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leeofthevoid · 2 months

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Cold-blooded Beings - Part 3

Farleigh Start x Reader

a/n: Hello guys! I promise this chapter was hard to write because I might be advancing to Saltburn at the next one. A little less confident this time around but would love to hear your thoughts! Please always remember that Y/N is rich so her dialogue can be very tone-deaf. Keep safe everyone!

Warnings: Sex, Nudity, Alcohol and Alcoholism, Language, Applied Stalking, Death, and Drugs

Word Count: 2354

|| Part One, Part Two

Pity and Power

“I just don’t get it you know? I’ve always tried my best to please Felix and I even studied harder in case he would ask me something.” Annabel scowled while eating a handful of loaded chips from your plate. At this point you figured no one knows what personal space is at all and what is yours is theirs. “Look, Annie, you shouldn’t try so hard for a boy. He barely does anything for you and he’s…Felix. You know?”

Clearly Annabel didn’t know when she groaned in frustration and ate more of your food. “So easy for you to say, you and Oliver have him wrapped in your fingers.” You gave her a confused look and scooped up some of the food you were supposed to eat alone. “Look bitch, he makes time for you and Oliver, but me? “Oh fuck you Annie I’m too busy for you.” But then he turns around and it’s “Oh Ollie, you need me? Okay hold on I’ll make time.”” This conversation is getting too heated and annoying for no reason that you just had to take out a pack of cigarettes to clear your head. Annabel doesn’t know shit about Felix or Oliver.

You turn to look at Annabel with a genuine expression and gave her a comforting smile, “You know Annie, you’re a hot girl. Felix is just a stupid boy in a sea of stupid boys. You deserve way more than that. Oliver is just…A new friend that he wants to impress?” Annabel laughed at you and held her stomach with how much she was bursting out. “Oh god, You? Babes you’re also part of the Oliver fan club. Always making Oliver’s life be ten times better than what a scholar snot should have.” You pressed the butt of your cigarette on the concrete thinking hard on Annabel’s accusation. “He just needs help sometimes Annie, stop being a bitch…” Annabel scoffed and rolled her eyes, “He’s poor babes, not handicapped. Quit being a savior.” You sighed and leaned against the pillar behind you.

Your phone buzzed in your pockets breaking the silence between you two. You checked and it was Farleigh, “Hello?”

“Hey pretty lady, can I steal you so I can hangout with my favorite people?” You chuckle, earning a confused look from Annabel that you later dismissed. “Depends. What am I needed for?” He chuckled, a little too deep and too hot for your liking. “An eye-candy would certainly take away from the boredom.” You breathed out and laughed softly. “Alright then. Where is my presence needed?”

“Roof top. Be a doll and drag Felix along.” He said goodbye with some kissy noises then ended the call without another beat. Annabel waved her hand for you to go without a word and you simply gave her a kiss on a cheek, thankful that she didn’t ask any questions.

Dragging Felix out to the confines of the chilly night was the one of the most awkward experiences you’ve had. You were waiting outside his dorm when you could hear the lewd sounds and the bed squeaking from out the hallway. Truly a horrific way to spend your Friday night, especially after listening to Annabel talk about her problems with him. “Umm…Fee are you in there?” You heard colorful lines of curse words and a lot of stumbling around. After a few minutes of waiting outside hearing scuttling, Felix finally opened the door.

Two girls dashed out of the room holding on to their dresses for dear life while Felix leaned against the door, half naked, still sweaty and flushed. “Any reason why I’ve been interrupted?” You look unimpressed, crossing your arm over your chest. “Get dressed. Farleigh told me to fetch you.” He rolled his eyes but went back into his room to grab a shirt, took a few seconds before he was walking out of his dorm with no snide remarks, waiting for you to lead the way.

The rooftop was chilly, and weirdly when you arrived you only saw Farleigh sitting by himself with a ton of bottles next to him. “Finally, you two took too long. What happened? Did Felix fall into a hole? Spoil me, Love.” You can’t help but laugh while you sat down on a spot beside Farleigh, Felix following suit while grumbling under his breath. “Our dear Felix fell in two holes.” You said in a scandaled manner. “Would it be too mean to assume one of those holes was Oliver?” You guffawed and looked back at Felix clearly unamused as he uncapped one of the wine bottles. “Farleigh. I already told you how I feel when we talk about Ollie. He’s a nice kid so…Tone it down, Mate.” Farleigh sighed loudly and draped his arm over your shoulder, mouthing boring while looking at Felix.

“Oh yeah, would I be boring if I asked dad to cancel your Veyron order now, Farleigh.” Felix snagged you away from Farleigh and used you as a headrest. “I wonder what Elspeth would think if she found out you kissed an ugly bitch at the bar, Felix.” Farleigh stuck his tongue out at the boy who was using your lap as his pillow. Chuckling at their childish banter while you played with his hair, chugging down more alcohol.

“Hey Fee, Oliver has been asking about you…I don’t know what to tell him. Kind of weird hanging out with him when he just looks for you.” You mentioned passively.

“You still hang out with him?” Felix asked.

“Well…Yeah. Why?” Felix and Farleigh both look at each other which was both endearing but annoying thing you’ve witnessed. “What. Come on guys what did I miss?” Farleigh just shook his head and looked back at you. “Nothing. Let’s just enjoy our time together, no?” You let it pass and stole Felix’s wine bottle. You three ended up enjoying the company, dare you say that it was a needed moment of solace. Talking about your life in Switzerland and their life in Saltburn the years after you.

You even talked about Venetia and what goes in her life without the three of you. It was nice knowing how she was, knowing she was a little bit more isolated from the group due to her two-year age gap from the rest of you. In a way you empathized with the pressure and the burden of being the oldest daughter. You even dwelled into your sex lives because of Farleigh’s incessant teasing over Felix’s failed threesome. My, these boys haven’t been the most pure, but then again so were you.

You forgot how you got to your dorm room when you woke up the morning after, just glad that you were able to sleep enough to be a sane person for the rest of the day. Felix and Farleigh both sent you some messages and some photos that you don’t remember taking from last night. You lay down with a huge smile on your face, content with your life before the hellish exams start to eat at you.

A few weeks go by when you were out in the field talking to your friends, actually, complaining to them about how stupid the term was and what possessed your professors to fuck with all of you. You were immersed in the conversation when random goosebumps engulfed you out of nowhere. You realized Oliver’s piercing gaze directed at you.

You excuse yourself from your friends and walked up to Oliver from across the courtyard, alone and awkward. “Hey Ollie! How was the exam week for you?” Oliver awkwardly nodded his head, looking down to his shoes. It was a little weird that he changed so fast just because you were near him…Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing type of weird. “Um…How was it?” He finally looked up at you with those lost eyes, pursing his lips. “It was alright. I studied pretty well. What about you guys?”

“I mean…We all managed in a way.” There was an awkward silence in the air and you disliked it so much. “Walk with me?” Oliver nodded the same way and followed you down the path of the courtyard, you were careful to make your steps smaller than usual so he could keep up. “How’s Felix?” You looked back at Oliver, watching him play with the hem of his shirt while walking behind you.

“Felix? Pft well he’s okay I guess? Being a dick and a dumbass at the same time.” He looked so small. So fragile that it unnerved you. It was disturbing but you can’t let Felix and Farleigh’s words eat your own opinions. He was still your friend, you had to give him a chance too. “How have you been, Ollie? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reach out to you these last few weeks. Been very busy with other T.A. Stuff and it was draining.” He gave a small smile and walked a little faster to keep up with you, “It’s been alright. Carrying small baggage but it’s been good.”

“Oh? Baggage you say?”

“His face fell a little when you asked, “Yeah my mum she uh…She’s a bit of an alcoholic.”

You stop in your tracks to look at him. Truly look at the whole him. He looked meek and fragile and you had conflicted feelings over it. It isn’t real, a part of you say. “Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that, Ollie. No child deserves that kind of parent.”

“My…My father he’s in the hospital and I just…It’s so hard right now especially after the holidays. He tried to look okay but deep down I knew he was struggling. Keeping himself together for me while my mum was wasting away in alcohol.”

It felt weird making a sound, even to just breathe. It felt rude and perhaps disrespectful? Oliver is going through a lot and you were doubting him like the asshole your parents told you not to be. You saw tears run down his cheeks and instinctively reached out to offer your handkerchief.

He took it, quickly wiping his tears away.

You opened your mouth to say some comforting words when some of Farleigh’s friends greet you and hogged around you. You weren't sure if they purposely pushed Oliver out of the group while they dragged you away to compliment you but it was likely. You watched as Oliver looked at you with disappointment as he walked out of your line of sight.

“You look amazing, darling what did you do to your hair?” His name was Mercutio, from what you remembered. He slowly yanked off the ponytail you had and let your hair spill to your lower back. It caught you off-guard but you were careful not to show. “Silky and smooth like feathers.” He said as he ran his fingers through it. You smiled at them while trying to register who they were, there was Mercutio who was descended from an Italian Monarch. Elise, daughter of a powerful family from East Asia. Then there was Leon. He was new money rich and Farleigh made sure you remembered that.

They always said New money burns faster than the jewels that lasted centuries.

They took you to a restaurant to eat dinner together. It wasn’t unusual for people to pull you out to eat with them, people have been doing it way more now that the Catton boys were known to be close to you at a chance to impress you. You didn’t mind the dinner or how they made you pay in the end too. You actually admired how thick-faced they were. It was just another inconvenience that you wanted to get out of the way.

You didn’t tell Farleigh about the encounter but you guessed that they did when he decided to sit you down after a party with Felix, who called for a meeting between his inner circle because of what Oliver told him. The same story about how his father was very sick, dying almost, and how his mother was dealing with it. Felix even told you about how he invited Oliver to Saltburn for the summer to cheer him up.

It started off as bouts of bad mouthing towards Oliver from Farleigh to making you spill what happened between his friends. “Why did you let them take advantage of you like that?” You looked up at him while you cradled your bottle of Champagne. You were at the back alley of the bar, trying to sober up and get away from the head-throbbing music they put on. “It’s nothing Farleigh, they were just being nice.”

“Nice my ass. Those snakes are pathetic liars who can’t fuck off. Did they really think that being all buddy-buddy with you would make them earn a spot to go to Saltburn?” He took a drag of his joint and sat next to you. “Now I hear Oliver gets the pity poor boy card and go to Saltburn because Felix was being a fucking saint.” You snicker and get a shove from Farleigh, hard enough to jolt you.

You rest your head on his shoulder while looking up at him. “What can I do to ease your mind off of it?” He leaned back and looked down at you with a smirk, “I don’t know baby, what can you do?”

You smiled up at him as your faces move inches closer from each other. No wasted moments later, when you felt the warmth of his lips on yours. How soft it felt just like when you made out in the club a few months back. It was too delicate for a guy with a sharp tongue like his. He sneakily snaked his arms around your waist and at the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. His tongue slowly swiped at your lower lip when suddenly…

“Love! Where are you!” India slurred as she walked out of the club. You pulled yourself away from Farleigh and giggled, giving him a kiss on the cheek to tend to your friend. He exhaled loudly while you walked away from him, leaving him alone again.

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#farleigh start #farleigh x reader #felix catton #oliver quick #saltburn #saltburn fics #farleigh catton #farleigh x you #oliver and felix #Annabel #India #Original Characters

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jackwolfes · 2 years

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i know it's hot but jesus put some clothes on!!! with jesper and whoever you please

this was delightful thank you friend 👯‍♂️ tags: sort of horny, trans wylan

“For the love of the Saints.”

Wylan glances up and catches Jesper’s eye. Or, he catches his eye as much as he can when Jesper’s eyes are drawn downwards, staring at the wide expanse of freckly, pale skin he’s been presented with. There’s so much skin. It’s flushed a little pink like Wylan’s sunburnt, and maybe he is, although they’ve been home all weekend because it’s too hot to go outside.

Jesper finds himself wondering about it. He’s lost, for just a moment, about what it was he came into their stuffy shared kitchen to do. All he can think about is Wylan, and Wylan, half-naked, and skin.

“What?” Wylan asks. Jesper flicks his eyes up to look at Wylan’s face. He glances up and down Jesper’s body like it holds the answers. “Why are you staring?”

“Because you’re half naked,” Jesper says, then – perhaps a little desperately, perhaps a little brokenly – he adds, “Put some fucking clothes on, kid.”

He means it to land lightly, like a joke. It doesn’t.

Wylan scowls at him. “I do have clothes on.” He hooks his thumb in the waistband of his soft green shorts. Jesper watches him snap the fabric against his skin, and stares too long at the place it smacks against his jutting hip bones.

Jesper is warm.

Everything about him is warm. Everything about the world around him is warm. It clings and lingers, which isn’t surprising given that they live in a top floor apartment where heat rises and sticks, cloying, in their tiny, cramped kitchen. Jesper knows his cheeks would feel warm if Wylan touched him – and now he’s thinking about Wylan touching him – and knows without a doubt that it isn’t just the sticky weather. He is sticky, and sweaty, and overwhelmed. Maybe it’s the sight of Wylan’s fingers still tucked beneath the tight fabric of his too-little shorts, up against the curve of his hip bones like– like–

“Did you come in here just to stand in the doorway?” Wylan asks, irritable and annoyed.

“Ice cream,” Jesper offers, only just barely able to remember the thought that pulled him out of bed.

“Scoop some for me, too?”

Nothing in the world could make him say no.

So he goes to the freezer and tugs out the tub – strawberry ice cream because that’s Wylan’s favourite and Jesper never has the heart to say no when he smiles and asks for it all sweet like he did. Jesper prefers caramels, rich chocolates, mint choc-chip. Not strawberry. Nothing that sweet. He’d still bought it, because that’s what Wylan wanted. He would have done anything Wylan wanted; anything at all. He still will.

Then he turns and sees Wylan leaning back against the counter across the room, hands perched on the edge of it and soundlessly tapping, tapping, tapping. His legs are crossed, hooked at the ankle, careless and taunting with how easy he stands.

At least, Jesper stupidly thinks, he doesn’t have his hands in his shorts anymore.

Jesper looks away.

When he blinks the sight that greets him behind his shut eyelids is Wylan. Wylan’s bare chest. The soft dip of his stomach and the curving cut of his waist. The neat little scars arcing beneath his nipples that are on show now and every day of this saintforsaken heatwave because Wylan is happy being on show. And Jesper doesn’t mind, Jesper is happy for him, Jesper is truly glad that Wylan can be his whole authentic self now even if his whole authentic self is gorgeous enough to give him a crisis while he tries to portion out ice cream into their chipped ceramic bowls. One has a cat on it. The other is painted with daisies.

It’s hard to breathe.

The fan runs constantly on the counter beside them. When it hits Jesper it ruffles the loose fabric of his tank top. Then it turns again, and leaves him sweating worse than before.

He stands and shovels out scoops of strawberry ice cream for them both, thinking far more about all the freckles dotted along Wylan’s ribs than the sickly sweet way the ice cream will taste on his tongue. There are more freckles now because Wylan has been out in the sun all summer, before the heatwave pushed him indoors. They crawl up his throat – and now Jesper’s thinking about the curve that his throat makes, the curve that Jesper wants to tuck his face into and maybe lick his tongue along, even if he’d end up suffocating in heat like this.

He can’t breathe.

It’s a heady thought. He wonders, absently, if the heat in his veins is just the heat, or if he’s going to need to readjust to make sure his own loose shorts stay loose. Maybe it’s wrong to be getting turned on at the thought of his best friend – his roommate – his Wylan – just standing around their kitchen, sweating, looking like that. Shirtless. Gorgeous. Way, way too kissable.

Jesper glances back in time to see Wylan rub his hand over the back of his bare neck, to the place his red hair curls. He’d whined about cutting it, but it’s still too long. In all likelihood, he could tie it up into a tiny little ponytail. It leaves Jesper wanting to run his fingers through it. Maybe hook around the back of his head. Maybe tug.

“What’s wrong with you?” Wylan asks.

“I’m fucking melting,” Jesper replies, scared in short seconds that he’s been caught. His pathetic fucking crush. Wylan just snorts. It makes irritation spark in Jesper’s chest – but he doesn’t think irritation is the right word. He scowls anyway. “Go put on some fucking clothes, kid.”

“I’m in my own home,” comes Wylan’s equally irritated reply. “Go fuck yourself.”

Jesper hears the hidden hurt beneath his words, because by now he knows Wylan well enough to see it. Not at first glance, but Wylan never lets anyone see anything immediately. He’s a crafty son of a bitch.

He hides plenty – but not the span of his back or the freckles covering it, not the little tulip he has tattooed on his ribs, not the stretch marks on his hips or the sight of his collarbone – and Jesper has to work to see it. He sees it now – along with the aching spread of his body that Jesper wants to touch, maybe needs to touch, can’t touch when it’s this damn sweltering – because the note of anxiety on the corners of Wylan’s words betrays him.

It’s a tiny part of him that clearly doesn’t believe Jesper really wants to see him like this at all. That his body makes Jesper uncomfortable. It’s the part of him still laced up with a little bit of shame for no good reason, that curves his shoulders in a slouch a bit more reclusive than his usual habit, although he tends to slouch all the time anyway. He slouches more now, like he can put himself away without really caving and getting a t-shirt.

The fan blows hot air against Jesper’s face. It reminds him of the sticky pool of sweat at the base of his own throat, on his clavicle. Behind his knees. On his navel. He needs a cold shower, for more reasons than one.

Everything is silent, save for the steady, endless drone of the fan.

“I’m being an asshole,” Jesper says, because it’s true. Wylan says nothing. “Sorry. It’s too hot.”

Jesper watches Wylan. Wylan watches him back. He stares, still quiet. The fan drones on.

Moving carefully, Wylan shifts his shoulders back enough to show the long lines of his chest to the rest of the world. Jesper wants – and wants, and wants – to step up to him and touch, maybe even kiss them. He feels guilty. He thinks he’d do anything – anything – to make his amends.

“Take off your shirt and stop complaining, then,” Wylan mutters.

In weather like this, it feels like a challenge.

Jesper’s heart thuds a little dangerously, but it’s all a little dangerous. Over-exertion, heat exhaustion, whatever, whatever. A kick in his pulse that’ll kill him, he thinks, already pushed too far with the way the air around them cloys sticky and heavy with humidity and need.

He leaves Wylan’s ice cream on the counter. Then he takes his cat-patterned bowl and – weakly, wordlessly – he goes back to his bedroom alone.

#trans crows #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #trans wylan #six of crows #soc fic #fics #wesper #wesper fic #soc #doorsclosingslowly #asks

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lacystar · 3 years

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When Tommy died, it was void. It was the flaring, heated hurt all over his body and nothingness. Unable to see, unable to feel anything but pain. Screaming and getting nothing back; not even an echo. Feeling Wilbur and the cards in his hand, and the feeling of the other moving around him, and hearing him painfully close, but being unable to see him. Alone yet trapped.

When Wilbur died, he was shoved rudely off a metro and into a station. He paced it up and down for years, yet the stairs to the outside were firmly blocked off. Trains would pass, but none stopped. Only when Schlatt visited, which wasn't often, and only that time when Tommy came. And only when it came to take him back, of course. But it was close to agony to be passed by so many times. Alone. The world moving without him. His world moving without him.

Schlatt... has no idea what's going on. He's in the gym, but he's corporeal enough for Quackity to visit him. Sometimes he goes to see Wilbur, Sometimes he catches glimpses of the outside. He really, truly has no fucking idea what's up with him and why Wilbur is stuck in a whole other realm while's stuck all Ghostbusters'-future-victim. He knows it hurts though; heart palpitations, killer headaches... his voice has gone so rough on some days he sounds like a scratching record. His lungs are full of lead, and if he doesn't want Quackity to bring him back for the chance to taste power again, he at the very least wants it so he can stop feeling the burn in his throat.

When Ranboo dies...

When Ranboo dies he's dunked in water that's freezing, yet still burns his skin to the point of peeling in a terrible icy-hot hell. The ocean stretches to never-ending horizons without land in sight, and below him the ocean stretches to void, and all he sees is a thousand eyes staring up at him, almost unblinking. Expecting. Their stares burn almost more than the water, and his fear to keep his head above the waves to avoid seeing them is more compelling than the yell of his limbs to quit swimming, accept the burn, and sink. But after enough years... where is he? Why is he swimming? Why does he bother? Who is he, anyways?

When Tubbo dies, he wakes up in a yellow concrete box. It's not quite pitch black, but the walls give him no chance to move as his arms are pressed close to his sides. There isn't room enough to sit or do much more than turn around in place, and he can hear nothing but his own frantic, shallowed breaths as he gulps in air he feels as if he's constantly losing. He spends a few years wondering if this is his coffin and they didn't realize he was still alive when they buried him.

When Sam dies, he wakes up in an obsidian prison cell he's walked past one too many times. Theres a lectern, a clock, a pot of water, and occasionally potatoes drop down for him to eat. He stares at the wall of lava, praying for a visitor, and almost dares to empathize with the man he imprisoned when none arrive. He wonders for years if he regrets building the prison, and can never come up with an answer that doesn't make him feel ashamed of himself.

When Bad dies, he wakes up with his limbs wrapped in red vines, restraining him in a way he used to find comforting but now sees only as the torture it is as thorns dig into his skin. His vision is tinted blood red. Occasionally, a flash of blue teases his vision, but when he turns to call its name, it vanishes. He takes up swearing again; there's nobody there to hear, anyways.

When Eret dies, they wake up in their castle and left to wander the halls. Wander, but barely more than a few minutes at a time; the crown on their head weighs more than the world on Atlas' shoulders, so heavy that they often must return to their throne just to get the chance to rest their head back and let the weight off their shoulders. They wonder if the sacrifice was worth the weight.

When Niki dies, she wakes up in a crowd of people whose faces she can't quite make out. A sea of people, most taller than her, that stretches out for miles. Most smile and laugh, and she's relieved she's not alone. But when she taps on one of them and politely asks for directions to where she can get help, they stare through her. She isn't a ghost; they bump into her all the time as they shove her to walk past, but they don't see her. They don't hear. She screams and not a single head turns. When she collapses against an unlucky stranger to sob, they flick her off like she's a fly. There's not even an excuse she can tell herself to say she's alone.

When Quackity dies he finds himself falling. There is no ground in sight, only sky and clouds as his wings refuse to work and he plummets constantly into nothing. He reflects on the casino and L'manberg and El Rapids and wanting more. His stomach gets used to the lurching as the cold wind burns his cheeks. Maybe his ambition was a little pointless. Maybe he flew too close to the sun.

When Karl dies he awakes to colors that hurt his eyes and a million doorways, each in different shapes and angles. He spends years pacing and stepping through doors he hopes might lead home, that ultimately lead to only more doors. Some are too high up to reach and he stares at them and cries at the fact that he'll never know what's behind them (despite knowing its probably nothing). He doesn't remember everything; just enough to know that anywhere is better than being lost here.

When Phil dies it's a long time coming. Cursed with only one life, the universe goes easy on him. There's a field of rich grass and flowers and trees and skies that beg to be flown through. If only his wings worked. If only he could show Wilbur.

When Puffy dies she finds herself in an endless graveyard. She paces through it for seemingly decades, reading the engravings of her closest friends on each one and spending no less than year knelt at each in mourning, apologizing for her shortcomings. Maybe if she'd been a touch stronger, this wouldn't have happened. Worst of all is when the headstones are blank and she doesn't know who she's mourning at all, forever unsure of the poor soul she let down.

When Hannah dies she awakes to a world rotted away, the air polluted with smog and the seas full of plastic and sludge. Sometimes she sees a rosebush or sapling, tiny and thriving in the distance. Yet whenever she rushes over to coddle and nurture, it dies underneath her fingers. The ground wilts and cracks wherever she steps. She feels as if she's wilting with it.

When Sapnap dies, he wakes up in some sort of cage. A zoo. Figures come and stare at him and laugh as birds pick at his skin until he bleeds, wolves sink teeth into his calves to hit bone, and cows crush his ribs beneath powerful hooves. Each day a new round of animals come to have their way with him. And yeah, he thinks, that's probably fair.

When Dream dies, he's almost relieved to wake up in his SMP. Great, he can get back to business, he thinks. But the more he walks, the more he notices... how quiet it is. It doesn't take him long into his afterlife to realize the people have all disappeared. Vanished. Leaving him alone. No animals or Monsters even appear. Not a friend nor foe, not even a silverfish. The world is his to do anything with without repercussion, yet all he can do for years is sit at an old bench at a cliffside and play discs over and over until the melody burns into his head and makes him want to tear his hair out. All that over a stupid disc. He laughs until he cries.

When George dies... well, it might as well be like any other dream, he supposes.

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Prompt: Wei Wuxian has achieved time travel! He's gonna fix so many broken things. Unfortunately, WWX has miscalculated a teensy tiny variable and instead of arriving in his original 15yo body in Lotus Pier, he's crash landed in MXY's tiny 7~8yo body at Mo Manor. But no problem, he can fix this if he can just find his real body. (Meanwhile, Yunmeng Jiang's head disciple is acting the wrong kind of childish, aka, Mo Xuanyu is having the weirdest day of his young life.)

Switcheroo - ao3

Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.

Possibly it had to do with the fact that Mo Xuanyu still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d stolen the body – he’d just gone to sleep in the shed, same as always, and then he’d woken up in the softest bed he’d ever encountered in his life…no, softer than even his dreams! He’d thought it over and concluded that he must have died from cold out in the shed, turned into a fierce ghost out of resentment, grown powerful (somehow), then stolen some rich young master’s body when they weren’t paying close enough attention and, once he’d possessed the body, promptly lost all his memory of being a ghost.

It seemed like the only logical course of events.

He was very sorry about it, though. Wei Wuxian seemed like a nice, if very unusual person.

