finding interest in anything in particular.

He gulps incredulously at what follows; you, phone once again glued to your ear with the help of your shoulder, taking your hands south to your pants, unzipping and unbuttoning it, tugging down the waist of the garment until the top of your panties is showing.

He's now a thousand percent sure that he's in absolute perfect health, because if that weren't the case, his heart would've given out by now. He can hear the organ rapidly beating in his ears, blood pumping fiercely, bringing heat to his face as a mixture of shame and excitement overtakes his mind.

He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be there. A better man would've turned on his car and driven away, and an even greater man wouldn't have come here at all. But Dean proves to be neither of those while he sits there and observes you languidly remove your pants and sigh contently once you've stripped yourself down to your underwear.

You stretch your neck to the left and then to the right, your torso accompanying the movement. Whoever is on the other line appears to say something that you appreciate thoroughly, with the way a wishful smile dances in the corners of your lips, and uneasiness builds inside of Dean at the sight.

He has never been a particularly jealous guy, not with his material possessions — except for Baby —, nor with his romantic partners which, to be fair, had been few in between. Countless one-night stands, sure. But only one or two real ‘girlfriends’ were all the relationships he had to draw reference from. Very short-lived relationships, not to mention.

Of course, there was Lisa, but he never really dated Lisa. They skipped that part and went straight into living together and a marriage proposal, with a kid and a dog in tow. And through it all, he had never experienced the burning feeling of insecurity that he’s feeling right about now.

Who are you talking to at the end of your day? Are these regular calls or just a singular, uncustomary thing? Is the caller an important person to you? Do they play a crucial role in your life? Do they fill a space that Dean could not?

That’s an ominous notion that he’s not sure he can bear. An ugly and twisted, unexpected emotion that Dean hadn’t been previously introduced to takes hold of him as those thoughts ruminate in his mind.

You walk away from the window and make your way towards the couch. A deep exhale leaving you as you sink down onto the soft cushions, a sense of comfort and relaxation appearing to wash over you.

While engrossed in your conversation, the pads of your fingers patter down the expanse of your neck, where they land just below your collar, ending up playing with the strap of your bra.

You tug and readjust the thin piece of material, your eyes unfocused as they stare at the far wall in front of you, blinking slowly while your mouth takes its sweet time to form the words as they come out, the way your lips shape around the unintelligible sounds rendering Dean utterly hypnotized.

There’s something wicked about this.

The fact that he can see you so clearly from the outside of your home, the place where you feel safe, the space where you can allow yourself to be your utmost true, surrounded only by the privacy of your walls.

The reality that he has pierced that barrier and infiltrated a moment that would otherwise be shared with nobody but you.

The position that you are in, so exposed without even knowing, so much of your smooth skin, bare only for his eyes in the quiet of the night.

The way a pleasant tingle spreads between his legs, blood rushing south, filling his cock inside his pants.

There’s something sinister about it, but Dean can’t will himself to care. Quite the opposite, he almost likes it.

His pupils dilate when you switch the phone to your other ear so that your right hand is free and you stretch it behind your back, your arm contorted in a tugging and twisting gesture till finally something snaps open, literally.

The hook of your bra comes undone and you pull the right strap, the same one you were playing with only mere moments ago, off your shoulder and then repeat the process on the other side.

There’s a second of anticipation, a breath that Dean holds in while he leans forward in the car seat as much as humanly possible so that he won’t miss what’s unfolding before him, and then you remove the cups that laid atop your breasts, uncovering the pert nipples that grow into peaks when subjected to the chill air of the evening.

“Holy shit.” His tongue instinctively pokes out to wet his parched lips, since he seems to have forgotten how to breathe through his nose, taking big gulps of air, mouth agape.

You throw the item of clothing aside unceremoniously, not caring where it lands, a noise so full of content escaping you that it reaches him all the way across the street. You rub at the indents the underwire left where it had been held tightly, your hand massaging the skin around your tits, cupping them from the side, and then letting go, the mounds jiggling freely in the most enticing of motions.

He didn’t think he would get to see you like this one day. Maybe never. He wished for it, longed for it, but he couldn't honestlyenvision it happening. He didn’t think he deserved it. He has daydreamed about it, sure, but not once in this scenario, not with him so far away where he can’t touch you, where he can only look.

The light coming from the lamp in the ceiling shone down on you, highlighting the dips and curves of your physique as you sat on your sofa. Like something out of a fantasy book, you cross and uncross your legs, perched on the pliant pad like a mythical creature, dressed only in your underpants. Like a dream.

The person you were talking to must make some sort of funny remark then, due to the way you proceed to throw your head back in laughter and twirl a finger in your hair, Dean’s eyes following the action frame by frame, entranced in the show. To gaze upon you naked like this is arousing in a whole new way.

It’s uncharted territory.

It’s different from porn.

It’s intimate and real.

Because he knows you. He’s seen you in your casual, everyday clothes, and in your stuffy work attire as well. But to be able to spy on what’s underneath.

To get a glimpse of the lovely, overly polite girl from the dog park; the shrewd, excessively serious therapist that leans back in her armchair and analyzes his every move, his every word.

To see you stripped down to your plain cotton panties and nothing more. There’s a vulnerability to it.

He’s forced to palm his dick through the tough material of his jeans when it stiffens and twitches inside his boxers.

Your hand leaves your hair and falls to your mouth, both index and middle fingers kneading the plump flesh of your lips, countenance lost in thought even as you nod and hum to the individual who called you. The same hand travels to your chest, just above the mass of your breasts, where you draw featherlight circles with the tips of your nails.

You seem to really enjoy the sensation, eyelids dropping till they’re closed, slumping down on the furniture that supports you.

Even as you relax in your seat, your fingers don’t quit their journey downwards, anchoring themselves on a particular patch of skin on the side of your boob. A saucy smile breaks from you, teeth showing while your eyes remain shut and you say something Dean can’t make out.

He has never once seen that look on your face, an impish, mischievous air that he wouldn't have expected from you.

Your arm moves just slightly and you grab your nipple, caressing the tumid, puffy bud with gentle, barely-there touches that become bold and confident once you hear something from the other end that encourages you, that shameless smirk widening on your lips.

Dean feels his entire body tense up, from the ends of his hair to the toes of his feet. A sudden jolt of adrenaline causes his heart to race as he watches in disbelief and confusion. And it takes a while, a little too long, for him to begin processing what is happening.

