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ohdeerfully · 3 months

Note

Hii! I really like your work :3

Can you do demon alastor and his goth human girlfriend comfort scenarios? :D

hii! i hope i did some justice, i dont know much about alternative subcultures (,: i tried something new, with some bulleted headcanons and a oneshot afterwards! thank you so much for the request! <3

How to Summon an Overlord

Alastor x Goth!Reader (fluff) TW: mentions of animal death/taxidermy

join my discord!

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Alastor definitely appreciated the goth aesthetic

He lived in Hell, yeah, but a lot of the style there was more punk or grunge. Not that he even knew what these words meant but he could visually tell the difference

Similarly, you adored his red color scheme. You thought it complimented your black extremely well

He wasn’t particular about the music, it wasn’t quite his taste, but he didn’t mind listening as long as it was with you. He could manage to enjoy what you enjoyed

You typically conjured him into your world two or three times a week. You weren’t a busy person, but he was a busy demon

You typically spent a while before seeing him getting into a full goth getup, perfecting your white foundation and sharp eyeliner for what felt like hours

He would assure you that it wasn’t necessary, but wasn’t overbearing about it. He knew some people just liked to get dressy

He did kind of like knowing that you were so excited to see him and show yourself off to him though

The dates you shared with him were… untraditional, to say the least

He enjoyed taking you out deep into the forest to explore and find bones and such to add to your collection at home. You were brave alone, but before meeting him never dared going as far in as you two did. There was so much you had been missing out on

He would never tell you, but when you weren’t looking he would use some of his powers–which were much weaker in the human realm than in Hell–to quickly catch and kill a small rodent if you were having no luck. He knew you’d probably get upset with him about the morality of it

Even though you’re literally dating a demon

So like. What morality

“I was a hunter in my life,” He had said when you caught him standing over the corpse of a deer. “I know how to… track them. When they’re dying.”

You loved that sinister grin of his. You never knew what was really going on behind it, but you found that and his glowing red eyes so… attractive. Oddly enough

At-home concerts were a must. As stated earlier, he wasn’t a huge fan of your taste in music, but he would never admit it. He did his best to follow in your steps and you swung your arms and sang out to your song of choice

He forced you to dance along with him to some jazz, too, of course. He left you no option for that

Baking was probably the most normal thing you two did together

He didn’t like sweets at all, but he liked shaping the dough into little themed cookies

He also loved helping you dye your hair; so much so that the second your roots started showing signs of your natural hair color he was the first to point it out

He loved being able to sit behind you and run his fingers and work the dye into every strand of hair. He didn’t care if it stained his fingers

Gifts weren’t very common from him, but you could tell that when he did get you something, a lot of thought went into it

Recently he had given you a dainty black chain with the most beautiful, glimmering blood-red ruby dangling off of it

You always asked him about what Hell was like. You asked and asked and asked, so many questions. And he was happy to talk your ear off in return

Part of him wanted to convince you to choose a sinner’s path, to join in him Hell. Honestly, he had a feeling you would if he simply asked. You seemed genuinely devoted to him

But, at the same time, the other part of him did care about you in a way that didn’t want to see you stuck in that place. Even with him

That was something he’d think about later

You were always so upset when it was time to exorcise him back to Hell. Harsh words, but it was just technicality

You clung onto his fingers for longer than you needed to. You knew he’d be back in a few days, but you had begun to feel increasingly lonely in the time between his visits

He would give you an affirming squeeze on the shoulder, and rest his chin against the top of your head for a moment before you performed the ritual

He kept in contact with you through the haunted radio you met him through, of course, a daily meeting that had become routine

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You loved antique shopping.

Especially when you end up with your own little haunted radio.

Especially when that radio had the smoothest voice, with the most peculiar and out of date accent. It was charming. And, it knew your name.

You sighed as you stroked your fingers down your cat’s back, smiling softly as it arched into your touch. Your legs were crossed in front of you, sporting a comfortable and fuzzy skull-patterned pair of pajamas. Your eyes kept flicking expectantly to that old radio, and you were growing impatient. You hadn’t heard from the demon haunting it all day, and you were growing lonely.

It felt incredibly surreal and peculiar, feeling ghosted by a literal ghost. Or demon. Or monster. Or whatever it was.

You weren’t really a lonely person, preferring to stay inside–enjoying the comfort of your cat and a good song or show as you practiced tattoo flashes on the kit you bought yourself as a birthday present. But you had grown fond of that voice, as strange as it may seem. And you believed he had grown fond of you as well, what with the pet names he had begun referring to you as.

A crackle of that radio made you jump to your feet, which startled your cat. You quickly ducked down to apologize and rub behind his ears before scampering over to the coffee table and crossing your legs as you sat in front of it. You couldn’t help the smile that beamed across your face.

“Little bat,” The voice practically sang. You rested your head on your hands, careful to avoid a fresh piercing you had given yourself earlier in the day. “Sorry, I’ve been quite busy with my duties down here.”

You sighed, a childish grin playing across your face. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me. After all that work I did repairing you.”

“Darling, I would sooner redeem myself in heaven than forget about you.” Your brow quirked at his statement.

“Isn’t heaven like… all sun and happiness and grandeur.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You let the conversation end there. You couldn’t get over that voice of his. Maybe it was the combination of the accent and the filter of the radio over it, but you just knew this demon had to be a handsome one. Though, you had considered the idea of him being some sort of terrifying, eldritch horror. You could probably get behind it, honestly.

You purse your lips in thought, fantasizing about seeing the owner of the voice.

“Why haven’t you told me your name yet?” You asked him. A few seconds passed by.

“How incredibly rude of me!” He announced, and he sounded genuinely upset with himself. “I forgot my manners, I truly never expected this radio to be touched again. I’m Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” You laughed a bit, playing along with the formality. You reached forward and brushed a settlement of dust near the base of the mesh cover.

“Hey,” You said slowly. You continued after he responded with a hum of curiosity. “I have a bunch’a books on like… summoning demons. And stuff. Do you know if…” You trailed, hoping that he was catching the idea.

He did catch on, and you heard an amused chuckle.

“I’ve never thought about it,” Alastor admitted. “I’ve been too busy down here to really care about visiting the human world.” Even through the filter of static, you could tell his curiosity was piqued. And you were suddenly very, very excited.

“Stay here,” You jumped up without a second thought and scampered into your room. You had a cabinet full of small antiques and trinkets, from cute bunny figures to reptile skulls. You gingerly opened a lower drawer, careful not to knock anything over, and rummaged through an old storage of books you didn’t often touch.

While you were in your room, you quickly swiped on basic makeup. There was no way you had time to do a full face, you felt that you were risking it already even putting a little bit on. You teased your hair and threw on a simple outfit, layering some jewelry over it. If you were going to summon a whole-ass demon in your house, you wanted to at least look hot. Obviously.

You hurried out back into your living room. You felt a little nervous as you neared the radio, which had gone quiet. Usually, when Alastor was connected, there was a garble of frequency that announced his presence.

You skimmed your fingers across the mesh and, nearly instantly, he was back. You wondered if he felt any physical connection to the thing. You decided to ask him about it later. You gently picked up the radio and traveled into your basement.

It was the perfect ambience for this type of thing. A bit dreary, empty, cold… You really only used the basement for storage, so the air was thick with dust and stagnant oxygen.

“Okay. I got a couple books on different ways I could go about this. I should have all the candles and salt and stuff…” You flipped through the pages, muttering as you set out different books on methods of evocation that seemed interesting around you, your legs crossed comfortably.

He hadn’t said much since you mentioned summoning him to your realm. You began to wonder if this was a good idea. Were you jumping the gun? Was he actually as interested in you as you were in him? Did he want to see you?

You suppose he noticed the long pause in your mumbling, because he finally spoke.

“Find anything, (Y/N)?” You smiled at his question. You took that as a good enough sign that he was interested.

“I found some… I just hope one of them works.” Alastor simply hummed in response.

You carefully drew a symbol on the concrete floor, hand dripping with white paint. Your arm was pressed against your chest to keep your stack of necklaces from dragging along the ground you kneeled down on. Your eyes flicked back and forth between your work and the book, trying to make it as perfect as possible.

Alastor hummed a little tune as you laid out the necessary candles. A few white ones dotted the formed circle, for “purification and spiritual protection” the book said. You figured it wouldn’t hurt, just in case Alastor did end up being some hideous monster. You crossed your fingers.

“Okay…” You said slowly, standing up to examine your work. You bent over to pick up the book you followed. You also carefully placed Alastor’s radio in the center of the symbol you drew. “Get ready.”

You read over the words a few times before trying out the chant.

You must’ve done it just right, because as soon as the words began tumbling from your mouth, a wind manifested and twirled around the circle you had created. Amazingly, the candles remained lit.

The lace on your clothes billowed in the wind, and your hair blew into your eyes. You furrowed your brows in an attempt to stay focused and kept your eyes on the paragraph. You could see that radio slightly glowing out of your peripheral.

A flash of light concluded the chant, and your eyes squeezed shut at the unexpected shine. You had thrown your arm over your head, and carefully began to peek under your elbow as the wind settled.

The candles, save for the white ones, had all gone out and the room smelled heavily of the smoke that curled from the extinguished wicks. And, in the center of the circle, the radio was gone.

And a demon sat in its place.

He was sitting, arms catching himself on the ground and a puzzled look on his face. The transition between realms obviously wasn’t the smoothest ride, but he quickly gained composure and stood up, brushing off his clothes.

The first thing you noticed was how tall he was. How he loomed over you, even from a couple feet away. The next was those piercing, dangerous red eyes of his as he made eye contact with you. And then his lips curled up in a wide, yellow grin.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, little bat, quite a pleasure,” He said with a dramatic bow. You were too stunned to speak, simply looking up at him with your mouth agape.

You realized that radio filter over his voice wasn’t exclusive to the radio itself, because his voice cracked with it as he spoke to you. You swallowed your intimidation and stepped towards him. He wasn’t a disgusting tentacle monster, which was awesome. He was actually… incredibly handsome. Lucky you.

“It’s… so good to finally meet you, too,” you said. You reached a hand out towards him. His eyes followed your movement carefully, smile twitching and eyebrows narrowing as he considered your hand.

Your hand was stopped at the edge of the circle he had been summoned in. Some invisible barrier prevented you from getting any closer. You both looked down at your hand, and then back up at each other.

You laughed, breathlessly and nervously. After all that work, you couldn’t even get any closer to him.

“Those candles, (Y/N),” Alastor explained with a teasing grin. You looked down at the white candles that still had their flame. You cursed yourself briefly.

“I was, uh, a little nervous. That’d you’d be, like, you know…”

“A hideous, slimy monster?”

“Yeah.”

Alastor laughed down at you. “My dear…” His voice was suddenly incredibly menacing, the scratching of his radio-like ambience becoming more aggressive. You felt a cold sweat run down your spine. As fast as the tone changed, though, it was normal again. His voice was light with humor once again. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about!”

You stooped down towards a candle to snuff it, but a quick rap from the demon’s cane halted you. You slowly craned your head up to look at him.

“You wouldn’t want to upset the delicate balance of a seance, my bat,” He said smoothly. “You can fix it next time. I should be going, I wasn’t expecting this… I have some things to do back in Hell.”

Next time, you thought, a tight feeling in your chest. You were incredibly excited at that idea, and it helped you not feel so bad about the short visit from Alastor. You nodded at him before turning around and fishing through the book for a banishment spell.

“I’ll… see you later then,” You said after finding the page. You pressed your hand against the invisible barrier again, to which he followed and pressed his own on the opposite side. You examined those long fingers of his. He smiled down at you. His expression was strange and unreadable.

“Until next time.”

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #goth reader #ohdeerfully

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staryuee · 4 months

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Hii friend <3

I dont know really know if requests are still open but i wanted to ask if you could do any genshin characters with a rude s/o?

If not you're always aloud to delete the request :)

HOW YOU MAD AT ME, ‘CUZ I’M CUNT, BITCH?

꒰warnings꒱ cursing…obviously LOL

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . you wouldn’t call yourself rude just…”free-spirited” and liberal in your word choices~! ^_−☆

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . eula, xiao, thoma, ei, furina, navia, wriothesley

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . if i had a victorian era shilling for the amount of times my friend has called me rude after i’ve made a comment about something i would be the next ebenezer scrooge (⊙_⊙)

EULA — 优菈

now while eula would normally abhor at the foul language and insults that so easily spew from your precious lips, she actually can’t help but be oddly bemused.

i mean her expectations for linguistics are awfully high, one mustn’t speak with little eloquence but your brashness was oddly…charming, and refreshing in a way. you weren’t afraid to offend people, and simply enjoyed the motto of “i won’t apologise for what i said, i’ll apologise for how it made you feel.”

eula is of course someone who’s treated like the poster-woman for the concept of rudeness given her past and current feigned ego, so honestly you sort of make her feel better about herself — not in a negative way, in the way that she just simply doesn’t feel that lonely anymore.

if anyone has so much as a word to speak against you due to something you’ve said, they can speak to her first. the entirety of teyvat is allowed to shudder if she so much as so breathes, but when it comes to you? vengeance will be severed with a side of wine.

XIAO — 魈

stop. please. xiao is already overwhelmed enough by the varieties of his duties, all his patrolling — and now he has to make sure his lover isn’t in an argument with someone or being threatened to literal death.

he frankly doesn’t really care about the way you speak, sure it’s surprising at first since the majority of people in liyue hold themselves in a way that seems a bit more…calm, but then again sometimes that within itself can be seen as a rude attempt at pacification of genuine feelings.

you’ve never been mean or rude to him, directly at least, so he literally doesn’t care how brutal or venomous your words are, so long as you don’t get yourself in too much trouble. people haven’t seen the yaksha so an edge whenever a person opens their mouth since, well, ever.

he’s never brought up your attitude or personality; he loves you wholly, even if some parts of you are a bit more prickly than rosy.

THOMA — 托马

“haha, they were just joking!” you ticked off another five on your little notepad with a careful swoosh of your pen.

thoma has had to repeat that very phrase so much to the point you’ve been keeping a safe tally on a notepad of whenever he says it. to be honest, you don’t even believe five can be multiplied this many times…

your rudeness and foul language comes as an innate package, and thoma has no problem in neatly tying that package up with a little bow to placate whoever you managed to horribly offend that day. you fear that one day, if thoma isn’t there, you’ll find yourself being interrogated by kujo sara, maybe in a more lucky scenario heizou, herself.

“thoma can you do this f—“

“no.”

“i— wasn’t asking you??”

“you didn’t need to, now fuck off (๑･̑◡･̑๑). don’t be incompetent and you wouldn’t have to ask someone else to constantly do shit for you.”

RAIDEN EI — 影

if not directed to herself directly, she finds you absolutely amusing. she literally cannot be a spokesperson against rudeness after her uhum many self-made and self-fulfilled tragedies, plus she herself can be rather verbally off putting therefore, she has little problems with how you address others.

she does, however, keep a very keen eye on you to make sure you don’t stir up trouble with the wrong crowd.

but, hey! the great thing about dating a highly revered archon is the fact literally no-one will speak out against you.

“[name] told me to kill myself when i said hi in the morning…” and guess what? all of a sudden they have a long voyage to the fiery volcanoes of natlan planned out. criticism is only allowed if it’s aimed at her, not you — you’re basically an extension of her, if anyone so much so demeans you because of your attitude, it’s almost like they’re disrespecting the electro archon herself.

that’s a crime the citizens of inazuma have long learned the lesson of.

FURINA — 芙宁娜

she loves you purely for the theatrics and dramatics you always managed to find yourself in. it always seems like drama follows you wherever you simply step — and hey, she’s an actress, it’s no wonder she’s so easily charmed and swayed with the way your voice rings out blunt responses like it were second nature.

and to be fair, she’s a massive instigator of conflict. on the sidelines of course. so when you perhaps “accidentally” rub someone the wrong way, she can’t help but use sarcasm to throw fuel into the fire and watch the hellish flames burn as she kicks back with a cup of tea and a slice of cake (you know, like a true mirror to marie antoinette)

i think your duo would be even funnier and more undoubtedly chaotic if you have british humour and or slang equipped because let’s be so real if this was modern furina would force neuvillette to act like her roadman guard-dog while she sold 50p sweets during break time to the year 8s. throw in a little “yute” or “op” and she has heart eyes all over you (i promise this is all for the sake of comedy…)

NAVIA — 娜维娅

the best part of being in a relationship is being able to chat shit about anyone and everything, because well, you’re each-other’s everything already, why rely on the kindness of strangers for validation?

you and navia do the thing where you’ll subconsciously glance at each-other from the corners of your eyes when someone (or people) say some dumb silly shit. the problem being, neither of you can keep quiet and immediately will begin giggling and will make it inevitably worse by whispering to one another “stop!” and “don’t laugh—“ while holding your mouths to stifle yourselves.

this leads to people being rather nervous to speak to navia when you’re around. usually, navia is very friendly and softly spoken; often she’ll be a rather happy-go-lucky and caring girl who smiles no matter what — of course this doesn’t mean she’ll allow people to walk all over her, but hey she believes in second chances — but when you’re around…people will loiter around creepily before gathering the courage to ask for help or whatever they need.

navia is at heart however, a very loving and respectful person so she will remind you of when you’ve stepped out of line. sometimes rudeness is just an innate quality that people have and it’s sometimes not intended out of malice; even petty things like lateness or speaking out of turn counts as “rudeness”, and navia is here to either make excuses up for you or to defend you from criticism ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

oh he absolutely eats this shit up. every argument, insult, fight etcetera you’ve ever had is kept in a personal file somewhere in his cabinet just for memories sake. wriothesley’s life is already quite dramatic and hectic as it can be, the fortress of meropide could honestly sometimes be described as a form of circus within itself especially if you’re involved, but he revels in your antics nonetheless.

you’re literally so fucking hilarious, each time he hears those heavy doors heave open beneath him he just KNOWS shit has gone down and you’re about to dramatise it for him live.

you best believe he’s an instigator the same way furina is; whispering to you and then giggling when you use his encouragement as some sort of reference while you practically spit venom at the person who’s unfortunately become your centre of focus.

he won’t allow you to stir up too much trouble in the fortress of meropide but being his partner you get the perk of not getting into nearly as much trouble as you would if you were one of the criminals down in the fortress (unless you are then…well you’re special so it doesn’t matter!)

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

#i got xianyun and her story quest made my mommy issues oh so much worse…#genshin x reader #genshin x gnreader #genshin x you #eula x reader #xiao x reader #thoma x reader #ei x reader #raiden x reader #furina x reader #navia x reader #wriothesley x reader

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princessmisery666 · 3 months

Text

Just Don't Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending.

W/C: 4,776.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.

A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own.

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day.

Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”

You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again.

“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him.

“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.”

“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.

Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.

If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.

“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours.

“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will.

“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.

You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise?

They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.

“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later.

“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.

Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.

“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”

“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.

Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.”

“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?”

“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.”

“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”

Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”

“But if I can do more…”

“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”

“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”

“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”

It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension.

“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.”

He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.

“Good to know,” you say.

You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first.

“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both.

“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”

“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play.

“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.”

“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests.

Dean nods, “lead the way.”

When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.

“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks.

“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.”

He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.”

“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”

“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh.

“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.”

You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.

“That hurt?” he asks.

“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”

He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.”

The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.

“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” you smile.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.

He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”

Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial.

He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.

Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.

If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s.

You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.

You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.

“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.

You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.

He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him.

Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone.

“Hey, hi,” you answer.

“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?”

“Yeah, sure, okay.”

“You okay?”

No. Yes.

Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.”

“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.

“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine.

He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.”

He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.”

“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.”

Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”

Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”

“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.”

He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.”

“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”

He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”

“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?”

He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.

He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”

He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better.

Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.

The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair.

Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.

You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”

His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.”

“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.

“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.

You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes.

“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard.

You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.”

“They seem like a good bunch.”

“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”

His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”

You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.

Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.

It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door.

“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“

“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”

He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”

You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.

Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.

Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you.

The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.

It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.

Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them.

The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.

He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.

You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you.

It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.

He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction.

Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls.

“Hey,” you greet brightly.

The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.”

“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”

He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?”

“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”

“I can wait.”

“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer.

He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.

“Okay, got it,” You laugh.

Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.

He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?”

“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own.

Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you.

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.

He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.

“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you.

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.”

“Good for them.”

You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards.

He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.

It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong.

You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”

He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.

You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you.

He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…”

“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.

“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”

You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.”

He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly.

“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away.

He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again.