The first day, Mo Xuanyu had barely even noticed the body-switch, being quite so enamored of the soft bed he was in – he’d refused to get out of bed at all, declaring that he was going to lie in and sleep for a century or more, and the people who’d come to the door to get him didn’t beat him or anything over it, but rather just laughed or rolled their eyes and then left him to it. Luckily, at the time, he’d just assumed he was dead or something and proceeded to ignore everything in favor of napping.

He only acknowledged that he was alive later in the afternoon, when his stomach started growling – it seemed like a very unlikely thing for a dead man’s stomach to do.

Mo Xuanyu had by that point figured out that he wasn’t himself anymore, which was fine since he didn’t much like himself; he’d also figured out, through looking himself over, that he was old now. At least fifteen or sixteen, which was twice the age he last remembered himself being. That was fine, too, though: being older meant that he was stronger and faster and would be better able to handle it when people wanted to beat him or something. Most importantly, though, it meant he was old enough to enter the kitchen on his own!

Mo Xuanyu already knew that he wasn’t allowed to eat at the main table, being only the bastard son of the younger daughter, and the cook back at home was a fierce woman who didn’t allow anyone under the age of ten into her kitchen; as a result, he had to wait for his mother to bring him back some food, and it was always cold and not quite enough. Now, though, since he was older, he figured he might as well try to go to the kitchen and fill his belly that way.

Luckily, while his current body’s house was much bigger than the Mo house, all houses were generally built along the same lines, so it wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. Everyone there laughed when he showed up, even though he’d tried to be very quiet and sneak in and then screwed it up by tripping over his own feet – it seemed like everyone thought he was doing it on purpose to be funny – and then the cooks gave him a meal of his own that was hot and fresh and wonderful.

He'd wolfed it down.

“Honestly, Wei Wuxian, you eat like a hungry ghost, you’d think the Jiang clan starves you,” one of them scolded him, but with a smile, and from that Mo Xuanyu learned that the rich young master was called Wei Wuxian and that he lived with the Jiang clan. The different surnames confused him a little, but he didn’t dare ask any questions about it, so he just stuffed his mouth and pretended that was the reason he couldn’t answer.

No one questioned it.

No one questioned it when he went wandering all around instead of doing whatever chores or duties he’d been assigned, either. Someone had actually seen him hovering by a door and asked him to bring back a pheasant when he returned, so out of lack of better options he’d headed outside to try to go find one.

He had a pretty good time walking around the forest, then remembered what he’d been asked and chased the pheasants for a while, without success . Fortunately, he then got lucky and stumbled over an old snare that had three pheasants caught inside, so he’d picked up the whole box and carted it back home.

“Three,” one of the boys in purple-blue marveled as he saw Mo Xuanyu walking towards the kitchen. “You know, people say that the birds around the Lotus Pier have gotten too smart to be caught easily, but look at our da-shixiong; he makes it look easy!”

From this, Mo Xuanyu could figure out that Wei Wuxian was (apparently!) part of a cultivator clan, apparently located at a place called the Lotus Pier, and that he was the oldest or at least head disciple, to boot. He knew all about cultivator clans from his mother, since apparently his father had been a sect leader, and that meant he knew enough to call the other boy ‘shidi’ as he passed, making the other boy beam happily.

It also meant that when he chanced a guess and called the young woman in a pretty pink dress who waved at him ‘shijie’, she smiled and nodded, which meant to him that he’d done the right thing.

“I heard you slept even more of the morning away than usual,” she told him, but didn’t seem too upset about it. “I bet that means you’ll be skipping dinner and staying up all night, hmm?”

Mo Xuanyu had no intention of skipping dinner if it was anything like what the kitchens had given him earlier, actually, but while he was still trying to figure out a way to say that, she said, leaning in close to whisper, “It’s probably a good idea, anyway – Mother and Father are fighting again. Just go to the kitchens to grab something…I promise I’ll make it up to you with some soup tomorrow, pork ribs and lotus roots, your favorite. All right?”

“Shijie, you’re the best,” Mo Xuanyu said effusively, willing to die for her at once, and she laughed and tousled his hair.

“I am,” she said, looking happy. “And if my little A-Xian stays good and obedient, I may even feed him.”

She did, too, the next day when he finally tore himself out of the beautiful wonderful soft bed and went to go find her. She’d made him soup, just as he’d promised, and laughed and laughed for some reason: apparently, she interpreted him being quiet and not talking too much as his efforts to be ‘good and obedient’, which was apparently so out of the ordinary as to be a deliberate joke.

From this, Mo Xuanyu concluded that the young master he’d possessed, Wei Wuxian, was a jackass.

Well, perhaps that was a bit harsh. Arrogant and self-centered, talented and brave and probably brilliant, definitely charming and maybe even kind, but also spoiled and inclined to step on other people to get where he wanted to go, if Mo Xuanyu had to guess – why else would everyone constantly react as if him not being obnoxious was the world’s biggest stunt?

No one seemed to expect anything of him at all: he didn’t do any chores, and no one batted an eyelid; he didn’t go where he was told, and everyone just sighed…at one point the sect leader himself came and patted him on the head, scolding him in a joking tone that he hadn’t seen him leading any of the training the way he was supposed to – but when Mo Xuanyu quailed, he’d burst out laughing, telling ‘Wei Wuxian’ to stop pretending to be a scared little rabbit, that it was fine if he’d gotten distracted by some clever new invention or whatever, that someone else would handle it, that he should take as long as he needed.

Mo Xuanyu had pasted a great big smile on his face through force of effort and agreed cheerfully.

The sect leader had accepted it.

Probably a jackass, but clearly a beloved one, Mo Xuanyu thought to himself as he packed up clothing and a few small treasures that no one would miss, a little wistful. The scare of the whole encounter had put things in perspective – he wasn’t going to be able to keep up this sort of façade for long. In fact, he was shocked he’d managed it so long already; surely, no matter how many pranks this Wei Wuxian played, no matter how childishly he behaved, surely someone should’ve noticed that he was actually an eight-year-old masquerading as a sixteen-year-old?

Mo Xuanyu couldn’t decide whether it was sad that no one paid too much attention or something that this Wei Wuxian fellow had brought down on his own head by being so consistently annoying.

Either way, there was nothing for it – he was going to have to leave.

Now that part was really sad: he’d never in his life had such good food, or such a soft bed, or even so many people that just seemed plain old happy to see him as since he’d arrived in this place. But he wasn’t the one all those things were for; he was just a sad ghost possessing a person, and if he stayed, the cultivators would eventually figure out something was wrong and exorcise him.

Probably violently.

Mo Xuanyu probably deserved it, too, but despite that he wasn’t willing.

So he packed up what he could and headed out.

He got all the way to the gate before a new purple-clad disciple – about his age, if he had to guess, and holding a pack like he’d just come back from a trip, with a scowl on his face – called out for Wei Wuxian.

Mo Xuanyu waved a little, hoping that that would be enough.

For the first time, it wasn’t.

The boy’s face settled into an even deeper scowl.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Wei Wuxian! You’re acting all weird – hey! Where are you going?”

Mo Xuanyu was running away, obviously. He wasn’t about to get tied up and exorcised, no thank you.

He didn’t think he’d make it, but it was still worth trying.

Sure enough, the purple-clad boy who was probably called Jiang Cheng, based on what everyone was calling out as they ran by, got tired of running and jumped on his sword, and there was no way Mo Xuanyu would be able to outrun a sword, not even if he tried as fast as he –

Someone picked him up.

It wasn’t Jiang Cheng.

Mo Xuanyu turned his head and stared.

It must be some sort of yao, he thought. Humans were definitely not that pretty.

“Lan Wangji!” Jiang Cheng howled. “What are you even doing in the Lotus Pier?! Put my shixiong down!”

The rescuer, Lan Wangji, frowned a little at Mo Xuanyu.

Mo Xuanyu didn’t know exactly what expression he ought to be making in return, and was a bit too dazed to even dare to guess. He’d just noticed that they were flying – flying! on a sword! – and he was clutching onto this Lan Wangji’s shoulders for dear life.

“You are not Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. His voice sounded very definitive.

“Uh,” Mo Xuanyu said. “Sorry? Please don’t drop me.”

“I will not. What is your name?”

“Mo Xuanyu,” Mo Xuanyu admitted, and Lan Wangji’s eyes widened as if that meant something to him – except it couldn’t, of course, because Mo Xuanyu was sure he’d never met anyone even remotely like this Lan Wangji fellow in his life. “I don’t remember taking his body. I’m sorry. Can you not exorcise me? I don’t want to die.”

Lan Wangji was silent for a long moment.

He was still flying very fast, and Jiang Cheng was still following, shouting out curses and demands that he stop, not that Lan Wangji was listening.

“There will be no exorcism,” he finally said, and Mo Xuanyu exhaled in relief. “We will, however, fix this.”

“…we?”

“Wei Ying and myself.”

Mo Xuanyu nodded. That sounded more likely than anyone relying on his participation.

“Where are we going?” he asked. Jiang Cheng was falling further and further behind.

“Mo Village.”

Mo Xuanyu tensed up at once.

“You will not be left there,” Lan Wangji clarified, and – how did he know that Mo Xuanyu didn’t want to be left there? “But we must collect Wei Ying, who I suspect is currently in your body.”

“In my…I’m still alive?”

Lan Wangji was quiet again, and then said, “Yes. And you will remain so.”

That was reassuring, mostly.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and found that he mostly felt relieved. He’d be very happy to have his normal body back again, if possible, especially if he didn’t have to stay in Mo Village…“Wait, if I don’t have to stay there, where will I go? I don’t have anywhere else to go, unless my father comes back for me. He's a sect leader –”

“He will not, and even if he did, you should not go with him. Once Wei Ying returns to his body, you will be able to stay at the Lotus Pier. If you do not wish to stay there, I will bring you back to the Cloud Recesses – that is my home – instead.”

“Oh,” Mo Xuanyu said, feeling bewildered. That was an awfully nice offer, even if Lan Wangji was feeling guilty about Wei Wuxian stealing his body by accident – which seemed like what had happened here rather than Mo Xuanyu being the one who did the stealing. Maybe he should go with Lan Wangji instead, he seemed much more responsible than Wei Wuxian was, rushing over to rescue him and explain things instead of throwing him into a body and leaving him all alone in a strange place. But on the other hand… “Is the Cloud Recesses…I mean…no offense, but…does it have…”

“Yes?”

“Does it have soft beds, too? And – and hot food?”

Mo Xuanyu didn’t need much, not really. He looked eagerly at Lan Wangji, who had an odd expression on his face briefly before wiping it back to neutral and nodding in confirmation.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and curled up in Lan Wangji’s arms. “Then I’ll stay with you. You can take care of me.”

“I will,” Lan Wangji said, sounding strangely serious. “In return for the gift you last gave me – I will.”

#mdzs #mo xuanyu #jiang cheng #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #switcheroo

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majestyeverlasting · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Could you write for Bucky prompts 4 and 26??

♡ Hi, Anon!! I love this prompt pairing so much! Thank you for requesting this, and for waiting on me to get around to it! In this one, Bucky and the reader visit a park in Brooklyn that stirs up some nostalgic memories. But what he doesn't know is that, later that night, he'll learn that he's going to be a father. There's some pretty fall imagery and lots of sweet moments. I hope you like it! (Note: this isn’t canon regarding Bucky’s true age)

♡ Prompt 4: "Remember we used to come here when we were kids?"

♡ Prompt 26: “I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I? You’re really pregnant?”

All I Ever Wanted

There was a crispness to the evening air as the beginnings of fall settled within Brooklyn. The trees of Prospect Park, once green, were slowly transitioning into rich shades of orange and red. As you and Bucky walked along one of the pathways, leaves crunching beneath your shoes, there was an absence of car engines and horns—it was peaceful. All there was to be heard was chirping birds, the soft chatter of other park-goers, and the occasional whir of a cyclist’s wheels whenever one passed by.

Upon reaching a wooden bridge, the gentle sound of flowing water emerged as well. Beneath it, was a slender waterfall that fed into a small pond with dead leaves floating on the surface. Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist as the two of you admired it from over the railing. Somehow the whole day, including that moment itself, had managed to feel like a dream.

The two of you hadn’t been to Prospect Park in what felt like forever. Life had a way of sweeping you up in winds of responsibility that kept you from enjoying moments of stillness. But those winds had since drifted elsewhere, leaving the two of you with the freedom to simply be. Venturing out into nature and away from the noise had been Bucky’s suggestion earlier that morning. There was no place like the outdoors that was capable of soothing the soul.

“Look, doll,” he said eventually. Your eyes followed where his free hand pointed.

On one of the big rocks peeking out of the water below, a yellow butterfly had perched itself on a rock. “Yeah, I see it. It’s so pretty.” You smiled when he gave you a gentle squeeze.

“You know what butterflies symbolize?” You met his gaze, willing for him to continue. “Life and new beginnings,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a fraction of a second, you froze. You’d managed to keep yourself collected for the entirety of the day, but hearing those words quickened your heartbeat. Enough so that you became all the more reminded of what he didn’t know—not yet.

That morning, as he spoke to you through the bathroom door about going to Prospect Park, you’d been staring at a positive pregnancy test. You barely had enough breath to agree to the outing. And when he’d asked if you were okay, you told him you were fine, but left out the fact that your lives would be changing forever in the months to come.

The two lines on the stick explained weeks worth of your body trying to communicate to you. It explained that deep sense of knowing that refused to go away. To say that you wanted to merely tell Bucky would’ve been the largest understatement of your lifetime. With all the emotions that stirred within you, you wanted to scream, cry, and jump at the same time.

A voice within you encouraged you to make the moment you told Bucky really special and intimate. Especially considering every turn that his life had taken over the years. So you vowed to wait until the two of you arrived home from your evening at the park.

“Life and new beginnings,” you repeated. You were already aware that such was associated with butterflies, but hearing him say it in that moment carried a certain magnitude. “I love the sound of that.”

Later, after walking further, you found yourselves nestled on one of the benches overlooking the lake. The water sparkled in the warm light of the sun as it prepared to set. A couple men stood peppered along the bank fishing. Children giggled as they chased after each other. Paired with the fall trees and colors all around, it was nothing short of a beautiful scene.

You let your head rest on Bucky’s shoulder, and took his real hand in yours to play with his fingers. There was a time, years ago, when the two of you would play along that same lake—throughout the whole park, actually.

You were the first to speak after a while, “Remember we used to come here when we were kids?” You straightened up from his shoulder to look at him.

“Of course I do,” he said, a smile starting on his face. “Especially during the summer. We’d always try to find open fire hydrants to play in after we left. And if we were lucky, our mom’s would let us get ice cream or shaved ice,” he recounted, chuckling. “Those were the days.”

You shook your head. “I know. Now look at us.” About to have a child of our own, you thought.

“Yup. Time flies when you’re having fun,” he said, casting out a brief look around at the serenic evening. Then he focused back on you, his tone shifting, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...” you tried not to answer too fast. “Why?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes a bit and gave a shrug. “I don’t know, I can just tell that something’s on your mind—ever since this morning,” he noted. “But you have yet to tell me what that something is, pretty girl.”

It took everything not to tell him right then and there, as you sat under a blue and orange sky in the park you knew like the back of your hand.

You offered him half a smile. “I’m that easy to read?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Not necessarily. I’ve been reading you for a long time so it’s easy.” You allowed yourself to chuckle when he playfully quirked his brows. “So am I gonna have to work really hard to coax it out of you?”

You shook your head earnestly. “I promise I'll tell you when we get home… I have something to show you.”

On your way out of the park, there was a mama duck waddling under a tree with her ducklings trailing behind her.

It wasn’t until after you and Bucky made it back to your apartment, and had changed into something comfortable, that you told him you were ready. He sat on the edge of the bed as you went to retrieve the small gift box holding the pregnancy test. It was a miracle that you had had enough supplies left over from birthdays and holidays to be able to make it look as presentable as it did.

You extended it to him from a couple feet away. So much anticipation had built within you that you felt light, and as though you were buzzing.

Bucky accepted the box, and looked up at you. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes. “Why are you standing a mile away from me? C’mere.” You inched closer, and laughed when he pulled you to stand more so between his spread legs.

As he began to undo the white ribbon on the box, your lower lip was secured between your teeth. It seemed as though he was moving entirely too slow and fast at the same time.

As soon as he popped the lid off to reveal the pregnancy test sitting on top of little strips of crinkled, beige paper strips, your heartbeat sped up. Bucky’s attention lingered on the test. When he finally looked up, his gaze attested to the influx of thoughts that had been sparked into motion within his mind.

“I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I?” He briefly looked back down to stick again. Two lines. “You’re really pregnant?”

A smile broke across your face. With the news out, it felt as though you were uncaging a group of birds that had been longing for freedom for way too long. Before you could say anything else, Bucky set the box aside and stood to press his lips to yours. You stumbled back at the intentness in which he gripped your waist. It was a kiss that you felt every part of him through; his love, his passion, his warmth. And an intoxicating mix of joy and expectation.

He pulled away just enough to speak. “We’re gonna be parents?” His breath fanned over your lips. Then he leaned back in to kiss you once more, a soft peck. “You’re carrying our child?”

Bucky’s hands slipped under your shirt, and the feeling of palms against your skin was pleasant in the best way. One was cooler than the other, but they were both gentle and reverent.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I found out this morning.”

He scratched gently at your stomach, sending a shiver through you. “You managed to keep it to yourself the whole day. That’s what was on your mind?” He kissed you again.

“You have no idea how bad I wanted to tell you. No idea.” You brought your hands up to his cheeks, the budding stubble scratchy against your palms. “But I wanted to wait until we came back from Prospect.”

Bucky released a breath after a few beats of silence. “I don’t even know what to say,” he said, voice low. “This is so crazy—a good crazy.”

“I know. I’m happy and terrified at the same time,” you admitted. “I’ve never felt this way in my entire life, but it feels….”

“Good,” he finished.

A laugh escaped you. “Yeah.”

Seconds later, he was getting down onto his knees to be level with your stomach. It wasn’t until he lifted your shirt to press a kiss to your stomach that the reality of the moment set in. For the first time since learning about your pregnancy, tears slipped down your cheeks.

Bucky heard you sniffle, and stood back up to take your hands in his. “This is all I ever wanted, you know that, doll?” A few tears had come to the waterline of his eyes. “A beautiful wife, a family. This is all something I thought I’d never have.”

You sniffled again, nodding. “You deserve everything,” you murmured.

“I have my everything right in front of me.”

Without waiting another moment, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him tighter than you had in a while. Parents. The two of you were going to be parents.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment, if you'd like. For more fluffy Bucky Barnes fics, click here.

#Bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #avengers fluff #the avengers #marvel #marvel fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan #fatws

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

No Strings Attached

A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕

Bokuto Koutarou x female reader

TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)

Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy.

Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-

You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face.

Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.

You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”

And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.

So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.

Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.

You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-

If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek.

—

If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest.

But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.

It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach.

The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.

And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.

“D’ya like it?”

The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind��s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone.

Not that he’s ever that patient.

“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–

“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?”

It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in.

“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down.

Dinner, and everything else for that matter.

A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.”

And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine.

—

“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.

“He… asked me to meet him.”

Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”

“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.

One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat.

“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.

A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”

She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”

“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”

She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.

Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.

Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful.

It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.

Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.

But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.

Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)

—

There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.

First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.

You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.

The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-

But that didn’t make him your boyfriend.

You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt.

—

Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes.

Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week.

“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”

The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”

You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”

You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days.

“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.

You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”

The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”

This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”

“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”

Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”

“All mine, hm?”

You smile, “All yours, promise.”

He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”

As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later.

When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.

Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.

“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.

The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”

An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything.

“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.

Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone.

He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”

Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.

He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.

Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.

You don’t want them to know.

Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.

But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.

Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”

Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers.

—

For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.

You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.

Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out.

It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.

He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.

—

You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely.

A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.

In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you.

And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning.

“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.”

God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement.

He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do.

Not your sugar daddy.

But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”

He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.

Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”

And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually.

Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask.

Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch…

… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek.

Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”

Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.

—

The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence.

“Move in with me.”

You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.

But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.

The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.

He’s joking, right?

“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”

It feels right??

“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”

“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.”

Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs.

“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”

Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.

Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”

Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-

“I love you.”

—

39 missed calls. 72 unread messages.

Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open.

Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”

But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her.

“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.

He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.

There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?”

Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”

You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.

You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.

That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.

Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.

And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely…

How had you not seen this coming?

“No,” you admit.

The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”

And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true.

I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore.

You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.

—

A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account.

For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.

It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.

I need to see you. Please.

You transfer the money right back into his account.

—

Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job.

Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.

Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff.

It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.

You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.

On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one.

You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave.

One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile.

“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”

To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.

Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-

“Hey, baby.”

Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.

Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you.

“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?”

He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.”

He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’.

But that was then.

You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.

That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.

The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-

-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake.

Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.

It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.

Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.

Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper.

“Bokuto…”

As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.

Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere bokuto koutarou #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere bokuto koutarou x reader #tw manipulation #tw toxic behavior #tw kidnapping

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

Helpless (2)

the next chapter in the drider virgil fic!

warnings: spiders, slight dehumanizing language, assumptions/jumping to conclusions

Logan was certain that he’d tracked down his quarry.

Of course, he’d also been certain the last two times he’d found promising evidence around a swath of woods, but this time was different.

He had learned plenty while traversing through the varied lands of his kingdom, and while physical evidence was ideal, word of mouth was one of the most useful tools a researcher could use to find leads.

That was part of the reason why he’d been so careful to observe typical travelers for weeks before his departure, the reason he was wearing worn, cheap fabric and staying at the second-cheapest room at this town’s inn, despite having plenty of money still hidden on his person. He didn’t want a single rumor about a suspiciously rich noble traveling alone.

The last thing he needed was for his investigative journey to be interrupted by bandits, or worse, would-be do-gooders attempting to return the missing prince to his place in line for the throne.

Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the very thought, putting aside the last half of his travel rations and stopping at the edge of town to stare into the woods beyond. He checked his compass habitually, and he was pointed firmly westward, exactly towards the point of the woods that were occupied by a dangerous monster, according to the barkeep that Logan had plied for information last night at supper.

The whole town knew of it, even the younger residents, which was a point in favor of the creature really existing rather than just being another folk tale.

There was one other potential source on the creature, a town outcast going by the way others’ noses wrinkled at the mention of him, but Logan was more than ready to begin investigating for himself, and the odds that the outcast actually knew anything were low, anyhow.

Decided, he headed into the forest, prepared for the day-long trek that was sure to follow. If he was prone to less scientific notations, he might have jotted down that he had a good feeling about this particular town.

Exactly an hour and a half later, Logan had found himself almost entirely immobilized by layers and layers of gossamer threads strewn about the trees.

Needless to say, he was ecstatic.

Even the foolish manner in which he’d landed himself stuck in such an obvious trap couldn’t dampen his spirits, not when faced with undeniable proof that there was in fact a drider in these woods. He’d been too hasty in his attempt to collect some of the biological material, and by yanking too hard, had ended up pulled forwards into the thick of the intricate spider web.

His immobility was a bit concerning, but mostly frustrating, since he couldn’t reach for his journal to note down the surprising level of the webbing’s tensile strength. Still, proper scientists had to be prepared to hold onto their observations for as long as it took for them to be able to write them down.

Besides, he could hardly complain. His current predicament practically guaranteed that he would actually get to see the creature!

There was a person stuck in his webs, and Virgil was freaking out about it.

It had never happened before. Virgil very specifically made the webs closer to town thick and opaque so that any passerby would see them and avoid this exact situation.

Virgil peered around the cluster of bushes he had half-flattened himself behind. The stranger didn’t seem too panicked, at least, going by the way that the web barely swayed with his presence. He didn’t even seem to be breathing hard, which was… admittedly sort of strange.

Skies above, what if this was a trap? Virgil turned his head sharply to scan his surroundings, wary of human hunters suddenly popping out of the undergrowth.

Several moments of silence, and even with all his senses pushed to their farthest, he couldn’t detect anything. It seemed the only one trapped here was the human.

A pang of guilt curled unpleasantly in his first stomach. He grimaced, wishing desperately that Patton was here to mitigate the utter terror Virgil was surely about to inflict on this guy.

No point in drawing it out. He rose up to his full height, grateful that the human had gotten stuck facing the opposite direction, and quietly crept up behind him. All he needed to do was announce his presence and let the human know he wasn’t going to hurt them, but he was immediately distracted at the sight of just how tangled his webs had grown.

“How does one human manage to touch every single support thread at the same time?” he asked, voice incredulous.

The human stiffened, and he couldn’t help but tense in response, cursing his big mouth.

… Really though, he spent hours crafting these, and now this one would have to be completely reconstructed!

“Are you the monster spoken of in town?”

The measured voice snapped Virgil out of his thoughts as easy as a clap of thunder, and he shuffled a bit from side to side nervously. His many steps must have been louder than he’d thought, because the human immediately attempted to twist around and see him.

He failed, naturally, because Virgil’s threads weren’t exactly easy to wriggle free of, but Virgil’s nerves only grew. “I… why do you ask?”

There was a short silence, and then, “Considering my current situation, it’s only natural I would want to know, isn’t it?”

Virgil resisted the urge to wince at his own dumbassery. “Right. Well. Yeah,” he confirmed, already bracing for the fear that nearly every human bore when confronted with him. Even Patton had been afraid at first, though Virgil really thought him braver than any other human, to be so terrified of even normal spiders and befriend a Drider of all creatures.

“Oh, excellent,” the human said with clear excitement. “Would you mind coming around so that I can see you?”

Virgil blinked, befuddled. The last thing most humans wanted was for him to come closer. Maybe it was the natural fear of him being in their blind spot? The guy certainly didn’t sound very afraid, even with Virgil’s less-than-stellar first impression.

“Do you have a weapon?” he asked warily.

“I have a knife,” the stranger offered, “but I can’t exactly reach it at the moment.”