You are fondling your breast, teasing the tip, letting out a small gasp when a wave of ecstasy clearly hits you and your eyes snap open. You can hardly contain your enthusiastic laugh at whatever your mystery caller tells you and then you move to pinch and tug at your neglected nipple, wiggling on the couch, biting on your bottom lip.

You’re… Giddy. Acting naughty and unabashed, toying with yourself while on the phone with someone.

‘Cause you’re definitely not talking to your sister.

But then who? Who’s the motherfucker you give your time to? Your attention? Your carefree attitude? Your sexed-up, wild side?

Because you’d barely even muster a fucking genuine smile to Dean the last few times you saw him, and for a while, he tried to convince himself that you were not disinterested in him, you simply weren’t interested in anybody.

Well, that’s obviously not the case.

You don’t want him, specifically.

But you do want some other guy. Some other idiot who could never understand you the way Dean does. Never comprehend what it feels like to lose your family, to lose a brother. They could never share that bond with you.

Whoever that asshole is to you, Dean can be more. He’s sure of it.

But they’re the one you’re sighing wantonly for. Breathing accelerating as you let go of your left tit and run your hand down your stomach, inching closer to the waistband of your underwear. Your legs part to give way to your obscene exploration and you rub at your center, fingers carefully contouring the outline of your pussy over the cloth of your panties.

A head-spinning mixture of anger and excitement hits Dean so strongly it gives him whiplash. He has to blink a couple of times to try and wear off his shock, vision shifting from blurry and then to clear again as he fights off this dazed feeling that attempts to consume him.

He just couldn't believe it.

You are pawing at your clit, patting the sensitive button, drawing tight circles through the material of your underwear till a wet spot darkened the shade of the fabric. A puff of hot air leaves your parted lips at the sensations you’re bringing out of yourself.The corners of your mouth rise as you whisper some dirty secret into the receiver.

You are so lewd and indecent, without any inhibitions. All for someone else.

And for how long? Did you know them for a considerable amount of time or were they a random hookup, the type you can flirt and have phone sex with but no emotional connection to?

Either way, you must like them. You must find them alluring and attractive. Probably way more than you found Dean to be since you never so much as gave him a once-over.

Were they good-looking?

Were they interesting or charming?

Were they worthy of you?

No. Of course not.

How could they possibly be worthy of you? How could they possibly deserve your impatient, feverish expression or the broken sob that erupts from your throat as you continue to stroke your pleasure point side to side?

How could they have earned the bucking of your hips when you can’t take the feeling of your damp panties clinging to your throbbing core any longer and your hand makes a move to the hem of your underwear, with the intention of touching under the fabric?

He can’t conceive of it. He can’t wrap his head around this being fair. You can’t choose them over him. You just can’t.

Dean reaches for the cell phone in his pocket with trembling fingers, mind fuzzy with too many emotions that he isn’t able to put in order. Jealousy and envy swirling into an interchangeable spiral. Lust and frustration biting each other’s tails. Disappointment and hope swaying to an eerie ballad as his thumb shakes while it presses your name and then the call button.

He takes note of the moment your device starts ringing, the way you react by pulling your arm away from between your legs, frowning at the unknown number flashing across your screen, and interrupting your ongoing connection.

You exhale deeply only to take a calming breath in, looking irritated, saying something of little importance to the bastard you were conversing with, and then suddenly the tone by Dean’s ear stops, there’s a soft click when you pick up, and the Winchester is overwhelmed by the sound of your voice as it envelops him after what felt like forever.

“Hello?” You greet, putting a hair strand behind your ear.

There’s a pause when all of Dean’s blood rushes to his brain, causing an intense dizziness, and he has to contain the need to gasp audibly for air.

He didn’t think this through.

He didn’t think at all.

He just acted.

The idea of losing you bringing a suffocating pang of despair, a feeling that proved itself to be entirely too great to withstand, and Dean just… Moved, without taking the time to consider the consequences of his actions.

But he had to do something. He couldn't just stand idly by while you were being taken from him. Not that you were ever his, to begin with, but he can still change that. You just need to give him a chance. Which seems unlikely to happen now that he has called your number, the one he isn’t supposed to have.

“Eh…” He doesn’t know what to say.

He wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t have a game plan or a strategy on how to conduct himself. He hadn’t mapped out how this exchange would go in his head, as he typically does. He hadn’t devised a way to take control of the situation.

“Hey, Y/N.” Was all he could come up with.

You appear to be unsettled for a moment, blinking a few times while you search for a name amongst your friends and family that would match the deep, gruff timbre that addressed you and then you ask.

“Who’s this?” You don’t recognize his voice, and it stings to know that you think of him so little, when he thinks of you sooften.

“It’s, uh- Dean.” Should he disclose his last name, as well?

You knit your brows, and he has to convince himself that is not disapproval nor displeasure that he sees flickering across your face.

“Oh, hi, Dean. How are you?” You fix yourself in your seat, choosing to recline your head on the back of the sofa, elongating your neck, and bending your spine. Your chest sticks out as a result, the artificial light coming from above reflecting on the dewy skin of your exposed breasts, and Dean is rendered speechless for a split second.

“I’m alright. How are you?” He manages to respond.

“Fine.” Your eyes roam the space of your living room in confusion, as if him calling you was the strangest of developments. “Hmm, how can I help you?” That’s a great question. You can stop having phone sex with other people, for starters.

“Y-you know, it’s been a while since we had our last session and I just thought that it might be good to have a chat like, before, just to catch up on everything.” It’s his reply.

He can hear the way he sounds, voice faltering, words coming out rushed. It fills the inside of the car and bounces against the walls before entering his ears, the uncertainty so raw that he cringes at what you, a psychologist, might be able to read between the lines.

“Okay…” You stretch out the last syllable, absolutely not buying what he was selling. “But we only had to reschedule one of your appointments, right?” It sure felt like longer than that.

“Yeah, just the one.” He runs a rough hand down his cheek, rubbing at his mouth in a soothing gesture, his palm meeting the prickly stubble lining his jaw in the process. “I think it’s because it’s been a while since we talked without it being in that setting, and I thought we could have a more relaxed conversation, like the ones we had before.”

“I see.” Your features wilt, expression taking on an exasperated look and you turn your head towards the opposite side of the window, hindering Dean’s view of you, but he could swear he caught a slight row of your eyes. “Dean, I was under the impression that we had already discussed this, and why it’s simply not… Viable.”