“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”

He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return.

Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”

He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop.

He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.

“Dean, please,” you call from the door.

He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.

Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 8 days

Note

feeling veryyyy normal thinking about being offered as part of bounty to the ghoul because the bounty poster doesn’t end up having the caps they promised him. and they need to pay him somehow. they’ll offer him their lil captive vaultie as payment for the rest. 👉🏻👈🏻 will he accept?🫣

A Fair Trade

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,980

Warnings: smut (18+), p in v sex, oral (m receiving), creampie, sex as payment for debt, human trafficking typical of the Fallout universe.

Summary: The Ghoul always gets what's owed to him.

Notes: Oh, wow! My first submission-type ask! I'm genuinely super flattered and totally open to doing more. I initially ballparked that this would be around 2,500 words and it ended up almost 4,000 because I have no self control when it comes to this man. I will try to keep other submissions a little shorter, generally, to hopefully get them out quicker.

To the anon: This may have turned out...sweeter than you may have envisioned? Maybe that's not the word. Less rough? If so, my apologies! I hope you still enjoy.

Things had been...unfortunate for you since you had decided to leave your vault.

Looking for a taste of something new, chasing the feeling that the world had other things for you to experience, you had managed to make it to the nearest settlement of any import with only a few scrapes and bruises. But, regrettably, you lacked a true understanding of how cruel and selfish people on the surface could be, and you quickly ended up the captive of some random outpost runner.

Well, you'd been traded to the outpost runner. You still weren't quite sure how that had come about, even after weeks and weeks had passed, but, frankly, the scrawny, dirty man was a lot less scary than the guy who had initially captured you. He wasn't not scary by any means (no one up here really was, as far as you could tell); he still confiscated your things and locked you into the small room in the back that you were fairly confident was intended to be a closet every night, but he hadn't really done anything to hurt you so far. You were given a pillow, at least.

But you were growing increasingly uneasy with not knowing what his plans for you were. Worst case scenario, you guessed, he could kill and eat you like you'd heard some surface people did, but that didn't seem to be the case. Nevertheless, the way he eyeballed you, "accidentally" brushed against you with increasing frequency, made you uneasy. Maybe he'd bought you to be his wife, or whatever the Wasteland equivalent would be. You imagined that in the next few weeks he'd offer you more favorable sleeping accommodations...so long as you shared them with him.

Maybe you could accept, kill him in his sleep and flee. You really didn't treasure the idea of ending someone's life, but...you needed to get out of here, and soon.

The sound of the creaky, rusted front door hinges flexing drew your attention, distracting you from your bloody ruminations and the pile of scrap you'd been sorting through. The front office hadn't been loud, but the small murmur of voices instantly faded, a clatter of movement towards the door, followed by some very familiar sounding footfalls. He was back.

The tall, noseless, rad-ravaged man made his way in multiple times a month, sometimes even multiple times a week when the bounties were easy and the work was plentiful. You'd seen each other somewhat often the past few weeks, as your keeper had begun to allow you to clean and assist in the front of the office more and more. It was both better and worse; the days passed with less tedium and you got to see some of the interesting characters the desert produced. However, many of those characters sized you up with predatory eyes, as if they were estimating how many caps they could sell your flesh for in their heads. The ghoul had yet to give you that feeling, interestingly enough.

You'd heard whispers all over town about him, about all the things he'd apparently done, how he was supposedly hundreds of years old. You didn't believe that for a single second. After all, despite his fascinatingly gruesome appearance, he was just a man, wasn't he? A man with very advanced radiation sickness (and a rather unfriendly general disposition), but a man nonetheless.

Sometimes, you felt as if he was certainly looking at you the way a man would. You were unsure, frankly; social etiquette was so vastly different on the surface than it was at home. It sure seemed like he let his eyes linger on you, on your body. Perhaps he was simply curious about you, as you were about him; most people seemed afraid to even look his way, or too disgusted by his condition to even consider it.

"You wanna run that by me again?"

Your ears pricked up instantly at the tone in the ghoul's voice, your heckles raising as you sensed trouble. Tiptoeing towards the door to the front room, you stood as close as you dared, shoulder touching the rotting door frame as you listened in.

"I told you, we were robbed a few nights ago. I don't have the full payment for you right now. This is everything I've got."

You knew your keeper was lying, about the robbery, at least; the place was so small that if anyone had been in to steal anything, you'd have certainly known about it. Whether or not he really had the caps, you didn't know, but you supposed he didn't, figuring that he wouldn't take the risk of pissing off the ghoul if he did. You had overheard him discussing gambling on a few occasions.

"Well, you better find something to make me whole, quick." came the ghoul's acidic reply.

On some level, you understood his frustration. The work was done, the bounty delivered. Un-delivering it wouldn't make up for all the time he'd put in. But, you also knew his reputation for being unforgiving, and you felt a chill run up your spine as you began to fear that he would kill your keeper and you if he didn't find some sort of satisfaction soon.

"I don't have anything worth anything. I told you, this is all I have." the scrawny man shot back, trying to sound confident, tough.

However, based on the way his voice trembled and faltered, the uneasy way he cleared his throat, you suspected the ghoul knew he was lying, too, confirmed only a moment later by what you were certain was the sound of a gun thwish-ing out of its holster and cocking. Your heart flew up into your throat, hammering even harder when, a second later, the lighter sounds of the scrawny man's footsteps rapidly approached the door of the back office. Scrambling back towards the desk, you'd only closed about half the distance when the door flew open, the man grabbing at you almost blindly, his long, dirty nails digging into your exposed wrist as he dragged you, protesting, out behind the counter.

"Hey!" you hissed, trying your best to snatch your arm back out of his grip and failing, infuriatingly. You were momentarily blinded with outrage that he would offer your body to someone to cover his own debts, though you supposed that was just how people did things in this awful place. Your eyes, feeling like they could pop out of your head they were so wide, flew to the man on the other side of the counter, who was assessing you with a look you couldn't read.

"What about her?" the scrawny man asked, and that was the final straw. If things were going to get worse for you, you weren't just going to accept it with a smile. The fingers on your free hand curled into a fist, which you smashed into the side of his face, causing him to release your arm in shock. Almost instantly, he jerked towards you, but the Ghoul pointed the modified pistol in his hand further into his face, stopping him.

"Now, how're you gonna offer me merchandise and then try to damage it in front of me?" he said, speaking to the man, but not looking at him. He was still looking at you, an intrigued glint in his eyes. They were...pretty, actually. Warm and golden brown. Was he really thinking about taking the offer? You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about what his body would be like underneath all the layers of clothing. However, the entire situation had your walls up high, your whole body trembling slightly.

The Ghoul stepped slowly around the counter towards you; the scrawny man shrunk away, the gun still pointed in his direction, while you held your ground, doing your best to keep your head held high as he stepped right into your bubble, your chests almost touching as he seemed to really size you up. After a moment of incredibly tense silence, his eyes moved to the door, then back to yours. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

"Alright. C'mon, Vaultie." he said simply, turning on one foot to make his way back to the other side of the counter. You hesitated, but soon moved to stand beside him, a surreal feeling washing over you.

"Hey! No fucking way, man! You can't just take her for keeps. She's worth way more caps than I owe you!"

The man was even more red-faced than usual, his tone downright indignant, but he didn't step out from behind the counter to follow.

"Ah, but, see, once we factor in the interest on my missed payment, hurt and suffering, on top of my 'you're a dumbshit' fee...I think it's a wash, personally." the Ghoul replied, leaning back over the counter into the man's dirt-speckled face. He clearly wasn't in a place of strength to negotiate, and his angry gaze moved to you again before he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"What the fuck ever." he grunted.

You felt your body relax noticeably as the bulk of the conflict seemed to pass. However, there was a small amount of unfinished business you wanted to address before you left this place. You crossed your arms, turning your narrowed eyes to your former keeper, feeling emboldened with the Ghoul standing at your back.

"Where's my bag you took from me?"

Soon, you were back in possession of your things, including your Pip Boy, which you fretted over as you and your new keeper set out the door and into the desert heat. As you walked, you flexed the sore fingers on your hand absentmindedly. Soon, you were pouring sweat, pausing briefly to peel the top half of your vault suit down to your waist, tying the sleeves around you hips. The Ghoul appraised you silently as you did, taking a hit off of an inhaler from his pocket before continuing on.

As grateful as you were to be away from the trading outpost, away from the scrawny man and his uneasy ways, you couldn't help but worry in the back of your mind, fret at the possibility that you were going somewhere worse. It was being too trusting that got you into your situation to begin with. You worried at your lip with your teeth as he began to direct you down the road, his hand flat and firm between your shoulders. You weren't sure if the gesture was intended to be one of comfort, or if he was simply ready to snatch you up by the back of your vault suit if you decided to try to run.

The two of you walked in complete silence in the direction of the setting sun for what felt like a hundred miles. In truth, your Pip Boy revealed that you'd only gone a single mile and some change when the sun fully dipped behind the horizon, granting some blessed relief from the sweltering heat. You kept on a while longer, until the stars began to appear; eventually, the man veered from the decrepit highway, steering you to a little alcove in the rocky hillside, barely big enough to be a coyote's den.

"Alright, we'll bed down here for the night. Gettin' too dark to keep walkin'." he said, dropping his bag on the ground in a little cloud of dust as he turned to survey the site suspiciously.

You stood waiting for him to direct you, your fingers wrapped tight around the straps of your backpack, watching as he checked around wordlessly. After a few minutes, you chose one of the flatter rocks around and sat against it, watching as he built a small fire, inhaling some of the rations that had been hid away in your bag. Eventually, the ghoul threw himself down on the other side of the flames, facing the highway, and did the same, tucking into something canned from his bag. Things were quiet for a while, but eventually he spoke to you again, his voice pulling you away from fidgeting with with your Pip-Boy.

"Y'know, you're insanely lucky he didn't sell that thing. Can get quite a bit for a functional one these days. Moron didn't know what he had." he said, still chewing.

You blinked at him, your eyes flitting between the gadget on your arm and him, unsure how to respond. Briefly, you felt a growing sense of apprehension, but he must've sensed it, as he rolled his eyes and sighed softly as he swallowed.

"I'm just sayin' you're lucky you still have it, kid. Don't piss your pants. Trust me, if I wanted that thing, I'd have taken it from you already." he said, tossing the now-empty can over his shoulder.

You nodded silently, willing the tension out of your spine as you watched him dig around inside the oiled leather saddle bag once more. He produced a silver flask and a canteen, taking long pulls off of one, then the other. He then took another drag off of the inhaler he'd been puffing as you walked. Eventually, he stood, gave his back a stretch, and shrugged the long, tattered duster from his shoulders, splaying it out quickly on the ground behind him before turning back to face you.

"Alright, darlin'. Get your little ass over here."

You felt yourself freeze almost completely, your head turning sharply towards him. He hadn't said anything about the initial deal for so long that you weren't sure he was actually interested.

"What? I accepted you in lieu of payment. That means you are the payment, sweetheart. And I do intend to collect." he said, plainly amused, sinking down to the ground, his back sliding against the red rock behind him. "Besides, I've seen the way you look at me. Don't pretend you're not curious."

Your cheeks instantly felt agonizingly hot; had you been that obvious in your interest in him? Every day, something new in this place made you feel so silly, so naive. But, at the same time...he wasn't wrong. He might be rough-looking overall, but he'd been kind to you so far, and he did have quite a nice build. Besides, it had been weeks since you'd felt sufficiently alone enough to masturbate. A tad awkwardly, you went to lift yourself to walk to him when he cut you off.

"Mmm. How about you crawl?"

You felt your face twist into a mask of indignant confusion, and he chuckled. Hesitating, you made measured eye contact with him over the flames, quickly realizing, as those mischievous eyes glinted back at you, that he was serious. You swallowed hard, pulling yourself slowly onto your hands and knees before crawling the half-circle around the small fire as quickly and as dignified as possible, though there felt like there was very little dignity in it anyway. You stopped at his feet, kneeling with your hands on your thighs and looking up at him, trying your hardest to not seem as nervous as you felt.

"Take your shirt off." he ordered, head tilted as he watched you quickly pull the grimy undershirt over your head, tossing it near your bag. The night air was cool on your bare breasts, your sensitive nipples quickly peaking into hard little nubs that stung slightly. You wanted to press your warm palms to them, soothe the ache, but you didn't want him to think you were trying to cover yourself, so you simply sat, staring again, waiting for further instructions.

He grinned at you, leaning forward into your space, his gloved fingers stroking along your jaw, sliding a single one under your chin to lift your eyes fully to his. They were just as pretty glinting in the dying firelight as they had been in the outpost office.

"Y'know, you take direction pretty well, Vaultie. I like that in a lady." he said, tone low and conspiratory.

Your entire face burned now, even your eyes feeling hot, but that fire spread its way down into your core, blooming between your thighs, and you shifted slightly to press them together harder.

Reaching down, he made quick work of the belt holding up his pants and his fly, tugging free a cock that was about as red as the rest of him, the bulbous head glistening with precum already in the yellow-orange glow of the fire. Your tongue darted out to swipe at your lower lip, and you crawled up his legs to look closer. The Ghoul seemed surprised, leaning back ever so slightly from you as you came near, giving you room to move close and wrap your hand around him, drawing out a long hiss from between his yellowed teeth.

"Right on it, eh?" he chuckled almost breathlessly. "I like that in a lady, too."

You shot him a bit of a chastising look as you began to work your hand up and down over him, your free fingers coming to play along the weeping slit of him, earning another groan. He was a pretty average length for his height, you thought, but thick and already almost completely hard. It didn't seem like it would take much work to get him the rest of the way there. Your musings were interrupted by the feeling of his leather glove brushing against the swell of your breast before encaging the whole thing in his palm, massaging almost reverently. You whimpered when he plucked at your other nipple, sending shocks down your spine and straight to your already throbbing clit.

"Let's see what that pretty mouth is good for, hmm?"

Embarrassingly, you immediately dropped your head, pushing your body flat so you were sort of lying between his spread legs, bringing your lips down to hover a few inches above his leaking cock head. Tongue darting out to lap up a little taste of the shiny slickness there, you hummed; he tasted different than you were expecting, sort of the same, but with an almost metallic edge. You ran your tongue in a full circle around his tip, clenching around nothing when he groaned throatily, his right hand sliding through the dirt beside him.

"Fuck." he spat out when you unhinged your jaw, allowing the first few inches of him to fill your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking hard as your left hand continued to work the base of him. More and more precum leaked from the slit as you tongued at it, the taste and the knowledge that you were arousing to him making you rub your thighs together shamelessly.

"Play with your pussy." he commanded, clearly struggling to keep his tone even. Beneath you, you could feel his hips rocking almost imperceptibly. He didn't need to tell you twice; you could already tell you'd soaked through your underwear as you wrestled your hand down into your pants, pushing the wet gusset aside to rub tight circles around your swollen bud, moaning around his cock at the feeling.

The sound seemed to really turn him on, one of his hands suddenly moving to fist into your hair, the slight pain at the roots making you throb. His other hand came to cup your jaw again, holding you in place as he fully fucked his hips up into your waiting mouth, cussing under his breath as you continued to push yourself closer to orgasm. He kept you like that for a few long minutes, your neck cramping slightly by the time his thumb reached down, wiping away some drool that was dribbling down your chin. Bleary eyed, you looked up at him pleadingly. His answer was a wicked chuckle, his grin less of a smile and more a predator bearing his teeth.

"Blowin' a ghoul turn you on that much, cutie? What would the other vaulties think?" he tutted, shaking his head. "I think it's time you get on my cock."

Blushing hard at his little taunt, you could feel his burning gaze as you pulled yourself back up into a sitting position, tugging your boots off and setting them aside before shimmying the suit the rest of the way off, along with your underwear. A shiver broke down your spine as a small breeze hit you, your fire pretty much nothing but glowing embers now. However, when you pulled yourself back onto his lap, sighing as you ground your wet slit against his erection, you found that he was pleasantly warm feeling, bringing your hands up to his chest so you could lean over just enough to reach between you and position his cock at your entrance.

Too afraid of injuring yourself to attempt to take him all in one move, you instead opted to sink down onto the head, wriggling your hips before pulling them back up, then sinking down again, gently bouncing yourself down onto him. The man beneath you was tense, his hands kneading at your breasts as he huffed and hissed his way inside you. By the time you'd worked yourself most of the way down onto him, his hands moved to your hips, gripping them deliciously tight as you bobbed up and down on his length. For as cocky as he'd been before, he was pretty clearly struggling to keep his cool now.

One of your hands moved up from his chest, leaving you unsteadily balancing on one hand as the other pinched your nipple the same way he had before, making you cry out like a wounded animal. He must've liked that, as well, as his hands immediately yanked you the rest of the way down onto him, your ass resting flush against his hips. You repeated the sound again, higher, more strangled as he sat so deep inside you, the fat tip of him strumming away at something amazing right behind your belly button. It was too dark to make out much of anything, but you could feel the way his body twitched and bucked beneath you, strung tight as a bow.

The Ghoul's hands were digging deep into the fat of your hips, so hard you knew you'd bruise, restricting your movement, forcing you to swivel and grind your hips against him, the angle putting delicious friction on your poor aching clit and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to clench around him rhythmically, and his hand quickly appeared on your clit in the dark, rubbing surprisingly deft stripes up and down the puffy flesh until you were suddenly gasping for air, trembling hard against his chest as he fucked up into your heat roughly, sloppily, the hand that wasn't on your clit slapping you hard on the ass. Suddenly, he let out a long, low groan, and you could feel the hot throbbing of him pumping his cum inside you, his hips stuttering as you let yourself slump halfway against him. There was a sudden metallic taste in your mouth. For several long moments, there were no sounds but your co-mingled harsh breaths and sound of the wind swirling the sand across the foothills.

After you'd finally caught your breath, you made a move to extract yourself from him. He promptly stopped you, flipping you onto your back, the smell of the duster's rich leather curling in around you as he kept grinding his hips into your overstimulated cunt. It drew an embarrassing squeal from you, hands flying to his chest once more before being rather playfully batted away.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. Nice as that was, your buddy owed me quite a bit of money. I think you'll be paying me back in installments." he growled in your ear, one hand moving around to give your ass a firm squeeze as you gave another clench around him. Your mind, foggy with sex, wandered to the Radaway still stashed in your bag.

It was going to be a long night.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

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personasintro · 7 months

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Mutual Help | #27

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

"I knew I would see you slacking off. Again."

It doesn't take long for you to recognize the teasing and edge to the very familiar voice, the one you could probably never get mistaken. Glancing at Yoongi who's walking towards you, an evident smirk glowing on his features as he rolls up the sleeves of his black button up.

"Bothering me again? Here I was thinking you finally left me alone." you murmur, audible enough for him to hear because that's exactly what you wanted but all he gives you is an amused chuckle.

You don't even bother explaining to him that you're just taking a ten minute break, before you've to make calls for upcoming photoshoots. It's not worth it and he wouldn't care for sure.

"Me? Never," he smirks, leaning against the window sill where you're standing glancing at the busy Seoul streets. "And you seem happier, so now I'm back."

It surprises you that he brought up the sudden change of your mood, even if his words were tactical and light without actually prying at what happened. You purse your lips, trying to hide a grin because this man is just unstoppable and unbelievable. From the corner of his eyes you notice the corner of his lips twitch as he stares at you with those sharp eyes.

"Such a shame. I was hoping you'd leave me alone for a few days at least." you joke, hearing him feigning a dramatic gasp that makes you snort as you both laugh.

"Well, I'm glad you got your humor back," he teases, wiggling his brows as you roll your eyes although a soft grin spreads on your lips. "But are you okay?" he asks, the teasing long gone from his voice as you stare at him with widened eyes.

He sounds genuine and--

"Min Yoongi, are you worried about me?" you ask, a grin making its way back onto your lips as Yoongi scoffs.

"Don't be ridiculous," he denies, scrunching his nose as if the mention of him being worried about you disgusts him. "I'm just curious, that's all."

"Uhm," you hum, smirking when he growls in disagreement. "But since you're so curious about me, yes, I'm okay." you answer, knowing that he's waiting for your answer nevertheless of your teasing and he nods in acknowledgement.

You're okay. When you woke up, unfortunately there were no signs of Jungkook because he had to wake up earlier than you. In a sleepy state, you can remember his alarm going off but you drifted back to sleep before you could pry your eyes open. Jungkook managed to turn off the alarm quickly, before it could wake you up entirely. However, this morning has been different because there was a small note waiting for you on the kitchen counter.