Virgil could see the glint of it, caught bladefirst at the very edge of a web as though it had been used on the threads themselves. He slowly circled around the clearing, watching the stranger closely for any sudden movements, until he stood before him, all eight legs and thorax visible.

“Fascinating,” he breathed, eyes blown wide as they skittered from point to point as though noticing every little detail. Virgil would have thought him afraid had it not been for the prideful little grin that sat on his face. “I thought maybe you were lying to me-- I hadn’t expected you to be so fluent in the common language, living in the woods and all-- but wow!”

Virgil felt his front legs rising up a little bit in an automatic defense against the unexpected reaction. He ran his tongue over his fangs nervously, trying to figure out whether or not he should be insulted about the language thing. And what exactly did this guy mean by ‘expected’?

The stranger’s hands twitched slightly, still stuck firmly in place, and irritation briefly flitted across his face as though he’d forgotten his position. He blinked, as though remembering something.

“Oh, right. Are you planning on trying to consume me, then?” he asked, the question as politely curious as an inquiry about the weather.

Virgil recoiled physically at the idea, skittering back a few strides and baring his fangs despite the difference in size and strength and trapped-ness between the two of them. “What? No!”

The stranger managed to drag his intrigued gaze away from Virgil’s fangs, his hands twitching again almost subconsciously. “In that case, would you mind helping me down? My leg has begun to go numb, and I really would like access to my journal.”

“I-- I mean, yeah, if you aren’t-- I can--,” Virgil stumbled over his words, drawing closer with his body lowered non-threateningly and waiting for the inevitable flinch or shiver of disgust.

It never came. The stranger continued to stare at him with no trace of terror in his eyes, even as Virgil grew close enough to reach out and touch him.

“Take your time,” he offered, despite being the one trapped in a monster’s web. Virgil abruptly felt a bit silly about his obvious wariness, and lifted his front legs to rub them together at the ankles. The stranger’s head tilted to the side slightly, watching the gesture intently.

“... It’s the oils that make the webs not stick,” Virgil explained. “I produce it naturally on my feet so I don’t get, y’know, stuck. I’ll have to touch the webs that are attached to you. With my feet. The spider ones.”

Virgil didn’t have any other kinds of feet, but the stranger graciously didn’t nitpick.

“A built-in solvent… I wonder if natural spiders have similar traits,” he mused instead, and then, “Do whatever you need, I don’t mind. The opposite, really, I appreciate the assistance.”

Sure enough, he didn’t shy away when Virgil began carefully plucking at the threads entangling him, sliding the sides of his legs along them to coat them in the anti-stick oils. Bit by bit, the entanglement loosened, and Virgil had just freed both arms when the human abruptly twisted around to reach for something on his person.

Of course, now that much of the webbing holding him in midair had been removed, his weight was significantly less supported. A few threads snapped, and he dropped a few inches with a startled yelp. If he continued, he’d be in for either a rough fall or getting caught in a whole new layer of webbing, and Virgil wanted neither of those things.

He quickly reached forwards with his human arms and lifted the stranger up and away from further entanglement, batting away any stray threads with his front legs. Belatedly, he realized he had forgotten to check if it was a weapon that the human had reached for. Even more belatedly, he realized that this was the second human he’d picked up in this impromptu carry.

Weird that it had happened twice.

“Perfect, thank you,” the guy said, and then he started writing furiously in a little book, occasionally glancing up at Virgil and locking onto a feature before returning to writing. It was as though he didn’t mind at all being held aloft like a human might lift up a misbehaving cat.

Virgil took the opportunity to continue cleaning any web remnants off the guy while he was distracted, his mind whirring. A stranger who had clearly never done a day of hard labor in his life, who didn’t seem at all afraid of him, and was taking notes.

... Oh, shit.

Virgil set him carefully on the ground while he was still preoccupied with scrawling out a label for a diagram of Virgil’s teeth. He backed up, softening his steps, and by the time the stranger pulled his attention away from his book, Virgil was already well out of sight and planned to keep it that way, regardless of the confused little call the stranger made.

He was not messing with what was clearly a mage out for his parts.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #spiders tw #ts logan #ts virgil #drider #helpless #super weird not to have an acronym #h #lol #i think logan deserves to be a silly little scientist. as a treat :)#my writing #writing #my fever broke yaaay #thanks for everyones patience #and well wishes!

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lordoftherazzles · 3 years

Note

Can I you write something on jealous thorin! I am dying to read something like that... Like Bilbo going somewhere and getting flirted by someone (except elves and dwarves) for example by a normal handsome person. And even Bilbo is attracted and stupified by his elegance and his slender body.

Thank you so much for this prompt!! I love writing a grumpy guy. This one was a lot of fun for me and gave me an opportunity to explore a "during the quest" setting! I hope you enjoy it!

prompt "I do believe our burglar has a type,"

word count 2175

relationship(s) thorin oakenshield/bilbo baggins

character(s) thorin oakenshield, bilbo baggins, the company of thorin oakenshield

additional notes this one was insanely fun for me, that's all I gotta say! I'm LOVING these prompts and ideas you guys are giving me!!

-----

Thorin didn’t like Lake-Town.

Namely, the Master and his greasy little sidekick, but they were given more of a welcome and more accommodation than the bargeman had been able to secure. The sooner they were out of here, the better, but there was still a bit of time before Durin’s Day, and there was no need to camp aimlessly outside of a hidden door.

Celebrations and the promise of riches for all had kept spirits rather high, except for Thorin’s. He had tried to put on a mask, the type that was reserved for social affairs that he hadn’t been a part of since he was a much younger lad. Thankfully this was nothing like the social gatherings that had been held between Erebor and Dale once upon a time.

There was that stench of stale ale in the air, as well as fish, but that seemed to sum up Lake-Town entirely. Thorin sat near the end of one table, tapping his fingers against the wood as his glare seemed to be burning into the back of someone at the second table that housed his company.

Feeling an elbow jam into his own, a scowl formed on his lips as Kili wedged himself to sit at the table, sitting far too close for Thorin’s comfort. “Why the long face, Uncle?” Kili chimed, a small slur to his voice as he had a mug in one hand and the other hugging onto Thorin’s arm. At least the alcohol was keeping the younger dwarf from grimacing every single time he took a step. That shot to Kili’s leg had been bound, but certainly not healed.

“I’m fine,” Thorin insisted with a growl before Fili wedged in on his other side.

“You don’t look fine to me. I know that look. You’re angry.” Fili nearly had a sing-song tone to his voice, but at least he didn’t reek of ale as Kili did.

Another nudge at Thorin’s elbow had the leader of the Company squishing in on himself so that he wasn’t bumping elbows. It was a failed effort.

“Could it be because a certain someone has his attention fixated on someone else? I do believe our burglar has a type,” Fili gave Thorin’s arm a comforting pat, not trying to sound teasing whatsoever. Though the same couldn’t be said for Kili.

“What? Tall, dark, and broody?” Kili sputtered out with a laugh, spilling a quarter of his mug across the table. “Though, I do suppose Uncle could be considered tall for a dwarf!”

Thorin’s face was flushed, be it by both anger as well as embarrassment as he felt his ears burn. He couldn’t let his eyes tear away from Bilbo’s back, or the small nods of fascination that seemed to come from the hobbit as he was engaged in deep conversation with one of the Lake-Town locals.

A tall fellow, dark hair wedged beneath a hat and a beard that surpassed even Thorin’s own. Not that the dwarf was examining this fellow that much, but he was one of the more reasonable fellows to look at in this fisherman’s town. Never before had Thorin been concerned about his appearance, not like this, and yet here he was, idly reaching a hand up towards his shorter beard and scrubbing at the coarser hairs that didn’t measure up to any sign of beauty among dwarves.

“There is a solution in all of this, Uncle. You could just go over there and sweep the burglar off his feet for yourself?” Fili offered up, trying to sound helpful, but he was fixated with a glare that told him to snap his jaw shut.

“I am not bothered if Mister Baggins chooses to socialize during our stay. I will not tell my company who they may or may not speak with.”

“Yeah, but it’s what we do with those we speak with that may capture more of your attention, right?” Kili jammed his elbow into Thorin’s arm again. “Or rather, one specific person. You couldn’t give a whit what Fili or myself do while we’re here, or Dwalin or Nori, but you get my point. However, when it comes to him, you care.”

“I do not care,” Thorin insisted once more, feeling like a tightly sealed vault full of feelings instead of gold.

“All we’re saying is that if you’re waiting for the right moment to make your move, it’s probably now. Or someone is going to beat you to it.” Fili always seemed to be slightly more mature one of the two nephews, but his words were just as unwanted as Kili’s.

“You’re both wretched little creatures and the topic will cease, now.” Thorin’s stern tone seemed to ward off more harassment when it came to Bilbo, save for one parting statement.

“Alright, we’ll sod off, but I gotta say, green just isn’t your color, remember that.” Fili gave Thorin’s shoulder a fond pat before moving to fish his younger brother away from the table with no small amount of difficulty. That wound, accompanied by a few mugs of ale, didn’t make it easy for anyone to toddle off.

Thorin was left to his own devices, tapping his fingers again against the table as he stared and simmered and let the words of his nephews influence that agitation brewing on the inside. Just what did Bilbo find so appealing about this fellow he was chatting and laughing with? What sort of stories could a fisherman in this drab place have to tell? So yes, Thorin was jealous, almost on an embarrassing level. It made him even more agitated to feel this way, but then again, these were feelings that he hadn’t felt before.

Life had been hard and duty-bound for so long, and where Thorin Oakenshield had assumed he had seen it all, he was now being sent into an uncomfortable frenzy over some butterflies in his stomach. It made his insides hurt, but there was a quest to focus on, and the rest could wait until after. A mountain was far more important than his silly little love life. Once he reclaimed his homeland, surpassed the expectations of those around him, and set Erebor back on the path to greatness-

Oh, who was Thorin kidding? Bilbo would be long gone by then.

It made a sinking feeling enter his stomach, tearing at those angry butterflies as he dropped his head some. What was more important? Pining? Or extreme focus on winning a mountain? If he let this go, would Thorin ever truly be focused on the quest at hand?

Swallowing thickly as he lifted his eyes to catch a lingering hand at Bilbo’s back, whatever tentative stare had dared to glance towards Bilbo was snuffed out in favor of a roaring blaze of a glare.

Jolting up from his seat and rounding the table towards the next, Thorin held zero hesitation to land a hand next to where Bilbo was leaning on the table - dreamy eyed and seemingly enamored with this fisherman fellow sitting next to him. “Master Baggins, if you don’t mind I’d like a few moments of your time.” Bright blue eyes darted towards the tall fellow who looked rather perplexed at the sudden dwarf’s appearance. “Alone.”

Bilbo gave a small wave of dismissal, “I best take this conversation, though I appreciate the fine stories you brought. You don’t want to see this one in a bad mood,” Bilbo teased, clearly indicating that Thorin was temperamental and unpleasant and- well, maybe he was right. The hobbit shifted in his seat as he and Thorin were left alone, staring up towards the standing dwarf and looking rather delighted - much to Thorin’s dismay. “What’s so important now, Thorin?”

“I did not expect for you to be such an obvious flirt,” Thorin grumbled, a bit of displeasure to his tone as Bilbo’s face twisted to more surprise than anything.

“Me? Oh, that?” Bilbo had a grin twitching on his lips. “Does that bother you?” Bilbo twisted in his seat, looking over towards the bar where his previous company had sauntered off to. “He is rather attractive, isn’t he? A bit rugged looking, with long locks to die for, and quite a nice beard.” Bilbo rubbed the air around his chin as he was describing said beard, eyes darting to the corners as he barely caught Thorin’s frustration in his sights.

“I suppose.” Thorin hissed between his teeth, shifting in his boots and wondering just how far a chair could sail if he kicked it.

“Though I prefer blue eyes, myself. His were brown, and he wasn’t a dwarf. A moody dwarf, specifically.” Bilbo spoke as he patted the seat next to him. “Do you wish to join me, Thorin Oakenshield?”

Thorin was certain his jaw could hit the floor as he stood there and felt his face heat up. Bilbo looked entirely too content and pleased while he stood there like some red faced fool. “I...I beg your pardon?”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to stomp over here instead of huffing over there. Thorin, if you think you’re subtle, you’re not.” Giving the seat next to him another pat, Bilbo used his free hand to claim the stein before him once more. “You’ve been staring at me all night, and ever since we escaped Mirkwood for that matter, but I wasn’t going to bring that up.” And yet he had.

Thorin stood there dumbstruck for a moment before slowly sinking into the seat next to Bilbo’s own in silence. Gnawing at the inside of his cheeks for a good moment, the dwarf wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Had he truly been that obvious? Thorin thought himself a rather reserved fellow who was decent at schooling his emotions and expressions. Perhaps he wasn’t nearly as good at that craft as he assumed. “And all of this was just for show?” He asked quietly, finally daring to look towards Bilbo at his side with extreme caution.

“Really, Thorin…? Are you truly this dense?” Bilbo’s laugh sadly was not contagious. He was an observant sort, at least for the most part, so as he noticed Thorin’s face turn a touch redder, Bilbo quieted down before nudging Thorin’s arm a bit and dropping his voice. “I simply figured you had enough on your mind without adding myself to the mix.”

Which was exactly what Thorin had planned on. Win the mountain, secure Erebor’s future, and then the rest would follow. Well, as he had told Balin before, plans changed.

“Plus, watching you squirm between your troublesome nephews was rather amusing.” Bilbo grinned proudly.

Thorin’s brows furrowed slightly as he shifted his gaze and felt a little bit of that embarrassment start to flow away from his face, though still rosy cheeked. “You’re as considerate as you are cruel, you know that?” Purposely driving that jealousy to a point where Thorin couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’ve been called worse,” Bilbo reached up just as Thorin leaned down, latching his hands against both of those braids that lined the sides of Thorin’s head, giving them a small tug before both of them came to a pause at bumping noses and foreheads. “Ah, Thorin?”

“Are you truly wanting to ask me a question right this second?” Thorin murmured, bright blues focusing on the hazel ones that were so incredibly close to his own.

“Well…” Bilbo started before his eyes flickered to the side, which caused Thorin’s own to shift, following Bilbo’s gaze.

A table crowded with dwarves all staring with amusement and all the cheekiness in the world.

Thorin pulled back slightly, fully turning his head to face that company of his with a small sigh escaping his lips, but he didn’t look nearly as put out as one might expect.

“Don’t make me come over there and smash your heads together!” Dwalin barked over the table, earning a chorus of laughter - and even a small huff of amusement from Thorin.

Bright blue eyes shifted to meet hazel eyes once more. “I don’t fancy being entertainment for anyone,” he started while sliding from his seat, “save for you, Master Baggins.”

That low murmur just about sent Bilbo melting into the floorboards as a large hand engulfed his own. “I should have started flirting with others a lot sooner,” Bilbo chuckled before being fixed with a look as he too was slipping from his seat.

“I would be most obliged if you saved your flirting for me. Alone. Away from this miserable audience.”

And boy did he not have to tell Bilbo twice. The hobbit followed one a step or two behind Thorin, one of his smaller hands still gripped in a larger dwarven one, and honestly, propriety and expectations could go hang themselves. Bilbo didn’t give a whit at the groans and catcalls that followed during Thorin and Bilbo’s retreat, but no doubt there would be more conversation to be had in the morning over breakfast...

...Or perhaps second breakfast. Bilbo had a feeling that sleeping in tomorrow may be inevitable.

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #thilbo #hobbit fic #bagginshield fic #hobbit fanfic #razzywrites #razquests #thank you for the request!

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

Personal Google

4 times Spencer knows the answer, and the 1 time he doesn’t.

Summary: Spencer is your own personal Google. He always knows the answer to anything you ask him.

Warnings: Pining, slow burn-ish (?), reader and Spencer are both idiots who aren’t acknowledging their feelings for each other. Some mentions of a case and case-typical violence. No references to the gender of the reader!

Word count: 2k (this ran away from me)

A/N: Part two to this is here!

Requests: open!!

“Hey Spence?” You call, barely looking up from your phone as you scroll through Twitter, “What’s a hedgefund?”

“Are you reading about the GameStop stock?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

He clears his throat, and you look up at him, “Okay. A hedgefund is a way for accredited investors to invest in a way that minimises the risk to their own assets. Without getting too complicated, because it can get really convoluted, it’s basically just a way for rich people to get richer a lot of the time because a prerequisite for investing in the majority is having a high net income or a high net worth to begin with.”

You smile, “So basically rich people are getting screwed?”

“Something like that.”

“Good,” You respond, putting your phone away.

You swear you hear a little laugh escape his mouth as he turns back to the computer at his desk.

***

You’re sat on the jet, in your usual seat next to him, when everything starts to go pear-shaped. It jolts a little, sending you knocking into his side. You grimace.

“It’s just a little turbulence,” Hotch says, “Probably because of the storm coming from the East. We should be landing soon.”

Rationally, you realise there’s nothing to be afraid of. But it’s easier said than done to keep rational when the plane’s rattling like a pack of smarties and your head is bashing against Spencer’s bony shoulder every five seconds.

He senses your unease, tentatively reaching across to take hold of your hand. His instinct is to supply statistics about plane crashes but something in him tells him you won’t respond too well if he tells you the odds of getting in a small plane crash are higher than a regular commercial flight but still lower than the chances of being involved in a motor vehicle accident. Instead, he chooses a different tactic.

“It’ll be alright, we’ve been in the air for two hours and,” He squints at his watch, “Forty-three minutes. This flight’s two hours fifty-eight tops.”

You nod, “Hey Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember this morning when you were telling me about the French dancing plague and we got interrupted by the call about the case?”

You don’t have to say anything more, he immediately launches into a spiel about France in 1615: the death of crops, how the people felt they were being spited by God, the whole thing. He gestures wildly with his free hand, but the hand that lies atop of yours doesn’t budge an inch. You rub small circles on it with your thumb, which goes unacknowledged. Privately, you’re a little disappointed. Privately, he’s afraid you’ll stop if he points it out.

***

It’s been a long and fruitless day. The local PD had been worse than useless, they were so reluctant to accept that anybody from their town could possibly have been responsible for what was going on that it felt like a constant battle to get anything done. You’d been out interviewing possible witnesses from the local bar. Well, trying to, you would have been a lot more successful if the Sheriff hadn’t constantly been under your feet, undermining your questions and generally resulting in making you look like an idiot.

Hotch had chewed him out in the end, relinquishing you from interview duty to help Spencer with the geographical profile back at the station. He’s scribbling away on the map while you slump in the chair, a little defeated.

“Hey Spence?”

“Hmm?” He hums in response, not taking his eyes off the section he’s just crossed out.

“How come you’re ruling out that side of town?”

He flips the whiteboard pen in his hands, returning its cap before turning around to you, “A lot of the area over there is industrial. I’ve been combing through to get a closer look, but it doesn’t look like our unsub would have the kind of privacy he needs. There are a lot of factories, granted, but they’re pretty much all occupied. He’s meticulous, I don’t think he’d take the risk of working in an environment where he couldn’t control anything and risking getting himself caught. And from what we know about him he certainly isn’t affluent enough to rent property on that side of town. Rent is almost three times as expensive there,” he gestures with his hands, tapping the lid of the pen on the area he means, “I think he’s more likely to be from the northmost part of town.”

You smile, “I don’t know how you do that.”

He opens his mouth to respond before seeing the softness in your eyes, realising you’re not asking for an explanation. You’re giving him a compliment. His chest feels a little warm.

***

You can’t sleep that night, despite how exhausting your day has been. You’d think the physical and mental exhertion would knock you out but instead you’re sat on your bed, idly flipping through TV channels. Not much is on except some old NCIS re-runs, and oddly enough you don’t feel like watching a crime show.

You could text Spencer. The thought appears in your head of its own accord, without your consent.

You could though.

10:12pm - You

You’d think after a day like today I’d be able to get some rest

10:13pm - Spencer

You can’t sleep?

10:13pm - You

No, sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep

10:14pm - Spencer

I can’t sleep either, don’t worry. Do you want to come over to my room? I have a documentary about Pearl Harbour I was going to watch

10:14pm - Spencer

Or we could do something else. Not sure if Pearl Harbour is more fun for you than struggling to fall asleep

10:15pm - You

A Pearl Harbour documentary sounds great

Thankfully you’d had the forethought to bring nice sleeping attire rather than your old ratty ones. You’d learnt your lesson before, when your presence had been required in the middle of the night and you’d had to scramble down to team meetings in pyjama bottoms that had a hole in the right thigh.

You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror, some anxiety fluttering in your stomach for some reason.

It’s odd. It’s hardly the first time you’ve been over to Spencer’s room for crying out loud, I mean he’s the person you’re closest to on the team and your best friend and your private yearning for him is mostly inconsequential. Mostly. Except you fix your hair and smooth down your top a little anyway.

He’s only three doors down and it’s easy enough to slip quietly into his room. He sits on the bed, two glasses of water resting on the bedside table, his laptop resting by his knees. He’s illuminated by the bedside lamp next to him, and his hair looks fluffy as hell. No doubt from him running his own hands through it in frustration today. He smiles at you, patting the space next to him.

You pad across and join him, “Hey Spence.”

“Hi.”

His laptop isn’t particularly loud, and the screen isn’t very big, so you end up sat quite close to him. The laptop rests on his lap. You hesitate before nuzzling in against him, feeling how his breath catches in his chest as your head rests against his on the bedframe.

“Is this okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” He answers, a small content smile playing on his lips, “Yeah this is okay.”

***

You’re not sure when or how you fell asleep but you wake up with a start to the sound of pounding on the door. And you’re not in your own bed. You briefly acknowledge the warmth next to you before it’s gone, Spencer leaping out of bed to answer the door.

“We’ve been-” Emily stands in the doorway, the bedroom lamp that you must have neglected to turn off allowing her to catch a glimpse of your dazed face, “Reid, why is ____ in your room?”

Spencer opens his mouth, flustered and unsure of what to say, floundering between looking at you both for a moment before Emily rescues him. The digital clock obnoxiously blinks the time: 2:18am.

“Okay we’re definitely talking about this later but there’s another body, Hotch wants us all down at the station in 15.”

It occurs to you, as you rush embarassed from Spencer’s room, apologising to him at least five times on your way out, that the only thing standing between you and a million questions about your personal life is the focus on an unsub who you’ll hopefully catch today. You shrug your clothes over your head, replacing them with fresh ones and pulling on your shoes. The jet home is going to be fun.

—-

You were right to be hopeful about today. The unsub is tracked down and arrested by the time night comes around. His arrest is clean, no hostages and no shots fired. Really, in your line of work, it was the best possible outcome.

Hotch made the call that you’d spend another night here, since there was paperwork that’d need to be taken care of in the morning and some final loose ends that required wrapping up. You suspected some small part of it was because J.J wanted to ensure you made nice and left things on good terms with the local PD before you left, since there’d been a lot of headbutting throughout the case. Spencer had also been completely right about the geographical profile, the unsub had been working and killing from a rundown ramshackle house in the northmost suburb.

Speaking of Spencer, you’d barely acknowledged each other since this morning. Sure, you’d shared rooms together before, even beds when the occasion had called for it, but you’d never been so intimate before.

Maybe it was best for you both if you just ignored the whole thing entirely, carried on as normal. Yeah. Yeah that’s what you’d do.

You worried about the meaning of anything you said being lost over text so you headed to his room, knocking on his door. It brought a small smile to your face to think how you’d been on the other side of it the last time someone knocked.

He opens it, just slightly, before relaxing when he sees it’s you, “Hey.”

“Hi,” You step past him into the room, watching him close the door and take a step towards you.

He waits for you to speak.

“So. We never finished that documentary.”

He laughs, soft, “We didn’t.”

“Do you want to finish it now?”

“Uh…” He visibly pauses and you feel a small twinge in your chest. Maybe you’d made him uncomfortable, maybe you’d misread the whole thing, maybe you’d...

He interrupts your self-deprecating runaway train of thoughts with a simple, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you settle down to watch the film, his laptop situated firmly in the middle of the bed this time, you feel the gulf between you. Empty space where his leg rested against yours yesterday. Still, that was what he wanted, right? His own space. Not to talk about it.

You don’t notice because you’re watching the documentary, but Spencer has to stop himself from reaching his arm out for you when he stretches. You didn’t want to talk about it, obviously. Meaning you probably wished it hadn’t happened. He tried to ignore the ache in his chest at that thought, the hollow feeling it left. Thankfully it wasn’t too long before you spoke again.

“Hey Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this historically accurate?”

And explaining the nuances of Japanese-American history is much easier for him.

#spencer reid fanfic #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #bau!reader

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

Text

GF - Stars Aren’t the Only Things That Glitter

A Drifting Stars AU short, collaborating with @clownwry.

2nd, 3rd, 4th.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Grunkle Ford, look out!”

“Mabel, stay back!”

BANG!

“Mabel… MABEL! HOLD ON! I’M COMING! MABEL!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel looked at the blazing fire, trying to pretend to ignore her great-uncles muttering so she might pick up a swear word, be it alien or English was perfectly fine by her. Mabel didn’t pick up any swears, but she did hear the words “reckless” and “irresponsible” and “inconceivable”. The Listening Game did a fair job of distracting her from the pain on her arm and shoulder. Except when Grunkle Ford’s bandages were a little too tight and she would wince at the friction on her burn.

Still muttering through his teeth, his eye glued to the injury through his single-cracked glasses, he did it again, pulling on the bandage a little too hard, this time making Mabel accidentally let am “ouch!” slip past her lips. Ford looked up at her and his expression grew softer and more nurturing. “I’m sorry, my dear, but really, you shouldn’t have done that.”

“They were gonna shoot you…”

“I don’t care.” Ford said firmly. “If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to save yourself and leave me behind, you do so.”

“No.”