“I know.” He said it way too loud, having to make an effort to bring the volume of his next sentences down. “And I get it, I’m a patient and that’s all that I can be, but I just wish that we-” You raise your fingers to eye level, checking your nails for imperfections, not particularly displaying much enthusiasm in your demeanor. He puffs out a breath through his nose, completely out of his element. “That we could go back to being friends.”

“I understand.” You let out an annoyed sigh. “But I need to be perfectly clear with you. Once I became your therapist, there was no ‘going back’. Even if we stopped having our sessions, we still couldn't regain the relationship we had before. You’ve shared deep, extremely personal information about yourself with me, and I have analyzed you as a psychologist. There’s no possibility of me ever not seeing you as a patient.”

Dean takes in everything you say, each statement feeling like a stab in the chest. The little world he had built inside his head, for you and him only, crumbles to the ground as if it was made of sand. Disillusion wraps around his throat and he grips the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white.

“Well, fuck.” You make a displeased sound at the curse word he blurts out, almost making it seem like you weren’t sitting on your couch only in your underpants, but he’s quick to rectify anyway. “I’m sorry. There’s probably no good reason for me to ask what you’re doing Saturday night, then?” He chuckles, making a poor attempt at a joke.

Why did he say that? He knew what your response would be. He isn’t some utterly delusional, socially oblivious, lovesick teenager. At least, he never was before. He used to be the complete opposite. A confident, self-assured lady-killer that wouldn’t be caught dead pining over a clearly uninterested woman.

And now look at him.

Why must he humiliate himself like this? When did he turn into that kind of guy? No wonder you find him pathetic.

“No.” You answered, curtly, and even though you’re unaware that he can see you, you shake your head side to side, only to reinforce the refusal. “I mean, you can ask, but I’m just going to give you a deflective answer.”

A toe-curling embarrassment hangs in the air around the two of you, resembling a strong, overly sweet perfume that refuses to dissipate, and all Dean can think to do is retreat, go home to lick his wounds from this lost battle.

Why did you need to be so difficult?

“Whelp, guess I finally got the message. Loud and clear.” A deafening silence extends itself and he clears his throat, the awkwardness building with it. “See you in a couple days in your office, Y/N.”

“Sure.” You agree, and he’s about to hang up before you stop him. “Wait, Dean-”

“Yes?” There’s so much in that one question. It’s just three small letters, but they mean a lot more.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘Did you change your mind?’

‘One word from you, and I’m yours.’

“How did you get this number?” Is what actually comes out of your mouth and Dean deflates, face scrunching up as he murmurs a quiet ‘shit’. Of fucking course that’s what you would say.

“You gave it to me.” He offers, clean and simple. In his opinion, it’s always best to deliver a short, detail-free lie that can be molded and shaped into whatever fits his narrative.

“I…” You think long and hard for a bit, bringing your right knee up, resting your arm on it. “I don’t remember doing that. Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure. How else would I have it?” He tightens his lips, praying to God that you’ll fall for that.

“Um…” You pause, considering what would be the alternative. If he managed to get a hold of your contact without it coming from you, that would mean that he’s some sort of creep, psycho stalker, and surely, you wouldn't make that low of a judgment about him. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I did, then. It’s just that this is my personal number, so if you ever feel the need to reach me again, I would appreciate it if you did it through the business one.”

Ouch. You weren’t pulling any punches today, were you?

“Of course.” Dean agrees through gritted teeth, his ego more bruised than his face after a whole round with the Devil. “My mistake.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You crack your knuckles in the same way he often does and the corners of his mouth lift involuntarily. You were made for him. You just don’t know it yet, and he can’t be mad at you for that. “Have a good night, Dean.” You wish, at last.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” It’s the last thing he says before you hang up and the line disconnects.

He stays for a while longer, resting the back of his head in the driver’s seat, fingers anxiously tapping on the dashboard while he waits to see if you’ll call that son of a bitch again. But you only fidget with your phone for a minute or two before you put it down, coaxing a sigh of relief out of Dean’s lungs.

You get up from the couch and make a beeline for your bedroom then, taking time to lightly scratch at your scalp with the ends of your nails in circular motions, finding the sensation relaxing if your hum of delight was anything to go by.

You stop in front of your closet, opening it to fetch a towel from inside. Once you have it in your grasp, you leave your bedroom and walk the short path to your bathroom, closing the door behind you, the wooden barrier blocking Dean’s field of vision.

Dean can’t hear the shower running, but he can see the vapor escaping from under the entrance and decides it’s time to go. He turns the key and the engine sparks to life, the drive to his house in the picture-perfect suburbs filled solely with thoughts of you. He fixates on whether or not you’re accepting of hot showers only, since he can’t stand them. Maybe the two of you could find a happy medium whenever you choose to shower together.

With that image in mind, he can’t fight the smile that creeps on his lips as he parks and exits the minivan after reaching his destination, the first thing he hears upon crossing the entryway being Thor’s excited barks and the familiar sound of his paws on the foyer’s floor when he runs to welcome Dean back home.

“Hey, buddy.” The Winchester kneels down to pat the German Sheppard’s soft coat, allowing a few affectionate licks from the dog to land on the side of his face before getting up again.

“You’re here.” Lisa’s voice announces as she enters the space, eyeing Dean up and down, inspecting him for something that she doesn’t seem to find. “I didn’t know if you were coming home.” He scoffs at her choice of words.

“What is that supposed to mean?” It’s a challenge. He wants her to say what she’s really thinking. He wants her to yell at him, hit him if that’s what she wants to do.

“Ben was asking for you at dinner.” She averts her gaze, a looming melancholy painted on her pretty brown eyes and Dean’s vexation dwindles.

“Where is he?” He asks.

“Playing video games in his room.” She still doesn’t look at him, preferring to find a nondescript spot on the wall to the right of them to focus on.

“I’ll talk to him before it’s time to go to bed.” He tells her, earning a soft ‘hmm’ in response. He waits to make sure the conversation has come to an end, and she folds her arms, hugging her own waist and remaining quiet.

With nothing left to say, he leaves her where she stands, slow-moving feet taking him to the garage. He closes and locks the door behind him, staring for too long at the outline of the Impala that rests in the room, cloaked by a large tarp.

There are wall-mounted shelves littered with all types of tools and forgotten items, and hidden behind all the paraphernalia, he uncovers the box he came looking for.