'I had to wake up earlier, we'll talk when I get home. Have a nice day, JK :)'

Just a simple note was enough to make your day a little bit better. Oh, who are you kidding. It made your day better a lot considering how worried you were about your friendship and Jungkook as well. You're glad you got to talk and understand each other better.

"Oh, I take it you got laid."

You almost choke at Yoongi's blunt words, your eyes scanning the break room which you're currently alone in. Thank god.

"No, I didn't!" you deny, but it sounds like a lie even to your ears and your very attentive co-worker seems to know that too as he starts grinning.

"Oh my god, you did!" he exclaims, grinning as you hiss at him, annoyance crossing on your features.

"So what?" you grumble. There's no point of denying it. Well, at least you tried. "You should get laid too, maybe it would help you with your attitude."

"Are you offering?" he asks right away, catching you off guard as your eyes almost bulge out.

Heat spreads over your cheeks as you suddenly imagine Yoongi naked, most likely being intimate with you but before you can get a proper image, you shake out of it. Fucks sake, this is your annoying co-worker. Why would you even imagine something like that? In your defense, he's the one who said it. Not you.

"Oh, you've a boyfriend." he pouts, causing you to roll your eyes. As if that makes any difference.

"He's not my boyfriend for fucks sake," you groan, "He's my best friend." you clarify, growing tired that for some reason he doesn't believe you.

You don't even know why that bothers you so much. Maybe it's the same thing when people would assume you were dating, but you weren't. You weren't having sex back then and they still thought you and Jungkook are secretly dating, or that you will. It always annoyed you and not just you. It annoyed Jungkook too but he had always been better at brushing it off, unlike you.

"Wasn't he your fuck buddy?" he feigns confusion and you're super close to slap him across his face.

Yoongi finds this entertaining as he's staring at you, seeing you twisting with discomfort written all over your face. Ah, he loves making you embarrassed. You always play tough around him, but he knows you're much more sensitive than you're showing him.

"Actually, I don't think he is. He's no longer my fuck buddy." you tell him, sounding almost proudly which catches Yoongi off guard and you see it by the way his lips part.

You and Jungkook still haven't justified your deal, but you both know it should've been over a long time ago. What happened last night – well, you had sex and that's it. There's nothing much to say about that. You both were horny, angry and it felt like angry sex is the right decision at that moment. It definitely helped you get that anger and irritation out of you.

"And that's why you are so happy?" he asks, sounding confused and surprised as you shrug.

"Not exactly. We talked yesterday and sorted some things out. He's probably getting back with his ex anyway. We both got what we wanted." you tell him, not really sure why you're so honest all of a sudden.

"And you're... fine with that?" he asks slowly, as if he's still trying to process your answer. Poor guy, he's confused and isn't trying to hide it at all. It's a rare moment to see him so confused and out of place.

"Why wouldn't I be? We had a deal, there are no hard feelings." you shrug.

It's understandable Yoongi is most likely confused and tries to put the pieces together. He doesn't know your whole deal after all. All he knows is that you've a best friend and you became friends with benefits for some time. And according to your words, that has ended.

"Shit, you're even crazier than I thought." he exclaims, causing you to frown as you glare at him.

"Thanks." you mutter sarcastically, ready to get back to work before Jinho notices you're gone longer than you should be. You don't need him to ruin your day.

"Hey," Yoongi calls out, causing you to stop as you glance at him. There's something about his features that make them look more softer as he glances at you. "I was just joking, you're not crazy."

You blink a couple of times, staring at the man that uncomfortably shifts on his spot as you lick your dry lips. "Thanks?"

"Maybe just a little bit." he says, his lips twitching as you snort.

"Aren't we all?" you ask, slowly backing away. "You really are growing soft on me." you joke, causing him to scoff immediately.

"Fuck off." he says as he hears your laugh. The middle finger you show him with you walking away while turned with your back to him doesn't go unnoticed by him too, a scoff of disbelief filling up the empty break room.

When you get back home, Jungkook's home, you're surprised by the sight of Jungkook himself. He's pacing around the living room, patting the pockets of his black slacks as he makes sure he has everything. You stare at him, legs bare and out of those awful heels that you were wearing the whole day, but you can't focus on the ache of your feet. It's hard to do so, especially when Jungkook looks extremely good. He always does, but there's just something about him wearing all black, especially that goddamn black button up exposing some of his chest. His black locks look natural but add just the right pinch of hotness to his whole look. It's the details too, like the silver earrings he usually wears and a shiny silver ring wrapped around his tattooed finger.

"Hi?" you call out, Jungkook's head snapping to yours as he finally notices you.

He gives you a big smile, greeting you right away as he reaches for his wallet before putting it into the pocket. "Hey, I was wondering when you'll get back." he says, voice light as he ruffles his hair.

"I had to go over Monday's plans with Yoongi, got caught up." you explain, giving him a small smile in return as his soft features twist in a mere confusion.

"Yoongi?"

"My co-worker." you answer, wondering if you've ever mentioned Yoongi's name. You probably didn't since he's asking. And there was no reason, you're glad you don't get to talk about him in your private life. It's just enough to bear with him almost every day.

"Ah," Jungkook hums, "Well, Jin texted me and the guys, and he wants to hang out tonight."

That would explain his outfit and obvious fact that he's about to leave.

"Oh, is he back from the honeymoon?" you ask, putting your bag onto the couch as if it's your daily routine every day coming back from work. That's because it is. You managed to have your own new routine ever since staying over at Jungkook's.

"Yeah, came back last week actually. They just had a little bit after the honeymoon phase," he chuckles.

Obviously, you know what that means. Sex, sex and a lot of sex.

"And now he wants to hang out with us. You wanna go with us?" he asks, waiting for your answer as you open your mouth in surprise.

It's probably all guys hanging out, you don't think they would mind if you came too but you wouldn't want to intrude. Not that Jungkook would mind anyway. You're touched that he's asking you to come too, considering that you would be left alone in his apartment. But you're tired, you don't mind relaxing. Although, you thought you'd talk tonight.

"Ah, no. Thank you though. I'm tired and I just wanna relax tonight." you assure him, knowing that if he saw any doubt on your face, he wouldn't let you live.

"You want me to stay with you? I can just text them and decline, I don't mind." he says, and your heart warms up all again but you shake your head.

"Don't be stupid. Have fun, go hang out with them. I'll just watch Netflix or something and then go to sleep. Do you have a ride back home? I assume you all will be drinking." you tell him, changing topic knowing he would question you for a couple more seconds.

He looks as if he's contemplating asking again but just shakes his head. "I'll just call a cab or something." he waves his hand.

"You sure? I can pick you up." you offer, but he shakes his head again.

"No, it's okay. I'll probably come back late. You should just go to sleep, don't worry about me." he smiles, walking towards you as he pokes your nose causing you to frown.

"My apartment is already fixed," you tell him, remembering the call you got around lunch time.

You hoped you'd be happier when the repairman called you and informed you that it's all good now, and you're free to move back in. Well, living with Jungkook has been nice. He's been cooking for you, more than you had for him. You helped with cleaning, but it's proven that Jungkook has everything under control and manages to clean everything on his own. Surprisingly, looking at the fact that Jungkook is a man, he's very clean and likes his things in their place. Oh, and he's been taking care of washing your clothes and now they smell like him. Not entirely, but the fabric softener he's always using.

"I'll go back tomorrow." you add, his doe eyes staring at you as he sighs.

"Oh, okay," he says, sounding disappointed. "I'll miss having you around though." he says, causing you to snort as you push his firm chest. Oh god.

"I barely did anything." you laugh, causing him to grin as he scrunches his nose.

"Believe it or not, but just having you around is enough."

"Oh my god, Jeon. You're such a sap." you snort, causing him to roll his eyes but there's an amused grin spreading on his lips.

"What? You don't believe me?" he wiggles his brows, pinching your cheeks as you slap his hands away causing him to put a little bit of pressure which makes you whine.

"Let go of me, Jeon!"

He does, but not before he starts cackling at your red cheeks and frustration filling your face. What a kid.

"But seriously, I'll miss you." he says, chuckling as he watches you rubbing your red cheeks to make the pinching feeling go away.

You glare at him, but how can you stay mad at him when he's scrunching his nose again as he's laughing at your expression. "I'm not dying, Kook. We can still hang out whenever we want." you remind him, growing soft that he really looks kind of bummed out that your apartment is fixed.

"I know that," he says, shrugging. "I hope you're not. Imagine if you were, who would I annoy?" he pouts fakely, causing you to raise your hand as you're ready to slap him but he's already anticipating it, dodging your hand with ease.

"Jimin or Taehyung? Or the hundreds of other friends you've." you murmur, giggling when he makes a grimace and shakes his head.

"None of them are like you," he says, voice soft but serious as he steps closer to you. Your breath hitches, anticipating his next move but you definitely don't expect him to poke you in your ribs as he lets out a cackle. "And you're too easy to annoy."

"I really hope that one day when you'll have kids, they'll annoy the shit out of you. You deserve it." you tell him seriously, only causing him to laugh as you're trying to hide your grin.

"Kids annoy the shit out of their parents anyway," he points out, shrugging as if your comment doesn't mean anything. "And your kids will annoy you too, don't think your kids won't be annoying just because it's you." he teases, causing you to roll your eyes as you shrug.

"We'll see, Jeon." you muse, pursing your lips while he snickers at you.

He stares at you for a couple of seconds, and you already know that look in his eyes. He lightly coughs, preparing himself for whatever he wants to talk about but you already have an idea what it might be. You wanted to talk after all.

"So..." he starts, nibbling on his bottom lip before he sighs and opens his mouth again. "What now?"

"What do you mean what now?" you ask, chuckling. "I guess our deal is off, isn't it? There's no point of us pretending to be dating. I'm guessing you've already agreed to meet with Kiko...?" you ask, a question lingering in the air for a couple of seconds as Jungkook nods.

"Well, we haven't set the date yet. She's visiting her parents right now. She told me she'll let me know when she's back." he explains, causing you to nod.

"But she agreed to meet up with you, right?" you ask just to be sure, earning a nod from Jungkook.

"Yeah, she did. I just don't know what to expect from it." he admits quietly, causing you to frown in a confusion as you glance at him.

He sighs, ruffling his hair as he walks up to the back of the couch and leans against it. Crossing his arms over his chest, you open your mouth to ask; "What do you mean? I thought you wanted to get back together with her."

Does he have any doubts about their relationship? About Kiko? That's hard to believe. He's been so determined and even though he was vocal about his recent thoughts with you and trusted you with his struggles and thoughts, there could always be something more. Love is confusing. Thank God, you're not going through the same thing he's going through right now. Even if he's the same Jungkook, teasing you and annoying you, you know his heart is cracked and he's trying to do the right thing by listening to it.

"I want to," he exclaims softly, almost sounding annoyed at himself. "But I told you... I don't know what will happen when I see her again. This time it'll be just the two of us again and the last time we were alone, just the two of us, she told me the most heartbreaking thing she probably could've said to me. I don't know how I'll feel about that. I've no fucking idea how I'll feel when we'll talk."

You look at him with a pity in your soft eyes. "Of course, you don't know. That's why you want to meet her and talk to her."

"I love her," he admits, like it's not obvious, "But a part of me wishes I'd hate her. It would make everything easier."

"Don't say that," you whisper, "You would be heartbroken either way." you tell him, walking towards him as you give him a tiny smile.

He's looking at you, eyes traveling all over your face as they stop at your eyes. He gives you a soft look, thankful even as the corner of his lips lifts up. "Yeah, maybe you're right. But hating someone is easier than loving someone who hurt you."

"Kook, you're not capable of hating someone. And by no means you're able to hate Kiko. You're just hurt and it's completely understandable. You know how you'll feel when you meet up with her. For now, just enjoy your night and don't stress yourself that much. I know it's easy for me to say but be with your friends, get drunk or something." you chuckle and he joins you, although it sounds pressured. Not that you're surprised.

"Come here," he says, already reaching towards you with his arms.

Taking two steps, he pulls you to his chest as he hugs you. Your nose is pressed against his chest, smelling the amazing and same cologne he always wears, the same one that smells like home. Because in a way, Jungkook is your home. Your friendship is so valuable, you've never had this kind of friendship with anyone.

Growing up, you had a best friend in primary school. He was cool and you got along with him better than with any of your girl friends. You remember when you used to order pizza almost every day after school. You'd try the one with seafood and examine little octopuses with a giggle before you ate them. Those are soft and nice memories. Until you both grew up and you stopped hanging out. He started hanging out with one of your other classmates, right before you went to high school. Then you heard he started smoking weed, not that defines him as a person but when you saw him in your home city, he looked... different. It wasn't the same boy you used to laugh and joke around with. He was someone else, he grew up just like you did.

But it's different with Jungkook. You might not know him from the complete childhood days, but long enough to remember the little pimples he used to have and the innocent look along with his big eyes, that remained the same. The only difference is that he's not a boy anymore, he's a man full of muscles while his skin is filled with a couple of tattoos decorating his right arm. His baby fat is no longer present and his jaw is sharp while his cheekbones are defined. And his appearance might've changed, but he still remains the same person. Yes, you got to see new sides of him (not just from the sexual side). He's no longer the innocent boy who blushed whenever a girl talked to him. Yet, he never changed towards you. No matter how many years passed, he's still the same.

Wrapping your arms around his frame, you smile into the hug.

"I feel bad for leaving you here alone. You sure you'll be fine?" he asks softly, mouth pressed against your hair.

"Yeah," you chuckle, "I'm tired. Have fun, Kook. We'll have fun some other time, I promise."

"I know we'll, we always do." he jokes, causing you to pull away so he can see the roll of your eyes. He mimics you and snickers when you want to push him away but he doesn't let you go, arms still wrapped around your body.

"So, I guess I'm no longer your fake girlfriend, huh?" you ask, chuckling when his eyes drop to your moving lips before they flicker back to your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess you're not," he chuckles, "Well, it was a pleasure to have you as my girlfriend." he jokes, causing you to snort.

"I'm sure it was," you snicker, "You're full of shit, Jeon."

Amused smirk adorns Jungkook's lips as he bites his lower lip. "I'm not, although your acting wasn't as great as I hoped it'd be." he jokes and you slap his back, the only available place for you where you can hit him.

He laughs, throwing his head back as squeezes you tighter. "My acting was perfect! Okay, the beginning wasn't that great but it wasn't my mistake!" you exclaim, laughing through your words as Jungkook nods with pursed lips, teasing you.

"Was I good with my part of the deal?" Jungkook asks, your body tensing for a second as you tilt your head to look at him.

"Are you seriously asking me if you were good at sex?" you ask with a chuckle, trying too hard not to let your cheeks flush. Fuck, you've no idea why you're so shy all of a sudden.

"No, I know I was great," he says, earning another roll of your eyes. Seriously, you can't with him. "I'm asking if I did everything you wanted." He sounds genuinely curious, but there's a dark glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, waiting for your response.

It's not helping that he's so close to you, your bodies pressed together. You can perfectly feel his warmth and you're suddenly remembered of all the times your bodies collided with each other. There's a sudden tingle between your legs and you've to shake yourself out of it before you can let it cloud your mind.

"Uhm," you hum, although there is something else that comes to your mind. For example, like there's a lot of things that you can think of. But you don't tell him that. But judging by Jungkook's weird chuckle and the way he frowns, he notices your short and unsure answer. "Our deal is off, remember?"

"Yeah, I know." he answers, slowly letting you go at the same time as his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket. "Sorry," he apologizes but you just wave it off and wait for him to answer the phone.

"Yeah?" There's a distant muffled voice that you recognize as Taehyung, although you can't hear him properly. "Yeah, yeah I'm going. See you soon," he ends the call as he gives you a tiny smile.

"It was Tae, they're already there." he informs you, but doesn't move an inch.

"Go," you laugh, nudging his shoulder as he chuckles. "Don't let them wait for too long. You know how impatient Taehyung gets."

"Knowing him, he'll be drunk by the time I get there." he jokes, causing you to laugh because you both know Taehyung. He likes to loosen up a lot lately.

"Oh god, don't let him get drunk like he got at Jin's wedding." you whine, remembering Jimin and Jungkook coming to the rescue because Taehyung got wasted and threw up all over the bathroom. Jungkook said the sight wasn't pretty and it was a good thing you stayed at the bar.

"I'll try," Jungkook promises, flicking your nose. "You can always tag along and babysit Tae." he jokes.

"No, thanks," you snort, "I'm sure you'll manage on your own. I trust you." you pat his chest before you turn around, seeing him grinning at you as he shakes his head.

As you're ready to grab your clothes from Jungkook's bedroom, you hear his keys rustling as he calls out to you. "I've my phone with me, don't hesitate to call me if something happens." he calls out to you, a laugh escaping from your mouth as you poke your head from the bedroom.

He's standing at the front door with a hand on the doorknob, big eyes looking at you innocently although his whole appearance screams the exact opposite.

"Don't worry, dad. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." you tell him, laughing when he stares at you in a mere horror.

"Don't call me that," he murmurs, "I know you can take care of yourself, just-- yeah, have a nice evening, okay?"

You look at him, a soft smile spreading on your lips as you give him a nod. "Of course, have fun." you call out to him, giving him a wave of your hand.

You see the dubious look on his face and you just know he's deciding if he really should go, and leave you alone. Your heart warms up at his kindness and before he can decide not to go and not to have an actual fun, which he really needs, you lock yourself in the bathroom and treat yourself to a steamy shower.

The blasting rap music sounds like a knife digging into Jungkook's earlobe, but the amount of alcohol flowing in his system makes one of the main sensory organs almost numb. Who would've thought a nice evening in the diner with his friends would erupt into a night full of clubbing, alcohol and loud music. Well, he could've predicted it. It always happens and deep down he knew their next steps after their stomachs are full, would lead to one of the clubs. Jin's back, glowing with happiness after the honeymoon as he didn't fail to spill some details to his friends. The mood has been great, ever since Jungkook stepped into the diner and his friends welcomed him while teasing him of his late arrival – which wasn't that late. He was only twenty minutes late but of course Taehyung teased him the most.

The whole evening seemed fun and nice, women throwing their eyes at Jungkook which he bluntly ignored and prayed none of those women would actually make their move. He would feel awful to turn down any of them, knowing they would be most likely embarrassed if he did that. Couple of drinks later when a painful realization of his current life hit him like a ton of bricks, he couldn't think about anything else than what's happening in his life.

"Jungkook," Jimin says, patting Jungkook's shoulder as he's sniffling trying to cover his face even though nobody could tell he's crying, considering the lack of light in the dimmed club. If it weren't for Jungkook's slumped figure and worried eyes of his friends, he'd just look like another drunk guy barely holding up.

Instead, he's a drunk guy with a broken heart that couldn't hold it in any longer.

"What's wrong? Please, don't cry." Jimin's worried voice fills Jungkook's ears but just as the loud and energetic rap music, it's numb to Jungkook's ears and he barely registers it.

"Jungkook, did something happen?" Taehyung asks, sitting next to him as he clutches his other shoulder in comfort. But he barely feels that, not registering his friends' voices as they're just another empty noise.

He hates himself, he's ruining the fun for his friends who came here to have fun and loosened up, not wanting to experience Jungkook's breakdown that he desperately tried to hide before they noticed it. Trying to act like everything's fine is harder when he's drunk and barely managing to control his emotions and features. He never expected to find himself in this situation, fuck, he never thought he would have this breakdown like a little heartbroken boy.

"No," he sniffles, stubbornly shaking his head as he denies quite the obvious. "I'm fine."

"It's us, Kookie. You don't have to lie in front of us," Jimin reminds him softly, his gentle voice carrying itself as it contrasts with the music. "Is it something with Y/N? Did you guys have a fight?"

Jungkook lifts his head up, staring into Jimin's worried and big eyes as he stares at his friend that sniffles and shakes his head. "No, we're good."

If Jimin remembers correctly and he does, he knows you and Jungkook had a fight or something weird happened at the camping trip. As much as you tried to put a smile on your face when he asked you about it, he's not stupid and is observing enough to notice that something happened. Of course, you both had to figure it out because he witnessed Jungkook buying you pads and tampons, seeming determined to buy you both just because he wasn't sure. It touched Jimin's heart and he's not even a fucking woman.

But it still breaks him to see his friend crying over something nobody knows about. And all of a sudden when just a few minutes ago he was laughing with the rest of them.

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to," Taehyung reminds him, rubbing Jungkook's shoulder who lets out a defeated sigh. "Just let us know if you'll be okay."