The nomadic scientist blinked, slightly surprised by her stubbornness. Only slightly surprised, because she is a Pines, after all. But she is a good kid and in the month they had been traveling the Multiverse, she had never outright defied him like this. “Excuse me?” He wasn’t even stern or angry; he was too surprised (and maybe even a little proud) to properly scold her anymore.

“No. That’s stupid.” Mabel answered, her little cheeks puffed up in determination, her eyes sparkling with the reflection of the fire, a flame of her own in the windows to her soul. “I’ll never leave you behind. We’re a family, we gotta stick together if we’re gonna survive and get home. We need each other. Besides, if the tables were turned, would you leave me behind?”

“That’s an entirely different matter.” Ford said with a small smile on his ruffed-up face; he resumed his work on the burn more gently now and finished wrapping it up, securing the bandage. “I’m old, I’ve lived my life. You take priority.”

“I don’t care.” Mabel said, copying Ford’s exact tone and voice from earlier. The grown man snorted with amusement.

Ford decided to put this little argument on hold, seeing how there was no changing Mabel’s mind right now. And he didn’t want to spend the entire evening rebuking her. “You did do a very good job disarming those hunters. I’m very proud of you.”

Mabel sat up a little straighter and smiled up at Ford. “Thank you.”

Ford smiled at her and stood, moving to his large backpack to fish out the things for tea and dinner, though it would probably only be dried meat and oats. “I’m just glad you’re okay, pumpkin.”

Mabel’s eyes widened as her world was put on pause. She felt like she was being sucked into a time vortex, transported into a memory.

Grunkle Stan was dusting some zombie parts off of his armchair when Mabel was walking by, leaving the kitchen after giving Soos his cure for zombification. Stan noticed that Mabel looked very tired. He smiled at her from her seat, and Mabel ran up to him and climbed into his lap for a big hug.

“Hey, you alright?” Stan asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re okay, pumpkin.” And he gave her a secure squeeze and Mabel happily hugged him back.

Mabel was shoved back into reality, accompanied by a sinking feeling of loss. She missed Grunkle Stan. She missed Dipper. She missed Waddles, and Soos, and Wendy, and the Shack, and Oregon, and California, and Mom and Dad…

Ford turned back to the fire with a kettle and wire-spider in hand, ready to ask Mabel to fetch some water (she always enjoyed being of assistance), but he stopped when he saw her crying with her eyes shut and wiping her cheeks dry with her wrists. Ford was immediately halted and his priorities shifted drastically. Nothing mattered at this moment but making her feel better.

He was swift. Ford scooped up some water from the clean stream into the kettle, then used the wire-spider to hold the kettle over the fire. Giving the water plenty of time to heat up and steam, Ford gently picked Mabel up from her seat on the log, only to hold her close and let her wrap her arms around his neck. He didn’t say a word, being a social-cripple and having no idea what he could say that would make her feel better, so he stayed silent and was simply there for her.

And really, that was all Mabel needed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning the two humans were lucky to come across a small rustic town in the woods, reminding Ford of the small Tennessee-town Fiddleford grew up in. Except of course there were no humans, but blue-skinned elves with pointy years and the occasional centaur.

Ford had stolen a bit of money from a hunter yesterday, which meant they got to restock on supplies and even buy a cheap breakfast at an outside cafe. Sitting at a table under an umbrella, Ford was going over his plan with Mabel while she munched on her sweetly-cooked purple apples tossed in spices and sugar.

“... so once we reach this cavern here, we’ll reach a very interesting town called Flush Valley. I’ve heard it specializes in building mechanical limbs and prosthetics, but it’s surrounded by rich minerals perfect for building, so we can find what we need easily here. There may even be a day-by-day job I can get to earn a bit of money for food and shelter.”

“I can work, too! Daddy always said I was like a French horse!” Mabel added in excitedly.

Ford chuckled. “We’ll see. I would feel more comfortable if you were working so I could keep an eye on you. Moving on,” The old scientist sipped his strange alien coffee, but it contained caffeine and somewhat resembled his home dimension’s coffee taste, so he drank it. “The way there could be crawling with scavengers. A lot of people come to Flush Valley just barely hanging on by a thread, easy targets for hunting and stealing food and supplies. So we need to keep our guard up for the next two days.”

“Okay.” Mabel said, as nonchalantly as if Ford told her to remember to add milk to a grocery list.

Ford gave her a firmer look and added, “So, if we think we’re being followed, what do we do?”

“We pretend we don’t know and we keep walking calmly.” Mabel replied. “We keep our eyes open for a way to lose them, and where the sneaky-peaky spies are.”

“Very good.” Ford smiled at her. “If we decide to try to lose them, what do we do?”

“Run as fast as we can. If I can’t catch up I get on your shoulders and focus on making them go away, while you get us away.”

“Yes, excellent. What do we do if we decide to confront them?”

“I grab by sling-shot and exploding rocks and hit as many guys as I can. I aim for the knees or feet so they fall and can’t shoot us. Oh, and we stand with our backs to each other so we see everything, together.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Now, if we are surrounded and I find a way to escape, what do you do?”

“Make sure you go in so you can lead the way!” Mabel answered with a grin.

“N-No, honey.” Ford said gently with a smile, as if informing a kindergartner that 1+1=2, not 11. “If I find a way to escape, you go first…”

“No,” Mabel said, still smiling as she shook her head. “You go first so I can make sure you’re coming.”

Ford sighed and took another sip of his drink. “Okay, if I tell you to run, you…”

“I grab your hand and run with you, making sure no one gets lost.”

“Mabel, no.”

“Mabel YES!” The girl grinned with determination. “You’re stuck with me, old man! You can’t get rid of me!”

Ford was getting annoyed at this point. He pinched the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses up slightly, and growled, “I’m not trying to get rid of you, I’m trying to save you!”

Mabel gave him a very serious look and questioned, “By leaving me alone out here?”

“No! I-...” But Ford stopped and bit his lip. His niece did have an excellent point. As much as Ford was willing to do anything to keep her safe, as much as Ford was willing to sacrifice his own life for her’s, that really wasn’t a good idea.

There was a good chance Mabel could survive without him, at least until she found a nice family to take her in (or, somehow, miraculously, Stanley opened the portal and brought her home, but Ford didn’t dare to hope for that). But she was so young and inexperienced in the Multiverse. At least when Ford was first thrown into the chaos he was an adult and was accustomed to weirdness thanks to his six years of researching Gravity Falls. Mabel was extremely resourceful, imaginative, intelligent, and clever. She was also stronger and faster than many would assume. But she was too trusting. Too innocent. So, not to belittle Mabel or underestimate her, but she was right; she needed Ford, and as noble as it would be to exchange his life for her’s if it came down to it, that would also be incredibly stupid and only buy Mabel a little more time until she was captured or enslaved or killed or even worse.

And of course, only someone as people-smart and clever as Mabel could make Ford see that.

He sighed tiredly. “O-... Okay.” Mabel smiled proudly at him. “Okay, I’ll… I’ll try to be more careful.” Ford promised. “I… I just need you to be safe.”

“Don’t worry, I think we do a pretty good job of keeping each other safe.” Mabel complimented, holding out a bite of her fruit on a fork for Ford.

The old man held up a polite hand and declined, but his stomach turned against him and growled, and Mabel frowned at him, giving Ford a deja vu feeling of his mother forcing him and his brothers to eat their vegetables. So Ford smiled and accepted the sweetly cooked fruit. “Yes, I think so, too.”

#GF #gravity falls #gravity falls au #fanfiction #drifting stars au #collab #ford and mabel bonding #ford pines #mabel pines #ANGST AND FLUFF #more to come!

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Spoiled | Bruce Banner x reader

(semi-sequel to my fic sugar, but you don’t need to read that to understand this!)

summary: it’s the first time you’ve had your boyfriend all to yourself for Christmas, and he makes sure it’s a holiday you’ll never forget.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: smut!!, infidelity (bruce is married, guys), wedding ring kink, damage to a very expensive dress (lol), daddy kink, sugar daddy relationship

Normally, Christmas is reserved for the wife, as it ought to be. But this year, Bruce had surprised you with a promise: you could finally spend Christmas day with your boyfriend. You weren’t sure exactly how he got out of spending the holiday with his wife, but he’d picked you up a few days before and driven you to a gorgeous secluded cabin somewhere upstate. Obviously you assumed it was a rental, so the fact that he’d bought it along with the four acres it laid on was a bit of a shock. Still, you were beyond giddy to have a few days alone with him, cuddling up in the big warm bed and admiring the snow-laden forest just outside the windows.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured against your skin as you just started to wake up— and yes, you remembered that it was Christmas day. Any day spent waking up in his arms was a good one, Christmas or not.

“Merry Christmas,” you greeted in return as you spun around to kiss him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pretty girl,” he chuckled as he slid your legs off of him, “don’t you wanna get up and open your presents?”

You rolled your eyes because of course he had to get you something, even when you told him not to. "I don't need any presents, Bruce, just having you here today is enough."

"Couldn't help myself. You're so easy to shop for, you look good in everything. Besides, I like dressing you up almost as much as I like undressing you."

“So it’s something to wear?” you deduced.

“Just get up and get ready, okay?”

You nodded and slipped out from under the quilt, dashing to the bathroom to splash your face, brush your teeth, and maybe throw on a little makeup so you wouldn’t look like you’d just woken up when you had, in fact, just woken up.

Slipping on a red plaid robe, you returned to the living room and found Bruce lounging beside the tree in his fuzzy house pants, distractingly shirtless. As much as you were compelled to kneel down and bury your fingers in that black curly hair that deliciously blanketed his chest, your attention was redirected to the long, flat box in his hands.

“Open it,” he encouraged as he handed it to you, circling around to stand behind you and stroke your arms as you gently tore the paper open. It was just a white cardboard box underneath, lacking in any labels so you had to pop the top off to see the garment inside. "You like Balmain, right?" he asked softly with a smile.

It was gorgeous; silk, it felt like, in a deep forest green that was almost festive in a way. "Bruce this is…" you trailed off, dropping the box and holding the dress at the shoulders, letting the fabric unfurl and spill down until you could see the whole dress. "This is too nice. I can't let you spend this much on me."

"Oh, it wasn't that expensive," he lied, "now go try it on."

You started to protest, but he cut you off with a kiss, resting his hand on the back of your neck and pulling you closer. You melted into his arms instantly, completely forgetting where you were and what you’d been talking about as your eyes fluttered shut and your lips slotted against his. When he pulled back, you were barely aware of what he was talking about when he whispered: “go try it on.”

“The dress!” you remembered. “I’ll be right back.”

You didn’t really need to leave the room to get dressed, he’d seen you naked plenty of times, but you figured it would make the grand reveal that much more exciting. Just putting it on made your skin all tingly, the soft fabric making you shiver as it brushed against you so delicately. The mirror wasn’t super helpful, too small to see how you looked past your shoulders, so you decided that you’d have to trust that you looked as good as you felt.

Seeing your heels just a few feet away, you dashed to grab them; they would perfectly complete the look, because it would be kind of odd to wear Balmain while barefoot. Sure, they were a bit uncomfortable, but it was worth it to see him turn around to the sound of your clicking heels, his jaw nearly hitting the floor as he watched you step closer. “What do you think?” you asked shyly.

He got up and approached you, his expression heavy with desire and making you shiver. He knelt down before you, looking up at you with dark eyes as he slowly— excruciatingly slowly— pushed up the skirt of your dress, his thick, rough fingers tickling your thighs.

You just had a thong underneath, lacy and delicate, meaning you felt it all too well when he licked you through the fabric.

"Ffffuck," you sighed, "Bruce, baby…"

"Y'like that, pretty girl?"

You nodded breathlessly, trying not to let your knees buckle when he did it again, reaching down to dig your fingers into his hair. "Don't stop, daddy, please."

He did stop, but only for a moment so he could gently hook a finger under the fabric and pull your panties aside, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin of your mound. Finally, his lips latched onto your swollen clit, and you moaned lowly.

You were normally pretty good at standing in heels, but this posed a new challenge.

When he found a pattern of sucking your clit, fucking you with his tongue, and doing this positively obscene thing with his teeth that you couldn't describe but made your knees weak, you were soon barreling towards the point of no return. "Bruce, fuck, I'm close— gonna come, please let me come…"

He only nodded, not stopping his work for even a moment, and you clutched his curls tightly as your hips rocked against his face.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy," you chanted breathlessly as the coil finally snapped, a new gush of warmth spreading between your legs as you quivered above him. Your vision went black for just a second, head thrown back into a silent moan as you held your breath until all your noises broke forth all at once, somewhere between a scream and a sob and a sigh.

"Fuck, such a good girl for me," he purred, giving your sore clit one last luck before he instructed: "get on the bed," encouraging you with a little shove back towards it.

You spun to face away from him and get on your hands and knees atop the plushy mattress. Your face heated up as you heard him laugh. "I meant on your back, princess. God, you're a slut."

Embarrassed but aware that his words were more a compliment than anything else, you rolled onto your back and spread your legs as he climbed on top of you and slotted his body between them, shedding himself of his pajama pants until his thick cock bounced back up to slap against his stomach. You bit down on your lip, wishing he'd given you a chance to put that cock in your mouth (because it looked fucking delicious) but losing that train of thought as he ran his hands all over your body through the silky fabric of his gift to you.

Suddenly, with a deep growl, he grabbed the dress at the neckline and ripped it open right down the front. "Bruce!" you yelped in protest; your heart broke for the expensive dress destroyed, but your thighs clenched together at the sight of him tearing through it like paper.

"I'll buy you a new one," he sighed flippantly before diving in to roughly grope your breasts, littering your chest with kisses and stopping to teasingly suck your nipples along the way.

"Daddy," you whimpered, "please fuck me."

"Not gonna make you wait much longer, babygirl," he promised, "just tell me you love me."

It made your chest tighten and your cheeks warm, but you were happy to oblige. "I love you," you whispered.

"Once more, with feeling," he requested.

"I love you," you said again, a little louder.

He grinned, hovering over you as he pushed his cock down to slip inside you. You gasped and clutched the sheets beneath you as he moved deeper, his lips catching yours in a slow kiss. "I love you too," he replied gently before he began to fuck you in a way that was… anything but gentle.

"Fuck," you sobbed, wanting more than anything to arch your back and throw your head into the pillow, but you couldn't with your lip caught between his teeth.

You'd adjusted to his cock quite a bit since the first time you hooked up with him nearly two years ago, and yet it still felt like he was stretching you impossibly wide as he fucked you hard and deep. You figured at this point that you would never become fully accustomed to his size; you sort of hoped you wouldn't, because you liked the edge of pain that danced up your spine each time he entered you. When he hooked your leg in his arms, lifting it to rest his shoulder, he pushed even deeper and you whined beneath his heavy weight.

"So deep," you whispered.

"I know, baby," he whispered back. "You feel so fucking good, princess…"

It was impossible to keep track of the flow of time at that point, so it couldn’t been minutes or hours that he spent inside you, taking you apart perfectly piece-by-piece. You couldn’t keep track of how many times you came, either, aware only of an overload of sensations coming at your body from every angle.

He kissed you as he reached his own peak, mumbling your name somewhere between the movements of his lips against yours until you felt like you were floating just from the way he said it. You stayed that way for longer than you expected while he caught his breath, before he rolled off of you and you both sighed as you stared up at the ceiling.

"Fuck," he groaned, "that was… intense."

"That's rich coming from you, considering I'm the one that just got my cervix pummeled."

"I wasn't too hard on you, was I?"

"God no, it was amazing," you laughed, "but still… damn."

"I don't know about you but I worked up quite an appetite," he grinned. "I'm gonna get up and make blueberry pancakes, you want some?"

"Do you even need to ask?" you smirked, and he leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips before he slipped on his pants again and dashed off to the kitchen.

As far as Christmas mornings go, you weren't sure it could get much better than an expensive gift, getting dicked down like it was the end of the world, and blueberry pancakes.

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n

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smellslikemultifandomimagines · 3 years

Text

Rendezvous - ‘secret love affair’ part two | jason todd

request:

『 i need a part two to “secret love affair” 👀🥺 』

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

warnings: cheating // smut → sex in all kinds of positions, oral (fem receiving), jason being a shit™

word count: 3k

part 1: secret love affair

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

smut night masterlist

Your stir awake, cracking your eyes open before rubbing them. The arm of your boyfriend rests perfectly over your side and around to your waist, holding you flush against him. You had almost forgotten he was there; mind too focused on trying to come up with ways to avoid Jason. Dick was nice enough to let you have a day off training, ‘you should spend the day with him’, he advised you last night. This was a perfect excuse to not see jason. But the problem is: you live with him. You couldn’t avoid him forever.

It was still pretty early which meant Jason probably wasn’t up already having breakfast. Turning yourself to your other side, you rest your head on your hand. Poking the soft skin of your boyfriend’s cheek, he swats your hand away with a raspy chuckle. One eye cracks open and closes, and with a groan, he sees you staring down at him.

“breakfast?” You say a little bit too eagerly.

“we just woke up,” he says groggily.

“i know but I’m hungry.”

“that’s not my problem,” he sighs tiredly, already feeling himself about to go back to sleep.

“well, how about I go make us some toast or something and we can have a breakfast-in-bed?”

“yeah, yeah, okay,” he mumbles, eyes falling heavy. You stand up from the bed, head feeling dizzy with nervousness.

“wait, I’ll come with you.”

The two of you walk tiredly to the kitchen. You could tell he wasn’t too happy about being woken up at 7am, but you knew it was for the better. Much to your dismay, Jason was already sitting at the table, phone in hand while eating his breakfast.

“morning guys,” he chirps.

“does everyone always get up so early here?” Your boyfriend jokes after waving at Jason.

“yeah, I mean it’s a pretty standard thing. Of course, [y/n] would know that.” Although you couldn’t see him, you just know Jason had a malicious smirk on his face.

“yeah, [y/n], you could’ve warned me.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Closing the door to the bathroom, you let out a sigh. This whole day has been filled with nothing but snarky remarks from Jason as he hints towards the other night. With each glare you shot towards him, you’re only met with a smug smirk and a wink from him. Your boyfriend, however, is ignorant enough to not notice anything. Lucky for you, you guess?

You were too wrapped up in your thoughts to notice Jason sneak in. His whisper of a “hey” nearly scares you half to death.

“hey, hey, it’s just me,” he chuckles, arm extending out to your shoulder as he holds it firmly to calm you down slightly.

“Jason, I can't do this right now. He’s right in the other room!”

“can I just talk to you for one second?”

“jason-“

“look just —meet me in my room at midnight. if you come, i’ll know that you want me too. if you don’t, I'll leave you alone.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You hadn’t stopping thinking about jason’s offer for the rest of the afternoon. Nightfall came quickly, which was good because all you wanted to do was go to sleep and temporarily forget everything that’s happening.

Your boyfriend got into one of his ‘moods’. Though it wasn’t a rarity for him to get irritated, it certainly wasn’t something you missed. He was one of the people where something small would set him off, and he’d let little things accumulate into a big snowball of things that irritated him before he finally snaps. So that’s exactly what happened. From what started out to be a small argument about what movie to watch, it turned into something bigger.

“why can’t you just come home?”

“i,” you start before sighing. “it’s complicated, okay? I can’t just leave.”

“why not? You left me in a heartbeat.” He shrugs and arches an eyebrow sassily.

“and that was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I just need you to understand that this is the way things are from now on.”

“what? Lying around in this rich-ass stupid high-rise apartment with these people you barely even know?!” He bickers, voice raising as his frustrations grow.

“can you keep your voice down please?” You scold.

“you know, we had it good. I just don’t get why you had to pack your shit and leave me.”

“this isn’t even about you! I had to do what’s best for me. It was getting too dangerous to live at home, and you know that.”

“yeah whatever,” he rolls his eyes, not caring about anything you just said to him. “can we just watch the movie?”

The movie drags on for what seemed like forever. You didn’t feel like watching a movie or anything, your mood too put off by the previous argument. It must’ve been about half past two in the morning. The light snores coming from your boyfriend sends waves of relief over your body. Quietly, you turn off the movie and put your laptop on your desk. You look over your shoulder, studying the dark figure sleeping in your bed, and with a melancholic sigh, you sneak out of your bedroom.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, really. Visiting Jason might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, but it’ll be worth it. This could be your chance at explaining everything to him and to have a really good talk to him. As much as you hated to admit it, considering you still have a boyfriend, you missed jason.

You knock on the door softly, the nerves washing over you like an ocean wave. The second your eyes met his, he smirks and steps aside to let you in.

“well, well, what do we have here?” Jason chuckles.

“look, I only came here to talk. Nothing else.” You give him a stern look, to which his eyebrows arch in fascination. “i can’t have you interfering with my relationship, okay. I’m happy—”

“yeah, you sure about that? Because that’s certainly not what you said the other night. Not to mention, that little fight you had with him before? Yeah I heard that, by the way. Didn’t sound very ‘happy’ to me.”

“for fucks sake, Jason, please.” You roll your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Jason steps forward, both hands sliding down your arms before taking your hands in his.

“listen, you said it yourself — he doesn’t make you feel good. I know I can. Let me just prove that I’m better—“

“this isn’t about who’s better. Why doesn’t anyone just ask what I want instead of being so concerned with themselves,” you vent, feeling more and more frustrated by the second.

“well, what do you want?”

“i…” you start, sighing as you look down at your hands, noticing how he’s laced his fingers with yours. “i want you. Does that make me a bad person, yes, but with him —it’s difficult.”

“it doesn’t have to be.”

“i know. I’ll breakup with him but—“ those were all the words Jason needed to hear — the final push over the edge if you will — for him to finally kiss you. With jason, it was easy and you knew that better than anyone.

“let me show you how you deserve to be treated.” He whispers, leading you to the bed. He slides off your shirt before laying you on his bed. “And I mean it. Not just with sex, but you deserve to be treated with all the love that can be provided. You’re one of the few people that I feel close to, and I hate seeing you this miserable.” The genuineness of his words are shown through softness in his voice. The way his fingertips are running ever-so-gently up your sides as he hovers over you only makes you feel more nervous than before. Your legs hook around his waist, lips connecting with his in such tenderness, it makes your stomach feel warm. The two of you stay like this for a while, just holding and kissing each other — secretly wishing this moment could last forever.

His lips travel down your neck while his hand slides up your oversized shirt. You weren’t wearing a bra, which only made it easier for him to drag his thumb across your nipple teasingly. You suck in a breath as he slides your shirt off, his lips biting at the gorgeous sight of your body. Jason had always admired your body; the way your shape suited you so well, and how your vigilante outfit complimented you. You close your eyes, feeling his lips plant small kiss on your chest, down to your breasts. His tongue laps over your right nipple before moving to the left breast. Jason almost chuckles to himself as he feels your breathing quicken, watching you closely as he shuffles down the bed and leans in between your thighs.

“Can i?” He asks, hooking his fingers around your sweatpants. You open your eyes, looking down at him and nodding. Your teeth biting down on your bottom lip with anticipation as he pulls down the material, along with your underwear. That was the thing was Jason; you didn’t have to feel like you needed to wear sexy lingerie just to surprise him or get him ‘in the mood’. You were enough for him.

His hands wrap around your thighs before his tongue licks a stripe up your dripping pussy. You gasp at the feeling, and he knew you wanted more. His tongue skilfully circled your clit, a whine leaving your lips as you grind against his face.

“Jason,” you moan quietly, gripping the headboard above you as he digs his fingers into your thighs. He hums against you as you roll your eyes and tilt your head back, letting out breathy, inconsistent, yet quick moans. Your other hand reaches down to his hair and you run your hands through it, gripping it as he darts his tongue in and out of your entrance. Your hand moves from the headboard to cup over your mouth, suddenly remembering there are other people nearby.

Jason kisses up your thighs, up to your hips, stomach, neck, and finally your lips. You whine against the soft skin of his lips, silently wondering why he stopped. He travels his hand down and circles your clit with the pad of his thumb. Jason can’t contain the smirk that appears on his face when you whimper against him. Your hips raise to meet his hand. Cautiously, he thrusts two fingers into you, his lips pressing to yours to swallow your moans.

“Jason, please, I need you,” you whimper, eyes closing from the pleasure.

“you have me, darling,” his fingers curl up towards your g-spot, and he’s quick to press his lips against your again. Jason moans into your mouth as your walls clamp around his fingers.

“Please, jason, I really need you,” you almost hate having to beg because you know it’s exactly what he wants you to do. Jason chuckles in response, pulling his fingers out gently before sucking on them. In a quick motion, Jason takes his sweatpants off, along with his boxers and shirt. Although you wanted to do that for him, you still sat back and enjoyed the gorgeous view in front of you. His body was that of a god; his light abs becoming more defined by the dim light from the lamp, the way his arms flexed when he lifted his shirt.

Jason reaches over towards the nightstand, pulling open the draw to search for a condom. You giggle when he finally finds one, tearing the packet open eagerly and rolling it on his cock before you could even get a chance to offer.

An idea pops into your head, causing you to smirk.

“What’s that look for?” He asks, arching an eyebrow. Before either of you could say anything else, you flip him over and sink down on his cock.

“fuck,” he groans, eyes trained on your pussy as he watches his cock completely disappear into you. Slowly, you bounce on his cock. Your lips are pulled in by your teeth, too scared to let out a single moan. His hands grip your hips as he moans, thrusting his hips up to meet yours, causing you to lose it. You moan loudly, but Jason is once again quick to capture your lips with his. He pulls you down, quickly thrusting into you while you whimper and moan into his neck.

“baby, we have to be quiet. You said it yourself, he’s in the other room,” Jason chuckles through a moan.

“i don’t care,” you mumble into his neck, kissing the heated skin. He laughs again, this time more cockily and filled with amusement.