He plucks it from its secret place and cradles it in his hands, as if it contained a precious treasure. He then sits in the old recliner they put out of service and moved into the garage a few months back, laying the box on his lap and getting comfortable against the upholstered leather.

He lifts the lid of the box, finding his prized collection in the same way he left it. The dainty necklace with a shiny pendant hanging from its chain. The body lotion that emanated a refreshing and pure smell. A pair of your panties, the off-white lacy one that made his head spin. Those were the souvenirs he took from your apartment and now keeps with him.

Prior to tonight, he had only stared at them in fear and wonder. He feared his actions, how far he was willing to go just to maintain even some small pieces of you close to him. But at the same time, he couldn't help but admire the objects with an awe-inspired twinkle in his eyes.

His right hand moved towards your underwear, fingers lightly brushing the delicate cloth, learning how it feels to the touch. The tactile sensation of rubbing the pads of his fingers against the crotch panel of the garment caused Dean’s skin to prickle with an unnerving heat.

You had been wearing plain cotton panties that night, and yet they looked so appealing as they clutched you by your hips and hugged your ass. Dean brought the piece of clothing he was holding closer, inspecting it carefully, raking over the tiny intricacies with his fingertips.

He imagined you in front of him, dressed only in this flimsy little thing. Would you wear lace for him the first time you let him fuck you? Would the material cling to your pussy lips when he got you wet like you were tonight?

No, he could get you wetter. He could ruin you.

He found himself taking the bottle of lotion and setting the box to the side of him, ragged breaths echoing in the quiet of the room. There’s a fire spreading through his lower abdomen, a burst of need he hasn’t felt this intensely in a long while.

His penis twitches in his pants, begging for attention and Dean gropes it with the hand that is still holding your underwear, just grazing it instead of giving it the friction it demands.

He shuts his eyes, and behind his closed eyelids, he envisions you so clearly. Knelt down between his legs, your smaller, soft hand being the one to scrape the surface of the bulge inside his jeans, teasing him mercilessly.

“Look at how dirty you are.” You’d say, an amused smile plastered on your lips. “Dick half-hard and growing while you finger my stolen panties.”

Dean wouldn't dare touch you, lest you disappear before him like a mirage, so he’d busy his hand by bringing the fine lacy fabric he had been caressing to his face, putting it against his nose and, inhaling deeply. Nothing other than a faint smell of laundry detergent fills his senses, but in his mind’s eye, it’s the sweet scent of your dripping cunt that permeates the space around him and makes his mouth water.

“Want you so bad.” He’d pant, whiny and desperate.

“I know.” Your tone would be so condescending, grinning a cruel grin whilst you’d line the span of his member with the edge of your nails and blow a puff of hot air on it, letting your pouty lips ghost over the swelling organ. “You’re such a pervert.”

You’d look up at him with a lascivious glint darkening the color of your irises, weightless fingers working to undo the zipper of his pants before your hand would delve inside his boxers and takes hold of his pulsating length.

Dean would bite into the cloth of your underwear in a laughable attempt to hold in the hopeless moan that you’d coax out of him as you’d pull out his manhood, now fully erect and needy.

“Your cock is so pretty.” You’d utter under your breath, more to yourself than to him. A fascinated look on your face as you’d stare at it from base to glans, eyes glazing over. “I love how flushed you’re at the tip.”

You’d use your thumb to press at the opening of the urethra as your other fingers wrapped around the mushroom head, and Dean would buck his hips and whimper when you’d smear the precum that had gathered there.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re weeping.” You’d coo and suckle at your thumb, eagerly lapping at the taste, releasing the digit with a pop once it was stripped clean of his essence.

Dean’s eyes would widen at how depraved you could be, how absolutely filthy and debauched you were just for him, and his heart would swell with pride and his brain would swim in endorphins.

“Do you want me to suck it? Put it in the back of my throat?” You’d ask without any intention of gaining a response from him, half of your words coming out muffled since you’d try to speak with your mouth full, alternating your attention between laving your tongue on the tender intersection where Dean’s foreskin would be if he hadn’t been circumcised, and stubbornly seeking to close your lips around the middle of his shaft, head leaned horizontally as you’d litter him with wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“I- I can’t.” He’d cry out, the sodden material of your lace underpants becoming saturated in his saliva, falling through his teeth, and landing on the floor when he couldn’t keep his shameful sobs in any longer. “I need you to come here.”

“I am here, silly.” You’d giggle with no real humor and, like the vixen you are, you’d place both your hands on each of his knees and prop yourself up just enough that the divine softness of your tits would rub up against his member, taut nipples grazing the sensitive flesh and causing Dean to grunt, on the verge of overstimulation.

You would've barely touched him, and he would have been reduced to a puddle in your grasp, every nerve ending in his body feeling raw and overexposed.

“No, come up here. Sit on my face.” He’d beg and you would laugh at the broken state of his voice, but still oblige him.

You’d stand up slowly, your bare tits shaking tantalizingly with the movement and catching his eyes, the way your cunny would still be hidden by the same pair of tight, plain panties driving Dean mad.

You’d move closer then, placing one of your knees on each of his thighs and climbing over him with the help of his arms as they moved to grab a handful of your ass cheeks, the soft mewl that you’d try to keep in stealing his breath away.

“This is what you wanted?” Your timbre would be pure venom once both your legs straddled his shoulders and you held on to the shelves on the wall for support, you’re clothed pussy hovering mere inches from his mouth. “This is what you dreamed of, you freak?”

“Yes.” He’d confess and try to force you to sit down properly by pulling at your flanks, but you’d swat his hands away with a condemning ‘tsk’ and he’d crane his neck up, tongue sticking out to get a taste of the cloth that concealed your lower lips but only being capable of brushing against it with the tip of the muscle. “Please.”

“Oh, my goodness, you’re such a brat.” You’d mock his restlessness, holding firmly onto the wooden shelves as a way to prevent him from making further contact with your center. “All whiny and needy for me.”

Dean would moan in ecstasy when you’d gradually lower your hips by a tiny fraction, allowing him to moisten the fabric of your underwear with kitten licks, giving out a lament as he failed to fully wrap his lips on the sweet spot between your legs.i

He would pinch at the skin of your inner thighs, using his big hands to knead the flesh around your vulva, wordlessly imploring you to give him what he craved.

“Drop your weight on my face.” His voice would come out all raspy with yearning, and yet he wouldn’t care. “Please, Y/N.”