Jimin nods, something Jungkook fails to see because of his head hanging low as he stares at his black boots. His whole body feels heavy, along with the alcohol settling in his stomach. Fuck, why he chose to eat that much? And drink too. He should've stopped himself, but he was having so much fun.

"It's Kiko." Jungkook murmurs, almost inaudibly but Jimin and Taehyung hear him perfectly as they look at each other confusingly, before Jungkook leans himself against the booth.

"Kiko?" Jimin doesn't hide his surprise. "What happened with her?"

"What happened?" Hoseok joins the rest of them, the three guys staring at Hoseok lapping for his breath as he spent a good thirty minutes dancing his heart out with some girls.

He frowns, worriedly glancing at Jungkook who just stares back at his older friend with a mere frown.

"I found out she cheated while we were dating." Jungkook answers, surprisingly completely clear and loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jimin gasps out in shock, Taehyung's mouth dropping as Hoseok's eyebrows shoot up in guilt and worry. Jimin sees the interaction, mouth dropping as well as he stares at Hoseok. "You knew?"

"Of course, he knew. He's Kiko's best friend." Taehyung comments, frowning at their hyung who seems guilter than ever. Especially when he sees the reddened eyes that belong to the youngest, pain visible in them.

"That's why she broke up with you?" Jimin asks Jungkook, glancing back at him but not before he glares at Hoseok. Jungkook gives them a slow nod, closing his eyes for a few moments. The pain is too much, he wishes he could just forget it and he reaches for Jimin's drink that he bought for himself but hasn't had the time to drink it, since he found Jungkook crying and all alone.

"What a bitch!" Taehyung exclaims, causing Jungkook to stop and snap his teary eyes at him while Hoseok glares the shit out of Taehyung.

"Hey!" Hoseok snaps, causing the younger man to shrug as he glares back. "It's... it's not my place to say anything. It's between you two, Jungkook." he reminds him, his voice softening.

"Are you seriously standing up for her when she cheated? What has Jungkook ever done to deserve that?" Taehyung asks, voice raising his voice as everyone stares at him with a shocked expression. Taehyung barely shows anger, if it's not a part of him playing a video game or something, so it is quite surprising to hear his deep voice getting frustrated and even more that it's aimed at Hoseok.

"Nothing," Hoseok sighs, "I'm not saying any of this is alright." he tells them gently, sitting down at the opposite of the table as he glances at Jungkook with a pitiful look.

"Well, you act like it." Taehyung murmurs, causing Jimin to sigh as he shakes his head.

"Tae," he warns him softly, standing up from his crouch position as he sits down next to Jungkook.

He watches Jungkook reach for his drink again but before he can even touch the cold glass, Jimin's already slapping Jungkook's hand away and moves the drink away from Jungkook's reach. "I think you've had enough."

Jungkook rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything as his head keeps dropping down. Thank god he's sitting down, at least he has some kind of stability now.

"I'm gonna grab some water for him." Hoseok says, excusing himself as he gives all of them a pitiful look again, looking guilty and sad at the same time.

"He does look miserable about this." Taehyung comments, watching Hoseok's figure disappearing in the crowd.

"Go easy on him, Tae. He doesn't have it easy, he's Kiko's best friend and Jungkook's friend." Jimin sighs, reminding Taehyung which makes Jungkook scoff. He heard similar words just a few days ago.

Whatever Taehyung's thinking, he stays silent and just lets out an exhausted sigh as he glances at Jungkook. He still looks miserable, the conversation bringing another set of memories and pain.

"I know it hurts, Kook. But look at the positive side, you've got Y/N. She would never--"

"We're not together." Jungkook slurs, both of his friends freezing.

"Wait, what?" Jimin asks, staring at Jungkook who seems to be spacing out as he curses when he falls forward and almost bumps his head into the table in front of him, if it weren't for Jimin's and Taehyung's fast reflexes. "What did you say?" Jimin presses, staring at Jungkook who grins lazily and closes his eyes.

"What about Y/N?" Taehyung tries, holding Jungkook in case he'd stumble forward again.

"Me and Y/N," he slurs, letting out a burp that makes him almost gag. "We're not together."

"What? You guys broke up?" Jimin exclaims, not believing his ears as Jungkook seems to live in his own little world, completely ignoring Jimin's question and reaction.

"Jungkook," Taehyung nudges Jungkook's shoulder. "You and Y/N broke up?" he asks, Jungkook eyes opening again as he processes Taehyung's question.

He sits there, staring dumbfounded in front of himself before he shrugs, remembering something. "Oh, yeah, we did." he sighs.

"What? When?" Taehyung asks, glancing at Jimin who looks just as shocked as he shrugs.

However, he's not the only one and Jungkook shrugs as well, not knowing how to answer that. What is he supposed to say? You did tell him that your deal is off today, well yesterday. It's already past midnight if he can remember.

"What about Y/N? Is she okay? Where is she?" Jimin asks, blurting out all these questions at Jungkook that makes him just shrug which causes Jimin to groan in annoyance. Talking with a drunk person is extremely hard, Jungkook is a perfect example of that.

"Fine," Jungkook slurs out, "She's fine."

"I've to call her. She's probably--"

"No," Jungkook says, trying to touch Jimin but he just pats with his hand awkwardly in front of Jimin as he stares at Jungkook with an arched brow.

"But where is she, Jungkook? I don't think a person can be fine after a breakup."

"She's at mine." Jungkook answers, Taehyung scoffing a chuckle as he seems to grow genuinely amused at the current situation. He wishes it wouldn't be so serious, maybe he'd actually laugh.

"What?" Jimin asks dumbfoundedly, "You broke up and she's at your place?"

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, brows pinching confusingly as he looks at even more confused Jimin.

"You're an idiot. You broke up, she's at yours and you're partying here?"

"She didn't want to go." Jungkook answers innocently, shrugging slowly.

"Oh my god, Jungkook," Jimin exclaims, slapping his forehead. "Of course, she didn't. You broke up! Why the fuck is she even at yours?"

Jungkook shrugs causing Jimin to groan. "And don't shrug all the time!"

"Okay." Jungkook sighs, head hanging low as he lets out a defeated sigh.

Taehyung snickers, patting Jungkook's shoulder. "Don't yell at him, Jiminie. He's drunk as fuck."

Jimin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've to call her."

"No, she's fine," Jungkook waves his hand. "She's probably sleeping."

Jimin stares at Jungkook, wondering if he wants to let out a desperate sigh or laugh at Jungkook's drunkenness. He doesn't do either, simply sitting in silence for a moment. It's his sudden silenced cries and sniffles that snap both men into action, Taehyung rubbing Jungkook's shoulder as Jimin sighs.

"I'm gonna take him home." he informs Taehyung, not thinking Jungkook is paying attention to both of them and definitely not to what neither of them are saying.

"You drank, you can't drive." Taehyung says, still rubbing Jungkook's shoulder as he gives him another glance of worry and pity.

"Of course, I won't drive. I'm not stupid Tae," Jimin tells his friend, "I'm gonna call us a cab and then come back here."

Taehyung is ready to nod, thinking it's probably best for Jungkook to sleep it through. He won't enjoy this night anyway, not in this state. They all will probably go home soon and Jungkook looks like he'll either throw up or fall asleep any minute. They can just pray he won't be throwing up in a cab, maybe Jimin should try to make him throw up before they'll actually hop into a cab.

"No," Jungkook disagrees, shaking his head. "No, no cab."

"Kook, we've got to get you home." Jimin reminds him softly, pulling out his phone as Jungkook gives him a glare before he burps.

He slurs something, so quiet that both men stare at him with a dumbfounded gaze, wondering what the hell he just said. Taehyung asks him to repeat it, causing the younger and drunk man to blink a couple of times before he says it again.

"Y/N," he says simply, burping again as he covers his mouth with a hand. "Call Y/N."

"Jungkook, she's most likely sleeping, you said it yourself. Let her sleep, let's not wake her up." Jimin says, wondering when the fuck has Jungkook grown so stubborn. He's always been stubborn when it came to work or his determination, but not in these kinds of scenarios. But then, those scenarios where Jungkook would get drunk and emotional never really happened.

"Call her." he snaps, causing Jimin to groan as he throws his head back.

"You're selfish, you know that right?" Jimin mumbles, chuckling when Jungkook scoffs in response and crosses his arms over his chest.

"For fucks sake, just call her." Taehyung tells Jimin, causing the both friends to glare at each other as Jimin fumbles with his phone with an unsure expression.

"You heard him," Jungkook says innocently, "Call her."

"God, you're so annoying. No wonder you guys broke up," Jimin mumbles, but not inaudible enough for him not to hear.

"Hey!" Jungkook exclaims pouting before he stares into the distance, nibbling on his bottom lip.

"You okay?" Taehyung asks, leaning forward to get a better glance at his friend's face as he sees tears falling down his cheeks.

"I can't believe she cheated on me," Jungkook cries out, falling onto Taehyung's side as he drops his head onto his shoulder and starts letting out soft cries. "Why?"

Taehyung looks at Jimin, both sharing the same look of pity by the evident heartbreak of their youngest friend that awfully reminds them of the very moment they both found out Kiko broke up with him. The only difference was that Jungkook was too stubborn to actually cry in front of them. And he wasn't drunk, but still the pain in the ass before you came to the rescue. Even though Jungkook's reaction might've been different, they can notice the pain and heartbreak in both of them. And just like before, they both look at each other while Jungkook's soft cries are muffled by the loud music that slowly blends into the background.

Taehyung opens his mouth; "Call her." Is all he says before Jimin is already searching for your number as Hoseok is coming back with the bottle of water which Jungkook refuses and almost throws it back at him, calling him a liar.This whole night became a mess, a heartbreaking mess for Jungkook and nothing seems to help. You're the only hope they all have left. Again.

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #personasintro

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queenshelby · 3 months

Text

The Basement (Part Two)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, CNC, Anal, Rough, Derogation

Four weeks after you signed the contract, you arrived at Cillian's house which, at least from the outside, looked like every other house on that street.

You were greeted by a woman named Mandy who took your bag and gestured for you to come inside.

"You brought clothes, that's sweet," she chuckled, raising an eyebrow as she led you into the house and you simply nodded shyly, feeling slightly intimidated by the thirty something year old woman.

"You know, you won't need them sweetie, so maybe leave them in the spare room for now," she then said, indicating a small room off the hallway.

Feeling like you had no choice, you quietly dropped your bag on the floor and followed Mandy down the corridor. The rich scent of expensive perfume filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of exotic spices wafting from somewhere deeper within the house.

"Uhm, may I ask who you are? I didn't expect anyone but Cillian to be here," you said hesitantly, trying to get more information about your circumstances.

"Oh! That's right, you don't know me yet, do you?" Mandy replied coyly, winking at you. "I'm Mandy, a friend of Cillian's and I'm going to look after you for the next two weeks," she added cheerfully before taking your hand and leading you downstairs to the basement.

"Where is Cillian?" you asked Mandy as your heart pounded wildly against your chest. You couldn't help but feel anxious about what was coming next; the prospect of being trapped in this home for two whole weeks was terrifying but also strangely arousing.

"He's out at the moment, but will be back in a few hours," Mandy stated. "He asked me to get you ready for when he returns," she added, leading you down a winding staircase until you reached a dark but spacious room, containing a big, beautiful bed with chains, a leather chair, and a mirror on each wall. There was also a spa bath and small ensuite and whilst the room was nicely decorated, the sight of your windowless surroundings made your stomach churn nervously.

"What do you mean ' getting me ready'?" you then ought to ask, swallowing hard and Mandy smiled kindly at you. Her tone was soothing, almost maternal.

"Well, for starters, I will talk you through what you can expect from your stay here and then he has asked me to restrain you for your first encounter with him, just to make things more interesting," Mandy explained, reaching out to stroke your cheek gently. You flinched away instinctively — Mandy chuckled softly.

"You read the contract before signing it, didn't you?" Mandy asked, cocking her head slightly to one side, her brow furrowed in concern. The question hung between you—a loaded gun aimed straight at your guilt. Your eyes darted toward the corner of the room, avoiding any confrontation with the older woman.

"Yeah, I did," you finally admitted, mustering all of your courage.

"Good, then you should know what is about to happen," Mandy said, patting your shoulder reassuringly. "So, how about you undress sweetie, so that I can apply the restraints properly?"

With a weak nod, you began to unbutton your shirt while Mandy turned around. It felt strange to undress while someone else watched, especially since you knew what would happen once you were completely nude.

As you slipped off your shirt and pants, leaving only your underwear on, Mandy cleared her throat loudly before turning to face you again.

"Very nice, darling," she murmured, looking you over appreciatively. "Are you comfortable with wearing nothing at all?" Mandy asked, her voice softening. "If not, we can cover you up with a robe, if you prefer."

She seemed genuinely concerned about your comfort, which struck you as odd considering the circumstances. However, there was something oddly comforting about her gentle, patient manner. It made you trust her enough to respond honestly.

"No, I guess I'm okay with being naked," you managed to say weakly. "It feels weird, though."

You could see Mandy smile at your response, her expression warm and understanding. "It does, doesn't it?" Mandy responded sympathetically. "But I guess it makes things easier access wise," she then told you while you began to remove your bra and panties, leaving behind the stark reality of your vulnerability.

Mandy's gaze wandered across your body, taking in every curve and line. "Beautiful," she whispered under her breath. "You have such stunning curves, no wonder Cills took an interest in you."

The compliment left you feeling both flattered and embarrassed. "Thank you," you muttered awkwardly, averting your gaze to the ground.

"Now, please put your wrists behind your back," Mandy instructed in a soothing voice. You hesitated for a second before complying, apprehensive about what would happen next. You clumsily interlocked your fingers, feeling the cold metal touch your skin as Mandy attached the first chain. "How tight is this supposed to be?" you whimpered, squirming uncomfortably.

"Just right," Mandy answered confidently, tightening the chain further.

"A bit uncomfortable, but not too much." You tried to relax your shoulders, but the cold metal digging into your flesh made it impossible, which was something Mandy ought to ignore.

"Now lets talk about the particulars, shall we?" Mandy started, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. "Cillian asked me to go over some details with you so that you know exactly what to expect during your stay," she explained, her tone warm and friendly. "The first thing is that you'll be staying in this room for the entirety of your stay, unless he decides otherwise. All meals will be delivered to you and the bathroom is equipped with everything you might need, including fresh towels and toiletries."

You glanced around the room, noting the luxurious amenities.

"Now let me tell you what is expected of you, little one," Mandy spoke in a calming voice, her hands resting on your shoulders. "Cillian will come down here four or five times a day, to... entertain himself with you. This includes intercourse and anything else he wants to do. Anything he asks for, you do. No questions asked."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing larger by the second.

"Occasionally, he asks me to join in or hold you down for him," Mandy added casually, checking the chain's tension. "He will like to watch you struggle a bit and I can guarantee you that you will become rather sore after the first few days. But it's all part of the fun, isn't it?" Mandy said, patting your bare leg gently.

"Now you consented to him ejaculating inside you and the doctor has given you a depo shot two weeks ago to make sure you don't get pregnant. You also consented to anal sex and you agreed to him having sex while you are asleep, for which sleeping pills were prescribed to you, correct?" Mandy asked, her voice matter-of-fact.

"Uh-huh," you croaked, nodding feebly. Your throat constricted painfully, your breathing shallow and ragged.

"Good," Mandy nodded approvingly, patting your knee.

She paused, her tone turning softer. "Also, you understood that you are forbidden to masturbate or play with yourself, yes?"

"Yes," you managed to utter, blushing profusely.

"Good," Mandy said, patting your knee affectionately. "Now I will let you relax. Cillian should be here soon," she reassured you and you gave Mandy a weak smile, nodding in agreement.

The thought of enduring countless sexual encounters with Cillian, without any chance of escape or even self-pleasure, terrified you. Yet, a strange sense of anticipation began to wash over you. What kind of person would choose to endure such humiliation willingly?

The thoughts swirled in your mind, creating a whirlpool of confusion and doubt. You tried to rationalize what lay ahead, grasping at straws to justify your decision. Was it curiosity, perhaps? Or was it the lure of his fame that enticed you into this predicament? Regardless of the reason, you found yourself submerged in a sea of desperation as you faced the inevitable truth. You sighed heavily, casting a longing glance at the door, willing it to swing open and reveal the object of your fascination.

As the minutes ticked by, your impatience grew, gnawing at your insides like a ravenous beast. You were chained to the bed, naked, and time seemed to slow down, the seconds stretching into eternity until, suddenly, the door creaked open.

"Alright, little one," Cillian murmured, stepping into the room as he shut the door behind him. His presence sent a shiver down your spine, the mere sound of his voice causing your heartbeat to race.

"I can see that you have settled in nicely," Cillian said, his voice husky, as he walked closer to the bed. His eyes, bright blue, held a hint of excitement as they scanned your body.

You nodded silently, your throat constricting. Words failed you, replaced by a tumultuous mix of emotions. Fear, anticipation, shame, and arousal swirled within you, creating a whirlwind of sensations.

"Why don't you turn onto your stomach for me?" Cillian suggested, his voice calm and confident.

Your heart raced, but you managed to roll onto your belly, facing away from him while the chains twisted tighter, the rope tangling up at the bedhead.

"Perfect," Cillian murmured, running his fingers along your spine while caressing your upper thigh.

His touch sent goosebumps dancing up your arms, and you shivered involuntarily.

"Now tell me," Cillian prodded, his voice dripping with wicked intent. "Have you ever had anal before?"

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible.

"N-no, I haven't," you stammered, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"And yet you agreed to it," Cillian murmured, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. "This should be interesting, then," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"Please," you whimpered, the word escaping your lips like a plea for mercy. "Just don't hurt me when you put it in there," you begged and Cillian's laughter echoed in the room, filling the space with an unsettling energy.

"Don't worry," he soothed, stroking your back gently. "I promise to be gentle. At least at first," Cillian murmured, his fingers trailing up and down your spine.

"You're trembling," he observed, pausing to brush loose strands of hair away from your neck. "Is it because you're scared?"

'A little,' you manage to squeak out, your breath hitching in your throat.

Perhaps it's the thought of the unknown, or the realization that you're bound to a stranger, powerless to escape his whims. Cillian smiles, his teeth white and perfect, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Don't be, I will ease you into it," he assures you, placing a warm hand on your back. "I might fuck your pussy a little bit first, that should loosen you up," Cillian said, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants, revealing his erect cock.

"And while I fuck your little pussy, I might start stretching your asshole with my finger," he continued, moving onto the bed.

"We'll see how that goes," he teased, crawling up behind you.

You gasped, the sensation of his throbbing member rubbing against your hip sending a jolt of anticipation rippling through your body. You could feel your juices pooling between your legs, soaking the thin mattress beneath you.

"Let's see how much you can handle," Cillian murmured, guiding his cock towards your entrance.

You braced yourself, your muscles tensing as you waited for the entry. He pushed, his length sliding effortlessly into your wet heat. Your moan echoed in the silent room, a muffled cry of pleasure reverberating off the walls.

"That's it," Cillian growled, each thrust driving deep within you. "Fuck, you are so tight," he groaned, his hips moving rhythmically, pistoning in and out of you. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your muscles quivering with desire.

"Good girl," Cillian purred, his grip tightening possessively as he thrust deeper. "Take it all, baby. Show me how much you want it."

You moaned, your voice hoarse and desperate while Cillian groaned, his pace quickening.

"You're so wet, so hot," he moaned before pulling out of you abruptly.

"What are you doing?" you cried out, your voice cracking with frustration.

"Shhh, little one," Cillian murmured, stroking your back soothingly. "Relax, I'm just preparing you for what's to come," he said, kneeling between your legs, pulling you onto your knees so that your chain hands were resting on the bedhead.

He then thrusted in to your pussy again, harder than before, ramming into you like a jackhammer.

"That's it," he growled, his voice laced with lust. The room was filled with the sounds of your grunts and the slap of flesh meeting flesh.

"Now I will spread your ass cheeks apart. alright?," Cillian murmured, his voice laced with anticipation and you gasped, your body stiffening in anticipation. "So that I can see your little virgin hole back there," Cillian he then told you, squeezing your cheeks apart roughly.

You winced, your body protesting as he rubbed your asshole with his index finger, coating it with your pussy juice, making it slippery.

He then pressed his fingertip against your sphincter, applying gentle pressure.

You flinched, your body resisting the invasion.