“but if you want this to be our little secret, you have to be quiet okay? Can you do that for me, princess?” The pet name nearly makes you cum on the spot. You whimper and nod, leaning up to kiss him before smacking your hips harder on his cock. Jason places a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you off before he flips you over and turns you on your knees. With your back faced towards him, he pulls your hips up towards him, his cock flicking your clit teasingly.

“jason, please,” you whimper, backing yourself against him. Without needing to be asked again, he thrusts into you while drawing out a low moan. His hips snap into yours, the pleasure of everything feels so good, you bury your face in the pillow to muffle your moans. Jason smirks at the state of you; hands twisting in the sheets, muffled moans that are practically screams, the way your pussy is clenching around him. He didn’t need you to moan his name to know that you’re all his — that was just an added bonus.

His thrusts speed up, causing the mattress to squeak along with each rock. Jason’s skilful hand snakes between your thighs and circles your clit, eliciting a moan of his name from you.

“Jason,” you whine out, pulling yourself up onto your arms and turning your head towards him.

“yes, princess?”

“I wanna hold you,” you moan as he slows down. Carefully, he pulls out and lets you flip onto your back. You pull him in close, lips connecting with so much fire, it only makes you crave him more.

Jason brings one arm up to the headboard, steading himself as he rocks back into you. Your legs spread wide for him, the new angle causes him to hit the deepest of spots inside you.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Jason whispers in your ear, kissing your cheek softly. You’re not sure if it’s because of his cock hitting all the right spots, or his fingers touching you in all the right places, or the whispers of sweet-nothings — but the way your stomach feels, you could’ve sworn you’ve never felt anything like it before.

Desperately, Jason thrusts into you in a quick pace. His groans muffles in your neck while his hand grips tighter at your sides. He moves his other hand from the headboard to your clit, rubbing it in circles in a way he knows you like.

“baby, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, pulling his face up to you.

“fuck me too,” he moans into your mouth, capturing your lips in a harder kiss as you both chase your highs. His body is so close to yours; heartbeat pounding around yours chest, skin flushed hot against your own. Your arms wrap around his back, holding him as you cum, and muffling your moans into his mouth.

“fuck, jay…” you whimper, feeling your walls pulse around him as the electricity surges through your body.

“I got you,” he soothes. “good girl.”

He slowly rocks into you, groaning as he reaches his own high; the whimpers escaping through his bitten lips sound so heavenly, you wonder why you didn’t do this sooner.

The two of you stay like this for a moment, completely absorbing each other until there was nothing left but the sheer disappointment of the burden that sleeps across the hall. Jason pulls out and discards the condom in the trashcan next to the nightstand.

“hey, you okay?” His eyebrows furrow as he glances down at you. Your hands cover your face, the worry about what to do with your boyfriend almost becomes too overwhelming. Jason hovers over you as he leans his knee on the bed. His gentle, yet swollen, lips kiss your temple.

“don’t feel guilty about this. He doesn’t deserve you,” he whimpers, resting his forehead against yours after taking your hands from your face. You close your eyes and breathe in his scent of cologne mixed with sweat.

“Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.”

It didn’t take Jason long to return with a wet and warm cloth. He dabs and strokes the cloth over your legs and pussy, his lips complimenting you as he kisses the supple skin of your inner thighs.

“you mean so much to me, I hate seeing you like this when you’re with him,” Jason says suddenly, causing your heart to almost skip a beat. Sitting up, you place two fingers under his chin and lift his face to yours, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I’m going to break up with him, okay. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” You hadn’t really taken the time to notice just how gorgeous this man is. With the darkened sky that shimmered under the city lights, mixed with the dim light of the lamp, you take the sight of him in, just like you did a mere hour ago.

“i should go,” your voice seldom sounds sad, but in this moment, all you want is him and him only. The thought of having to get back into bed with your ass-of-a-boyfriend makes you quiver in dread.

“hope you don’t miss me for too long,” he teases, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“i won’t.” You tease back.

#Jason Todd #jason todd smut #jason todd titans #titans #titans smut #smut night

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Secret Lives (Part 3)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned.

Note: Hey guys! Remember this little series I wrote? A lot of people asked for a part three and I truly had no plans to write one, but I came up with one for you if you if guys are even still interested, who knows. I don’t know how I feel about it. Kinda seems dramatic of me, but oh well. Its been in my drafts for forever so I’m finally posting it. Let me know!! If I tagged you, its because you were tagged in part 2 or asked to be tagged in part 3!

Word count: 6k

Warnings: mentions of abuse, drugs, violence, and death

Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist

The relationship you and JJ had transpired into something no one saw coming. Your friends thought your friendship was unsalvageable after what happened when they trapped you in the middle of the marsh with one another. You had reached your breaking point and they didn’t think you’d ever come back to them. But you did. Not only did you come back to them, but you came back to JJ.

The two of you, once closed off around each other, were now inseparable. You spent almost every day together. You followed him around his work schedule and he snuck through your window any chance he got because he didn’t want to spend one night without you. Your family was surprisingly very accepting of JJ. Your mother was first worried, knowing how men on the Cut can grow into something/someone no parent would want for their daughter. And Andrew knew of Luke Maybank from word of mouth and was afraid JJ might be just like him. But the first night you invited him to dinner at your house, your parents welcomed him into your family. He was polite, mature, and personable throughout the whole meal. You remembered that night well. The morning of, he called you panicking because he didn’t know what to wear. You told him to wear whatever he wanted, but he was afraid the Kildare County T shirt and cargo shorts wouldn’t send the right message. So you took him shopping on the mainland. Together you took the ferry and made him play dress up in stores you knew he couldn’t afford. He felt bad that you were paying for his new wardrobe, but you promised it was something you wanted to do because you would do anything to make him feel better about this night. That night he came to your door with a bouquet of flowers for your mother and a bottle of Scotch he told Andrew his dad bought for him for that night. Your little sister absolutely adored him, barely giving him enough time to kiss you hello or goodbye.

You and JJ were more alike than either of you could even imagine. Your temper wasn’t as short as JJ’s, but you weren’t afraid of a fight when it presented itself to you. Your mother always said that’s what happens when you grow up on the Cut. You learn to fight for what you want and need. Most of the time JJ liked that about you. Seeing you standing up for yourself was a huge turn on to him and he felt prideful when onlookers would watch impressed because they didn’t expect a girl from Figure Eight to fight like that. He never let it get physical though even though he always thought it would be hot to see you in a cat fight with some rich bitch from your school. He cared too much about you to let you get hurt.

You and JJ have another similarity no one outside of the Pogues know about. Although you hate it more than anything, you and JJ live through the trauma of having an abusive father. As if dealing with your father alone wasn’t stressful enough, he created a few fights between you and your boyfriend. JJ was constantly on your case when you were hiding a new bruise or silently frustrated from a previous conversation with your father. You tried not to find it overbearing because JJ was just concerned. You promised you’d stop seeing your father. It was easier for you than for JJ because you had another family to fall back on. A loving mother, a generous step father, and a boisterous little sister. The perfect family. Which is why you felt so guilty that they didn’t seem like enough. ‘Cause it didn’t matter how much money Andrew had, or if he said he loved you like his own, or that he promised you he would never hurt your mother on the day he proposed. He wasn’t your real dad. Your real dad was out there, living in filth and drugs. Without a second income, he couldn’t pay his bills or own a car to drive himself to work every day. He blamed that on you and your mother and you fell for his pity party every single time.

JJ knew when you were lying. You’d wearing more clothes on the days you were hiding your skin and quieter on the days when you were thinking back to the hateful things your father yelled at you the day before. He hated that there was someone out there laying their hands on you and there was nothing he could do about it. JJ knew the kind of damage that could happen if he tried to physically intervene and it didn’t work. Every time he brought it up, it would only start a heated argument. You would bring up his own father and how JJ wouldn’t let you say anything to Luke, even on the days you two were face to face at Barry’s home with your own father. You hated that JJ thought he could come between you and your father, but you couldn’t do the same. It was hard to believe you two were using your own father’s against each other to prove a point.

Today was no different. It was sunny, cloudless day in the middle of the summer. Which meant the perfect boat day for you and your Pogues. John B was excited to fish, JJ and Pope were excited to swim, Kie to tan. And you? Well you weren’t excited all at. Because last night was a particularly bad night between you and your dad.

He had taken you out to Barry’s again, forcing you to come inside so he could show you off like his own personal wallet. He drained you of another four hundred dollars after Barry threatened to shoot your father in the head if he didn’t get his money. And you hesitated. Not because you wanted your father to die, but because you had never had a gun pointed at another person in your vicinity. Ever. But that’s not how your dad took it. When you dropped him off, he had you come inside so he could give you his unpaid utility bills. When you least expected it, your dad shoved you hard into the countertop, the corner of it jabbing into your side. Even when you fell to the floor, your father didn’t stop kicking you in your stomach. He called you ungrateful and disloyal. He told you he wished you had never been born - how you ruin everything. You cried into the tiled floors until your dad tired himself out, grabbed a beer, and went to bed.

Your torso was covered in blue and purple bruises when you woke up. Even the warm water from you shower this morning felt like a million little needles pricking your skin. You contemplated texting the Pogues, telling them you felt sick and that you couldn’t go today. But when you looked out the window and saw the perfect day, you didn’t want to miss out on the sun or a day out with your friends. Your father’s taken a lot from you, but you wouldn’t let him take this.

You wore a one piece bathing suit you had no intention of showing anyone today. JJ greeted you first when the Pogue pulled up to your dock. His arm wrapped around your waist, his hand lightly squeezing your side. You inevitably flinched but forced out a giggle to make it look like JJ had only tickled you. Not hurt you. No one thought anything of it. No one but JJ. He watched you with a narrowed gaze as you said your hellos to the others and popped a squat next to Kie and Sarah.

When John B docked the boat, everyone immediately undressed to get into the cool water.

“C’mon, babe. You’re my partner for Chicken,” JJ walked up to you, the two of you the only ones on the boat.

You looked up and admired his shirtless, toned body. His tan skin glowed against the North Carolina sun and you couldn’t understand how you got so lucky to call him yours.

Then you remembered your predicament and looked out towards your friends to avoid his stare. “I’m not feeling that great today, J.”

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked but he didn’t need to. He already knew what was wrong. He just wanted to see if you would lie about it again.

“Just nauseous,” you said, “I think I ate some bad eggs this morning or something.”

“Some bad eggs, huh?” JJ scoffed.

“JJ...” you sighed. You knew he didn’t buy your lame excuse. You wouldn’t either if it was the other way around.

“You went to see him again, didn’t you?” It wasn’t a question it was a statement.

“Can we not do this here? Please.” You practically begged. You knew this argument could get heated. It usually always did. Neither of you meant to get mad at one another. In the end, it was your dad who was in the wrong. But you guys didn’t like seeing the other one hurt. It was both frustrating and exhausting.

JJ rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He dove into the water head first and swam out towards his friends.

You dropped your head on the boat’s steering wheel, your forehead thumping against it. You wished cutting ties with your dad was as it easy as it sounds. But now you know that Barry would kill your dad if you didn’t show up for him with the money he owed. And you couldn’t let that happen. It would feel like murdering your own father.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A week later, you found yourself at another boneyard party with your friends. You tried your best to enjoy the night despite your boyfriend giving you the cold shoulder. He was still mad about the incident on the boat. The two of you fought about it when you got back to the Chateau. He knew you were holding something back from him. And you were. You never mentioned Barry or the drugs or the gun to him. As far as JJ knew, you paid your dad’s bills and took him out to lunch every once in a while. And you wanted to keep it this way - afraid of what he might think knowing you were spending time with not only a notorious drug dealer, but his own father.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” you tell Kie as the two of you watched JJ and John B play beer pong against two Tourons.

She nodded and kept her eyes trained on the winning Pogues.

Before you reached the keg, a hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you away from the crowd, towards the water. When you looked up at who it was, you ripped your hand away and glared at the blonde Kook.

“Y/N -“

“What the hell do you want, Rafe?” You could tell he was high. His eyes wouldn’t stop flickering back between yours, his balance was off, and his pupils were dilated.

“I - I screwed up. I don’t have the money - I didn’t make enough money for Barry’s blow. He’s gonna kill me.”

“Hey, hey. Calm down,” you looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

“You need to help me. You need to sell this -“ he tried shoving small baggies into your hands but you pulled yourself away like he was offering your a lit flame.

“Are you out of your mind. Put that away!”

“I wasn’t - wasn’t keeping track of how many people were using my shit. And then there was this girl -“

“Rafe, I can’t do this.”

“JJ can help. Yeah? His dad -“

“JJ stays out of this,” you took another step towards him so you were face to face with the Kook and he could see how serious you were, even through his high state of mind. “You hear me? JJ’s nothing like his dad and I swear to god I’ll kill you first if you say anything to him.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Rafe raised his voice, frustrated that he couldn’t come up with any other ideas of how he was supposed to get his money back.

“Hey!” You froze when another voice broke you and Rafe apart. JJ walked up from behind you and pointed his finger at the Kook. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get away from her.”

You let JJ pull you behind him but kept your eyes on Rafe, trying to warn him from saying anything to your already fired up boyfriend.

Rafe sniffled and took a step back. “Nothing, dude. Relax. Okay?”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“Rafe was just leaving,” you said and kept your eyes on Rafe.

“Y/N, you don’t understand. Barry -“

“Rafe!”

JJ’s head snapped in your direction and his brows furrowed in confusion. He knew that name. His dad’s mentioned that name before. It’s usually followed by coke prices.

Rafe just glared at you. “If I die, it’s on you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked down at the sand as Rafe walked away. JJ slowly turned to look at you as his brain scrambled to put the pieces together.

“Y/N...”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You said quickly.

“How do you know Barry?” JJ pushed. He didn’t care if you didn’t want to talk about it. He was tired of letting you push him away.

“He’s my dad’s dealer, J. We’ve been over this.” You tried walking away from him but he grabbed your wrist to make you look at him.

“You been to his house?” JJ asked. When you didn’t answer, he took a step back and looked at you incredulously. “You work for him now?”

You glared at him. “Of course not!”

“Then -“

“My dad makes me pay for his shit, okay? And I can’t stop or else Barry will kill him.” You snapped. Tears pricked at your waterline and threatened to fall.

“Barry won’t kill -“

“He pointed a gun at his head the other day! I was there! I had to scoff up hundreds of dollars to save his life.” You shook your head. “And that still wasn’t enough to save myself from a stupid beating. So please stop telling me how much easier it is for me to escape him. Stop telling me how lucky I am to have such a great family to rely on. Because I don’t! If I don’t help my dad out, I might as well sign his death warrant myself.”

JJ’s heart physically cracked in his chest at the sight of you. You were falling apart. Here at a boneyard party, where you should be having fun and forgetting about your problems. But instead he pushed you too far, and although he was relieved to finally hear the truth from you, he wished it had been in the privacy of your home or the Chateau. When he looked over your shoulder, he saw the worried looks of the Pogues looking at them. He didn’t know if he heard them, but he hoped they hadn’t. He still needed time to process this without the pestering questions from his friends. Even if they meant well.

“Okay,” JJ said softly. “Okay. I won’t say anything. I’m sorry. Can we just - “ he sighed. “Can we just go back to the Chateau? I just wanna hold you.”

You sniffled and meekly nodded your head. You were angry and frustrated. But not at him. At Rafe. At your own father. At the world. And you just wanted your boyfriend too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That night, you fell asleep pretty fast. From your sore body, to the sleepless nights thinking about Barry and his threats, and the warmth of JJ’s body held against you, your exhausted state quickly took over you. You felt like you could sleep for hours.

JJ, however, did not. He stared up at the blank ceiling with his forearm tucked under his head as his other arm stayed wrapped around you. He couldn’t stop picturing you at Barry’s home with a bunch of old low lifes, scared and innocent. He wondered if his dad was ever there - if he ever said anything to you.

He hated that there wasn’t anything he could do for you unless your dad was gone.

Gone.

And idea popped into his head like someone flicked a light switch on in his brain. He turned his head, back and forth, looking for your phone. When he found it charging on his night stand, he stretched his arm out for it, careful not to wake up your sleeping figure.

He secretly knew your passcode after subtly watching you type it in a couple weeks ago.

His fingers tapped against your screen until he found the app he was looking for. Glancing down at you one last time, he shared your location with his phone.

When you squirmed in his embrace, JJ quickly put the phone back where he found it and pretended to be asleep in case you peeked an eye open at him. He hoped you didn’t feel his heart racing against his rib cage or his uneven breaths. He knew if you found out what he was doing, you’d be pissed. But before he fell asleep, he promised he was going to do anything necessary to keep you safe.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the day JJ knew you were going to be busy all day babysitting your neighbor’s kids, he rode his bike to Kildare County’s police station. He stared at the entrance for a long couple of seconds, hating every second of being in near proximity to this place. Basically going against every natural instinct he had to stay away and not trust the police.

But he was doing this for you.

He walked in, ignoring the couple of looks from officers he’s encountered over the years. They were mostly surprised he wasn’t being forced through the doors with his hands cuffed behind his back.

“I need to see Sheriff Peterkin, please.” JJ says politely.

The older woman looked JJ up and down. “Do you have an appointment?”

“It’s the fucking police station. Since when do you have to make appointments? You assume people are just gonna know when an emergency is going to happen?”

“Look kid -“

“JJ.” JJ turned and relief washed over him when he saw Sheriff Peterkin in the hallway looking at him confused but also concerned.

“I need your help.” JJ admitted. He hated cops. Probably always will. But he trusted Sheriff Peterkin. She’s always tried to help John B through his DCS struggles. She actually cared about what he wanted and never took the easy way out just to make her work load lighter. She remembered why she took the oath every day.

Peterkin never really liked the Maybank kid in particular, but she was able to see something in him pretty much every cop couldn’t. She saw the loyalty and the determination his friends saw. She could tell he didn’t want to grow up to be like his father.

She led him into her office and shut the door behind them for privacy. She gestured towards the seat in front of her desk and asked him to explain what was going on.

JJ’s mouth moved a hundred miles per minute. He told her how your mother didn’t know you would sneak out to see your dad despite the custody agreement. He mentioned the bills he made you pay and the bruises he would leave you despite your efforts to help him. He teared up when he mentioned his own dad - and how his father and your father had the same dealer. How your dad would make you go inside Barry’s home and use you like a a community bank account. He even told her about the gun Barry threatened to use on your dad right in front of you.

“Why are you tell me all of this?” Peterkin says slowly. She studied the boy in front of her who was slowly falling apart and felt sympathetic for the young blonde. It didn’t take a genius to know why JJ was telling her this.

“Because...y/n... she has a heart of gold,” JJ sniffled. “She won’t leave her dad behind to be homeless or killed because that man is her blood. It doesn’t matter if he beats her black and blue. She always goes back because she thinks she owes him.” He sighs. “I want him gone. I don’t care what you do to him. Arrest him, kill him. I don’t really care. Although the second choice sounds more strategic -“

“JJ -“

“And I don’t want her getting in any sort of legal trouble because it’s not her fault. She doesn’t do drugs or deal them or anything like that. She just stands there and watches her dad blow his money on coke and who knows what else. And her mom? Her mom has no clue what’s going on but it’s not her fault. Y/n is really good at hiding her pain. She forces a smile every day and -“ JJ’s breath hitched in his throat when he thought about how you faked your happiness every single day and how a girl like you should never feel as worthless as you do. “Her mom’s a good mom. And I don’t want people blaming her or taking Y/n away from her because they think she can’t control her -“

“Hey, look at me,” Peterkin says softly. She wanted to reach over the desk and squeeze his hand to comfort him. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I remember having to visit their home when Mrs. Y/L/N was still married to him. Y/N mother’s a good woman. I wouldn’t let anyone come between them.”

“What about her dad? I tried convincing her to never see him again but she won’t do it. She’s afraid Barry will kill him.”

“I can’t bust into Barry’s home without probable cause -“

JJ stood up. “That’s bullshit! You know -“

“Without probable cause or evidence that proves Barry is holding drugs or being violent, I can’t barge into that home.”

“That’s -“

“Here,” Peterkin writes her number down on a post it note and hands it to JJ. “Without probable cause, I can’t arrest Barry and the men who work or buy from him.” She stared at JJ, hoping the boy will understand her hidden message. She points at the post it in JJ’s hands. “Now. If you need anything from me. Call that number and I will find you.”

JJ looked down at the number and slowly nodded his head, understanding what he would have to do.

“And JJ -“ the blonde turned. “Be aware of where your father is when you call me. I dont want you ending up in the same situation as your friend John B if that’s not where you want to be.”

JJ nodded. “Thank you Sheriff Peterkin.”

Peterkin nodded and walked him out of the station.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Three days later, JJ met his friends at the Wreck for lunch. He slowed his pace when he noticed the seat next to Pope wasn’t occupied and neither was the one next to Kie.

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked them.

Kie looked at the others with furrowed brows. They all got the same text. The one where Y/N apologetically told them that something came up and wouldn’t be able to hang out today. They thought JJ would have known that.

“She said she couldn’t make it,” Kie says. “We thought you knew.”

“Did she say why?”

Pope shrugged. “Just that something came up.”

JJ ripped his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through his messages with you. You didn’t text him - you didn’t even answer his good morning text. He knew what this meant. You didn’t like to lie, so you’re way of dodging questions you didn’t want to answer honestly is to make sure no one can ask you them. By avoiding them all together. JJ knew that. It made sense to him.

“JJ, what’s going on?” John B asked his friends, recognizing the look on his best friend’s face. He was furious but also anxious. His leg hasn’t stopped bouncing up and down since he asked where you were.

JJ clicked on the app that showed your location and saw you were deep into the south side of the Cut. He recognized the area of his father’s drug dealer.

“We gotta go,” JJ stood up and motioned for his friends to follow. “Now. JB, you bring the Twinkie?”

“Yeah, but...” John B stuttered as he grabbed his stuff off the table. “What’s going on?”

“We're saving my girl from that douche bag she calls a father,” JJ says. “For good.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

John B pulled the Twinkie to the curb outside of Barry’s house, making sure to use the trees to hide his vehicle. The Pogues immediately recognized your car parked in Barry’s driveway. Confusion bubbled through their heads, but rage ignited in JJ’s.

“Why is she here?” Kie asked.

JJ didn’t answer. He picked up his phone and clicked on Peterkin’s name. “It’s JJ.” The Pogues paused as they listened to JJ to talk to the Sheriff. “I -” He stopped when the sound of a gun shot being fired silenced all of them into panic.

“JJ -” Peterkin called for him but JJ didn’t answer. He dropped the phone so fast and sprinted out of the van, towards the house. He didn’t care what kind of danger he was running into. He just knew he had to get you out of it.

JJ ignored the calls from his best friends behind him as he ripped open the screen door. He stopped, looking left, right, up, down - anywhere for you.

He heard the commotion coming from Barry’s living room along with shouting and glass smashing. The first person he saw was Barry holding a gun up to the ceiling, pointed at the hole he left above him only seconds ago. He was glaring in the direction of you and your father, barely taking notice of the new kid in his home. Luke Maybank was the first to notice his son and narrowed his eyes in his direction. JJ gulped nervously - he didn’t know if it was because he was afraid of the guy with the gun or his dad. But what he feared the most was you not being okay.

Your eyes grew wide with fear when you saw the new face. You looked between JJ and Barry nervously, not knowing how Barry would react to the new member in his house. He was already pissed as it is, threatening to shoot you in front of your dad because neither of you could fork over the money your dad owed Barry. He was getting tired of the same old bullshit, and Rafe didn’t help. He stood silently in the corner with his fingers racked through his hair.

“Who the fuck are you?” Barry pointed the gun at JJ when he finally noticed him.

“Hey, hey, hey, he’s good!” Luke came closer to Barry and said, “That’s my son.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Barry asked him.

Luke looked past Barry at JJ for an answer he couldn’t give him. JJ glanced from Barry, to his dad, to you and gulped again as he tried to come up with answer. That’s when you understood what was going on. He was following you.

You didn’t know if you should be mad or not. All you could focus on was the gun in Barry’s hand that’s still pointed in JJ’s direction.

“Look, kid,” Your dad said to Barry, gaining his attention all over again. “I’ll make it up to you.” He put his hand on your shoulder and shoved you slightly forward. “You want to have her for the night? She’s all yours.”

Your head snapped in your father’s direction with your mouth open agape. Did your dad seriously just try to pimp you out? You felt betrayed, vile, used, and worthless. This isn’t something you do when you love your kid.

JJ seethed and clenched his hands in fists, ready to rock the shit out of your dad. “You son of a bitch -”

Luke, however, caught him in time, holding him by the arm and pulling him away from your dad. JJ tried fighting him off to get to your dad or you - to get you out of this entire home. He saw the scared look on your face and it made him want to set the entire house on fire. He’d do anything to protect you - to keep you safe. And right now, he thought he was failing.

Then, red and blue lights flashed through the open windows, followed by loud sirens. Barry crossed the room to stand next to you and your father and looked out the window. When he saw the cops, he immediately swiveled around to point his gun at your boyfriend.

“You called the fucking cops?” Barry sneered.

“Stop!” You yelled to try and get Barry’s attention and away from JJ.

You dad tried to use Barry’s distraction to his advantage and snuck up behind him to try and reach for the gun. Barry spun around and tried pulling his wrist away from your dad’s grip. As they fought for the gun and an upper hand, you ran across the room for JJ who immediately wrapped his arms around your waist. He kissed the top of your head and motioned for the front door, mumbling about leaving.

You nodded and grasped his hand in yours. When he turned to lead you out of there, another shot rang out and you flinched closer to JJ as he ducked and pulled your head down with his arms and shields your body with his.

You heard a thump and the floor vibrated under your feet.

“Shit -”

“Fuck -”

“What did you do that for -”

“Jerry? Hey! Jerry!”

Everything kind of moved in slow motion after that. You turned around to see what had happened and that’s when you saw your dad laying on the floor with a puddle of blood growing around his body. Your feet moved faster than your brain did to get to your dad.