As if you were a goddess tired of the constant prayers and supplications that he laid at your altar, you’d take pity on his poor soul and finally sink yourself down completely against him.

The heat of his mouth would immediately envelop your middle as a sob escaped from deep in his chest, and he would start to suck on your clit through the cotton of your panties like a man possessed.

“What a crybaby.” You’d snicker and his ears would heat up in embarrassment, but he would ignore it in favor of nipping at the fabric that would stick to your pussy due to the mixture of your wetness and his spit.

Dean would gorge himself on you like a starving animal, feasting on your addicting flavor as your slick juices overflowed from you. The sloppy suction noises would reverberate in the room, a continuous frantic slurping that went over the line of pornographic and bordered on offensive.

Even through your taunting, he would hear the soft sounds of pleasure that you would try to control. Your whimpering when his tongue would hit your bundle of nerves just right, and your wailing when he would rake the blunt ends of his teeth over the swollen bud.

“Always wanted to do this.” He’d mumble in between the persistent licks of his tongue on you and his dick would throb as a result of its neglect.

With one hand planted securely on the fat of your right thigh, Dean would let the other move to his deprived manhood, taking hold of it from the base and working his way to the leaking head.

At first contact, The Winchester would feel a shock pass through him, a literal electric pulse that would overtake him with a sensation so strong that he’d be forced to cease his ministrations, the skin of his shaft too sensitive with how hard he had been for so long.

“Can’t even jerk yourself off right, can you?” You’d jeer at him, pressing your gushing cunt to his face, grinding back and forth against his open mouth, and rubbing your stiff clit on his nose, cutting off his air. “Should I get over there so I can spit on that dick, make it really wet?” You wouldn't allow him to answer, using a hand to tug on the short hairs in the back of his head just to hear him moan, the vibrations landing directly on your soaked underwear. “Do you think that would even help or you’re just being an attention whore?”

Your cutting words would only serve to make his member grow even harder, pointing straight at the ceiling, length heavy with rushing blood and balls full of cum, spasming with pent-up readiness, standing perfectly vertical and sullying the shirt that covered the skin below his belly button.

He didn’t even know he could feel pleasure this deep, this piercing, so overwhelming that it blended into pain. And he certainly didn’t know that he would like it, that he would enjoy the overstimulation as much as he did the humiliation. Your scornful remarks causing a fire to spread under his collar, your insolence riling him up to a point where all he could think about was taking whatever you so generously gave him.

Yes, he was a dirty pervert and a freak for you, now would you please shut up and cream on his tongue so that he could form a single coherent thought?

Furthermore, the idea of losing the feeling of your sitting on his face — with the ripe smell of your arousal filling his nostrils at every labored inhale, and the heady taste of your wetness that runs down his jaw —, is so unappealing to Dean that his nails would clamp down on the flesh of your thigh where he held it, so that you couldn't move away.

“Please, let me-” He’d mutter and bob his head up and down on your pussy, the grip you had on his hair tightening and eliciting a groan from him at the sting.

He’d take the forgotten bottle of body lotion, using his thumbnail to pry the lid open. Without being able to see what he was doing, he’d blindly coat a considerable amount of the balmy substance on the leaking head of his dick, the cream mixing with his pre as he gently massaged it down the shaft.

With the moisturizer lubing him up, the rough friction of his calloused hand on the delicate tissue of his massive hard-on would be pleasantly reduced, and an animalistic whine would get caught in his throat from the relief that came with stroking his needy length properly, the rumble of it reaching your center and making more of your molten honey to ooze out of you.

“You’re fucking delicious.” He’d tell you, delirious from the unmatched satisfaction of savoring you ceaselessly, watching you undulate your hips when he sucked you just right while he milked the meat of his penis.

“Yeah? You like it that bad? Eating me out just like this?” You’d ask, all breathy and hoarse, eyes crossing and tongue lolling out to wet your dry lips. “You’re are so sick, fisting your cock while your therapist sits on your face.”

Your filthy mouth would spur him on, the flicks of his wrist getting faster and erratic, the obscene wet noises becoming louder as he drank from you, the clean scent of your lotion pervading the air.

“Uggh!” He’d grunt, suckling on your clit in a wild frenzy, hand flapping up and down the shaft of his quivering dick, the two of you tangled in a mess of limbs and fluids, and it still wouldn't seem to be enough.

He’d want more, he’d want all of you. He’d want to mark you in love bites and paint you with his seed. On your pretty face, on your soft tits, on your lovely cunny.

God, he wanted to cum inside you, stuff you so full of him that you’d forget your own name. He’s sure you’d be tight, but he’d stretch you out, mold you to the shape of him. Plant his sticky essence so deep into you that you could never rinse it off, never rid yourself of him.

He would hear you cry out when you reached your peak, euphoria weighing down your bones and turning your brain to mush. That elastic band of tension would finally snap, and Dean would groan as the first ropes of his release would spurt out of him, landing on his lower abdomen and soiling his clothes. He wouldn't stop pumping the span of his cock, nor would he stop lapping at the dripping fabric of your covered pussy, extending your orgasms till the muscles of your calves began to shake.

Once he was thoroughly spent, he opens his eyes to find no trace of your presence. Only the ticklish sensation of the lace adorning your off-white underpants that he’d been pressing to his face, and the light, enchanting notes of your body lotion that he had used as lube.

It had all felt so real that he takes a while to find his bearings, lungs burning as he gasps for air, never once having experienced this intensity of rapture.

He feels damp with sweat, mingled with the smell of sex, and his hands tremble as they rearrange everything back where it belongs. The leather recliner chair, the now wrinkled clothes he wore, and the priceless box of mementos he kept of you.

After all of it is put back in its proper place, he attempts to fix his disheveled hair before unlocking the door of the garage and tiptoeing around the house.

The wooden floors creak under his feet as he walks to the bathroom, passing through the ajar door of Ben’s bedroom and catching the boy fast asleep in his bed. He hears the clinking of glass coming from the living room and he can assume Lisa is downing her daily bottle of wine.

He goes to bed after taking a relaxing shower, the once tense muscles of his back appearing to be loose and reinvigorated. The soft mattress sinks below his weight, even though his body feels like a flowing feather, and by the time he drifts off to sleep, he dreams only of you.

The next morning, he wakes up early, silently getting ready so as not to disturb the sleep of the brunette who occupies her side of the bed. His breakfast is quick, serving as fuel for the busy day ahead, and the drive to work proves to be uneventful.