"Relax," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "I'm just getting ready to stretch you out," he told you as he slid his finger into your rear, breaching the barrier with a gentle pop.

You gasped, a wave of discomfort washing over you.

"That's it," Cillian purred, his voice laced with anticipation.

"I'm just testing the waters," he said, adding another finger, widening the gap. "Can you feel it spreading wider?" he murmured, his voice husky with lust.

"It hurts," you whined, squirming beneath him.

"I know, baby," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Just breathe through it," he said, pressing a firm kiss to your collarbone. "You're doing great," he praised, his voice laced with adoration.

You inhaled deeply, letting out a shaky sigh as you adjusted to the intrusion.

"Good girl," Cillian praised, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Now, lean forward onto your elbows," he instructed, slipping his fingers out of you.

"I want to prepare you for my cock," he said, stroking your back soothingly.

Without hesitation, you complied, leaning forward onto your elbows, presenting your sore little hole to him.

"Good girl," he cooed, kissing your back. "This might feel a little cold now," he warned, lubing himself up with a generous amount of K-Y Jelly. He then positioned himself behind you, his hard cock pointing directly at your ass.

You shuddered, bracing yourself for the impending invasion. He grabbed your hips tightly, holding you steady as he rested the tip of his cock against your opening.

"It's going to hurt a little," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "But remember, it's all part of the experience," he reminded you, his words a whisper against your ear.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suddenly, he thrust forward, the head of his cock breaching your entrance.

"Oh god fuck, you are too big," you screamed, your muscles spasming in shock.

"Shhhh, baby," he murmured, his voice softening. "Just breathe through it," he repeated, pressing a tender kiss to your exposed neck. "You're doing great," he praised, his voice thick with adoration.

Cillian continued to work his cock into your rear, inch by excruciating inch. His rhythmic, deliberate movements felt as though he was carefully sculpting you, carving his path deeper and deeper.

"It hurts," you yelped, your voice breaking. "Fuck!" you spat, squirming beneath him.

"Shhh, baby," Cillian cooed, his voice thick with lust. "This is what you wanted, right?" His words were meant to taunt you, but they served a different purpose altogether.

"You wanted me to use you," Cillian murmured, his voice soft and soothing as he pushed all the way into your rear.

"To claim you, own you, and fuck you however I wish."

You whimpered, your muscles clenching involuntarily. Every push sent a sharp pain shooting through you, but it was accompanied by a growing sense of fullness which felt strangely satisfying.

"Tell me what you think about me using you like this, Y/N," Cillian breathed into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck.

The command, so blunt and demanding, left you stunned, unable to form coherent words.

"Come on, little one," Cillian urged, his voice softening. "Tell me how it feels."

You struggled to find the words, your voice cracking as you forced out a reply.

"It feels strange," you croaked, your breath hitching in your throat. "Fucked up, actually."

Cillian chuckled quietly, his warm breath fanning your neck. "I bet it does," he murmured, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction.

"What else?" he asked, his voice husky with lust.

Cillian's question hung heavy in the air, a weighty reminder of the depth of your surrender. You squirmed, feeling his erection pulsating inside you, filling you up in ways you never imagined possible.

"It feels dirty," you confessed, your voice breaking. "Like I'm just your toy," you said as your voice trembled, a quiet whine echoing in the room.

Cillian laughed, his voice deep and rich with satisfaction. "Exactly," he replied, his tone laden with triumph as he thrusted into you again, hard and fast.

You gasped, your body responding despite the agony coursing through you.

"You're mine now," he proclaimed, his voice echoing with confidence. "My little toy."

The words stung, yet there was a bizarre sense of satisfaction in knowing that you belonged to him, body and soul.

"Oh god, why am I enjoying this?" you asked, your voice strained and desperate as the pain increased. "Why do I crave more?" you asked out loud, confused by your emotions.

Cillian smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, clearly you like being dominated, controlled, and used," he said. His words cut deep, but there was a strange allure in the idea that you were a natural slave.

You felt ashamed, disgusted, and utterly helpless as you accepted the truth. You were indeed a natural slave, thriving under the control and domination of others.

"I think you enjoy it even though it hurts, don't you?" he asked, his manhood relentlessly plunging into your ass. With each brutal thrust, you could feel your resistance melting away as the intense pleasure consumed you.

"No, I don't," you lied, your voice cracking. But deep down, you knew he was right. You did enjoy it - the roughness, the pain, the complete submission to his desires. It was liberating, freeing you from the constraints of societal norms and expectations.

"You're a liar," he growled, his fingers gripping your hips tightly. "Admit it, you love being dominated and controlled."

"Oh god," you panted, feeling your insides tighten around his massive shaft.

Cillian chuckled, his voice deep and dark as he pulled out slightly, before slamming back into you, sending a jolt of pain through your core.

"Your ass is going to be so sore after this," he gloated, his cock thrusting mercilessly into you. "It's going to hurt a lot actually," he teased, grinning wickedly while you moaned at the sheer thought of it all.

"And guess what? I won't let you cum until you've earned it so the pain will be even worse," Cillian said, his voice dripping with wicked delight. "You'll beg and plead for release, but it won't come until I say so."

You shivered, the prospect of endless torture exciting you beyond measure. This is what you signed up for, you reminded yourself. A man who possessed the ability to dominate and control you completely. The idea thrilled you, sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Now, I need you to hold nice and still for me while I fill your little hole with my seed," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Are you ready for me to mark you as mine?"

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. As Cillian withdrew his cock, you felt a sense of loss, a void forming within you that only his presence could fill.

"Put your face down in the pillow," Cillian ordered, his voice commanding. "I'm going to slide in deep now, baby," he said, positioning himself behind you once more.

"I want to feel you squeezing my cock with your tight little channel, begging to be marked with my seed."

You could hear the hunger in his voice, a palpable force that resonated loudly through the room. The thought of being claimed, owned, and possessed by him excited you beyond belief. You moaned softly, arching your back in anticipation.

He rammed his cock back into your now gaping rear with such force that it hurt, causing you to scream out in pain.

"Ah! Fuck!" you yelled as tears welled up in your eyes from the intense penetration.

"Good girl, let me hear those pretty little screams of yours!" Cillian roared, his words punctuated by the forceful thrusts of his cock.

You grimaced, biting on the edge of the pillow to muffle your cries. "Ow! Ah!" you groaned, your voice muffled and shaky. Despite the mounting pain, you couldn't help but revel in the sensation of being thoroughly taken by someone so unrelenting.

"Here it comes, baby," Cillian rumbled, the words vibrating against your skin as, with a final, triumphant thrust, he surged into you, filling you to the brim with his seed.

You cried out, the sudden influx of warmth overwhelming you.

"There we go," Cillian murmured, a satisfied grin playing across his lips. "Now tell me, how does it feel?" he asked while withdrawing his cock slowly, causing your gaping hole to shrink almost instantly.

"It burns," you whispered, your voice quivering as you felt his hot semen leak out of you, staining the bedding beneath you. "But I loved it," you admitted, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

"I knew you would," Cillian chuckled, his voice dripping with pride. "Now you're mine."

You flinched, a wave of dread washing over you. Now that it was done, the reality of your situation hit you like a ton of bricks.

"What happens now?" you asked hesitantly, your voice trembling.

"It's simple, really," Cillian replied nonchalantly, his voice laced with amusement. "I'll continue to use you as I please, whenever I please. And you'll learn to accept your new role as my pet," he explained before giving you a quick wink and untying you from the bed.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #tommy shelby #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you

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zepskies · 11 months

Text

Break Me Down - Part 14

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Stick around at the end for a special note — new SB fic dropping soon!

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! We return to the smut! Plus a healthy dose of fluff, angst, action, moral quandaries, and feels.

Part 14: Safe House

Jon lied in his hospital bed, frowning hard at a computer screen. His arm and collarbone were broken, along with a few ribs. He had a private room, at least, courtesy of Vought.

Stan Edgar strode in following a quick knock on the door.

“Hello, Jonathan. I meant to visit you earlier,” said Stan. Jon stared at his boss, silently simmering. On his laptop played footage of the destruction wrought on the Lower West Side by a major car chase.

“How are you feeling?” Stan asked.

“Why was Black Noir set loose on my wife and daughters?” he seethed through gritted teeth. Damn how the effort of keeping still was almost as painful as moving.

“Ex-wife, isn’t it?” Stan said, raising a brow.

Jon was not amused.

“I gave the order, yes,” Stan acknowledged. “On your eldest daughter.”

Jon was incensed. If he could get out of this bed, he’d very well contemplate strangling the other man. Stan seemed to know it, but considering his personal security guards were standing near the back wall of the hospital room, he also didn’t look worried.

“Why?” Jon asked, genuinely surprised and dismayed. “She’s not a threat.”

“Soldier Boy kept her for a reason,” Stan pointed out. “She brought him to our doorstep, with the intention of helping him assassinate me…eliminating her was a calculated risk.”

Jon shook his head.

“But since Noir has failed, we will have to prepare accordingly,” Stan said.

Jon glared back at him. “You think I’m going to help you?”

“I think you have a job to do,” Stan returned. “It didn’t stop you from breaking your daughter’s ribs, and very nearly her neck.”

Jon faltered, a brief regret weighing his frown.

“That wasn’t…that was to teach her a lesson.”

Perhaps he’d gone a bit too far, but he’d only been trying to subdue you. To get you to listen to him. But you’d always been stubborn.

Stan broke him from his thoughts.

“I am not being attacked, Jon,” he said. “We are. Your daughter is a part of it.”

“Marie and Luisa are not. Leave them out of this!”

Stan merely rose a brow. He folded his hands behind his back and withdrew. He was flanked by his bodyguards as he left the room.

“Rest up, Jonathan,” he said. “I’ll need you soon enough.”

The master bed was actually pretty comfortable, as you and Ben found out.

You clung onto his shoulders after both of you were spent. You panted for breath as he held you to him with his solid arms wrapped around your waist. You two were both kneeling, technically, in the middle of the bed.

Your thighs were molded to his hips, and he was still buried deep inside you. But as of yet, you had no reason to move. You were enjoying your vantage point above him, watching him collect himself with closed eyes.

The simple truth of it was, you’d missed him.

Even when he was being a stubborn pain in the ass, you hated every moment you had to watch him caged, watching him start to think he may never get out.

Your hands slid around to his back. It allowed you to hold him in more of an embrace as you caught your breath.

When his eyes opened, you met him with a smile. You slipped your fingers through his sweaty hair. Holding your free hand at the nape of his neck, you pressed your lips above his brow. Then another kiss to his scratchy cheek. His beard had gotten overgrown.

“You need a trim,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh. You kissed his cheek again. Slow, and with purpose.

Ben let out a sigh through his nose. His eyes closed again at your gentler kisses, your touch. Maybe he reveled in this—being able to hold you back. It felt right.

If he was honest with himself (and this time, he was), you were somehow able to ease the frayed edges of his mind. Edges that had been starting to unravel in that cell.

And there were other things too, that he was beginning to realize, but not yet willing to cement in his mind.

So you reluctantly detangled from one another, but remained in bed. The problem was, for whatever closeness you two had just shared…you weren’t quite sure what to do now.

You hesitated to ask him just what the two of you were doing. Mostly because you didn’t want to ruin whatever this was by labeling it.

So instead, you relaxed against his chest and pulled the blankets over you both. Ben didn’t just tolerate it; he settled a heavy arm across your lower back and over your hip. It made you smile.

“Ben…what do you want from the rest of your life?” you asked.

You didn’t know what possessed you to ask, but you had to wonder what the end goal was for him, after the issue of Vought was settled. After he presumably kept his end of the deal and retired to South America, or Europe, or wherever he wanted to go, really.

His hand came up to pet your hair. “I just got some of it.”

You huffed a laugh, hiding your face into his chest for a moment. You couldn’t see it, but Ben grinned at how easy it was to embarrass you, for how wanton he knew you could be.

“Come on, seriously,” you said.

“Seriously?” he teased.

“Yes,” you said, despite a giggle.

He let out something of a sigh. Meanwhile, his hand drew lazy patterns up and down your naked back.

“I always thought I had time,” he confessed. “To settle down. Have a family…I actually thought it would be Tess.”

That thought was accompanied by a bitter chuckle. Your brows furrowed in question.

“Crimson Countess,” he explained.

“Ah.” You nodded and rested a hand across his lower abs, playing with the thin trail of hair there that led south. He found it strangely soothing, if a hint arousing.

“Was it difficult killing Homelander?” you asked.

Ben scoffed. “Just chock full of questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You sat up and propped an elbow on his shoulder, so he had to look at you.

“Not physically. Emotionally,” you said. God forbid you ask him about his man feelings, but you really were curious.

Ben eyed you with a raised brow.

“I know he wasn’t really your son,” you said. “He was a raging psychopath and needed to go down, but was there a part of you that…was it hard for you?”

Ben’s mood dimmed as his lips pulled into a frown. “He was a true disappointment. Barely a man.”

That didn’t quite answer your question, but you thought you could read some of his true feelings on the matter. You didn’t think he regretted killing Homelander. But maybe he mourned the connection he could’ve had with a son. From what he’d said about Crimson Countess, you knew he wanted a real family.

That softened you. You brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes with delicate fingers.

“He was told he was a god his entire life. That’s what happens,” you said.

Ben scoffed at that, his gaze cutting away from you. You didn’t know what that meant exactly.

“And you?” he asked, turning back to you. “What do you want from all this?”

“Besides my family safe?” you retorted. But then, you considered his words. “I don’t know. I thought I knew who I was before I met you. Now I’m realizing that I can’t control anything in my life.”

Ben raised your chin, and therefore your face up to him.

“You can control you. You’ve been doing that since I met you.” His thumb swiped against your lower lip. “Especially this fucking mouth.”

You smiled. “But you like that though.”

His lips pulled at amusement, huffing in response.

“Come on,” you teased. You moved, slipping a leg over to straddle his lap. You delved into his hair with both hands, and he let you tug his head back as he now looked up at you.

“Admit it,” you said cheekily. “You like my mouth. Talking back to you…on you…and getting you off.”

All while you spoke, you brushed your lips across his cheek, down his jawline, pressed a nipping kiss along his neck, below his ear. Then you returned to his lips. But you also ground down into his lap, feeling his rising length brush against your wet folds.

He groaned deep as you plied him the way you’d learned to do. And your tongue slipped into his mouth with your next kiss. He gripped your hips tight, wordlessly urging you to lower down into his lap and onto his waiting cock. But you resisted.

“Say it,” you demanded.

When he merely smirked, denying you control, you lowered a hand to take a firm hold of his cock. He let out a low hum of pleasure as you pumped him a couple of times, then held him poised at your entrance.

“I’ll give you what you want,” you said, brushing his lips. “But first, tell me how much you missed this.”

His next breath came out sharp as you squeezed his cock in your hand. You knew you’d find his fingerprints on your hips and ass in the morning, but you didn’t care. Because you were about to fucking win.

“Fine,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Maybe I’ve been craving this, more than a fix. More than goddamn sleep.”

Ben’s eyes were dark with lust, and he thumbed at your lower lip.

“And this fucking mouth. Gets you into all kinds of trouble, baby doll.”

You smirked and finally sunk on top of him. His cock slid past your folds and bottomed out inside of you, making you shudder and Ben groan in relief.

You did exactly as you promised. With your hands braced on his shoulders, you moved over him nice and slow.

Well, nice for you. Torturous for him.

He cast his head back to the headboard as he fought not to make you move.

“You’re fuckin’ killing me here,” he growled.

Your mouth curved into a grin.

“Alert the media,” you said. “We’ve got the ultimate weapon against Soldier Boy: a slow ride on his dick.”

Ben’s rich laugh rumbled out, crinkling his eyes at the corners and making you smile. You felt the impact of his laughter deep inside you, which wasn’t unpleasant. But you had mercy on him and finally picked up the pace. He grabbed a fistful of your hair for leverage while your lovely tits bounced in his face.

Then his fingers slid between you, parting your folds to rub at your clit. It made your hips stutter as you let out a mangled moan. Your inner walls started to tighten around him, earning you another muttered curse. He couldn’t help but thrust up inside you, mostly in time with your movements.

But he got impatient.

He grabbed your hips tighter and flipped you over, with your thighs wrapped around his hips.

“The moment I saw you, I knew I’d have you,” he gritted out. “Fuck, just like this.”

You gasped as he pounded deeper inside you. You felt like the bed was going to swallow you up. But you pressed your heels into his lower back and held on for the rest of the ride.

Within moments, Ben spilled into you so hard and fast that it took both of you by surprise. It felt hot and tingling inside you, making you shudder again.

Thank God for IUDs, you thought.

And when his fingers found your clit again in time with his last wild thrusts, it was enough to tumble you over along with him.

Afterwards, Ben braced himself on the headboard as a line of sweat dripped down the column of his neck. You grabbed onto his free hand while you caught your breath. His lips tugged at a smirk, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“And we’re not done,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”

Ben woke to the annoying sound of coffee percolating. A normal man would have slept right through it, but thanks to his sensitive ears, he was up at…

Christ, it’s 11 in the morning. He noted the digital clock on the nightstand and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He actually slept all night. And all morning.

Up until recently, that had been impossible.

He heard puttering in the kitchen, knew it was you because of your soft humming. It drew a smile to his face without him realizing.

He climbed out of bed, showered, shaved and trimmed off the wilder parts of his beard, and dressed casually with the clothing he found in the closet. Wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would do for now.

This house was also not what he was used to. It was small, and too “suburban dad” for his taste. But he guessed it was better than an underground glass prison cell.

He ventured into the kitchen, where the smell of good food made his mouth water, and the sight of you frying bacon (trying not to get burned by the sparking grease) deepened his grin.

All you wore was his discarded shirt from yesterday, presumably over your underwear as it hung around your thighs, and a pair of slippers you must’ve found in the closet.

Maybe you heard him coming, because you glanced back over your shoulder and met him with a smile. But it soon edged into a more serious look as you turned and leveled him with your spatula.

“Okay. I don’t want any smartass remarks,” you warned. “I did make breakfast, because I’m a nice person, but don’t expect this for every meal.”

Ben raised a wry brow.

“Morning to you too,” he drawled. He rested a hand on your lower back as he looked over your shoulder, surveying the plate of cooling bacon, the pan of scrambled eggs, and the toast ready to be buttered on the counter, next to a jar of strawberry jam. “Looks good.”

You watched him steal a piece of bacon, your lips quirking.

“Is that a thank you?” you asked.

He purposefully bit into the bacon instead of answering. You gave him a narrowed look, but you were still amused.

“Even a child can say please and thank you,” you pointed out.

Ben turned to you then and hooked an arm around your waist, suddenly pulling you tight against him.

“All right. How about this?” he replied. His head bowed and kissed you thoroughly. He tasted coffee and jam on your tongue. A surprised moan caught in your throat, and you clung to his arms on instinct. Meanwhile, his other hand went to your hip, bunching the material of the stolen shirt.

When he broke from you, he looked down on your somewhat dazed expression and had to temper his smile. He gave you a nice slap on the ass, shocking a yelp out of you.

You shot him a dry look.

“Is that please, or thank you?” you teased.

Ben rolled his eyes and kissed you again, trapping you against the counter this time. But he didn’t allow himself to get carried away (yet). He swept back strands of your hair and let his fingers skim across your cheek, feeling your skin warming under his touch.

He finally settled on brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you,” he said.

It had a deeper meaning, you realized from the gravity of his gaze.

“That fucking bitch probably wanted to put me on ice the second they brought me in,” he said.

You could only assume he meant Grace.

“You’re probably the reason that didn’t happen,” he continued. “And that I’m here now.”

Emotion threatened to choke you, beginning to sting your eyes. You cleared your throat and soothed a hand along his forearm.

“You made the deal,” you pointed out. Ben shook his head.

“You were right. I want the fucking target off my back, once and for all,” he said. He touched where a smattering of bruises from the car accident colored your temple and part of your cheek with fading purple and yellow.

“But I’m getting it off you too," he said gruffly. "You want a deal? Here it is: no one’s fucking touching you again as long as I’m around.”

Your breath hitched as your heart began to hammer in your chest. You wanted to ask what that meant. You wanted to ask if, maybe, he wanted to be with you. If he…

But you lost your nerve.

“The eggs are gonna get cold,” you said in a coarse whisper.

Ben smirked.

“That’s really what you’re fucking worried about?” he asked, shortly before he cut off your would-be reply with a heated kiss.