JJ tried reaching for you but you swiveled out of his grip and dropped to your knees in front of your dad’s body. His eyes were closed and his mouth open. You placed your hands on top of the wound in his stomach to get it to stop bleeding. You cried. You didn’t know why you were crying but you did. Hard and heavy, barely able to get your own breaths in. You didn’t pay attention to Rafe fleeing from the backyard, or Barry being stopped by the cops who stormed into the house with guns raised. You barely felt JJ place his hands on your shoulders to try and coax you up. All you saw and could feel was your dad’s dead body and his blood on your hands.

“Honey,” You felt another set of hands touch your back as they knelt down next to you. You didn’t look at her but recognized the familiar voice. “He’s gone. It’s over.”

“No -” You voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry. Let’s get you cleaned up. Okay?”

Sheriff Peterkin nodded at JJ to help you up and lead you out of the house. He was finally able to pull you up from your knees and placed a comforting hand on your lower back.

Your friends watched from the barricade the police set up around the house. When they saw you, all of them either started to panic or cry. They thought your were hurt until JJ nodded at them to tell them you were okay. But they could see in your face you were anything but okay.

Another cop lead you to the back of an ambulance. You don’t even look at Luke being handcuffed next to Barry or Rafe disappearing in the trees. All you can think about is your dad.

The EMT did a quick check up on you after realizing the blood on your hands was in fact not yours. Then they took a quick look at JJ and asked if there was someone they could call for you.

“My mom -” You whispered.

The EMT nodded. “Do you have a number?”

You told the EMT her number and waited patiently as she walked away to call her. When the two of you were alone, JJ turned to look at you and reached out for your hands and held them in his lap. He rubbed his thumb up and down over the back of your hand and waited for you to say something. He didn’t know if any words could make this right. He didn’t know how to comfort you after you just witnessed your dad died. It didn’t matter if you hated him or not. You literally watched him take his last breath. Your own flesh and blood. That shit’s traumatizing.

“I’m sorry,” JJ said when he realized you were not going to say anything. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just - I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“This is my fault.”

“No,” JJ shook his head. “No. It’s not your fault. It’s Barry’s. He was the one with the gun -”

“I should’ve walked away. From my dad. From all of this.” A single tear rolled down your cheek. “I enabled him. I allowed it to get this far.”

“You were doing what you thought was best for your dad.”

“I got him killed -”

“He did this to himself, Y/N. You were more than the perfect daughter. You literally couldn't be more perfect if you tried.” JJ wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer into his side and kissed the top of your head. “He didn’t deserve you. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this.”

You cried into his shoulder, letting the sobs wrack through your body and your heart tear into millions of pieces. JJ held you tightly against him and whispered comforting words in your ears.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

JJ stood by you through your grieving process - through the good and the bad. He’s took your harsh words with a grain a salt when he noticed you were just trying to pick a fight, he held you when you cried into your pillow in the middle of the night, he was by your side for a hand to hold when you told your mother what happened and why you were at Barrys for the millionth time, and he was there to tell you he will always be there for you when you think he’s just going to up and leave like your dad did.

After your dad’s funeral, you stood in front of his tombstone with a solemn expression. Your dad was a piece of shit and didn’t deserve your love, money, and attention. You wished you could go back and time and never give it to him. At least that way you wouldn’t feel all these complicated emotions that made no sense. Love, hate, grief, relief. You didn’t know how to feel.

Coming up behind you was JJ. He weaved his fingers with yours and kissed your temple. You couldn’t believe there was ever a day where JJ Maybank was your enemy. You didn’t think you’d be able to get through this without him.

“JJ,” You said and looked up at him. “Thank you.”

JJ nodded. “I love you.” He would never admit this, but he was glad you dad was dead. Because now he knew you were safe.

“I love you more.”

JJ shook his head. “Impossible.”

Tag List: @allycat449-blog @zarahsloves @redknight9

#jj fic #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx fic #obx imagine

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Land of Thieves - Final Chapter

Gif is not mine and i probably used before but here it is.

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

Complete Work at AO3> Land of Thieves // Click on the tag "Land of Thieves for complete work here on Tumblr.

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, cursing, blood.

Marks> @mionemymind @wandamaximoffpuppy

You wake up completely entwined together, Wanda lying next to you as you hold her around the waist. You grunt against the back of her neck as you feel the sun's rays on your face, and Wanda stirs a little, turning toward you and sinking her face into your neck as she mumbles softly.

You know you have to get up, because you have a job to do. But to have Wanda like this against you is delicious.

You let her fingers slowly travel up your back, and Wanda smiles against your skin.

- It tickles. - She murmurs sleepily. When you stop, however, she mumbles softly.

- We have to get up. - You say, opening your eyes.

Wanda grumbles again, making you laugh slightly.

- I'm sleepy. - She mumbles, and you bite your lips.

- Let me wake you up then. - You whisper as you run your fingers down her back again. You turn your face in Wanda's direction, kissing her as you ask for passage with your tongue. She responds lazily, sighing against your mouth, as your hand moves down her waist to her ass, squeezing the flesh.

You are already turned on again, and feel Wanda's wet pussy against your thigh is helping it. Then you sink into the kiss as you move on top of her, your naked breasts pressing together making you moan together in the kiss.

Wanda's legs move along against yours, and then she spreads them so that you are in the middle, and locks her legs around your waist.

You leave your hips together and try not to get lost in the sensation of your pussies rubbing together as you kiss.

Wanda lets her hands run down your arms to your shoulder, and pushes you slightly for breath, you take the opportunity to move your kisses down her jaw and neck, and as you pull and suck on the skin you also move your hips down against her, and she is moaning breathlessly with her eyes closed.

You lower your kisses again, slowly and lingeringly down Wanda's skin to her breasts. When you play with her nipples on your tongue, she arches her back and digs her nails into your arm. You smile against her left breast, sucking and licking until Wanda whimpers.

Then you kiss her belly, and move your kisses down her hips. You know that Wanda is dripping wet, so you don't torture her, and move right down to where she wants you.

Wanda lets out a loud moan as you kiss her pussy. The smell is intoxicating, and you sigh against her. And then you feel Wanda's hand in your hair, encouraging you to taste her, and you give her exactly what she wants.

Starting with shallow yet long licks on her clitoris, you feel Wanda's fingers move through your hair. And when she sighs, you penetrate her. The tightness in your head changes immediately, and Wanda moans loudly. You smile, tasting her again. And when she starts to move her legs, you bring your hands to her thigh, to keep her open for you.

You kiss, suck, and lick the sensitive flesh, inhibited by Wanda's taste as she writhes and moans breathlessly, the tightness in your hair holding you in place.

Then Wanda begins to whimper, and her body is shaking in spasms, and you keep a steady rhythm inside her.

It takes three more deep strokes for Wanda to spill against your tongue, and she lets out a loud moan, her whole body shaking, and you sigh against her pussy. She tastes so good.

The grip on your hair loosens in the next second, and you finish drinking her juice, depositing long kisses on her swollen clit as she calms down.

Then you move up the kisses along her body, and when you reach her face, Wanda brings your mouths together, sighing as she tastes herself on you.

- Good morning. - You whisper as you part, Wanda bites her lower lip, smiling.

-morning. - She says in a hoarse voice. You think you have just fallen in love with her even more.

When you two finally get up, and are properly dressed, you carry your mattress back to the camp, Wanda at your side.

You have barely taken a step into the tent area when Nat appears in your field of vision, a coffee in her hand, and a mischievous look in her eyes. She doesn't even have to say anything and you are already blushing and pushing her out of the way.

You and Wanda don't have much time to talk after that, everyone in the camp seems frantically excited about the scam.

When you go to your tent, Tony is awake, with his hand on his head complaining of pain.

- Good morning, Stark. - You tell him with a smile and he looks at you.

- How did I get here?

You're rummaging through your dresser, looking for a shirt. - God you really did drink it all last night. - You play lightly, and then leave the shirt on top of the dresser, raise your hands toward the small bottle of water you usually leave there, and pour a glass for Tony. - We'll talk later, I have a job now. - You say, handing him the glass. He smiles in appreciation, drinking the water quickly. - But I want to thank you for what you have done for Wakanda.

Tony is surprised for a moment, probably not remembering how you found out about this. But then he smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

- I thought I would do something decent for once in my life. - He comments and you smile as you take the empty glass back.

- Try to eat a little, my friend. - You say, taking the item to the dresser as Tony gets out of bed. - You will wait here at the camp with Bruce and Potts.

- That's fine. - He says before leaving your tent.

After you put on your work clothes, you join the small circle of people in front of Steve's tent.

- Good morning everybody! - he says with his hands resting on his belt. - As you know we have a big job today. And if everything goes according to plan, we will be back home in a few days.

The camp lets out an exclamation of contentment, and you smile at Wanda who is at the other end.

- I want everyone to be careful when we are on the Braithwaites' property. - Steve continued seriously. - Hold the position as we have planned. If anything gets out of hand, and we have to shoot our way out, we will protect each other and not the gold.

The gang lets out an exclamation of agreement, and after going over the last details, Steve releases you all with a nod.

You walk toward the fire, wishing you could eat some before you have to leave.

Pietro jumps on your shoulder just as you are reaching for some food, and you almost knock over the bowl, grumbling softly.

- I am so excited to be rich! - He announces with a smile that makes you laugh.

- I imagine you are. - You scoff slightly as you finish serving yourself. You walk toward the fire and he follows. - Aren't you going to eat?

- No, I don't like to be on a full stomach before a shooting. - He says and you shrug. Pietro doesn't sit down, he just rests his leg on one of the logs that are used as a chair. - By the way, I can't wait to get back to New Austin. It is very cold here.

You laugh lightly as you eat, without answering. Pietro doesn't mind your silence, though. Natasha joins you next, sitting next to you, also carrying a bowl of food.

- I hear that Steve is going to buy land for us. - She announces and you and Pietro look at her in surprise, but she smiles. - Who knew we would become ranchers at the end of it all.

The three of you laugh lightly, and you are distracted as you think about the possibility. It seems like a very unlikely dream to happen.

- Can I make a comment about you and Wanda or should I wait until you finish eating? - Natasha asked ironically a moment later, and you held back your laughter because you didn't want to choke on your food. Pietro looked at you curiously, and noticing his expression, Natasha let out a wry chuckle. - Pietro, Pietro, you cannot tell me that you did not notice that your sister did not sleep in the tent tonight?

Pietro blinked in confusion, and then he understood and let out a surprised exclamation.

- My God, I'm going to be an uncle!

- Shut up, boy. - You mumbled awkwardly, while Natasha laughed. Pietro also laughed. Then Wanda joined you, accompanied by Monica, and the girls looked at you curiously.

- You guys are happy today, huh? - Monica commented with a smile. You exchanged a look with Wanda.

- Pietro is an idiot, and Nat thinks it's funny. - You clarify when they both stop laughing. Monica smiles at you before sitting down. And then Wanda is turning around the trunk, and sitting on your lap. You ignore the uncompensated beating of your heart and the insinuating glances you receive, putting the bowl down and kissing her on the cheek.

You eventually embark on a conversation about your latest heists over the next few minutes, until Steve is calling everyone out.

Your friends get up first, and when you are alone by the fire, Wanda gives you a kiss on the mouth that takes the air out of your lungs.

- Be careful, okay? - she says as she lets go, and you just smile and nod as she gets up.

Then you walk towards the whole group at the entrance to the camp. Steve signals for you all to get on your horses, and you all hurry to do so.

When you are mounted on your mare, Pietro mounts the sorrel beside you.

- What's up, partner? - He asks with a smile, and you nod.

- Care to place a bet, partner? - You reply with a certain irony and Pietro assumes a thoughtful expression.

- I bet I can find more gold than you can. - He declares after a moment, making you laugh. But before you can respond, Steve is ordering you to ride, and you just exchange a glance with Pietro before galloping off.

It doesn't take long before you reach the mansion area, and you turn your head back to observe Steve, Peggy and Nat riding at a distance, and then turning the corner, as they would enter through the secondary entrance. And then you exchanged a look with Wanda and Monica who came up behind you before putting on their masks and dismounting from the horse.

You patted Pietro on the shoulder as he got off, signaling for him to be quiet, and then you led your horses by the reins through the terrain.

A few moments later you came within a good distance of the mansion, and tied your horses to the trees in the garden area.

And then the four of you entered the house quietly through one of the windows on the side. You looked around the room, it was absolutely gorgeous. But then Monica signaled for everyone to be quiet and you heard voices. Exchanging a look with Pietro, you went off in opposite directions and then attacked the guards in the front room afterwards, silently knocking them out.

- Does anyone know where the chamber is? - You heard Pietro whisper to you, but then you heard the sound of gunfire, and turned your head quickly in the direction behind you.

Running to the door, you let out a surprised exclamation as you noticed Steve, Peggy and Natasha riding at high speed from the back grounds, their guns drawn as they fired at the guards, who fired back.

- I guess so much for the element of surprise. - You comment, and then exchange a look with the other three. - All right, split up and search every room.

The group nods and then you are running in the wide area of the mansion, doing your best not to get lost. The exchange of fire continues intensely outside, and you draw your own pistol since you no longer have to be silent.

You look at least three empty rooms before something catches your eye. It's a huge painting at the end of a corridor, the image of a stern-looking woman staring back at you. You run your fingers over the phrase "We prosper" painted at the top of the painting and frown slightly.

- Apologies to the artists. - You comment softly as you pull out your knife and stick it into the painting, tearing it apart. You eventually realize that you could have pushed the item, because when you tear the canvas, there is a false base. And you lean your fingers on the frame to pull, and you end up revealing a vault the size of the painting in the back.

The glint of gold bars makes you let out a surprised exclamation. And then you reach out, touching the items to make sure they are real. There were at least ten gold bars, along with several shiny jewels and papers that you guessed were property titles. You really had made it.

Whistling to reveal your location to the group, it took a moment for them to join you, and you smiled, making room for them to see the small inventory. Pietro let out an excited exclamation as he hurried toward you, pulling the bag he carried on his back, while Monica did the same.

While they were carrying the items, you and Wanda moved in the opposite direction, keeping watch. Eventually two guards appeared, but you shot them quickly.

- All set folks! - announced Pietro, turning to you with a smile, and then you nodded, moving toward the exit, where the shooting was most intense.

You and Wanda hid behind the entrance pillars, trying to look around. You noticed Thor at the entrance crouched down and exchanging fire with three other guards, while Steve and Peggy were further away, still on their horses and being followed by other guards. You had no view of Natasha, but judging by the sound of gunfire, she must have been in the opposite direction from Thor.

- Everything okay there, Odinson? - you shouted to the blond man a few meters ahead of you. He let out a laugh before shouting again.

- Everything under control!

And then you were shooting, and you managed to hit one of the guards who was holding Thor's position. And he exclaimed in thanks, getting up only to hit the last one.

- We need to get to the horses before the reinforcements get here! - Thor said as you ran up to him. You nodded in agreement, following him in the same direction as you had come, and Natasha joined you halfway.

When you finally reached your horses, at the moment extremely agitated because of the gunshot noise, Thor asked you all to hurry. And then you heard a gunshot, and an exclamation of pain. Turning your head quickly to the side, you held Pietro before he fell to the ground.

A guard had come out from inside the mansion, a rifle in one hand. But Thor hit him next, and then you were looking at your friend.

- Wow hey, I got you. - You said, trying to keep him steady. You didn't know where the shot had hit. He whimpered breathlessly, becoming very heavy and falling to the ground beside you. - Pietro! Pietro, look at me!

And then Wanda was beside you, touching her brother on the chest. You looked down at his torso, and noticed the pool of blood on his belly, and let out an exclamation. But then Thor was running up to you, and caught Pietro, throwing his arm around his shoulders and waving you toward the wagons at the end of the lot.

- Don't stop. - He said as you stood up, ignoring the trembling of your hand and helping Wanda to stand despite her shock, and ran toward them.

Monica and Natasha hit the last guards there, and while Thor put Pietro in one of the wagons, Steve and Peggy rode up to you.

- There is a group of them approaching from the south. - said Steve. - We have to get out of here.

- My God, Pietro! - exclaimed Peggy as soon as they got close enough to see you guys. But Thor waved.

- He'll be fine if we get him out of here. - He said, moving in the wagon to take up the rear. - Get after your horses.

He told you, but you and Wanda both denied it with your heads.

- We're going to stay with him. - You said, climbing into the wagon and helping Wanda up next. Thor let out a sigh and sped up the horses. Nat waved at you lightly before turning in the opposite direction.

The rocking of the wagon seemed to cause Pietro even more pain, but Wanda was pressing on the wound as you held his hand. The boy was pale and sweaty, but had a faint smile on his lips.

- Hey. - he called breathlessly. - Don't worry girls. I'm going to be the best man, remember? I can't miss the wedding.

You laugh lightly, holding back the tears in your eyes. Pietro let out a grunt of pain, and you asked him to stop struggling to speak. And then you turned your head to Wanda, and placed your free hand on top of hers.

- We're going to be all right, love. - You said. - We take care of each other.

Thick tears streamed down Wanda's cheeks, but she smiled.

- And you and I take care of Pietro. - She replied, looking away of you to look at him for a moment, as if begging him to get better.

It didn't take long to reach the camp again, and then Thor was hurrying to get out and carry Pietro.

Wanda followed him toward the medical tent, where Thor placed her brother on the first empty gurney, while you ran to call Tony and Bruce to help him. They looked surprised, but hurried to accompany you.

They were quick to assist Pietro, and asked the three of you to leave the tent so they would have room to work. Wanda was trembling when you reached for her hands and gently pulled her out.

- Wanda, he'll be okay. - You told her, and then she was nodding, thick tears streaming down her cheeks. You sighed, looking down at your bloody hands. - Let's get you cleaned up.

Wanda looked like she was in shock, so she just nodded. You gently pulled her toward the supply hut that had a makeshift sink. You took a wet cloth to wipe the blood from her hands.

When you were finished, she looked up at you.

- What am I going to do if... - She choked on a sob. - He can't die.

You felt your heart race, and rushed to wipe the tears from her face. And then you hugged Wanda tight, hoping she would relax. - It's all right, love. He'll be all right.

It took a few minutes for Wanda to calm down, but you kept your embrace tight against her.

- Thank you. - She whispered against your skin, and you smiled without letting go.

- Anytime.

When Steve returned to camp with the rest of the group, he ran to where you and Wanda were sitting in front of the medical tent. Bruce and Tony still had the tent closed, and you had an arm around Wanda.

- So? How is he? - he asked with concern. Natasha squeezed your hand gently as she came to your side.

- He is going to be fine. - Informed Thor who had already wiped the blood from himself. - Stark and Banner are stitching him up.

Steve let out a sigh of relief, and then he assumed a serious posture.

- We can't stay here. - He said. - Not after robbing that family. We need to move as fast as possible before-

- Everyone knows that. - You cut him off with irritability. - Can you at least pretend to be concerned about Pietro?

- That's not what I meant. - He retorts seriously, and you think about answering, but Nat is squeezing your hand gently, and you don't want to fight now. - I will prepare everything with Potts and Wilson. When he is ready, we will leave.

And then Steve walked toward Pepper's cabin, and Peggy followed him. You sighed impatiently.

Fortunately, a moment later, Stark opened the tent. He smiled at you, and you felt your body relax.

- It's okay, everybody. - he announced. - He just needs to rest now.

Wanda let out a sigh of relief, and you released your arm from around her waist as she walked toward the tent. Bruce left as she went inside. You thought it best to give them some time alone.

You decided to help the others dismantle the camp while she was in there.

In the final adjustments to stow the tents in the wagons, you heard the sound of galloping approaching. Bucky was back, and he looked happy.

- So, how did it go on the reservation? - You asked as soon as he had dismounted and walked over to you, helping you to carry one of the boxes to the wagon you were in.

- It was fine. - He said with a smile. - T'Challa sent you a thanks gift by the way.

You blinked in surprise, and as soon as he finished loading the box, he went through his pockets. And handed you a small package. But you didn't even have time to look, Steve rushed you out loud the next second.

And then you returned to the medical cabin, and Pietro was getting up with Thor's help, he was clearly in pain, but forced a smile when you walked over to him.

You helped Thor carry him by the shoulders to one of the wagons you had, where you were able to set up a makeshift bed for him. And he was grateful when you left him there.

You returned to the medical hut to help Thor dismantle it, and when you were finished, you walked toward Pietro's cart.

- I'll ride behind you guys, okay? - You told him and Wanda, who was sitting next to him. - We can't fit all three of us in there.

Wanda smiled and moved in for a slow kiss on your lips, which made your stomach turn with anxiety. But she pulled away and sat back down.

You turned back toward your mare, which one of the gang members had brought back, and mounted.

Taking one last look at where the camp used to be, you began to follow the caravan.

The caravan was riding at high speed, and at some point Maria began to sing, and it didn't take long for the other members to follow her. You smiled slightly as you murmured the song, and then you remembered T'Challa's gift.

Rummaging through your pockets looking for the package, you held it carefully in your hands. There was a small piece of paper next to the small package, and you took it first.

"This was on your family memorial. Longevity on your journey, outlaw" was written in cursive letters. You smiled, opening the package. You let out a low exclamation of surprise when you noticed the small Indian jewelry. It was a bronze ring, with something shiny, maybe a small diamond in front. It was very beautiful. You put it back on for fear of dropping it while riding. Ignoring the feeling that you would like to put it on someone else's finger.

You rode for many days towards New Austin, and it was extremely tiring. The rare moments that you caught a glimpse of Wanda were during the stops for bathing and resting, where you were surrounded by other members. You missed touching and kissing her, but you also missed just her company. You couldn't wait to get home.

Just as you were getting tired of mentally complaining about the distance, Steve whistled announcing for you all to stop. You cocked your head to the side to look beyond the wagons and caught a glimpse of the entrance to the Blackwater region. It took a few more minutes, but the caravan finally stopped in a deserted but very beautiful lowland area.

You smiled at Wanda before riding up to Steve.

- I need to talk to you. - You told him as soon as he waved the direction for the caravan to stop, and he shook his head in understanding. You rode a little way past where the wagons had stopped, and dismounted from your horses.

- What is it, child? - he asked tenderly as you walked together around the plain.

You sighed wearily, and when you reached the edge of the cliff, you spoke.

- I can't do this anymore Steve. - You told him, and he frowned in confusion. You swallowed hard before you clarified. - Seeing Pietro like that, just made me realize how tired I am of this life. I never want that to happen to Wanda. - You say. - I don't want to be in danger all the time anymore, I want to rest. And I want a home, and a quiet life.

Steve looks at you for a few seconds, and then smiles, looking away briefly. Then he puts his hand on your shoulder.

- I understand perfectly what you say. - he says with a smile. - I'll tell the gang about it, okay? If they accept, we'll buy land and live together. If not, you take your share of the blow and go live your life with your wife.

You nod, blushing slightly, and then hug Steve. He hugs you tightly back, and when you let go, he pats your arm before walking back to the wagons. You take a deep breath, getting used to the temperature of the area.

A few minutes pass while you are admiring your surroundings, and then someone hugs you, startling you slightly. You smile when you realize that it is Wanda's arms around your waist.

- Hey. - You greet her with a smile, turning your body to kiss her lightly on the lips.

- Hey. - She says back with a smile as you let go. - What's on your mind?

- You. - You tell her by placing your hands on her cheeks. She blinks in surprise, blushing.

- Is that so?

You make a noise of agreement, kissing her again. Wanda smiles against your lips. And then you pull away, swallowing your nervousness.

- I told Steve that I can't be an outlaw anymore. - You say, and Wanda looks at you in mild surprise.

- Really? - She asks and you nod, then she frowns. - Are you... Are you leaving?

You giggle, raising an eyebrow.

- Maybe... - You say and start stroking her cheek with your thumb. Wanda blinks in concern. You ignore the uneven beating of her heart. - I told him I wanted to live a quiet life. With you.

- Oh. - Wanda exclaims in surprise, blushing and then smiles, biting her lip slightly. - Are you serious?

You smile, nodding, and then Wanda kisses you. Slow and delicious. You feel your face heat up. She breaks the kiss soon after, however, and you are nervous, but you let the words escape as your foreheads are pressed together.

- Marry me.

Wanda lets out a sigh, and her hands squeeze your waist. She kisses you again, but it doesn't last long because she is smiling, and then laughing, and you follow her, feeling that your chest is going to explode with happiness.

- Of course I'll marry you. - She declares, kissing you quickly and then depositing several kisses on your face, which makes you smile and blush. And then she is hugging you tight.

You stand like this for a few minutes, and then you hear Steve calling to you from a distance. You separate from Wanda with a groan, and she laughs, giving you one last kiss as you walk back to the wagon area together.

- Y/N, I just talked to everyone. - Steve says as soon as you arrive, and he looks pleased. - We have agreed to buy land in Hannigan's Stead area or somewhere in the New Austin area. Maybe a small ranch, but big enough to fit all of us. - He told you, and you smiled wryly, feeling very happy that your family was going to be on your side. Seeing your posture, Steve walked over to you and put his hand on your shoulder. - We stay together, kid. Always.

You smiled, and hugged him. And then the other members were letting out a chorus of happiness, and joining you two in the hug.

Steve and Peggy went to the town of Blackwater to buy the land while you stayed temporarily in that area. When they returned with the certificate of purchase, you had to ride again for a few more days.

You think you were smiling the whole way, but you didn't care.

When you finally arrived in Hannigan 's Stead region, the caravan was parked in the lowland area, it was a good spot, and had a lake a few yards away.

- Okay, I guess this means that we will have to build our own personal house. - Steve commented with a smile, dismounting from his horse. The caravan was parked in the corner of the lot and you had a very large empty space.

- We had enough money to buy the materials and if we follow the pre-assembly, I think we will be fine. - Peggy said.