It’s tedious labor to go about his business on the construction site, with time seeming to stand still as his mind wanders to more exciting places. A vampire’s nest in Manning, Colorado. A zombie case in Greenville, Illinois. Under your sheets, in your warm embrace.

What a shame wishful thinking doesn’t get him anywhere, though. He will never hunt again, the thrill of the job forever lost, traded by the adrenaline rush of endless sawing and drilling. And as far as spending his time anywhere near the strong pull of your magnetic field goes, Dean refuses to give up. He won’t quit that calling.

“Hey, George, can I talk to you for a sec?” As soon as his watch marks 4 p.m., he marches up to his supervisor and asks the question.

“Sure, what’s up?” The balding man looks up at Dean from his clipboard, ceasing his scribbly writing to give him his full attention.

“I’m gonna need to leave a little early, if that’s okay.” In all honesty, Dean would probably go even if it wasn’t okay. He can always get another gig, but what he had to do today couldn't wait.

“Again? It’s the second time this week alone.” George informed him, putting his pen behind his ear with a furrowed brow.

“I know, but Lisa’s mom has been sick and she’s taking care of her, so sometimes I need to pick Ben up from school.” Dean’s face didn’t twitch by a single millimeter, his gaze never wavering as the lies poured easily from him. “You understand, right?”

George flattened his lips in thought, considering the Winchester’s words. 

“Okay, but you owe me.” He said eventually, waggling his index finger at his work colleague.

“You got it.” Dean agreed, smiling contently as he removed his safety gear, patting the foreman on the shoulder before making his exit.

He had the route of your apartment committed to memory, parking in that same spot across your street feeling like the most natural thing to do. Only this time, he had no intention of seeing you perform your daily, mundane tasks, having arrived earlier in the afternoon so that you’d still be in your office.

Your place would be free for him to explore, perhaps succeeding in his search for an object that might be linking the ghost to your home. Once he got that, it was a simple salt and burn and it would be done, you’d be safe. This would mean that, technically, you’d have no need for Dean’s protection, for his watchful eye, or his proximity. He could conclude his therapy sessions with you and go back to his life as if you had never crossed his path.

Everything would be the same as it was before, and Dean could busy himself with dog walks where he’d meet no beautiful women, Ben’s little league softball games, silently having dinner with Lisa, and so on and so forth, ad infinitum.

Yeah, no. Now that he thought of it, he wasn’t going to do that. He was not about to shield himself from your light or deprive himself of your incandescent glow. He was like a moth to a flame, and he had no intention of forsaking your heat. He wasn’t that much of a masochist.

With that issue settled in his mind, he turns off his car’s engine, ready to let himself into your space so that he could rid you from not only this danger, but any others that might present themselves in the future, ‘cause he wasn’t going anywhere. Except that before he can leave his vehicle, he catches a glimpse of a shadow moving inside your apartment.

He squints, trying to get a better look at the figure. As it approaches your living room window, the image of a man becomes clear to Dean’s eyes. He had an average build, not particularly tall. Wavy dark brown hair and clear pale skin, apparently also smoker’s breath from the lit cigarette he was holding.

“The fuck?” Dean curses, whispering to himself, utterly confused by who that man was and what he was doing in your place while you were not there. Did you have a stalker or something?

The guy moves around calmly, taking a puff of nicotine from time to time, checking out the portraits on your wall and the family pictures scattered here and there. He puts out his cigarette when he’s done, preferring to throw it out the window than in a bin, which Dean deduces to be because he doesn’t want you to know he smokes. He then pops a mint into his mouth, as if on cue.

He walks to your bedroom, seeing a lonely stuffed animal on top of your dresser and smiling at it, probably finding the fact that you have it as cute as the Winchester does. He opens your underwear drawer and Dean wants to kill him, gaze at the fear in his eyes before they go dark.

How dare he defile your privacy in this manner? Crudely going through your intimate possessions as if he was inspecting an exhibit in a museum. He shouldn't be allowed to set foot in the room where you lay your head at night, where you are at your most vulnerable. The more time passes with Dean evaluating the situation, the more he wants to go in there and permanently remove that piece of shit from your area.

The man lets out a low whistle when he plucks an especially tiny pair of your panties from the drawer, but before he could do anything more, his phone begins to ring.

“Hi, Y/N.” Dean can read his lips when he picks up, clear as day.

He lets go of the garment, putting it back where he found it and closing the drawer, a stupid smile on his lips as he starts to talk to you, but Dean doesn’t pay attention any longer, completely tuning out after that.

His world seemed to collapse around him. The revelation hit him like a tidal wave, engulfing his heart in a hurricane of seething emotions.

So he was the ‘them’ you were masturbating to last night.

Was he your boyfriend? Fiancé? Dean knew you weren’t married and nothing that remotely inferred that you were in a romantic relationship ever came up. Not during his extensive research on you or when he was the one scouring your apartment. Definitely not during the talks the two of you shared.

Or maybe you simply didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t feel the need to. After all, he was nothing but a patient to you. You certainly had no intention of disclosing personal details of your life, let alone invite him to be a part of it.

The guy talks to you for at least twenty minutes, settling at the edge of your bed. He’s all goofy grins and heart eyes, nervously running his hands through his hair every five seconds, as if he was chatting with his high school crush.

Seriously, this is your type? A wimpy little boy that can’t even handle holding a conversation with you? Has he ever even fucked you properly, or did he just whisper some lines he took off the internet in your ear, and had you take care of yourself?

The mere thought of you, the one he yearns for so deeply, involved with that mouth breather sends waves of uncontrollable rage surging through Dean’s body.

No, this can’t be right. You can’t be wasting your time with someone like this. You could do so much better. He will prove it to you.

Eventually, Fuckface says his goodbye and hangs up, pocketing his cell and getting up from your bed. He straightens the coverings and goes to the kitchen, opening your fridge and taking his sweet time examining the items within.

Dean’s eyes drift out of focus, vaguely aware of what was taking place inside your apartment through his peripheral vision, his brain getting caught in a ruminating spiral.

His head becomes a cauldron of uncontrollable dark thoughts, envisioning what he would have to do to set this right. A chilling torrent of murderous jealousy consumed him, coursing through his veins, demanding satisfaction with a dangerous force.

How could you do this to him? Surely you knew you’re the object of his affections by now, he had made that clear to a point where it was just ridiculous, so why let him burn in fury from the agony of betrayal?