Your arms twined around his neck, almost of their own volition. He already had you by the waist, and from there he hefted you effortlessly onto a small clean portion of counter space in the kitchen. His hands burned up your thighs, underneath the overlarge shirt. When he encountered nothing but bare ass, his lips curved against yours.

“What a naughty girl. You’re out here cooking with no fucking panties on?”

It was your turn to smirk as you held a hand to his cheek. He did in fact trim the beard.

“You like that, don’t you?” you remarked.

His dark chuckle was your answer as he spread your thighs wider. Your breath came out a bit shakier as his hand went smoothly up the inside of your thigh and slipped between your folds.

“Already wet for me, I see,” he said. His smirk only grew as you whined with pleasure at the invasion of his fingers. First just teasing inside your entrance, working you up. Your grip on his neck tightened, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Ben…”

“How many fucking times I gotta tell you to be patient?”

“Ugh.” You dropped your forehead into the crook of his neck. “You are the worst.”

His resulting chuckle reverberated in your chest and tingled down into your lower belly. Combined with his teasing, it made your inner walls tighten on nothing from anticipation…until two of his fingers suddenly sunk deep into your heat. You cried out into his ear in surprise.

“Ben,” you breathed, but it ended on a moan as he finally began to give you what you wanted. His thumb found your clit and circled slowly while he thrust and turned his fingers inside you. You gripped at his hair, holding on tighter and tighter as your walls clenched on his hand.

“That’s it, baby doll. I gotcha,” he muttered. Though you teased a grunt out of him when you snaked a hand between you to palm at the bulge in his jeans. If he was going to give you a good morning, you’d be sure to return the favor.

He kept working on you, but with shaking hands you unzipped his pants and aimed to free him from those tight boxer briefs.

Unfortunately, your cell phone ringing halted both of your plans. It was on the kitchen counter, and it vibrated across the tile next to you.

Butcher calling…

Both of your heavy breathing accompanied the shrill sound. But when you noticed the caller ID, you gave Ben a rueful look.

He frowned in annoyance, but he withdrew from you, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before he grabbed your phone and answered it (even if it took him two or three angry tries on swiping the green button). You put it on speaker.

“What?” Ben grouched into the phone.

“Apologies for interrupting what I’m sure is a dewy morning after,” Butcher said with all due sarcasm. “We’ve got a lead on Neuman.”

You raised a brow at that. Tugging down your shirt back over your thighs, you answered, “Where is she?”

“She’s giving a speech at NYU this afternoon.”

You frowned. You knew for a fact he hadn’t run that by the whole team.

“It’s not a good idea to catch her there. Too exposed. Too many people could get caught in the crossfire,” you said.

“Her next scheduled outing is a fundraiser for the homeless. That any better?” Butcher asked with mock cheer. “At the least the college kiddos won’t be coughing up a lung because their hepatitis A’s on a flare up.”

Ben’s lips twitched at amusement, but your frown only deepened in irritation.

“You’re unsavory, you know that?” you said, rubbing at your temple. “…Fine. We’ll catch her at the college.”

“Wasn’t really up for fuckin’ debate,” Butcher replied. “We head out in two hours.”

This isn’t going to be easy, you thought.

You were teamed up with M.M., Annie, and Hughie on surveillance, sitting in Frenchie’s van on one of the side streets outside the auditorium where Victoria Neuman was giving her speech.

Kimiko and Frenchie had formed a perimeter with Butcher on the campus. After the speech came to a close, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had worked out where Victoria would likely be escorted out to get back to her limo.

But you forced yourself to take deep breaths. You watched the various camera angles you and M.M. had been able to hook up to the monitors inside the van. On one of the screens was Ben in his full Soldier Boy gear, sans helmet, waiting for his cue.

You felt M.M. glancing at you, and you met his stare. His expression was tight, but mostly stoic. Still, you had a feeling you knew what he was thinking.

“He can do this,” you said.

M.M. shook his head and faced the screens. “You think you can fucking change him.”

“No,” you said. “But he just might surprise you.”

You weren’t trying to change him, nor were you trying to free yourself anymore. He’d caught you, in more ways than one.

Now, you were just trying to help him. And maybe, help yourself.

“I don’t give a fuck,” M.M. bit out. Annie and Hughie glanced at both of you in thinly veiled concern. You just quirked a humorless smile.

“I think you do,” you replied.

“All right, look alive,” Butcher said on the comm. Victoria’s speech was over. She was shepherded off the stage by her bodyguards while the president of NYU got up to make closing remarks.

She got as far as the hallway leading to the back door of the auditorium before Frenchie and Butcher sniped out her guards. You watched Victoria gasp and flinch at the bullets flying all too close to her. She looked around sharply, but finding no one there, she made a run for the exit.

That was when Ben ambushed her from the side, grabbing her from behind and shoving her through the door of the next room before she could aim her gaze at any part of him.

Ben stalked in after her. You adjusted the camera monitors to connect to the science lab they’d burst into. Every muscle in your body tensed as you watched.

Meanwhile, Ben was wary but not afraid as he kept his shield in front of his face. Victoria raised a hand to a her now bruised arm, but she scrambled in her navy pencil dress and heels to pick herself up.

She looked up at the supe striding toward her, taking in his head protecting his upper body. So she focused her gaze on his right thigh, making him falter as her power made her eyes roll into her head and blast at his suit.

The skin underneath was durable though. It felt like a nasty sunburn, one that Ben could ignore. He approached until he could grab her by the hair and turn her face away from him. She cried out, clawing back at his hand.

He placed his shield onto the holster on his back and got a hold on the back of her neck. He forced her onto her knees while he made her keep looking at the ground.

“Soldier Boy,” she panted. “Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Cut the fucking chit-chat. Where the fuck is Stan, that dick tease?”

He was about to start squeezing his grip, when he was suddenly thrown into the far wall. He fell into a mess of student desks, beakers, and various scientific instruments.

“Zoe!” he heard Victoria shout. Apparently the woman’s daughter was a supe too. A telekinetic, by the looks of it.

With an angry growl, he picked himself up and shook off the glass from his shoulders. By the time he looked up, Victoria was ushering her daughter out the opposite door.

Ben ran after them, following them into what seemed to be another classroom. This one was full of students busy taking a test, and a professor grading a large stack of papers. Ben zipped through and ignored the gasps and shocked faces, along with a couple of kids that recognized him and immediately took out their phones.

He also didn’t care that his elbow knocked the stack of papers to the ground (to the professor’s outrage).

He bulldozed his way into another empty classroom, where he threw his shield at Victoria’s back. With a cry, she tripped and fell into a desk, and was separated from her daughter.

“Mom!” Zoe cried and reached out for her, but Victoria raised a frantic hand.

“Stay there!” she shouted back at her. Her attention focused back on Ben.

She razed at his face and chest with her powers. Ben winced as heat flared across his skin, blistering to the point of second-degree burns on his arm after protecting his face. He strode forward and grabbed her again, this time with a thumb pressing over one eye.

“You wanna keep your fucking eyes, or you want to tell me where your father is?” he demanded.

“No!” Zoe shouted. She raised her hands, and a violet glow of energy spread between them. Ben picked up his shield, ready to use it as a projectile against the girl.

Until your voice sounded in the comm in his ear.

“Go easy, Ben. She’s not the target,” you warned. He hesitated, his lips twisting in annoyance.

“Zoe,” Victoria warned. His thumb still pressed threateningly against one of her eyes. The other looked up at him, defiant. But her lower lip was trembling.

“You really want your daughter to be a part of this?” Ben asked darkly.

You were on pins and needles. While you watched the screen, M.M. glanced at you.

“We need to do something,” Annie said. She had been antsy the entire time, and when Hughie tried to grab her shoulder, she shrugged him off.

“We can’t extract the girl without Neuman seeing us,” you said. But you weren’t happy about it.

Annie gave you an incredulous look. “So you’re okay with that psycho killing a little girl?”

“Of course not, Annie!” you snapped. “But this is the reality of catching criminals. They rarely go down by themselves.”

She frowned angrily at you.

“That sounds like an excuse for murder,” she said.

There was a tense moment, in which you and Annie stared back at one another. You eventually relented.

“Okay, go. But stay on standby with Kimiko and Frenchie. They’re outside the classroom, 112B,” you told her. She and Hughie raced out, and you let out a breath while you turned back to the tense scene in front of you.

“Look, I don’t know where he is,” Victoria said. “We haven’t exactly been on speaking terms.”

“Then get him on the fucking phone,” Ben snapped.

A tear streamed down her eye, the one that briefly closed, then looked up at him.

“He’s not a bad man,” she said. “Not…entirely.”

Ben snorted in response. “Well, aside from trying to replace me with a bullshit knockoff, shipping me off to motherfucking Siberia. He stole from me. My life. And the bitch of the whole bunch, tried to kill me with a fucking clone, with the help of my own DNA. So excuse me if I’m past the fucking point of forgive and forget.”

“Fine! Fine,” she said, when he started squeezing in earnest. “Let my daughter go, and I’ll help you.”

Ben glanced up at the girl. She was frightened, with her glowing hands still poised to try and take him out. He still had half a mind to knock her out first.

“She’s just a kid, Ben. Let her go,” you said in his ear.

After another tense moment, Ben nodded.

Annie burst into the classroom, followed by Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko. Annie reached Zoe with a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she shared a look with Victoria.

“She’ll be okay,” Annie told Victoria, who nodded as more tears slipped down her cheeks. Ben held her firm by the shoulders when Butcher came with a device, no doubt provided by the CIA. It looked like a large metal band that clicked into place around Victoria’s head, covering her eyes.

Kimiko and Frenchie led her out, while Annie and Hughie did the same for Zoe. Butcher shared an appraising look with Ben, who stared back at him coolly.

Meanwhile, you let out a deep breath. You sat back in your seat and ignored the way M.M. gave you some cursory side-eye.

Thank Christ that’s over.

Back at Supe Affairs, Victoria gave them addresses to her adoptive father’s known safehouses. Not because they expected to find him there, but because they might find even more material to leverage against him before they attempted to arrest the man.

While Butcher and the rest of the team ran down the leads, you and Annie made sure Victoria’s daughter Zoe was put in protective custody, again, with Grace’s help.

Afterwards, Ben was waiting for you in the car that would bring you both back to the safe house. You rode there in silence.

When you got inside the house and made your way to the bedroom, Ben followed you. It seemed he couldn’t help himself. His arms were crossed, and his face was tight. You waited on him to speak as you started rummaging in the dresser for a shirt and pair of jeans to change into after a shower.

“I don’t need you yapping in my ear when I’m trying to get shit done,” he said.

You paused in your search, and you turned to him, raising an incredulous brow.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to stick to the plan. Targeted kills only, remember? Zoe wasn’t the target.”

His frown soured. “She hit me first.”

You stared back at him. Then you raised your eyes heavenward, praying for strength. And you let out a breath.

“She was trying to help her mother, Ben.”

“If you’re grown enough to throw a punch, you’re grown enough to take one,” he argued.

“You’ve never hit me once,” you pointed out. “Is it different because she’s a supe? Were you really going to kill a child?”

“I never said that,” he said, glaring at you.

“Would you have killed Ryan too?” you asked.

Ben expelled a sigh of exasperation. “Would you shut up already?”

“No,” you refused. And you followed him into the living room when he stormed out. “You’re not going to weasel your way out of this. Would you have killed Ryan?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “He was Homelander’s fucking kid.”

“And that makes it all right?”

“Yeah, are you gonna say that in a few years? If he turns out just like Homelander, are you going to come crying to me to take him out?”

You glared at him. He was making a valid point you couldn’t refute, but that didn’t change what he was trying to do.

“You’re unbelievable.” You shook your head and crossed your arms. “You’re actually justifying this.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not, a supe is a supe,” Ben said, raising a finger. “No matter how old they are, they’re a threat.”

“It doesn’t mean a child shouldn’t be protected, Soldier Boy,” you countered. “A life is a life.”

“Hey, if you want to be sanctimonious, good for fucking you,” he shot back. “But don’t tell me how to do my fucking job.”

“I’m asking you to keep your word,” you said. “For both of our sakes.”

That managed to shut him up. With a sigh, you tried to ease up by taking his hand with both of yours, holding it with care. His glove was busted, the skin underneath was red and raw. He allowed it, but he still looked down on you with reserved irritation.

You knew you didn’t have to remind him what breaking Grace’s agreement would mean, for both of you.

“Just follow the plan,” you implored. “Targeted kills only. No collateral damage.”

After Ben came out of the shower, he went into the bedroom to change with a towel wrapped around his waist.

You were already cleaned up, a messy bun atop your head, wearing a plain shirt and some shorts, and sitting up in the bed with your new laptop. But you subtly watched him move around the room.

You noticed the burns across his chest. You were still irritated with him, but you couldn’t help it. You set your laptop aside and went to him.

Ben saw you coming through the large mirror above the dresser. His head turned to you just as you raised a tentative hand near the burns across his chest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked with furrowed brows. Your fingertips were light in touching his chest.

It did sting, but it wasn’t that bad.

Still, all Ben said was, “No. They’ll probably be gone in a few hours anyway.”

Your lower lip stuck out a little, like you didn’t quite believe him as you inspected the various burns.

Ben eyed you. He still couldn’t fucking figure you out.

He knew you were into him…and evidently, you cared about him.

Still, you fought him on virtually everything. There were times when you seemed almost disgusted by him, but when he fucked you, you acted like he was the eighth wonder of the world.

Even now, that perfect damn mouth of yours was frowning while your fingers moved delicately over his skin.

“You want some aloe vera?” you asked.

He knew by your face that you were completely sincere. It made him chuckle. You looked up at him in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

Not unlike this morning, he picked you up (smirking at your squeal) and set you down on the dresser. His hands rested on your hips while yours laid gently on a non-burnt area of his chest.

“For someone as breakable as you, you seem to be real concerned about me,” he said. “...You’re really not afraid of me, are you?”

Your fingertips ran down his skin, unintentionally raising goosebumps. Though you considered his question with a tilt of your head.

“Why, are you going to break me?” you teased.

Ben huffed in amusement. His lips drew near yours, hovering but not yet claiming. He wanted you to come to him this time. Wanted you to let him know if this thing, whatever it was between you two, was heading where he thought it was…

And you didn’t disappoint him.

You reached out and framed his face with both hands, and pulled him into a kiss. For once, neither of you were in a hurry as one languid kiss turned into another.

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, and he welcomed you with a deep, reverberating hum, along with your thighs slipping around his hips. He took a firm grip of you there, while your fingers carded through his hair.

“Still not tired of this?” you whispered against his lips.

He backed off enough to look at you. Really look at you. His brown hair fell above his brows, and as was your habit, you swept some of it out of his eyes.

You read his answer there without him having to say it in words.

So you pulled him back in.

AN: 😏 Was their reunion everything you wanted it to be? Let me know in the comments!

(And do you wanna know where we're going next?)

Next Time:

“Good morning,” Stan greeted, raising his mug. “Care for a cup? Perhaps a donut.”

“Still fucking smarmy,” Ben said. He stood in front of the man’s desk, flexing his half-gloved fingers. He glanced up at the walls of this office, this tower in the sky. “We’ve been doing this dance for a long time, you and I.”

“And yet, on entirely different tempos,” Stan replied. “How can I help you, Soldier Boy?”

Keep Reading: PART 15

Special Note:

I'm releasing a new one-shot soon, set in this story-verse called "Love Actually." It's part of @deanwinchesterswitch's Christmas in July fic event running this month!

Go here to check it out and participate (as a writer/artist or a reader)!

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#Safe House #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 14 #zepskies writes

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stars-and-inkpots · 8 months

Note

Could you possibly write more soft Gale fics? He just deserves so much love and healing. I really liked how you wrote Reverence. Sorry I don’t have a more specific ask, I’m not very good when it comes to fic ideas.

Absolutely I can, I love writing for Gale so much, and he really does deserve the world. Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!

Late Night Book Club | Gale x Reader

No matter what you try, you just can't seem to sleep. Between nightmares and insomnia, you start to think you might never get a good night's rest again.

Gale seems to share the same issue.

While you might not be able to completely solve your problems, at least the two of you aren't alone in them anymore.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Cuddling, Insomnia, Nightmares, Comfort, Fluff, First Kiss, Love Confessions (kinda)

Notes: choosing a name for this was the hardest part about writing it

Ao3 Link: Late Night Book Club

Word Count: 2,150

For whatever reason, you find yourself awake far later than everyone else. This shouldn’t be too much of a problem, if it wasn’t for the fact that this was the second night in a row where sleep eluded you to the point of exhaustion. The little amount of sleep you did manage to get was plagued with uncomfortable dreams that teetered on the edge of nightmares, making sure the rest was fitful. You knew you had to sleep; you couldn’t hope to lead the group if you were barely able to stand tomorrow. It’s frustrating. It isn’t like you aren’t trying to sleep either; you laid there for hours before finally giving up and leaving your tent to tend to the fire that has steadily burnt down to the last embers. It’s here where Gale finds you.

The look on your face only adds to his concern at seeing you up so late. You don’t notice his approach, another thing that makes Gale think something must be wrong.

“Is everything alright?” He asks softly, though the sudden noise still startles you. He watches you turn and immediately relax when you realise it’s only him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry,” you apologise, but you aren’t exactly sure what you're apologising for. Perhaps it's for letting all of them down with your inability to sleep, knowing you’ll hold them back tomorrow. Then you notice that Gale looks just as tired.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks.

You’re sure your exhaustion is evident enough, you can feel the weight under your eyes. A part of you hates feeling like you need to be taken care of. You don’t want to acknowledge that help would be both welcome and useful, but you know these feelings are simply a byproduct of the exhaustion that weighs on your shoulders. You can’t fault Gale for wanting to help.

“No, it’s alright. You need your own rest.” The day had been tough on all of you. Gale, though talented when it came to magic, was pushed to his own limits today.

“Very well. Would you at least allow me to sit with you for a few moments then?” Gale asks.

You only nod, and Gale sits beside you on the ground. You’ve managed to get the fire going a little stronger again, and the warmth is appreciated by both of you. You’re suddenly aware of just how close you are, knees almost touching. You blame the warmth in your cheeks on the fire.

“If there is something bothering you, I am more than happy to listen.” There is genuine care in his words. He is worried about you. As much as you don’t want to burden your companions with your troubles, he seems adamant that he wants to hear them.

“I can’t sleep is all,” you admit. “It’s nothing serious. Just can’t sleep, and then when I do my dreams end up waking me up again.” It feels childish to say that your dreams are the primary culprit of your lack of sleep. You’ve been through so much in the past weeks, but it’s nightmares of all things that finally get to you.

But Gale doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t tease you. Instead, he looks at you with only sympathy and understanding. He doesn’t pry any further, and you’re thankful.

“What about you? Why are you still up? If you want to share, of course,” you’re quick to add. You don’t want him to feel like he has to tell you his own troubles just because you told him yours.

“We have similar problems it seems,” is all Gale answers. You return his earlier kindness by not pressing him to elaborate either.

The two of you sit there in comfortable silence again.

“I understand if you wish to remain alone, but if you ever wish for company when you cannot sleep, you are always most welcome to visit me.” He says it so quietly, hesitantly, but not unsure. Knowing you don’t need to spend the nights awake alone, at least, is a comfort, and the thought of spending the time talking with Gale is pleasant; even if that time is simply spent sitting near to one another.

You smile. “I might take you up on that offer.”

Gale gives you a fond look. The golden light of the fire makes him look soft and at ease, though, maybe that’s only because he’s with you.

“I think I’ll try to sleep again. Thank you for this, Gale.” You stand, and he does the same.

“Anytime.”

Sleep still doesn’t come easy when you return to your tent, but eventually you’re able to get, at least, a little bit of dreamless sleep before you’re awoken again. The gaps between sleep and consciousness are still more frequent than you want, but it’s better than nothing.

---

The next day is rough. Gale doesn’t look like he had much luck with sleep either, and you’re almost thankful because he is more inclined to ask the group to slow down than you are. Maybe the others can tell that you’re also struggling, because no one complains when the steady pace is interrupted.

Perhaps some god out there is looking out for you, because the day’s travel is mercifully uneventful.

Setting up camp again is a chore. You do your best to help where you can, but you can barely stand as it is.

“Get some rest, soldier. We’ve got it from here,” Karlach says to you, voice quiet. You know she’s trying to be nice, but it feels like pity and you hate it. You swallow your pride and thank her before returning to your tent.