It took a few hours for the material wagons to get from Blackwater to where you all were but when they finally arrived, you got to work. Pepper and Monica set up a small temporary camp in the caravan area while the ranch was not ready.

For the next few weeks, you spent your days helping the gang build a house, while dividing your time between sharing a tent with Wanda, playing and swimming in the nearby lake, and spending the afternoon lifting wooden pillars and hammering.

When the ranch was up, you had a party. And you danced with Wanda all night long.

Pietro was up the day before the ranch was finished, and he made you guarantee that he would have a room with a nice view in the window. You threatened to throw the hammer down on him if he kept bugging you.

You knew it would take time for things to work out properly, but as long as you had Wanda by your side, you were satisfied.

You married Wanda in the spring, a few weeks after you built the stable area next to the ranch. She wore a wreath, and you placed your family ring on her finger while she wiped your tears with her free hand. Steve and Pietro were also crying at the ceremony. When Nat joked that Pietro was a crybaby, he said he was just thrilled at how handsome he looked in a suit, and everyone laughed. You and Wanda escaped to the lake area during the party, and she kissed you until all the air was out of your lungs.

- Are you happy? - She asked a moment later, when you two were hugging laying the grass.

- You have no idea how much, dear. - You answered with a smile, leaving your hands on her waist. - And you?

- Yes. - She confesses a little breathlessly. - I love you.

- I love you too, Wanda.

And you kissed her, you two smiling against each other's mouths. You think her hand was dangerously slipping down your back, but she was your wife now, she could do as she wished.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wandamaximoffxreader #wanda maximoffxreader #marvel imagines #Land of Thieves #red dead redemption au

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gohyuck · 3 years

Text

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; part of a collab by @neovisioned

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 10.4k

warnings: infidelity, miscarriages of justice, johnny’s a huge asshole in this i’m so sorry, a lot of straight up classism, explicit mentions of sex (fingering), vehicular manslaughter, armed robbery, general unarmed violence and fighting, pistol-whipping

a/n: so i know a lot of people loved the fact that my most recent long fic (surgeon jaemin!) focused on side characters, but i’ve made this fic pretty jeno-centric on purpose, and i hope it’s still as enjoyable as possible for readers!

May 29, 1957

He’s always been easy on the eyes.

It’s shallow, and a great part of him knows it. Still, as far back as he can remember, Jeno’s always had one thing, and one thing only: his looks. When he was 7 and starving on the streets, terrified of going back to a broken, lifeless home, he’d use his adorable face to elicit pity and pizza from the aging man who ran the local diner. When he was 15 and growing into himself, his blossoming attractiveness got the girl in his geometry class to give him her homework to copy off of, free of charge. When he’d first started working at the garage, a high school dropout at the age of 17, it was his ‘rugged handsomeness’ - review courtesy of the college girls who trailed their rich boyfriends as they searched for cheap fueling and car repairs - that called in tips by the handful.

Jeno’s always had his looks. That’s why, even though he thinks it’s silly of him, he can’t help but look at you with eyes that are overflowing with apprehension. He grips the blond hair-dye just a little too tightly, fingers making what’ll be lasting indents in the plastic box.

“Do I really have to do this?”

You arch an eyebrow, wrenching the dye out of his iron-grip as you do. Jeno watches, feeling more helpless than he has been this whole time as you shake its contents out into your hand. The bleach and the agent you mix it with fall into your open palm, followed by the barely darker dye. You read the instructions over once, twice, before finally looking up to meet Jeno’s trained gaze.

It’s all you can do to heave a heavy sigh.

“You were framed for a robbery, and then you stole a car and accidentally kidnapped me, but the hill you choose to die on is dyeing your hair? Really? If you’re like this now, what are you going to do when we get tattooed?”

“I - We - Tattoos?” Jeno squawks, and you can’t help but sigh again before rolling your eyes.

It’s going to be a long night. Amidst it all, you can’t help but think back to how everything started.

As Jeno keeps his glare trained on the dye, you can’t help but assume that he’s doing the same.

♕ ♕ ♕

Day One: May 25, 1957

Cherry red lips, wanton giggles, a skirt that’s too short, even by what she calls her ‘very own tramp standards’. Jeno can’t get enough of it all - can’t get enough of her, he’s so intoxicated by her. It’s in the way her head falls back, her mouth falls open, her knees fall down, allowing her legs to fall wide. He leans over her, his well muscled arms making it easy to hover instead of collapse on top of her as he coaxes her release from her, two fingers deep in her spasming cunt while his thumb works away at her clit. Jeno’s close - so close - to what he wants, but he doesn’t dare to chase after it; instead of pressing his lips to hers and tasting that enticing lipstick for himself, he settles for pressing his forehead against hers, letting his soft breath land against the silent scream her mouth is currently displaying.

Her chest heaves, her next breaths come out in gasps. As she settles down, Jeno can’t keep himself from dipping his head down, pressing a gentle and completely chaste kiss against the skin of her stomach between her belly-button and her underwear line. She squirms at the feeling of his warm lips against her now-hot skin, and he chuckles against her body before pulling away for good, though not before wiping his fingers on her thigh.

“‘S that good, Jess?” He quirks an eyebrow, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket for her to wipe the sweat across her forehead with. “There’s grease on that s- yeah, that’s the good side.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl, Jeno Lee,” The woman responds dryly, though he doesn’t miss the pleased smirk that crosses her features. She swipes at her inner thighs once before tossing the handkerchief - or, really, rag - at the mechanic, who catches it with ease and stuffs it back where it came from.

“You’re the one who wanted to be fingered in the passenger seat of Johnny Suh’s car, filthy girl,” Jeno throws back, not surprised when Jess swats at his arm at the mention of her boyfriend. She loves Johnny, Jeno knows she does, but that doesn’t stop her from begging for Jeno’s fingers or tongue or, if she’s got time, his dick, whenever she stops by the City Motors garage that Jeno’s been employed at for the past two months. She always comes in driving Johnny’s red Chevy Bel Air convertible. He knows it’s bad of her and bad for him, especially if Johnny ever gets wind of it, but he can’t find it in himself to stop, not when it’s free spank bank material.

Jeno’s probably a bad person for it. He doesn’t really care - after all, it’s just sex. If emotions were involved - and they never are, not for Jeno, not when it comes to getting his dick wet - it might be a different story. That, and it’s Johnny Suh’s girl.

Jeno fucking hates Johnny Suh.

“Say, speaking of John,” Jess says, seemingly sufficiently cooled down by now. “I keep meaning to and forgetting to ask - you’re the same age as his sister, aren’t you?”

“(Name)?” Jeno asks, his brow furrowing when he gets a nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I mean, we were in the same homeroom and shit this past year. Why?”

“Just curious. You’ll probably see her a lot more often from now on, honestly - she got a job at the diner when they had that hiring spree last week.” Jess flicks her head vaguely towards Jeno, and he knows it’s because, if he turns around and looks out the window, he’ll be staring directly at Kim’s, what can be considered the only good eatery on this side of town. He tries his best to seem even vaguely interested at what Jess is saying - going so far as to crane his neck backwards in order to look at the same diner he sees day in and day out - but she calls his bluff easily. Instead of saying anything, she just rolls her neck out before finally shoving the car door open.

“Say ‘hi’ to her sometimes, y’know?” She asks, peering in once she’s standing. “For me. Forget that she’s a Suh sometimes. She needs to talk to more people, anyways.” Jess states, her gaze imploring. Still, Jeno can’t help but scoff at the last thing she says, prompting an affronted look from the woman who’s looking expectantly at him.

“(Name)? Needing to talk to more people? Everyone adores her, she’s always with some new person getting into some bullshit. Honestly, she probably needs to talk to less people at this point.” Jeno explains himself so as to not garner anymore adversity from his fuckbuddy, though the way he squints in mild disbelief at Jess’ suggestion annoys her anyways. The mild petulance that comes through only serves to remind Jess that Jeno is, in fact, only 19 - and while her being 21 doesn’t change their dynamic much, it does bring about some slight difference in maturity.

She tends to overlook it because the benefits seem to outweigh the detractors.

As Jess makes eye contact with Jeno, though, she knows he won’t listen to her friendly suggestion. She doesn’t know why she bothers, sometimes - even though she’s only in it for the sex, he’s really only in it for the sex. As far as anyone’s concerned, Jeno Lee does only two things, and he does them well: fix cars and fuck. Considering that he’s a high school drop-out with no plans of college or trade school, Jess supposes that he doesn’t have much else to do.

“Whatever,” She finally acquiesces, not bothering to return the small smirk Jeno throws at her. “What’s the time?”

“It’s about 4:45,” The mechanic responds without even checking his wristwatch, though Jess doesn’t doubt that he’s right. “What time’s he coming by for his car again?”

“Couple minutes past 5. Got a smoke? I need one.” Jess is still peering into the car from outside, her expression making it seem like she’s waiting for something more than a quick cigarette break. Jeno holds her gaze steady for a beat, two beats, before he breaks away, pushing the door open on his side so he can finally get out too. After all, the car is honestly kind of cramped, and absolutely not ideal for what they’ve been getting up to in it… week after week after week.

“You should tell your boyfriend to stop fucking up his car,” Jeno states simply, leaning over the fabric top of Johnny’s convertible. It’d been the left sideview mirror today, the transmission last week, the rims the week before. It wouldn’t surprise Jeno if Jess drives in four days from now with a crack in the windshield and her underwear already around her knees. Jess says nothing, only leveling Jeno’s stare. He waits, finally breaking it for the second time in a row once he’s sure she’s sweating a little bit in her new boots. The small smirk he allows himself as he beckons for her to follow him back into the garage is reward enough for him. There’s a pack of Camels set on his work bench, open in such a way that Jeno knows Jaemin must’ve taken one earlier when they’d started their shift together.

“Help yourself, doll.” Jeno says, gesturing vaguely towards it after pulling a cigarette out for himself. He swipes the lighter off of Jaemin’s desk - his friend’s on a late lunch break at the diner right now anyways - and uses it to light up his own smoke before tossing it underhandedly to Jess.

“Don’t ‘doll’ me,” She scoffs, her words muffled around the cigarette that’s now in between her lips. He admires her hands, her nimble red-tipped fingers as she lights it up, pulling it out from her mouth and letting it dangle between two fingers before setting the lighter down on top of the pack. “You know only Johnny’s allowed to call me that.”

“If he had that much of a handle on you, you wouldn’t be crying for my cock every week now, would you?”

“I don’t cry,” Jess protests, and Jeno finds both her sudden indignance, and the fact that this is the hill she chooses to die on, kind of cute. He has no feelings toward her, sure, but it doesn’t mean he can’t admire her for what she is: art. And someone’s gotta nail masterpieces against walls, right?

“You get the gist.” Jeno brushes her complaint aside with ease, blowing smoke out through one corner of his mouth before he speaks. “Tell him to watch where he parks so he doesn’t screw up his mirrors again. There’s gotta be some limit on daddy’s money.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Jess throws back, and Jeno can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“His highness won’t talk to a lowly greaser like me, obviously. Probably thinks I spend all my tip money on hair oil or some stupid shit. You really picked one for yourself, Jess. Outdid yourself on the asshattery of the last one. The fact that he makes you drop his car off when he’s the one who screws it up should be a red flag itself.” Even talking about Johnny has a pit of dread growing in the bottom of Jeno’s stomach, and he drops his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before crushing it under his work boots. He knows it isn’t the cig making him feel sick, but he suddenly has no appetite left for nicotine anymore.

“You’re lucky our friendship predates my relationship, or I’d fuck you up for saying shit like that,” Jess warns, though there’s no real bite behind her bark. She drops her cigarette to the ground too, and Jeno steps on it so she doesn’t have to.

“Can’t believe you’re deciding to keep some kind of allegiance to me based solely on the fact that our moms used to stick us together when they went to whore around downtown while our dads were being drunken good-for-nothings somewhere or the other,” Jeno scoffs in faux disbelief even as his eyes fold into half moons. Jess allows herself a small grin at the expense of their younger selves as well. They both know better than anyone that shared traumas can only make bonds stronger. “When’ll you tell your prissy, pompous, prick of a partner that you’re one of the lowlifes he hates so much?”

“He already knows that I wasn’t… well off before I got my job at the salon,” Jess replies carefully, doing her best not to incriminate her boyfriend in the eyes of someone who already loathes him. “Besides, he honestly isn’t that bad. He says shit sometimes, yeah, but he knocks it off if I tell him to. Shouldn’t affect whether or not you talk to (Name), anyways.”

Jess slips you into the conversation so easily that it almost gives Jeno whiplash trying to process what she’s said. When he’s done, it’s all he can do but to let out a confused query.

“The hell does (Name) have to do with this?”

“I mean, you’re the same age, and you kind of know each other. I just figured that...”

Suddenly, Jess’ motives dawn on Jeno. Judging by the way she trails off, ending her sentence both sheepishly and abruptly, she sees that he’s figured her out, too.

“Are you fucking trying to set me up with your scummy boyfriend’s sister?”

“He isn’t scummy! And, I mean, not necessarily. Maybe. Just a little, but come on! Isn’t it right for me to want two people I love and care for to find love and caring in each other?” Jess’ words come out harried, and she flaps her arms around a bit to try and prove the point she just can’t seem to hit on. Jeno’s brows furrow even more, and he can’t help his incredulous snicker.

“You, Miss ‘I just got fingered by a childhood friend in my boyfriend’s car for what has to be, like, the sixth time in four weeks’, want to talk about what’s right and what’s not?” Jeno points out, and Jess winces slightly. He knows it’s a bit of a low blow - yes, Jess is a cheater, and it’s completely terrible of her, and maybe even Johnny Suh deserves better than someone who’s unfaithful, but if Jess is the one committing the crime then Jeno’s aiding and abetting. He can see the hurt flash across his friend’s features, and he allows himself to soften for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sure (Name) is nice and all, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. If I was, I wouldn’t be messing around with you, or anyone for that matter.”

Jess sighs, but it’s a sigh of acceptance. She glances down wistfully at the smushed cigarette she’d abandoned earlier, making no move to get another one. Jeno assumes she’s trying to cut back - the cost of a pack has gone up again.

“I do love him, you know that, right?” Jess says, voice soft and sincere in a way that has Jeno’s eyes flicking up to meet her own. “I just - I can’t give all of myself to him, you know? Not yet, anyways. Not after everything that’s happened in my life. It isn’t justification, it’s just…”

“You’ve been dealt so many bad hands that you don’t know how to play poker anymore,” Jeno finishes, smiling gently at his friend. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just your pain relief, remember? You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Fuck first, friends later.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Jess rolls her eyes, though she knows he’s just messing with her. They might use each other, but their friendship predates any sexual relationships either of them have been having with anyone. They both know that Jess doesn’t just drop by the garage to drop her panties, although that is what happens first and foremost every time.

Before Jeno can quip back at her, the telltale thrum of a car’s engine draws his attention away from his friend. Both of them turn their heads simultaneously to see none other than Yuta Nakamoto pull up in his Thunderbird, Johnny Suh riding shotgun beside him. Jeno doesn’t miss the way Jess perks up, her grin dazzling as she spots her boyfriend. He can’t say the same for himself, not when his stomach drops at the sight of the two men.

Yuta at least has the ‘decency’ to shoot Jeno a patronizing smirk. Johnny doesn’t even acknowledge the man beside his girlfriend, instead turning directly to appraise his fixed up car after giving Jess a quick peck on the cheek.

“Funny,” Johnny remarks thoughtfully once he’s done with his once-over. “Are you sure you fixed this? It doesn’t reek of grease or anything. Maybe you underdid your hair today, kid, hmm?”

Jeno’s suddenly hyper-aware of how slicked back his pitch black hair is, and his fingers twitch at how badly he wants to push it back again, both out of nervousness and anger. He says nothing, only clenching his jaw in response.

“Leave him be, John,” Jess speaks up, holding her hand out for her boyfriend to take. He grabs it naturally. “He’s a good kid.”

Johnny’s cocky, holier-than-thou grin slips a little at seeing his girl - his girl - defend someone he equates to the bottom of his shoe, and Jeno notices it. For a moment, it seems like there’s a rebuttal sitting on the tip of his tongue. His necessity to keep his girlfriend’s approval wins him over, though, and Johnny says nothing more, only asking Jess to hand him the key he knows she has.

Yuta leaves first, though not before confirming their next whereabouts with Johnny. He slides back into the drivers’ seat of his Thunderbird, raises his eyebrow at Jeno through the windshield, and backs out slowly but surely. Jeno isn’t a big fan of Yuta, either, but at least the man respects his car.

The same can’t be said for Johnny.

He slams the passengers’ side door shut once Jess gets in, and Jeno can’t help the wince he gives at the noise. In that moment, he feels deeply for the Bel Air, wishing he could jailbreak it from the hell it must be experiencing at the Suh household. Right before Johnny gets into the driver’s seat, he stops, eyes flitting towards Jeno as he digs something out of his pockets.

Jeno watches as Johnny flicks a dime into the open tip jar they leave out on a rickety old stool, stands there and takes it as the older man shoots him the kind of wolffish grin that never reaches anyone’s eyes.

“Buy yourself something nice,” Johnny says, smirking as he looks Jeno up and down. He takes in the peeling leather on the greaser’s workboots, the grease stains on his blue jeans, the way his white tank top is soaked through with sweat, his ratty leather jacket lying across his workbench. When he looks back up, eyes meeting Jeno’s, the latter can’t help but feel as if he’s just been searched.

“At least… if you even know what ‘nice’ means.” Johnny finally finishes, smirking maddeningly at Jeno. Before any rebuttal can be made, Johnny’s inside his car and turning on the ignition. Jess waves goodbye to Jeno, albeit sheepishly, who only raises a hand in parting. It’s only after they’ve disappeared, tearing down Central Street, that Jeno registers Jaemin leaning against the corner of the garage. It’s evident by the way his friend is standing that he hadn’t actually witnessed anything, and Jeno finds that he wants to keep his interactions to himself today. It’s also evident that, while Jeno has nothing to tell Jaemin, the opposite does not stand true.

“What’s up?” Jeno asks, picking up and tossing the Camels at Jaemin on what is, by this point, sheer muscle memory. He throws the lighter right after, and Jaemin catches them both with ease. This is unsurprising - before school, life, and work all became too hard to balance, Jaemin had been a catcher on the local high school baseball team.

“There’s a new broad behind the counter at Kim’s,” Jaemin says, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it as he speaks, all with the kind of finesse that only comes from years of doing the same thing. “Looks familiar, ’m sure I’ve seen her before - pro’ly went to school together. Damn pretty, looks more your type than mine, though.”

Jeno doesn’t really care, frankly, but it’s Jaemin and he’ll always humor Jaemin. That, and they’ve got about an hour ‘til the next person with an appointment comes in, so he’s got some time to kill.

“You wouldn’t know if you went to school with her, considering you only ever fuckin’ showed up to play ball. I don’t think I ever saw you in class.” Jeno scoffs, though he knows he should probably keep speaking when Jaemin throws him a scathing glare. “How can you be so sure that she’s my type?”

Jaemin takes the cigarette out of his mouth, waving it around aimlessly as he finally walks over to his own workbench, right beside Jeno’s. He’s got a couple of chairs beside it, and he shoves one towards Jeno before sitting down himself. Jeno, for his part, swings his chair around so he can sit down backwards as he faces Jaemin, folding his arms over the back of it and resting his chin on top of his forearm. Once they’re both situated, Jaemin finally speaks again.

“Pretty, but doesn’t remind me of any of the greaser girls or the rich girls, somehow. Guess she doesn’t fit in that way. Smart, either talks animatedly or doesn’t say shit at all. Seemed all bright-eyed but with sum’n dark behind them. Mysterious, just a bit. Paint a good enough picture for you, asshole?” Jaemin good-naturedly flicks some ash towards his friend, drawing forth a chuckle from the other man.

“Sounds like you’re describin’ a book character,” Jeno throws back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes even as he’s genuinely smiling. “Been spending too much time with Mark.”

“Maybe so,” Jaemin acquiesces, leaning forward in his chair to look Jeno in the eyes. He turns his head to the side, blowing smoke out through his lips before looking back. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s good for you. Really, I think you two could hit it off. Even got her number for you.”

“You’re that desperate to pawn me off, huh?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, though he holds out his hand for Jaemin to drop a slightly-crumpled napkin into. He might not go for whatever girl it is romantically, but it might be good to go on a date or two just to keep himself from getting too rusty with the girls. That, and he has to admit that sitting at home, tinkering with the house’s clocks or yelling at Donghyuck not to use up all the hot water for the week is less appealing than having a nice night out (or a nice night in, depending on the girl). He supposes he’s mildly optimistic as he unfolds the napkin, even allowing himself a small grin at the idea of doing something outside of his ordinary, everyday, work to home to work to home life.

Jeno’s smile fades fast once he sees what’s scrawled messily on the napkin in black ink.

(Name) Suh

XXX-XXX-XXXX ;)

He blinks once, blinks twice, before letting out a groan and allowing his head to drop onto the wood of the chair’s back. Jaemin, concerned, asks if he’s alright, but Jeno just ignores him, too busy wallowing in the cosmic irony of his best friend giving him the number of the one girl he would never get with.

“Is this about the chick or is it something else? I saw Johnny Suh pull out of here, that motherfucker. If he wasn’t giving us so much business all the time I would’ve TP’ed his house by now. Is it him? Don’t let him get to you-”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupts his best friend, finally looking up from his reprieve in the chair. Jaemin quits rambling almost immediately, his gaze running over Jeno’s unreadable expression. Jeno looks down at the note, up at Jaemin, and then back down at your handwriting again before letting out a weighty, long-suffering sigh.

“Jaemin,” Jeno repeats himself, finally making eye contact with his friend. “We need to have a talk.”

♕ ♕ ♕

“You saw that her last name is Suh and you didn’t stop to think that she might be related to Johnny fucking Suh? Really? I know you’re dense, Jaemin, but for Chrissakes!”

Renjun’s voice rings through the small, two bedroom house as he chastises Jaemin while the two of them cook dinner. Jeno’s sitting on the floor in the living room, fiddling with Donghyuck’s radio: he’s been meaning to fix it for weeks, now, but it’s only today that he’s really found the time. That, and he’s trying to avoid the ongoing argument that’s occurring while two of his friends are making meatloaf. He knows that he’s the reason for it, yes, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to be involved.

It isn’t Jaemin’s fault, really, and Jeno knows this. He can’t stay mad at his best friend in general, but he’s doubly inclined to let Jaemin off the hook because the younger boy has no clue as to why Johnny Suh is so universally hated in the Lee household. Jaemin doesn’t even live with them like Renjun does, so he’s blissfully unaware of exactly how marred the relationship between Jeno and Johnny is.

“I’m home, you fucks!” The front door swings open with abandon just as Jeno finishes straightening the radio’s antenna, and he winces at the screech of the door’s protesting hinges. He’s so startled that he almost drops the radio itself, but he manages to catch it in time. This is lucky - Donghyuck saunters into the living room at the right moment, seeing Jeno both fumble and save his precious radio. Jeno pretends like he doesn’t see the glare his cousin throws at him, instead waving in greeting to him before beckoning him over.

“They’re going at it in the kitchen,” Jeno says lowly once Donghyuck’s close enough to hear him. “I wouldn’t go in there just yet.”

Donghyuck mulls this information over in his mind for a moment before raising a single, perfect eyebrow. He snatches his radio from his cousin’s lap, securing it in his grip, and sits down beside Jeno before he chooses to respond.

“And what if I want to cause problems on purpose?”

“Didn’t you have a full day of doing that at work today?” Jeno asks rhetorically, causing Hyuck to roll his eyes over-exaggeratedly.

“Which job?” He throws back, and Jeno can’t help but laugh. Donghyuck cracks a smile, too, though neither of them know why: it isn’t funny, especially not when Hyuck is speaking truth. He’s worked two jobs since dropping out of high school alongside Jeno a year prior - one close to the rich side of town in a quaint bookstore frequented by nearby college students, and one as a local plumbers’ assistant. None of the boys ever know where he’s at, which is concerning to all of them but something nobody bothers bringing up with Hyuck.

Judging by the fact that he’s wearing jeans and a shirt that’s had the sleeves ripped off, Jeno feels as if it’s safe to say that Hyuck’s just gotten home from being under sinks and in cisterns. By this time, he typically would’ve washed the oil out of his hair and changed into his sleeping clothes. Jeno’s heart twinges at the idea that his cousin might have to go back out to work after eating.

“You gettin’ some sleep tonight?” Jeno’s query is soft-spoken, and Donghyuck can’t help but give him a sad smile before he slowly shakes his head no.

“On house call duty until 5 in the morning. I’ll be home to nap, have some eggs, and then get to the store, though. Maybe we’ll see each other then, brother.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jeno sighs in a way that says he knows they won’t, and Donghyuck hits his shoulder with his own. They sit like that, in silence, listening to Renjun and Jaemin bicker for a few moments, wallowing in the harsher truths of their lives for a few short moments before Donghyuck, never one comfortable with the quiet, breaks it to ask the obvious question.

“What’s up with those two?” He tilts his head towards the kitchen, and Jeno sighs before dropping his head down and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“Jaemin wingman-ed me to one of the new hires at Kim’s.”

“That’s not so bad,” Donghyuck says, furrowing his brow at Jeno. “I mean, you’re a manwhore. Figured that isn’t something you’d particularly mind.”

“Shut up,” Jeno scowls, much to Hyuck’s amusement. “And that’s the pot calling the kettle black. It isn’t the act, it’s the victim.”

“The vic- the girl?” Donghyuck’s voice is incredulous now, and Jeno all but groans as he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No - I mean, maybe, considering it’s Jaemin she was talking to - but no, fuck. I meant me, I’m the victim.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the girl is - he got me (Name) Suh’s number, damn it. Of all the girls he could’ve talked to about me, it was her.”