Was this what you wanted, to push him perilously close to the edge?

Maybe it was.

Maybe that was exactly what you intended.

Maybe you were just playing a game of cat and mouse, filling his days with your wonderful, radiating aura and then tugging the rug from under him. Removing your sweet smiles, and your dazzling eyes, and your addictive perfume.

Was this your idea of foreplay?

Fuckface decides on sparkling water — of course he does —, retrieving it from the refrigerator and then moving to explore the contents of the cabinets, searching for a glass.

You need this parasite out of your life. Maybe Dean should exterminate it for you.

He’s so lost in that cyclical headspace that he doesn’t see what was happening at first, the sudden appearance of a flashing shape, the sound of glass shattering and a guttural scream snapping him back to reality.

“Help!” The man begs, voice crackling from sheer terror, a grey-skinned specter rushing at him.

Dean doesn’t even blink, instincts kicking in as he spurs into action, grabbing his salt-loaded shotgun and concealing it in his waistband the best way he can. He leaves his car, sprinting across the street and entering your building, running up the stairs to your floor, climbing two steps at a time.

He bursts through your front door, and he would've for sure broken it off its hinges if it hadn’t been unlocked. He walks forward into your living room, the open-concept layout of your kitchen permitting him to see the gruesome scene as it unfolds.

The ghost of Judith McCook, rotting corpse completely naked, long auburn hair caked to her face with endless dripping water, skin unnaturally grey. She hunches over the guy, snarling like a rabid dog and holding him by his neck with superhuman strength.

Water rushes out the kitchen sink faucet, overflowing it entirely, Judith’s death grip keeping his head submerged. He yells, gurgling under the water, thrashing and flailing helplessly. He pushes against the sides of the sink, arms straining as he attempts to get back up with all of his might.

Dean pulls out his shotgun, aiming at the spirit, salt-loaded cartridges at the ready. He has her in his sights, less than five feet of distance between them. One shot and she would dissipate harmlessly for a short time, enough for the man’s life to be spared.

But… He hesitates.

As he stands there, witnessing the life being drained from a man, a moment of bitter truth pierces through the air. The gravity of the situation was palpable, as fate had placed him at a crossroads. His whole existence had been defined by taking down monsters, saving people, but now conflicting emotions churned within him, tearing at his conscience.

The choice before him was agonizingly clear. Prevent the killing of the one who stood in the way of his own happiness, or let him perish and secure his own desires.

In that fleeting moment, he makes his decision.

The allure of you, of his need to have you all to himself, overwhelms any flicker of empathy or compassion that may have remained and Dean lowers his weapon. He doesn’t look away or closes his eyes, not even flinches, a cruel and calculated resolve settled upon him as he just watches.

The guy’s struggle continued for what felt like forever, desperation rooted deep in his bones while his limbs flapped about, moving erratically. With a cold detachment, Dean waited, till eventually it was over. The moment the man died, body standing still, the ghost vanished, flickering lights accompanying her exit.

The weight of Dean’s ruling, having acted as judge and jury, descends heavily on his soul, forever altering his perception of himself and the darkness he didn’t know resided within.

There are no long sighs or second guesses, he just puts his gun back in his waistband, face unreadable as he gets to work. He rolls up his sleeves, careful not to let the water get on his clothes when he moves to turn off the faucet, pushing the limp body to the floor with a thud.

Under the sink, he unscrews the shutoff valve, allowing a steady stream of water to flow from it. Hopefully, when you come home, which should be soon, you’ll conclude that the soaked floors were due to a plumbing problem. Your apartment already has so many issues, according to you, what’s one more?

The sole of his boots crunch some of the broken glass beneath him, and he goes on to methodically clean it all up, flushing it down the toilet once he’s done.

Back in the kitchen, Dean stares at the cadaver with a tut. He’s lying on his back, lifeless eyes perpetually open and mouth agape.

“Dammit.” The Winchester murmurs to himself, mildly annoyed. It has been a long time since he last had to conceal a body and he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Oh, well. I knew the minivan had to be good for something.”

In less than thirty minutes, he has the corpse in the back of his car and is driving away, thankful that you hadn’t arrived home yet. He crosses state lines, leaving Michigan in favor of disposing of the dead guy as far away from home as possible.

He imagines you’ll wonder about the man, maybe even miss him, but it’ll pass. Dean broke his phone and the SIM card, so soon you’ll come to believe that he simply ghosted you, which makes him chuckle at the irony.

Then, you’ll forget about his existence, free to occupy yourself with what really matters, which is building your relationship with Dean. Because that will happen, whether you like it or not.

It’s past seven at night when he comes home, digging graves not being as easy as he remembered. By the time he crosses the threshold of his house, Thor is at his feet, sniffing instead of barking happily, probably smelling death and dirt on him.

“Finally!” Lisa’s steps are hard and so is her voice when she greets him at the foyer, holding a mysterious bag in her hands, rage taking over her expression.

“I know, you’re pissed about something I did or didn’t do, but can you cut me some slack? I had to work late today. I’m gonna take a shower.” Dean rubs the bridge of his nose as he says it, trying to move around her in the hallway to get to the bathroom, but she blocks his passage.

“I sent Ben to sleep at a friend’s house, we need to talk.” Her gaze doesn’t cower under his like it did last night, her grip tightening on the bag she’s holding.

“For the love of God, now, really? You wanna talk right now?” If there were a contest for world’s worst timing he’s sure she’dwin. All he wants to do at this moment is get in the shower and then drag himself to bed, he has to be rested for his appointment with you tomorrow, after all.

“Yes, I want to talk about the fact that you say you had to work late, but I ran into George at the supermarket an hour ago and he told me that he hopes my mom is feeling better?” She answers without skipping a beat, and Dean curses George and his blabber mouth under his breath. “Yeah, he said that you told him you had to leave work early ‘cause she’s been ill, which surprised me, since that’s the first I heard of it.”

“Okay, that sounds suspicious but I-” He begins to try to explain, not exactly sure where he was going with it.

“Suspicious? It sounds like you’ve been lying to my face, Dean.” She interrupts him, her eyes filling with tears, and Dean can’t pinpoint if it’s from anger or hurt, perhaps both. “You know what? I thought that you were going through a rough patch, that you were missing your brother, I even thought that you started hunting again.”

“Lisa-” He tries once more, but she raises her hand for him to stop.