Even though your body aches and your head is starting to hurt, when you lay down, you only end up staring at the roof of the tent. You suddenly just aren’t tired. You know you’re tired, because your body feels tired, but at the same time you aren’t , and it’s only partly caused by fear of the dreams you know await you. It’s frustrating to no end.

After another few minutes of laying there with your eyes closed, you finally give in.

Only a few of the others are still awake, sitting and talking with each other around the fire. They don’t notice you skirting around the edge of camp towards Gale’s tent. It’s not that you feel like you need to keep this a secret, you just don’t think you have the energy to talk to anyone besides the wizard right now.

“Gale? Can I come in?” You ask softly outside the tent. You know he’s awake; you can see shadows that dance across the walls.

“Of course,” Gale answers. Before you can move to open the tent flap, he waves a hand and it opens for you.

“What a gentleman,” you tease, but even you can hear how tired you sound.

“Always for you,” he returns with a smile, but there’s a truth in his words that brings a warmth to your face.

You finally notice how cosy his tent is. There are several books, all of them stacked in piles that must be organised in a way you can’t discern. The ground is covered in plush blankets and pillows. Fluttering around the top of the tent are small, almost iridescent orbs of light, some purple and others blue. They give enough light for Gale to read, but keep the tent dim enough to be pleasant.

“Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable.”

You sit beside him; closer than you were last night, leaning against his side slightly. You peer over at the book in his hands, surprised to find it isn’t some arcane tome. As far as you can tell, it’s just a normal adventure novel.

“Don’t let me interrupt you, you can keep reading.” Even just sitting here beside him is enough of a comfort; the tension already starting to seep out of your shoulders. You don’t want to talk about anything yet, and you figure that Gale shares the same sentiment.

“Do you want me to read to you?” Gale asks, and though you almost think he’s joking, you realise he really means it.

“That would be nice.”

And it is. You’ve always enjoyed listening to him talk; Gale has a lovely voice. He picks up where he left off when you got there. He wasn’t too far into the book yet, but he still pauses occasionally to explain something. Eventually you close your eyes, focused only on his voice, the details of his words getting blurry.

“Can we lay down?” You mumble tiredly.

“That’s a good idea,” Gale says with a smile, having already noticed the way your head has begun to dip forward as sleep begins to pull at you.

It takes a bit of coordination, but eventually you’re both underneath the thick blanket that Gale pulls tighter around the two of you. You move closer to him, your head underneath his chin, and he wraps an arm around you. He’s warm, and you feel safer than you have in weeks. He starts reading again, fingers playing idly with your hair. Within another minute, your breathing has evened out and you’re fast asleep.

Gale folds the corner of the page to mark where you two left off and closes the book before he sets it aside with the countless others. Eventually, he manages to fall asleep too.

Both of you still wake up a few times in the middle of the night. You didn’t expect this to be some miracle cure for your sleep problems, but having Gale there holding you when you wake up makes getting back to sleep a little easier. The same can be said for Gale who wakes up several times, only to be calmed down once he feels your arms around him. The two of you are able to get a good rest, and when you wake up in the morning you don’t feel the same ache in your bones as you did the past few mornings.

It becomes a sort of routine between you. In the evenings, after everyone leaves for their tents, you follow Gale to his or he follows you to yours. Then he reads to you, and sometimes you read to him, and you both let sleep find you in each other's arms. The nightmares are getting more bearable, and even on the worst nights when neither of you can sleep no matter how much you try, at least you’re there together.

---

It’s been a week since you started this arrangement. The book is nearly finished. Gale had promised to let you pick out the next one.

He brushes through your hair with one hand, the book held open in the other. You listen while he starts reading the last few pages. The hero who’s story you’ve been following through the novel culminates in one final battle against evil. It’s cliché, you think to yourself, and then smile because isn’t this exactly your own life now? And what hero story is complete without a lover to kiss them at the end, which is precisely what happens. Good prevails, and the hero gets their true love.

Gale feels your smile against his neck and, for reasons he understands but doesn’t want to admit yet, feels a warmth flood his cheeks.

“The End,” he announces, snapping the book closed with a flourish, earning a laugh from you. “What did you think?”

“It was nice. It felt more like a romance novel at the end.”

Gale hums in agreement. “Yes, but I think that's what I enjoyed most.” He puts the book down then returns to hugging you close to him.

“I agree, it felt natural.” You hope Gale understands what you mean.

He does.

The two of you have been dancing around this for a while now, neither one of you ready to acknowledge it. But there’s something about tonight that feels different.

You lean back to look at Gale’s face, bringing a hand up to guide a strand of greying brown hair behind his ear. Your hand lingers on his cheek, thumb brushing gently across his skin. He puts his own hand over yours, moving it to kiss your palm. It’s a careful gesture, tender and nervous all at the same time.

When you move to kiss him, he meets you halfway. It’s a soft kiss; a testament to these nights you’ve spent together. When you part, you rest your forehead against his. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell: like you mean everything to him.

He kisses you once more before you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. He holds you like he’s scared you’ll disappear, and you tighten your arms around him as if to answer: 'I could never.'

You both sleep the best you have in weeks, still there for each other each time you wake.

#baldurs gate x reader #x reader fic #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate gale #gale dekarios #gale x reader #gale x you #request

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laurasimonsdaughter · 1 year

Text

“Alright! Let’s just quickly go over your answers to our questionnaire in your application.”

As far as job interviews went, this one was rapidly moving up the list of utterly strange ones. For starters this was the fanciest office he had ever been in, and this was supposed to be an animal sanctuary. The amount of decorative pillows piled onto the chair he was currently trying to sit on would have been more appropriate for a lounge in a posh hotel.

The sanctuary manager – at least that’s how she had introduced herself – peered at the printed sheets of paper.

“So you have experience with animal handling?”

“During several internships, yes.”

“Wonderful. And horticulture?”

“I know how to keep a healthy habitat.”

“Excellent. And do you have any siblings?”

There it was, barely three questions in and already off the deep end. “Yes, three.”

The woman fixed two keen, dark eyes on him. “Three including you?”

“No, three besides me. I’m the second oldest, if that matters.”

“Ah! That’s alright then, Second of four, very good.”

By now he was looking at the manager with unrestrained wonder, eyebrows almost disappearing under his fringe.

“Well that all seems to be in order, just one more question—are you comfortable?”

He faltered, blinking. “I...well, to tell you to truth this chair could do with a few less pillows.”

To his amazement the manager’s face lit up with genuine delight. “Oh that is very good to hear. I do apologise for all that nonsense, but there’s rules against asking people about the circumstances of their birth, you know. Here, let me.”

He got to his feet, still rather stunned, and watched how the manager removed three pillows and, from underneath them all, a small green pea from his chair.

“There we are! Now, we’d be very glad to have you, you certainly meet all our qualifications, and I assure you we offer excellent terms and benefits. You clearly have plenty of experience with amphibians and birds, but you will need some on the job training, because apart from the usual frogs, swans and ravens, we also have clients in some of the rarer categories.”

“Clients? I thought this was an animal sanctuary,” he stammered.

“It most certainly is! Except our residents have not always been animals.” The manager smiled meaningfully. “You’d be surprised just how many people, especially royals, decide they would rather stay enchanted.” She looked a little embarrassed for a moment. “Which is of course exactly why I need to take certain precautions with my employees, you understand.”

He was pretty sure he did not at all understand, but he wasn’t about to admit that now. “Right.”

She peered at him again. “I do still need you to promise me not to fall in love with any of them.”

“Why on earth—”

“It’s happened before,” she said gravely. “We also have a couple of private parks, with a more human enclosure, I mean house, because we do get the occasional beastification.” She shook her head. “The last person we hired, well, our client was kind enough not to file an official complaint, on account of the whole finding his true love thing, but it was really very embarrassing.” He sat very still for a moment. “So, how many of those are there?”

“Beasts? Only two at the moment, since that unfortunate incident.”

“And your other...residents?”

“Hmm lets see, seven swans and seven ravens, three frogs, a stag, a hind, a fox and a bear. Well, and the cat, but she’s an exception, she lives in our head quarters and mostly looks after herself.” She gave him a rather worried look. “I haven’t scared you off, have I?”

He gave her a weak smile. “You promised me five weeks paid time off, so no you haven’t. But I am going to need some more information.”

“Wonderful,” she sighed. “In that case, let’s start with giving you a tour.”

#urban fantasy #urban fantasy professionals #laura drabbles #fairy tales #this one is a little rough still but it needed to get out there

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sanccharine · 5 months

Text

blueberry muffins | sn

single parent au, christmas au

pairing: babysitter!sana x single parent!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 7.2k

warning: so sweet it'll rot your teeth ! ew that ryhmed, i'm sorry

summary: when your own life becomes a b-rated hallmark holiday movie (not that you're complaining)

a/n: finally, what was supposed to be last year's christmas fic and the sequel to pizza party! is here !! all thanks to this request !! this was co-written by @eternallyghosting (she wrote three (very important) sentences and the summary, which is easily the hardest part of writing fics) strangely, it was nice writing domestic fluff again and also i gave up on the banner :D also is this happy belated christmas bc this was for last year or is it early bc christmas is in five days ?? anygays, happy holidays !!

The moment the car stopped, a door was being shoved open. You didn’t have to check the rearview mirror to know that your son had sprinted out. Shaking your head, you shifted the gear to park before turning your gaze at your girlfriend.

Minatozaki Sana was a confident woman. Or at least that is what you’ve gathered over the last year. She was never one to hide how she felt; it was she who had made the first move. So to see her eyes glazed over, trained on the raindrops collecting at the edge of the windshield was concerning, to say the least.

“Hey,” was all you uttered, even quiet to your own ears. But Sana was attuned to your voice so she straightened before she turned to meet your gaze.

In the many years that make up a life, a year may be inconsequential. Between those three hundred and sixty-five days many things can happen. You can meet new people, spend time with them and get to really know their likes and dislikes, understand what truly makes and motivates them. During this time, you could gain lifelong friends, whom you instantly sync with only to lose them by the end of the year. Twelve months is enough time to drive you away from your family, to uproot your life and start anew, or perhaps return home to loving arms where everything remains unchanged. A year is a million moments of frustration and tears and happiness, a combination of beginning and endings, and gain and loss. But many years later, those instances would be fleeting at best.

A whole year; a passing moment.

Perhaps that’s why you were pleasantly surprised with how well things were with Sana. Having known each other for almost two years, from kind greetings building up to genuine conversations. The slow build of your relationship, from when you first asked her about her bad day to when she finally asked you out for a coffee date. There was not a moment you regretted, and to think that this was all the result of your son, the last shove the pair of you needed.

Now Sana has moved in, you wake up to her running around your home alongside your son. She’d gone from his babysitter to someone who takes an active role in his life, someone who shapes him to be better. Someone he can learn from, grow with, and rely on, especially when you weren’t there for him.

Simply put, you couldn't be more sure of your decision to be with her. Now, there were only a few more steps.

Without saying a word, you reached for her hand, her fingers interlocking with yours instinctively. “I’m not worried, I just need a moment,” Sana said, the frozen glaze slowly dissipating from her eyes.

Exhaling, you reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Silky soft to the touch, even with her constant dyeing. How she managed to maintain the texture remained a mystery. From her natural brown to blinding orange to auburn to back to her brown, you’ve seen Sana’s hair shift faster than the seasons. Though in the dark of the night, your car was only illuminated by the lamppost a meter away, her hair seemed so depthless it was inky black.

Sana leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as you held her. Just as you were about to assure her, a loud thump on the glass startled you both apart.

“Aren’t you coming?” Your son asked loudly, though it sounded muffled since he had the side of his face and palms pressed flat against the glass. With another slap to the glass, he moved away but not before saying. “Open the trunk, I need to show grandma my chef’s hat and cookbook.”

Sana had gone from clutching her heart to clutching her stomach as she doubled over with laughter. You, on the other hand, had to rest your forehead on the steering wheel to let out a long and exaggerated groan.

“He will be the—”

Your son hit the car twice, yelling. “Trunk, please!”

“Okay, okay, I’m opening it! It’s opening,” you stumbled to find the button. With a huff, you took out your car keys while Sana was still giggling as she got out to help with the suitcase.

Your son had catapulted himself into your father’s arms as you headed up the porch, luggage in hand. Sana followed behind you, not necessarily hiding, but slightly obscuring herself from your parents. Smiling, you extended your free hand to take hers as you reached the door.

“Oh, look who’s home!” your father exclaimed, as he swiftly lifted your son up and placed him on his hip.

“Don’t do that! Who’s going to pay for another surgery?” you said, scowling while your mother slapped at his arm, trying to pry your son away.

“With all that hard work, it will be you, of course,” your father said, before whispering at your son who then burst into giggles after peeking at you.

“Well, if it's all the same, help me out with our bags—”

“Not happening,” your father said before walking into the house.

“Here, let me,” your mother passed right by you and attempted to take the bag Sana was shouldering. Sana tried to decline politely, but your mother wasn’t having it. Soon the bag was in her hands and she took Sana’s hand in hers. Your mother gave you a smile as she guided Sana into the house. “She’s beautiful.”

“I know, Mom,” you groaned, the smile hard to suppress.

Home felt familiar. There was a smell, something you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. Of course, there were notes you recognised. A blend of your mother’s baking and your father’s obnoxious perfumes against the smell of rain. Something you’ve experienced so many times before and have long yearned to return to. As for furniture, nothing seemed to have changed. You spotted a few new frames, photos of your son now competing with numerous photos of yourself. Then one that really stopped you in your tracks.

Your mother, artistic in all of her endeavours, had a growing collage of her favourite photos on a pinboard. You don’t come home often to notice all the small edits she makes, but this one was glaringly obvious. It was a picture that was clearly printed out recently. On normal paper it seemed, it lacked the gloss. It was cut to the shape of the three people in the photo, bordered with orange craft paper and stuck on at the very edge of the board.

It was a picture of you, your son… and Sana.

One night, when Sana decided it was time for her classic bright orange to return, she asked whether you wanted to dye your hair as well.

Of course, in an instant, you answered no. Unfortunately, your son had overheard the question and practically begged you to let him dye his hair. So that night, both you and your son earned a few strands of orange hair that matched Sana.

Almost on instinct, your hand drifted to the spot behind your neck, hiding a few stray strands of fading bright orange hair. When you had sent the image to your mother, you’d laughed at it because your face was barely in it to your mother’s disappointment. In fact, you were showing your back and looking over your shoulder so the orange was peeking through. Sana wore a blinding grin that also matched your son’s, who was pointing at the streak of orange in his fringe. But here it was, printed and cut out and pasted.

The sight invoked a feeling you couldn’t place.

Someone stepped to your right to observe the same picture.

And then Sana turned to look at you, her eyes glassy.

Even if it wasn’t said, you know what this means.

The words were in your mouth when your mother spoke from your left. “I hope you don’t mind me putting up that picture there,” she said with scrunched eyebrows. “I really liked it.”

Sana’s lips twitched upward as she shook her head. “I don’t mind at all.”

Introductions were quite brief, having heard each other quite a bit from you. Besides, you knew once your son tired himself out and was asleep, your parents could really get to know Sana. So, you decided to move your bags up to your scheduled room.

Unfortunately for you, Sana stopped by another door.

Gasping, Sana pushed the door open and took in every corner of your childhood room.

The room was exactly as you left it. Except less messy. No furniture was moved, no posters torn down, no trinkets replaced—it was as if you had never even left.

Sana moved to your study desk, her finger brushing the spines of textbooks that had made your high school years a living hell.

“Did you study a lot?” Sana asked, her voice light as if she were absent-minded.

“Not really, just enough to pass I guess,” Sana sent you a look over her shoulder, head slightly tilted in suspicion before turning her attention back to the desk.

She poked the trophies and participation awards, smiling at your photos crammed to a side before picking one up.

“Someone looks awfully upset here,” she brandished a photo of you standing on a podium, glaring holes at the person in front of you while you gripped your smaller award. “Sore loser much?”

“I deserved first place! You weren’t there, alright?” you rolled your eyes, plucking the photo away from her while she moved towards your bed.

“I can’t imagine you’d ever have such a tidy room,” she chuckled as she took a seat by the foot of the bed, bouncing a little on the comfortable mattress.

“Yeah, well, you have my mother to thank for that,” you smiled, as you leaned on your desk, facing Sana. Watching her.

Perhaps, it was nostalgia. Or exhaustion. Who knows, maybe even the holiday spirit. But you liked staying here, being in your old room, surrounded by things you’ve long forgotten, from a time you don’t particularly miss, but now, with Sana. Someone who promised a new start.

Sana watched you in turn, her lips pressed thin as she suppressed a knowing smile.

Leaning back, she asked. “So, is this where we’ll be sleeping? In your old room?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “Not a chance,” you jutted your chin at the single bed, “you feel like being crammed into that?”

Sana shook her head as she turned around to feel the quilt, lips quirked up at the shark pattern.

“No, we’re taking the guest room,” you said, walking to your door. From here, you could just about see over the stairway railing and into the kitchen. Both your parents buzzed around your son like moths to a flame, grins on all of their faces. With a soft sigh, you said. “The one that will be coddled, pampered, and spoiled for the next week will be sleeping in here.”

Content for the moment, you turned your attention back to Sana but she was already looking at you. An expression akin to worry was on her features.

“They’ll like me right?”

Sana closed in on herself, hands dragging down the quilt to feel it one more time before folding in front of her stomach. Her eyes darted around the room before settling back on you. You hated seeing Sana like this.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” you pushed away from your place at the door and took Sana’s face in your hands, helping her to look up at you. “They’ll love you.”

You leaned down, your nose brushing against hers as a chuckle escaped her.

“Just like you do,” she giggled cheekily.

You kissed her to stop her teasing.

“Hmm, sure,” but still, you admitted. “Just like I do.”

Once your son had tired himself out and you had unpacked your things, you decided it was time to put him to bed. With his blue set of pyjamas that matched your ancient shark-patterned bed sheets, he clambered and got under the sheets, tucking himself in neatly. You took a seat by him on the bed, hand reaching out to comb his unruly hair out of his face.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, a bit slowly.

“Good,” your son admitted, “it’s nice to see grandma and grandpa again.”

The muscle in your jaw tensed.

You wished you could visit home often, a long drive or not, it wasn’t too hard to come back home. However, work dragged you away and you didn’t even have time to consider a plan for the weekend. Even now, your ‘long’ weekend as an excuse for a holiday was extended into a week of freedom after you’d lined up your leave days and practically begged for the holidays. There was no shame in it, the end of this year was important. There were big changes ahead.

“Good,” you parroted.

“Grandma loved my hat and said we can bake some treats from the cookbook,” he exclaimed. You nodded as he continued. “I asked her if we could make a cake—a blue one!—like Percy!”

“Like Percy,” you scoffed as you completed the sentence with him.

“She said she knows a trick so the food doesn’t come out green,” he added and you didn’t doubt him.

Ever since his class was given free rein over the library, your son has been reading quite a lot. On top of his fascination with cooking, of course. This was the longest he’s stuck with a hobby or interest, and reading that his favourite character managed to eat special blue food, catered to him by his loving mother, only spurred your son more to mimic it.

With your help, and Sana’s… mostly Sana’s, your son has mastered green pastries, desserts and sweets. Or ogre food, as you lovingly call it. For reasons that you couldn’t guess, no dye seemed to do the trick, perhaps you were buying cheap brands?

“Yeah, I’m sure she does,” you rolled your eyes before pinching his nose, at which he swatted your hand away.

“So which book are we reading tonight?” Sana asked, walking into your childhood home with a book in her hand. You could guess which one it was.

“The Lightning Thief!” your son squealed when Sana held the book up.

“Don’t you get tired of reading the same one again and again?” you asked, watching Sana as she took a seat on the other side of the bed.

“Nope!” your son said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“Okay, but aren’t you curious about what happens next—?”

“Oh, don’t start this again,” Sana said, as she conspirately shook her head with your son, clearly over your grumbling.

“I’m just saying—!”

“Oh look at the time,” your son pulled up his empty wrist. “It’s bedtime, we only have time to read a few pages, let's get started!”

Scowling, you pinched your son’s cheek and he had the audacity to giggle.

Sana had started reading the chapter you’d stopped on. Her voice was soothing to listen to, even if the story wasn’t too uplifting. Getting comfortable, you curled up next to your son over his quilt and watched his drooping eyes struggle to stay open.

As Sana finished the chapter, she glanced over. A smile tugged on her lips when she found that your son was deep asleep.

With a nod, you kissed him on the forehead and made sure he was comfortable. Following suit, Sana placed a kiss of her own on his temple. The pair of you exited the room on your tiptoes and slowly closed the door behind you.