Donghyuck’s teeth clench immediately at hearing the unholy last name, and the air leaving his mouth between his lips makes an odd, hissing noise. His grip on his radio tightens, the pads of his fingers whitening. It’s a beat, two beats, before Hyuck lets up on the thing he has in his hands, sighing with mild dejection.

“Jaemin only moved here right before high school,” Donghyuck rationalizes, though the darkness behind his pupils lets Jeno know that he isn’t happy about being reasonable. “And we never really talk about the thing with Doyoung. I guess he either didn’t register that they’re related or he thinks our hatred is only over the class bullshit Johnny pushes on us whenever he sees us. I’m surprised you never told him the whole story, though - you two are as close as brothers.”

“What, you jealous?” Jeno teases on instinct, mainly aiming his witticism at the last phrase Hyuck had uttered. His cousin rolls his eyes once again, nudges his shoulder once again. Jeno grins, dropping his gaze to his hands.

“It isn’t that I wanted to keep it from Jaemin - it just never came up. He hates Johnny, too, but it isn’t in the same way as us. I guess I’ll explain it tonight - we’ve got an early shift at the garage tomorrow, as it is.”

“Let me guess,” Donghyuck sighs. “You start at 5?”

“Damn straight.” Jeno smiles sadly. “We aren’t kids anymore, Hyuckie, are we?”

“No sir,” Donghyuck smiles back, running a thumb over the radio’s buttons. “But goddamn, does adulthood suck when you don’t even have time to be with your family. Speaking of, where’s that idiot older brother of mine?”

“I heard that, you asshat!” Jeno looks up just in time to see Mark box Donghyuck’s ears, albeit as gently as possible. Still, the youngest Lee winces in pain, whining at the sudden attack.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Jeno notes, grinning up at his older cousin. “Didn’t hear you come in. How much did you hear?”

“Came in through the back. If you’re talking about whatever is happening in the kitchen, then nothing. If you’re talking about your explanation of whatever is happening in the kitchen, then everything. You two are not observant in any way, shape, or form - I’ve been here for a couple of minutes. I agree, by the way - you should tell Jaemin about it.”

“Tell Jaemin about what?”

Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark all turn their heads simultaneously to see Jaemin and Renjun walk in, the former balancing the meatloaf on a tray and the latter holding a stack of plates, knives, and forks. Mark, who’s already standing anyways, leans over, grabbing some of the cutlery to ease up Renjun’s load. Jaemin sets the tray down on the floor after kicking aside the tools Jeno’d been using on the radio, and once he straightens up, he looks down at his best friend expectantly.

Jeno meets Jaemin’s gaze, takes note of the annoyance that’s still etched across Renjun’s features, and sighs. He runs a hand down his face before looking up again, this time meeting everyone’s eyes individually. Finally, he asks what he thinks is most important of all before starting on his spiel.

“When are the kids getting here?”

♕ ♕ ♕

Chenle and Jisung have to convince their respective parents that, yes, they have in fact completed all of their homework and studied for all their upcoming tests, before they’re allowed to head over to the Lees’ house for dinner. Both boys - the only two still left in high school, both juniors - come over in no time at all, seeing as they live in the houses on either side of Jeno’s.

“Why the fuck are we having family dinner?” Chenle asks, voice booming as he walks in without any prior announcement. Jisung, who’s trailing right behind him, quietly shuts and locks the door.

“Jaemin fucked up,” Renjun says, right at the same time as Mark responds with a “Because I said so.” Jisung and Chenle share a look - each with an eyebrow raised in confusion and mild anticipation - before sitting down, Jisung on the right of Jaemin and Chenle right beside Hyuck. Jaemin immediately ruffles the youngest boy’s hair, pairing it with a ‘You’re doin’ good in school, right? Good with all those books ‘n’ shit?’, to which Jisung, as always, nods while trying to dodge Jaemin’s next loving attack. Out of the seven men and boys currently having dinner in the house, only Mark and Renjun have their high school diplomas.

Jeno was so close to living a different life. He does his best not to think about what could have been. Instead, he starts talking, commanding everyone’s attention in the way only he can.

“We think it’s… time we talked about Doyoung.” Jeno lets the words settle, resting against their skin before seeping into their bones. He sees Chenle visibly shudder, Donghyuck resting a soothing palm against his younger friend’s upper back. Renjun lets out a heavy sigh, and Jisung bites at the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making the sad, choked noise he certainly was about to let out.

Jaemin, for his part, says nothing, only waiting patiently in a way that’s become his signature. Jeno thinks there’s nobody in the world more caring than Jaemin, sometimes, and his best friend never ceases to prove him right.

“Doyoung’s my older brother’s best friend - you remember Taeyong, right? Yeah, he’s Taeyong’s best friend.” Mark explains, looking straight at Jaemin once everyone seems to have recovered from the mild shock. It’s understandable, of course - they never talk about Doyoung. It’s been years, and not once has The Incident come up.

There’s always a time for everything, Jeno supposes.

“Does this have anything to do with why Taeyong’s in jail?” Jaemin’s question is tentative at best, but Jeno can see that he’s just piecing things together in his mind. All six of the other boys nods simultaneously, murmuring affirmative answers as they do.

“About five years ago, Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung, and, uh… what’s his name? Nakamoto, or whatever, him... The four of them were fucking inseparable, did everything together. Johnny’s parents are known classists and elitists and whatever other -ists exist, but Johnny never seemed to be that way. Doesn’t matter, anyways. Rich kids are all the same in the end.” Donghyuck speaks this time, shedding more light as the story unfolds. The bitterness in his voice is highly evident, but nobody can blame him - they all know what it’s like to be ridiculed, pariahed because of poverty. All seven of them had forsaken the idea of trust ages ago.

“One night, Johnny and Yuta went out and got halfway to blind drunk at some bar they weren’t supposed to be at. Yuta at least went and decided to walk home instead of driving his car back, but Johnny didn’t give a fuck. ‘Course, he hit something almost immediately after getting in the damn thing, but he was too fuckin’ pussy to check and see what had happened.” Renjun tacks on after Donghyuck, adding on the next part of the infamous, unfortunate tale. Chenle is the next to speak.

“He was near a phone booth, so he called Doyoung to come help him. Doyoung and Taeyong both hurried to help their friend, figuring he must’ve gotten hurt, only to find that he’d- he’d…”

“That he’d hit and killed the son of the mayor at the time,” Hyuck finishes, noticing how Chenle hesitates to go on. “Johnny had called the cops right after calling Doyoung, and the pigs got there not a minute or two after my - Mark and my - brother and Doyoung did. They immediately assumed one of them had been driving, and then assumed that the car had been stolen from Johnny rather than being Johnny’s itself. Fucking Suh never clarified, only stood by while his friends got hauled off. They knocked my big brother on Grand Theft Auto. Seven years for a crime he didn’t fucking commit. Still, at least we get to visit him every week.”

“They took in Doyoung in on manslaughter - not even vehicular manslaughter. He pleaded guilty to it because he knew they’d charge Taeyong with it if he didn’t, and Taeyong was looking after the rest of us - Renjun included - at the time. We don’t have any fucking parents, and Doyoung knew it. He’s already done five years, but he’s spending the next decade of his life in a federal super max, and we aren’t allowed to see him. Poor thing - Taeyong ended up getting jailed, too. Doyoung couldn’t’ve have known. Don’t know if he knows now, even.” Jeno finishes the story, voice quivering with rage and the few unshed tears that always accompany his thoughts about the huge miscarriage of justice his family and friends have faced. Taeyong’s room is still the same as it was five years prior, untouched.

“Johnny was a witness in both cases, and he took the stand against them, saying they really did do what the cops said they did,” Jisung finishes, voice soft but emotionally charged. “My mom and Chenle’s mom stepped in as best they could to take care of Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Hyuck afterwards until Mark got grown, but I just know it isn’t the same as Taeyong.”

“Your moms are angels,” Mark responds, smiling kindly at the two youngest members of their ragtag group. “They saved our lives. Of course, they wouldn’t have had to do so if…”

“If Johnny Suh hadn’t ruined them first.” Jeno completes the thought, Donghyuck and Renjun nodding in agreement. Jaemin says nothing, only looking each of them in the eyes earnestly.

He gets it, Jeno decides. The rest of them must see this as well.

After dinner, when Jeno goes to the bathroom to brush before sleeping, he finds a thoroughly sodden piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the basin. It takes him a moment to realize what it is - the sharpie has bled into one large blob. Jeno smiles to himself before getting to work cleaning it up.

He scrapes your phone number off of his sink with his bare nails and sleeps easier that night than he has in a long while.

♕ ♕ ♕

Day Two: May 26, 1957

Jeno’s always been good with time. It’s a gift, though it’s rare he acknowledges it: being able to more-or-less accurately tell the time without ever looking at a clock is hardly the kind of superpower people dream about.

You leave work at around 3 p.m. - Jeno knows this because he’s out in front of the garage, sat on the hood of Jaemin’s rusty pickup truck nursing a ham sandwich when you walk out of Kim’s, unbuttoning your uniform’s top few buttons as you find your brother’s waiting car. He’s too far away to hear the words you exchange with Johnny, but he watches as you glare into the Chevy for an excruciatingly long amount of time before heaving a sigh and re-buttoning your shirt.

Jeno doesn’t watch as the two of you drive away, but he doesn’t have to. Johnny always drives like he deserves more respect on the road than his car does, and it boils the younger man’s blood more than anything. After all, Jeno’s always been able to count on machines. People? Not so much. Cars respect him, so he respects them.

He finishes the sandwich, immediately replacing it with an unlit cigarette. ‘Oral fixation’, Donghyuck had smirked at him one night ages ago, only to have gotten a shoe thrown at him by Renjun. Jeno can’t say that his cousin is wrong, but he’ll die before he lets Hyuck know that. He thinks back to the morning, when he’d left to come to work. He’d only seen Jaemin and nobody else, and that was just because Jaemin had been his ride.

Speaking of Jaemin- he’d been right: you’re pretty. You’ve always been pretty, but Jeno tries to ignore it. Nobody related to the scum of the Earth Johnny Suh himself can be beautiful both inside and out - he’s never been more sure of anything. Such a thought process might be unfair, sure, but he reckons it’s better that he avoid you altogether rather than get caught up like his family members had. That’s how life goes: you hunt or get hunted.

Jeno will be damned if he ever finds himself being the prey again.

Jess drops by at around 4:15, no necessity behind her visit. They don’t do anything, not this time, though Jeno does have to force himself to stop imagining her lipstick leaving marks in places the sun can’t see, his fingers leaving bruises along her skin. Jaemin raises an eyebrow when he sees them talking, though he doesn’t say anything, only tossing Jess his pack of Camels. It’s only got one cig left in it, so Jeno lights it and puts it to her lips. She blows out a ring of smoke before he takes a drag from it himself, his fourth smoke of the day.

“You should apply for a dealership job or something,” Jess says at around 4:30, and Jeno’s now hyper-aware of her reason for visiting. He scoffs, handing the cigarette back to her for good. It’s suddenly the most unappetizing thing in the world. She notices his expression, but slogs on anyways, hoping that she’ll get through to him. “I’m serious! You’re smart, Jen, real smart. You could do worse than sellin’ cars to crackpots in suits. You’d make more cash, too.”

Her drawl only comes back to her when she’s talking to her childhood friends, and Jeno supposes it’s an unwitting act of classism. They don’t ‘speak good’, as Jaemin would teasingly put it, but they have heart. It’s something that’s hard to find in people who have more money. Jess has grown up like them, yes, but in some ways she’s no longer part of the world Jeno’s forced to live in. It’s a world where he’s got family and friends in jail, where his own brothers - he almost never calls them his cousins, because they’re brothers if he’s ever had any - have to work two jobs just to make sure all of them get by, where their friends have to do the same. Jess has a stable job now - kudos to her - and a rich boyfriend. She’s set for as long as she can hope to be.

She’s okay with doing up the hair of ladies who sit idly and gossip about the ‘filthy poors’ in the south side of town. Jeno can hardly look rich folks in the eyes without gritting his teeth into dust. He’s well aware that they are not the same.

“Why this sudden interest in my career?” Regardless, he only questions her coolly, unwilling to start an argument that won’t find an end any time soon. There’s no telling when a car will come in and Jess will have to leave so the boys can do their work, and, besides, this isn’t a discussion he wants to have. Not with Jess. Not with anyone.

He’d been so, so close to going to college with a full ride. Jeno had dreams once. He’d been a fool to even think of possessing such intangible commodities. He doesn’t have any anymore.

“I just… you’re brainy as hell. It’s a shame seeing you as a grease monkey when you could do more with your life, is all. I mean well, Jen, you know I do.” Her eyes are wide in earnestness, and Jeno can’t help but sigh. It’s not Jess’ fault he’s a realist, that he’s lost opportunities before. Before he can say anything in response, though, probably breaking her heart just a little bit in the process, Jaemin pipes in.

“If I have to drop him off at a dealership everyday in the hunk o’ junk I drive while he’s dressed up in a three-piece suit, I’ll hang myself using a chain of grease rags. Besides,” He chuckles, tilting his head at his best friend. “Who’ll keep my sorry ass company here at the shop?”

A corner of Jeno’s mouth lifts up immediately at the save, and it’s all he can do to shrug and gesture towards his best friend in agreement. Jess rolls her eyes before darting her gaze between the two men, and once she realizes that she really won’t get anywhere with either of them, she only sighs and shakes her head, dropping the idea for good… for now.

“That’s not the only reason you came here.” Jeno states, keeping an eye out for any potential customers. It’s a Sunday, though, so he doubts many people will come by. Church hasn’t been out for long - he knows this for sure because Mark never fails to attend, no matter how heavy his university course load gets and let alone how many hours during the week he’s had to work. He’s the only one currently pursuing a higher education, and Jeno thinks that he might be the only one tenacious enough to do so.

It’s a shame - Jeno’d been real smart in school. So had Hyuck. They both know Mark beats himself up everyday for being the only one of the Lees who’ll get a Bachelor’s, but they both also know that he’s least likely to jeopardize his education. If anyone deserves college, it’s Mark.

“How’d you guess?” Jess draws the mechanic out of his thoughts, and he blinks rapidly before orienting himself back in reality. His smirk returns - Jeno thinks he might use it as a facade too much at this point - and he can only laugh.

“I didn’t - it was a shot in the dark. What’s up?”

Jess opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Jaemin, who doesn’t realize she’s about to talk. Jeno’s best friend tosses him the beat up truck’s keys in a perfect arc, throwing him a well-meaning grin while he’s at it.

“We won’t get much work today,” Jaemin states as Jeno catches the keys nimbly. “I’ll walk down to Church today, haven’t been in a while. Might be nice.”

“If you’re gonna go every three months at most, what’s the point of goin’ at all?” Jess asks, only mildly peeved at having been interrupted. Her grin is sunny, though, and Jaemin knows that she’s just teasing. A friend of Jeno’s is a friend of his; the vice versa also tends to ring true.

“Unlike this one over here,” Jaemin jabs a thumb out towards Jeno. “I still believe. That, and I figured I’d walk Mark home. Don’t get to see him too often, y’know?”

“Hey- “ Jeno starts, stopping immediately as Jess waves him off with one hand.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just disillusioned with everything he can’t see. Catholic Church included. Of course, whenever his grandparents are in town, he still pretends.” Jess explains sagely, much to Jaemin’s amusement and Jeno’s disgruntlement. The latter rolls his eyes, raising the hand enclosing the keys in a wave goodbye as Jaemin pushes himself off of the wall he’s leaning against.

“Funny how Mark’s a Protestant and so is Hyuck - kind of, I don’t think he’s super religious at this point - but you’re a Catholic.” Jaemin notes, and Jeno shrugs for the second time in one day.

“Mark & Hyuck’s dad was a Pastor, my dad converted to Catholicism for shits and giggles when he was, like, 15. They might be brothers, but they aren’t the same. I was never the religious disgrace of the family, though,” Jeno notes, a small, sadder smile replacing his grin momentarily. “Not after Taeyong said he’s an atheist. Anyways, Mark’s probably on his way home already, if you leave now you might be able to catch him.”

Jaemin knows better than to press, only nodding, raising an eyebrow for a split second, and turning on his heel before easing himself into a jog. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, and his hair is as shaggy as ever, and Jeno thinks churchgoers might faint upon seeing him. He also knows that Jaemin doesn’t mind.

“Now you,” Jeno looks at Jess once Jaemin is out of sight. “What’s up?”

Jess’ shoulders droop immediately, and for a moment she looks so forlorn that she doesn’t even look like herself. The expression passes as quickly as it had come into view, and Jeno accepts the nonchalant smile she gives him like it’s what she means to project outward.

“John’s been secretive lately.”

She says so much more with her eyes than she does with her mouth. Jeno sighs, tilting his head as he does to survey his friend for a moment. Jess is conflicted, that much is evident, and Jeno doesn’t quite know why. Nevertheless, he’s always made sure to keep his head out of other people’s business. He won’t change now.

“If you’re worried that he’s cheating, why don’t you talk to him about it?” Jeno says it like it’s easy, like Jess isn’t unfaithful to her own boyfriend. His eyes dart out towards the street again - nobody’s coming in for repairs. Jess lets out a huff of air, and Jeno realizes she must think his words are sarcastic rather than as earnest as he’s meant them to be.

“I’m being ridiculous, I know, it’s just- I just… I don’t know. It isn’t even that he’s acting super different, he’s just being more… conspiratorial? With his friends? It’s more of a feeling than anything else, I guess. I must sound fucking insane.” She runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face even as she casts her eyes towards the ground. She may be trying to reassure herself that she isn’t seeing things, but it’s called a sixth sense for a reason.

“You have good intuition,” Jeno rushes to assure her that she isn’t losing her mind. “I hope you’re wrong, but… maybe you and your boy toy need to have a good talk. From both sides.”

“Yeah,” Jess responds, not knowing what else to say. “Yeah. I just had to say it out loud to someone that wasn’t my reflection, I think. I’ll figure it out. Anyways, I have a couple regulars dropping by at the salon today, so I should probably- ”

“Go to work,” Jeno cuts in, his smile forgiving. Of what, neither of them are sure. “We have all the time in the world to talk. Bye, Jess.”

“Bye, Jen.” Is the response he gets, and then Jess is on her way. The day is silent again, now that Jaemin and Jess are both gone, but Jeno finds that he doesn’t really mind it. It’s not so bad- with no customers, no coworkers, and no friends around, Jeno gets to sit and think.

That’s what he does best.

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 6:27 in the evening when it happens.

For once in his life, Jeno checks his wristwatch. He isn’t sure why the sudden compulsion to actually know the time overcomes him, but he chalks it up to ‘dying from boredom’ and thinks nothing else of it. After all, the rags won’t clean themselves and the shop’s workbenches are only as neat as their owners. Jeno isn’t the most put together person alive, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t mind mess.

So he cleans, even when he’s the only one who’s doing it.

He’s in the midst of organizing his wrenches in size order when a familiar red Bel Air glides into the diner’s parking lot, top down with Johnny Suh’s loud laughter audible even from across the street. The music blaring from his car radio is only almost as loud as he is, and that’s saying something, because Johnny takes up every space he’s ever in. Yuta Nakamoto is beside him like he always is, though he’s more reserved than usual. Jeno does his best not to pay them any heed, but it’s difficult when his own responsibilities are mind-numbingly boring at the moment. He’ll take any entertainment he can get, even if it’s Johnny fucking Suh being the true neighborhood nuisance once again.

Funny how people look at Jeno funny when he walks down streets minding his own business, but they don’t say jackshit about a Suh kid blasting Elvis in public right before dinner time.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Jeno actually manages to finish his tool-sorting and is getting ready to finally, finally pack up when the music stops. Johnny must’ve parked. The burgeoning night is eerily silent, and the young mechanic pauses what he’s doing - making sure he has everything, mostly - because the world seems like it’s holding its breath. Just as he’s about to relax, slump his shoulders, and get back to his own work, he hears it.

Of course he hears it. It’s impossible to miss.

The scream shatters the silence into a million pieces, startling Jeno so hard he almost drops Jaemin’s car keys. He’s rushing out of the garage before he can think, and it’s moments later that he sees none other than Johnny Suh and Yuta Nakamoto rushing out of the diner, stuffing what look like pistols into the waistbands of their jeans. There’s cold, hard cash grasped in each of their hands, and Jeno cannot, for the life of him, comprehend what he’s seeing.

He makes brief eye contact with Johnny Suh, and the recognition in the older’s narrowed eyes freezes Jeno’s blood. There’s no time to ponder this, though - not when Johnny pulls out and rushes away within seconds, his car roaring to life on the town’s streets. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery - a robbery by one of the richest and most powerful people in the area. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery, and the criminal himself is aware of this.

As he watches the owner of Kim’s run out, hands on his head in panic and disbelief, all Jeno can think about is how Johnny Suh is going to try to shut him up. Jeno is now the star witness to a criminal act. There’s no way he’ll sleep tonight.

He leaves City Motors with duller eyes than he ever has, his workstation spotless and mind swallowed in darkness.

At least now he knows why Johnny’s been weird towards Jess lately.

♕ ♕ ♕

Jaemin drops Mark off at the Lee household with a parting hug, clasping their hands together in a high five before pulling each other into their chests and clapping each other on the back. Each other. Jaemin might be the ‘newest’ addition to their band of seven, but he doesn’t feel any different from the rest of them. They’re his brothers, and he’ll always have their backs. They’ll always have his.

Mark invites him inside, but Jaemin declines - he’s out of chewing gum, of all things, and he knows the sketchy convenience store by the alley near 7th Street always sells at half price on Sundays. He bids the older man goodbye again, throwing him a lax two-finger salute and a small smirk before turning on his heels and jamming his hands into his jean pockets, a stance that does nothing to help his already awful posture.

He whistles all the way down to the store - Kun’s Konvenience - mostly because he can’t get the tune Hyuck is always humming out of his head, but also because he feels almost truly happy. Sure, his future looks like it’ll lie in the City Motors garage for the rest of his life, and sure, maybe he shouldn’t step foot inside Church - the dirty looks had been telling today - but that doesn’t dampen his mood. The sun is shining, the sky is a brilliant blue. Kun’s is selling gum for cheap, and Jaemin’s in need of it. He rounds the final corner and the short, squat red brick building he’s looking for comes into view.

His hand is closing in on the handle of the store’s front door when another, slightly larger, hand places itself on top of his.

Jaemin barely has time to step back when a fist connects with his jaw. Through his swimming vision, he sees Johnny Suh raise a pistol, and he doesn’t have the time to raise his hands before the butt of the gun collides with the side of his head. The last thing Jaemin remembers before passing out entirely is the ugly, ugly sneer across the older man’s face as he glares down at him.

“Sorry. Blame your meddling friend.” Johnny spits out, placing a well-aimed kick in Jaemin’s side as his finale.

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 8:32 at night when the landline rings. Mark’s studying and both Donghyuck and Renjun are out at work, so Jeno’s the only one available to pick up the phone. Typically, he’d be wary of doing so - the neighborhood elementary schoolers have only recently discovered the cheap thrills that come with prank calling - but something compels him to hear out whoever’s on the other end.

There’s a crackling noise, and what sound like hushed whispers, and this goes on for so long that Jeno’s about to either yell something about working on homework instead of pranking or just hang up without a word when the other person finally speaks. Jeno sets down the dish he’s washing, pays no mind to the way it clatters into the otherwise-empty sink when Johnny fucking Suh finally opens his damned mouth.

“Caught an eyeful down at City Motors today, didn’t you?” He asks, casually, as if there are no underlying threats hiding beneath his overly honeyed words. As if he isn’t the one who’s committed a crime, as if Jeno’s the one with the gun and the money he never earned. Bile rises almost automatically in the younger man’s throat, but he can’t bring himself to put the phone down anymore. It’s as if he’s stuck.

“What do you want?” Jeno manages to hiss out when the urge to vomit recedes, and the way Johnny chuckles in response sends chills down Jeno’s spine. There’s something sickeningly sinister about the situation they’re caught in, and Jeno knows that he’s unprepared for when the other shoe drops. His mind can’t even work properly, not when there are so many ways for this to go.

“Police will be at your door tomorrow morning, looking to arrest the Kim’s robber. I’ll have given them a helpful tip by then, of course. Wouldn’t be good of me to know who it is and not let the local law enforcement know. Also… left you a present in the alleyway by that one convenience store your kind go to. Think it goes by the name of… Jaemin?”

Jeno’s blood runs cold at the mention of his best friend’s name. Johnny doesn’t stop speaking.

“He was real easy to drag by his feet after I got him in the head, though getting rid of the trail of blood by the store was a little harder. I’m about half sure I left him breathing, but-”

The landline slips out of Jeno’s hand, no active effort made to put it down. Everything suddenly feels as if it’s in slow motion, as if his muscles are made of lead and his tongue is made of sandpaper, but he hears himself calling out for Mark before his own actions register in his mind. He must sound frantic, because he can hear his older cousin practically sprint down the stairs even through the haze his mind is in. Jaemin. Jaemin’s hurt. Jaemin’s bleeding, Jaemin’s in pain.

“What? What the fuck happened- Who was on the phone- Jeno? What happened?” Mark’s voice is panicked enough, rushed enough, to shake Jeno out of his stupor. His anguish moves aside, making way for rightly placed rage as he meets his family member’s eyes. When he speaks, his voice is choked, barely restrained and yet so, so pained.

“We need to go to Kun’s,” Jeno states, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He can’t cry, not now, not when a clock might be ticking. He hasn’t cried in ages. He can’t cry now. Jaemin needs him. He can’t waste his time crying. “We need to go to Kun’s.” He repeats.

“It’s Jaemin.”

#first #five #tags #don't #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #jeno scenario #jeno scenarios #jeno x reader #nct jeno x reader

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