“And to be honest, I would've understood if it was any of those things.” Her voice cracks and fat tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “But then I find this.”  She pulls a box out of the bag she’d been holding, and Dean takes a step forward in her direction when he realizes it’s the box.

“What the fuck is this?” She shouts.

End notes: Yeah, Dean, what the fuck is this?? Also, I do not know who might be interested to know this, but the thing that inspired this story the most was a song by Sleeping At Last called Two, I visualized the plot unfolding after hearing it for the first time, which was years ago. Anyway, the chapters are getting way longer and heavier and that makes them a lot harder to revise, so I was wondering if any of you would be so kind to offer your services as a beta to this fic, it would a great help. Just putting it out there.

#spn fanfiction #dean whinchester #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural smut #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #pov dean winchester

[s1ater]

crybaby.

pairings. louis partridge x fem!reader

about. you’ve been hurt by louis many times, but you don’t want to let him go. 

warnings. foul language, lil millie slander 😁, crybaby moment (not bad)

ricky rocks. this story was written at different points in time so 😭 forgive if it don’t make sense

you should have let it be.

ignorance is bliss.

but you weren’t ignorant. you never were and never would be and louis knew that since day one, but he always chose to ignore it, always hoping your love for him would blind you enough to let things go.

but he mistakes your love for something it isn’t, and time after time it kicks him in the ass

11:45 am — y/n: dinner at my house at six

he really only got back to you at later hours of the day due to his life conducting of sleeping, drinking, and sometimes working out if he really wanted; which was rare and almost never till his boredom killed his brain.

4:27 pm — lou: got it.

he didn’t show up. you weren’t surprised, but you still had hoped you would have caught him at a time where he was feeling considerate. guess not.

you didn’t see him for awhile after that, mainly because you were pissed and wanted to give him the silent treatment. otherwise you usually would have been at his house and in his bed within the same day he ditched out on you. the only thing that was different this time was the fact that he also ditched out on your mother too.

it was always hard to explain your dynamic with louis to people, especially your own mother, and even as she loved him dearly, she hoped better for you and urged you to end things with him. you had thought about it many, many times, but it just never happened.

you were attached to him, no matter how many times he broke your heart.

he called a week later, a call you missed, but lucky for you he had left a voicemail.

“eh, love, i’m going to be away from the next couple of days, don’t wait up on me, alright?” he laughs and you smile shamelessly at the sound while it echoed out from your phone for a good second. “i know you will anyways, but yeah, see ya, love ya.” the message is close to cutting off until it seems he remembers something just seconds before he’s about to hang up. “sorry about the other night. tell your mother i love her and your house is the first stop when i get back.”

lie. you knew he would forget that promise, but at least he apologized this time.

lou was an interesting person to say the least; he had no problem saying i love you, he said it before you did, but he hated affection outside of closed doors. any of it, there was a rare chance to ever catch him in such a touchy mood around friends, family, and in public.

he was shitty at communication, but almost couldn’t go a day without you when in the same rural area. he liked to flaunt your relationship all over the internet but got fairly embarrassed whenever the two of you went out on dates.

it was borderline hell.

sometimes you wondered if he even liked you, and you almost doubted it if it weren’t for times when you hung out and the reassurance was there… until he left again. you felt anxious without him.

when you first ever met louis, you tried hard for him. you were always on your toes about how you looked, what you did, what you said—all to make sure no bumps were hit. you spent a significant amount of time crying in the beginning, still did.

“lou, i’m calling,” you bit your lip hard, wondering whether or not you should even be calling. “calling, just wondering if you’re alright, it’s been a week and i just haven’t heard from you… bye love, call me.”

please call me.

he didn’t call.

“louis, calling again, please pick up.”

no pick up.

“i’m starting to worry for you, love. just send a message or something, bye.”

no message.

“louis, i have your life360 location on, you bimbo, answer your fucking phone.”

oh you were crazy.

things escalated fast after you recalled that you had his location, where you immediately checked to see that he was exactly at his house... and then her house.

millie, of course.

you had always had speculation that there was something going on between the two of them ever sense you had first met her and she could barely stay away from him for more than a minute.

he always denied, but you didn’t trust it. especially not now. millie was one of the most flirty girls you had ever met; she spoke with her hands, and could barely keep hers off his arms or shoulders, and even face.

they way he spoke about her never eased your thoughts. it seemed like he didn’t like her, but yet he always found himself at her house whenever he wasn’t with you. it was a punch in the face.

“louis, this is the last time i’m going to call you. i can’t do this. i know what you want, and it’s not me anymore.”

you were cursing at yourself for giving up already, so easily; without a second thought—but the thing was, you had given him so much time. you just didn’t want to let him go, no matter what.

the knock on your door was the answer to your prayers; because two days later, there he stood on your doorstep, smiling softly.

you were losing your mind at the sight, surprised, even though you should have expected him.

“hi, love.”

“oh, louis,” your hand pressed against your forehead, your eyes stinging from embarrassment knowing damn well that the only reason he was here was because of the voicemails.

“don’t cry,” he stepped in without invitation, pulling you to him with a sympathetic smile, “you’re worked up over nothing, baby,”

“oh, my god,” you shook your head, “i’m sorry.” you could feel your heart aching.

“don’t be sorry,” the hand he didn’t have around your waist was pressed against your cheek. his smile was soft but pressed into a thin line, not knowing what to make of you. “don’t be a crybaby, you’re okay.”

crybaby.

“you break my heart sometimes, lou,” you had your head pressed in the crook of his neck, regaining your composure. he held you, rubbing circles on your back as you spoke lowly.

“i know, sweetheart.”

navigation.

@aliyahsutherland @ioveisabel @multifandom-obsessed @cryinginsanity @rebbyr @cc13723things @heyitsmeimdead @thehuntress09 @black-rose-29 @rrosecar @instabull @rudypankowisdaddy @lukewearingbeanies @kiramdd @highkeygolden @kitkat-mini @spencybear @w0nderr @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @i-love-scott-mccall @greengarsstuff @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @felixulvr @demigirl-with-problems @whoreforpsychopaths @siriusspuppyy @mxsmwndr

#louis partridge x reader #louis partridge imagine #louis partridge #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things #finn wolfhard #fluff #millie bobby brown #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #viscount tewkesbury marquess of basilwether #tewkesbury x reader #enola holmes #enola x tewksbury #sid vicious #sid vicious x reader #sid vicious imagine #sex pistols