“I’ll take the book back,” you said, extending your hand out.

Instead, Sana placed a kiss on your cheek, her eyes lidded.

“What was that for?” you asked, surprised but you weren’t complaining.

“Just because,” she shrugged and then handed the book over to you.

“Are you stalling seeing my parents?” you asked with a smirk as your hand came to rest by her neck, your thumb tipping her jaw to face you.

“Not at all,” Sana said with such conviction that if you didn’t know her better, you’d have believed her.

“They won’t take much time, I won’t let them interrogate you. I can tell them we’re tired and we need rest,” you said tilting your head to the side. “Which we do, honestly.”

Sana nodded with a sigh, her eyes shuttered close as she leaned into the warmth of your palm.

You pulled yourself in for a kiss, a gentle one, on her lips. Sana hummed before pushing away.

“I’ll see you in a second,” you whispered. “You got this.”

She nodded and turned towards the stairs. You waited till she reached the bottom of the stairs before making your way to the guest room. Staying for such a short time, there was no need to unpack completely, and for that, you were slightly grateful. That meant you could hide things without anyone being the wiser.

Dropping the book down on the open suitcase, you kneeled to rummage through the clothes. Making sure to lift layers of clothes as it is, you find a small velvet box at the very bottom. The sight of it brought a smile to your face. It can only mean so many things, though you still have some things to complete.

Leaving it in the same room would be a gamble. The guest room was basically empty, anyone would be able to find it. Every other room in this house had someone staying in it or had them frequent it often. Anything moved out of its place would ring the alarm bells, no, you needed to hide this somewhere no one was likely to check.

So you walked back to your childhood room and entered as quietly as you could. Your son was sound asleep. The left door on your cupboard creaked when it opened, but if you applied pressure on the hinges as you opened, it made barely any sound. Locating the bottommost drawer, you pulled up your old clothes and shoved the box at the very back before hiding it under the clothes.

Happy with your task, you exited the room just as stealthily and made your way down to join your family as if nothing were amiss.

Even with the help of your mother, it seems your son had difficulty mastering blue food.

Somehow your mother managed to convince your son from an elaborate tiered cake to a classic sponge cake to plain old blueberry muffins. You’d hoped that maybe you could escape for the day, maybe with Sana, around your old neighbourhood. Unfortunately, you’d been roped in as assistant chefs and taste-testers instead.

Seated on the couch, you watched three of the most important people in your family take a crack at making blueberry muffins which were actually blue in colour. Sana had been assigned mixing duty, which made no sense to you because you knew for a fact your mother had an ancient stand mixer lying around somewhere in the house. Though Sana didn’t seem to share your sense of justice as she was happy to do so.

Your mother was taking her time going through the recipe book and teaching your son her own techniques. The sight helped you recall some of your own moments under her wing in the kitchen, though you were neither as interested nor skilled to be there. Oh but your son, he was completely enraptured. You’ve never seen him in school and struggled to attend parent-teacher meetings, but you guessed this is how he was in class as well. The swell of pride on your chest was an indescribable feeling.

When Sana said that the batter was ready, your head perked up. Leaving your place on the couch, you made your way to the kitchen. Making sure your mother and son were distracted by the oven, you moved behind Sana. You had to be quick!

Rounding one hand on her waist, you placed your chin over her shoulder and at that, she chuckled while snuggling into your side. And then, you struck.

Your free hand’s index finger dipped into the bowl to carry a dollop of aqua-blue batter straight into your mouth.

By the time Sana had realized what you’d just done, you were already out of her reach. Her indignant shriek altered the other two chefs of your crime, though even they couldn’t do much now.

When the muffins had been completed, you were surprised to see they were properly blue. Not some horrid inedible shade of green.

Your first question after inhaling a few muffins alongside your father was to your mother.

“How did you get them so blue?” you asked, staring at the dishes in the sink, looking as if a smurf had been murdered. “We never managed.”

“Well, depends if you bothered to buy the brand I told you to,” your mother showed an empty tube on the counter and you rolled your eyes at the dig.

“I did buy that brand!” you said, moving to pick up and examine the tube… only to find two more tubes hidden, flattened beyond recognition.

“Well, then it depends on quantity,” your mother said as you turned on the balls of your feet, incredulous.

“Is this much dye even healthy?” you asked, already reading the ingredients on the tube.

“Guess we’ll find out,” your mother only shrugged as she looked at her husband, still scarfing down the muffins. You sent your mother another incredulous look but she just laughed at her own silly joke.

As the holiday came to an end, you finally got your chance to spend some time alone with Sana.

Your father claimed he barely got any time to spend with his grandson. Of course, that was a complete lie. With how much time and money he spent, you’d even debated getting your son a gift at all. Though that was out of the question, you and Sana had already set your mind on what it was and had it ordered beforehand. You just had to go collect it.

So your father said he’d take you all to the park. Once there, you let them go their own way. One moment, your son was accompanying your father and the next he was running at the nearest dog, eager to pet it.

Holding hands, you and Sana watched as you made your way through the park. With every step, you were getting further away until you could see your son no more. Suddenly, the velvet box in your jacket pocket weighed you down, as if it had materialized into your jacket out of thin air.

“Not going to lie,” Sana started, “I thought you’d show me more of your old home.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know, something like your old friends? Your old school? Old hang-out spots?” Sana drew on. “Maybe how that high school enemy of yours and how they work at a general store, having never escaped this small town?”

“I don’t know what winter budget film you watched, but that’s not happening here,” you rolled your eyes at her imagination. “Also, what enemy?”

“The first-place winner,” Sana said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh please, I’m not that petty to be thinking about something that happened so long ago,” Sana watched you intently, nodding along almost in a mocking manner. “And besides, they’re a professor at the university across the city, I believe.”

Sana’s grin widened as you just realised what you admitted.

“I wasn’t keeping tabs on them! I just saw a post of theirs recently, alright!” you cried, though it fell on deaf ears.

The most important thing to come out of the walk was your destination. To and back, it was mostly filled with Sana’s inane questions (filled with imaginative scenarios to paint you as some egregious husk of a human, might you add) and you answering them with proper facts and maybe some anecdotes. Sana stopped by the crafts store to collect wrapping paper while you collected your son’s gift.

It was the following series of his favourite books; Heroes of Olympus.

Yes, he has yet to finish the last two books of the current series. And yes, you’d only just berated (teased) him about rereading the first book. But you could just imagine how his face would light up when he sees these books. In fact… you don’t even know if you’ll be reading these books to him by the time he gets to them, which was strange to think about but really, there wasn’t a better gift for your son.

When you arrived back home, your son was taking a nap on the couch, which made it all the more easier to wrap the present for him and get dinner ready.

When your son woke up the table was already set and the first thing he did was take his seat. All eyes were on him, everyone was wearing smiles watching him practically bounce on his seat. He gets to have his dinner, the muffins that he made, and then open his gifts early. Your father, chuckling, ruffled his hair and took a seat beside him.

Dinner, for the most part, was uneventful as usual. That's not to say you didn’t have any fun. You did, you really did. As you ate your meal, you took a backseat in the conversation, observing just how comfortable Sana was alongside your family. She had absolutely nothing to be worried about. Your parents adored her. Almost as much as how much you and your son did.

“So when is it?” your father’s question filtered in and you looked away from your nearly clean plate.

“When is what?” you asked before taking your final bite.

“I asked when are you two getting married?”

Sana had to rub your back so you didn’t choke on your food, or worse, spit it across the table.

“What?” you tip a sip of water. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a valid question, really,” your mother admitted, not really looking at you, but you could see the smile toying at the edge of her lips.

“Yeah, when is it happening?” your son looked up at you, eyes wide and shiny.

“Um…” you turned to Sana for some help. Instead, she took her hand from your back and placed her chin on it, leaning in and expecting your answer as well.

The velvet box seemed to burn in your jacket pocket.

Somehow, you’d managed to get out of that dreadful situation.

Once the plates were cleared and blueberry muffins disappeared. It was time for presents.

As if aware of what he might get, your son gravitated toward the large box set you’d gotten. And you were right.

Nothing could compare to the expression on his face when he realized what he’d gotten.

Without hesitation, he jumped into your arms and thanked you a thousand times. You reminded him that Sana had pitched in as well and he was flying at her to give her the same treatment.

Perhaps, you were petty.

Because you took pride that no other gift earned the same amount of excitement.

The night settled down and your family received one last gift from your mother.

When all of you were out, she’d tidied up the backyard and made hot chocolate.

All throughout this holiday, every moment seemed to be building up to this one.

Under the twinkling fairy lights, you joined your son on the steps to the backyard. He was sitting with his knees up, his hands toying with a small figurine of Poseidon. Sana had bought it for him the moment she laid eyes on it, having thrifted it from some store, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Seeming to be in deep thought, your son watched the sight before him. With steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands, your parents conversed with Sana. You didn’t know what she said, but it had your father throwing his head back and letting loose a loud snort. Your mother’s eyes crinkled in amusement as she flitted her attention back and forth between them.

Clearing your throat, you began to speak. “Your hot chocolate is turning into cold chocolate, you know.”

You were sure that comment would earn a look from him, but instead, your son moved a hand towards his cup, the figurine still in the other. He sighed and brought the cup to his mouth anyway. But before he could take a sip, you switched out his for your own cup.

“Here, have mine,” you said, carefully placing the warm cup in his hands.

Your son mumbled his thanks and sipped the drink silently, his eyes back on Sana. There was something he wanted to say. You had something you wanted to ask him too. But you decided to wait him out, let him come to you first because you surmised both of you wanted to discuss the same thing.

And so for a moment, on Christmas day, you sat in silence with your son, on the steps to your childhood backyard, sipping warm (and yours, cold) chocolate.

When he was done halfway with his hot chocolate, he placed the cup back down. You followed him. His hands were fidgeting with the figurine again, spinning it round and round, only stopping from time to time to run his index finger over the trident.

“Grandpa was right, you know,” you’ve never heard your son’s voice so small. Wavering, as if he were confused, nervous even. “Why haven’t you asked Sana to marry you?”

He paused to bite his lip while his eyes flitted to the figurine, thumb caressing the figurine’s armour.

“Is it because of me?” he asked. The utterance is almost like an exhale, light but onerous.

It would be so easy to provide empty consolation, that no, it wasn’t anything to do with him. But he knows you too well for that to pass, he’d see right through your attempt. Your son is already quite wise beyond his years, especially at the most inopportune times for you, and was only getting older. For as long as you can remember, it's only ever been the two of you.

Your dates, however rare, come and go. His babysitters, much to his distaste in the beginning, come and go. Having a partner at the start seemed so important, if not to share the burden of caring for a child, then to at least have another figure for your son to look up to. And when you questioned that sort of thinking, you’d figured that all that really mattered was that you were there for your son. With little time as you did have with him in your day, you fought to make time for him. You hadn’t even entertained the idea, that perhaps, you’d date just for yourself. When it came to your son or some romantic dalliance that would never amount to anything real, the choice was easy.

Because at the end of the day, it's only ever been the two of you.

But all of that changed when Sana arrived at your doorstep.

You doubted that neither of you, all three of you even, expected this outcome.

So you understood where your son was coming from, asking this question.

And you decided to be honest with your son, as you always have.

“Yes, in a way.”

Finally, your son turned his full attention to you. His hands were still holding the figurine, but they weren’t fidgeting anymore.

You also turned to face him.

Round eyes had turned sharp, searching for something. Yet his face was a little less expressive, more difficult to read. There were lines of worry decorating his forehead, he seemed older. He’s always by your side, it’s so easy to miss. But this close, on this night, it was obvious. He had grown up.

“Before I asked her, I wanted to ask you,” you confessed. The velvet box that was previously hidden underneath your old clothes in the third drawer of your cupboard was now heavy in your pocket. Your son tilted his head in question. “For as long as I can remember, it has been just you and me.”

You sighed. These words were harder to get out than you’d expected.

“I know you like Sana, and I know she already stays with us, and I know you know how much I love her,” the corner of your son’s lips twitched up a bit. “But there’s a difference between being together and being married. I think it’s a big step. And I don’t want to take that step with your blessing.”

It only took your son a fraction of a second to react. He nodded, eager to say yes.

“Of course, I want this for you,” he said, grinning. “She makes you happy. You make her happy too. And that makes me happy!”

And he was back.

He was giggling to himself as he poked your side with a finger. You rolled your eyes as you tried to brave the tickling sensation.

“But seriously, I want this,” he nodded before turning his attention back to his cup of hot chocolate. He was going to take a sip, but stopped and looked at you. “And… and thanks for asking me.”

“Of course,” was all you could say as both of you went to take a sip from your mugs.

“Ugh!” your son let out an ugly bleh! and frowned. Your parents and Sana turned to look over at you. “This is so cold! Is yours too?”

Your mother chuckled and nodded. From across the yard, she asked. “Shall we go heat them up?”

“Yes, please!” your son stood up and pocketed his figurine. He extended a hand for your cup as well. When you gave it up, he whispered conspiraterly before your mother could whisk him away. “Good luck! You got this!”

And then with a giggle, he’d skipped off into the house.

Your mother stopped at the steps just as you got up and dusted yourself up.

“What were you two whispering about?” she asked with an uptick of her brow as if she hadn’t had her guesses. You shrugged.

“What were you laughing about?” you asked. Your mother glanced back at your father and Sana, then back to you. She shrugged.

“Okay, be like that then,” you said and your mother only chuckled.

Then, she turned back again and called out to your father. “Did you take your tablets?”

“Shit, no!” your father excused himself and rushed over.

“Language!” your mother said as your father zoomed past, though he was more hobbling. Then your mother looked back at you. “She’ll say yes.”

And with that, she followed your father in and closed the balcony door to shut away the cold air.

You turned to Sana. She was already looking at you.

Without a mug, she had nothing to fidget with, so she had her hands steepled in front of her stomach. Her eyes were wide, expectant, as you made your way over.

“Hey,” you said, both your hands finding their place in your pockets. Of course, it was only a front to find the box they were hiding.

“Hi,” she said, the corner of her lips twitching up.

There was nothing left to do. Nothing more you were so sure of.

So instead of stuffing up the moment with unprepared words and emotion, you pulled out the box.

Sana didn’t gasp or squeal or tear up. She just raised her steepled hands to her lips, her cheeks pushed up so high, elated crinkles forming beside her eyes.

You weren't a grand person either. No big dinner, no big celebration, no build-up. You’d considered it, you really had, merely for the sake of Sana. But everything else just felt so unlike you, well, unlike the pair of you. Your start had been so simple, so unassuming, only because there was already so much between you. And everything that had followed, with her, and her with your son, had been the same. Everything just made sense.

But you did think, perhaps, you should get down on one knee.

So you started lowering yourself to the ground as you opened the box. But before you could complete the pose, Sana grabbed you by your collar and pulled you into a crushing kiss.

You surmised that was a yes and smiled into the kiss.

“Come on, come on,” your son was ecstatic, practically shooting off from his seat on the couch. Sana only smiled to herself as she set up the laptop on the coffee table, making sure the camera showed everyone and that she looked all right. “We’re in!”

Handing Sana the mugs in your hands, you seated yourself down and lifted your son onto your lap. Just as you were taking back your mug, a shrill voice shrieked. “Sana!”

Your son giggled while your eyes widened. Because Sana returned the greeting with the same energy. “Nayeon!”

You’ve heard of that one before, Nayeon, and seen photos of her too. Well, you couldn’t remember exactly, Sana had quite the group of friends but when Nayeon’s face appeared along with another person, you just smiled and waved awkwardly.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Nayeon said politely to you just as another screen popped up. You knew them, the newlyweds!

You parroted her greeting as more screens popped up with familiar faces, but none close. You’ve only heard stories or seen photos. The laptop erupted with voices, none of which you recognized, it was quite overwhelming. Though, Sana had no trouble at all catching the flow of the conversation and laughing along. Your son seemed to follow her, although silently. Someone with the name of Choi Tzuyu housed two people on their screen, they both waved at your son, who responded eagerly.

“I think everyone is here!” one of the women said, her profile name read Jihyo. She was clearly wearing a suit, though her tie had been undone. “Yup, headcount done, everyone is here. How are we moving forward with this?”

“Well, that depends on Sana, really,” a woman from Nayeon’s screen said, she’d just joined the pair that was already there. She was wearing a smug smile, and in response, Sana rolled her eyes.

Both you and your son turned to Sana, expectant.

Grinning at the ground, feigning bashfulness, Sana held up her left hand. And there it was, glinting in the light, your engagement ring.

The audio lagged from how much volume erupted. Someone wolf-whistled, while the others laughed and clapped. You knew people were congratulating you, but you were too busy fending off Sana burying her forehead into your shoulder. Only your son seemed to delight in the revelry.

And then, to your horror, someone yelled. “Show us your ring too!”

Before you could even lift your hand, your son had taken your left hand and held it above his head, showcasing the matching ring!

Someone shrieked again, although this time around the celebration was a bit more subdued.

“Damn, I thought we were all gonna scream again but okay,” the one with the profile name Hirai Momo said, while the person next to them swatted their arm. “What? It’s—”

“Please ignore Momo, congrats on your engagement,” Jihyo said, leaning forward, trying to look right at you. “I know Sana has been excited about this for quite a while.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, as Sana pulled away from you, a blush coating her cheeks.

“We knew this was coming,” the profile Dahyun said, “but I think this is the first child in our little group—hello!”

Your son perked up as all attention was on him. “Hello!”

He was readying himself to be asked questions, to share his interest in cooking with a whole new group of people, though the conversation switched again.

“He’s not the first child, we have children too,” Momo whined. “Look, Boo and Dobby are here.”

And then she continued to make the most obnoxious noise to call over her dogs.

“You did not just compare an adorable kid to your feral dogs,” said the person next to Momo, even though they reached out to a dog themself and picked one up. “I’m sorry for this one, kid.”

Your son didn’t seem to mind, instead, he was absolutely taken with the two dogs in the hands of the couple.

“Then, I guess I have children too,” someone from the profile Choi Tzuyu said and called over another dog too.

“Oh, Tzuyu, you’re back home?” someone asked and once again, the conversation changed.

Smiling at the sight, you were content with just seeing Sana interact with her friends. She’d been pretty adamant about staying with you for this Christmas, and she’d mentioned how horrid the one before had been. It was the reason this group had decided to call this time around.

Then out of the blue, Jihyo asked. “So when is the wedding?”

“Why are you asking? So you can bring that plus-one of yours from last time?”

The call erupted again.

“Right, right, how long are you just going to be attending weddings? When are you going—”

“Jeongyeon, I’m going to stop you right there, you’re giving me traumatic flashbacks to my mom,” Jihyo said, holding up her hands. “And, that plus-one was a one-time thing, I’ll probably never see them again.”

“They’ll probably be there for Sana’s wedding, let's be honest,” even the slightest mention of your wedding had you sweating. Sana seemed to notice.

Muting yourself, Sana turned to you. “They’re going to go at this for a while, thanks for agreeing to meet them… they’re basically family to me.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” you said, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. You ignored the one who whistled again. You were muted, not off-camera. You tried not to display your embarrassment. “I’ll get this one ready for bed then.”

Your son was pouting, but Sana just nodded. “I’ll finish up this call, and we can finish up your favourite chapter.”

At that, your son’s smile returned.

“Come on,” you said, picking him up and giving him a boost to land across the couch. You took the empty mug from Sana’s hand and left as she re-entered the conversation as if her little pause never occurred.

“Mina! Ask Mina, she’s single too—!”

“But we’re here to talk about you, Jihyo—!”

“What do you mean? You just got engaged!”

Their voices faded with every step you took away from Sana, your son in tow.

Maybe it was the end of the year, maybe it was the communal holiday spirit, but every Christmas, you found yourself reminiscing about past memories. Watching your son take his first steps, to watching him become confident in his own skin, you were glad he was surrounded by people who loved him as much as you did. And now, that permanently included Sana. These holidays have changed so many things, all of which you were so deeply grateful for.

Surged with a wave of emotion upon reaching the threshold of your childhood bedroom, and unable to suppress your elation, you grabbed your son by the hips and lifted him into the air. You were sure the sound of his surprised giggles would stay imprinted in your mind for many more Christmases to come.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: first and foremost, i am so very sorry dear anon for getting this to you almost two fucking years later ;-; and second, happy percy jackson day !!

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

#mala's collection #sanccharine #sana x reader #twice x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #sana fluff #single parent au #christmas au #blueberry muffins

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