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alyswritings · 1 year

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Errand

Request: JJ x maybank!sister, where Luke makes her get his drugs leading to something happening to her?

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

Summary: Luke makes Y/N run an errand for him resulting in a terrifying experience.

Warnings: drugs, creepy/disgusting old guys, sexual assault, physical abuse, barry being kinda decent?, overprotective jj (as he should be), physical fights

a/n: thank you for the request! please, please, do NOT read if this could trigger you. this is a long fic, but the assault part is pretty short and no clothes come off. hope you all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

Y/N is in her room and painting her nails. JJ isn't home and Luke is passed out on the couch. Y/N knows that JJ doesn't like her home with Luke when he's not there and before he left for work, he told her to leave and go to the chateau or something. But she didn't listen, insisting to herself that she'd be fine as long as Luke stayed asleep and she didn't leave her room.

That plan is ruined when her bedroom door swings open, slamming into the wall, making her jump. She curls up at the sight of her father drunkenly stumbling in. She watches him thumb through some cash before tossing a few bills onto her bed.

"Wh-- what's that for?" Y/N asks.

"I need you to go and get me a refill." Luke says.

"Refill?" Y/N asks.

"My fucking drugs, you idiot." Luke says.

"What? N-no. No, I'm not gonna get you your drugs." Y/N argues.

She whimpers when Luke tightly grips onto her hair, pulling at her scalp, forcing her to look up at him.

"You're gonna do whatever the fuck I tell you to, you little bitch. I'm in no condition to drive -- or take that long of a walk. You really want your dad risking his life?" Luke asks.

"You want your fourteen year old daughter risking hers?" Y/N shoots back. Luke's grip on her hair tightens and his glare gets harder.

"Just fucking go get my supply before I teach you a lesson. Understood?" Luke quietly asks, his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine. She only glares at him in response. Luke lets go of her hair and backhands her across the face, her head snapping to the side.

Luke tightly grips her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

"I said, understood?" Luke asks.

"Yes." Y/N sneers. Luke harshly lets go of her jaw.

"Be back by two hours." Luke orders, stumbling out of the room.

Y/N sniffles, taking a deep breath to keep herself from crying. She rolls her eyes and slips her shoes on before grabbing the money and leaving.

- - -

Y/N walks up to the trailer that she's only a little familiar to her. She's never been inside, but Luke did often stop by after picking her up from school when she was little and she'd sit in the truck for hours until he came out, high as a kite. After almost getting into a car crash one day, Y/N stopped getting in the car with her dad whenever possible and JJ just walked her home from school.

Y/N knocks on the door, anxiously shuffling on her feet.

"It's open!" A voice calls from inside. Y/N hesitates for a moment before answering the door. She steps into the dirty, smelly trailer, hiding her grimace of disgust. Old food is everywhere, empty bottles of all sorts of alcohol lying about.

She looks over at the small table in the "living room" where two men, probably around her dad's age, are sitting and working on drugs.

"What can I do for you, pretty lady?" One of the men ask, smirking as he glances her up and down.

"I-- I'm looking for-- for Barry." Y/N says. She crosses her arms over her chest, trying to shield herself from his gaze.

"Barry's out running a few errands. We're in charge until then." The guy says.

"So... what can we do for you?" The second guy asks. "I'm Robby. That's David."

"Right. Uh, I-- I need some drugs." Y/N says.

"All right. How much? What kind?" David asks, standing up.

"I-- whatever Luke Maybank usually gets. Or what-- what he asked for." Y/N says.

"Ah, Luke Maybank. Frequent customer." Robby chuckles. "Couple pounds of coke." He holds a bag of white powder up.

"$200." David orders.

"I... I only have $100. That-- that's all he gave me." Y/n says.

"Ooh. Bummer." David tsks. "Get the other 100 and then come back, I guess. Bet going home without the goodies will be fun for you. You'll be more black and blue than ever." David laughs, Robby laughing along.

"Look, can I-- can I just pay half now and the rest later or something?" Y/N asks.

"No, sweetheart. Not how this shit works." David says. "Though, I... I do have a few ideas on how you can make up for the other half. A different sort of payment."

"What?" Y/N asks.

She watches David's smirk grow and he glances at Robby who also smiles. It takes a moment for Y/N to catch on, but when she does, she's running for the door.

"Ah, ah, ah!" David easily wraps one of his arms around her waist, yanking her away from the door.

"No!" She struggles against his hold as he lifts her up. Robby grabs her legs to prevent her from kicking. "No!"

"Oh, don't fight it, pretty girl. It can go over quickly. Long as you're not a bitch the whole time." David laughs.

"No! No! Let go of me!" Y/N screams, trying to fight against them. "Let go of me!"

"If you say so, princess." David tosses her onto the bed. Y/N tries to get off the bed, but David grabs her ankle, yanking her back. She struggles against him and he straddles her, pinning her arms down.

"Get something to tie her with." David orders and Robby starts to rummage around, looking for stuff. "Now... if you're a good girl, I'll give you the coke. But if you're bad, I'm just gonna keep you here longer, sweetheart."

"Please, let me go." Y/N sobs. "I-- I'm fourteen. I'm fourteen."

"That's okay. I like the younger ones. Less experience makes it more fun for me." David grins. Y/N lets out another sob, struggling against him, but he's too strong for her.

"Got some rope. And here's a rag." Robby stuffs the rag into Y/N mouth, muffling her cries and protests.

"Perfect." David grins. He gets up just enough to flip Y/N onto her stomach. He grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her head back. "I like doggy style. So you're gonna be nice and do as I say."

Robby grabs her arm, though she struggles against him, hitting him away.

"Hey, hey, hey." David smacks her on the head. "The more you resist, the longer we'll be here. The longer I'll take. So you wanna be a little brat or be nice?"

Y/N pants, not fighting when Robby grabs her arm again, tying it to the bedpost.

"Good girl." David smirks. Robby rounds the bed, tying her other wrist to the bed. "Now, for the fun." David scoots down, forcing Y/N to get on her knees, her head lying sideways on the mattress. David gropes her ass making her quietly sob more. His hands roam her body, squeezing her boobs.

"Now... for the real fun." David grins.

David and Robby turn when they hear the door open and Barry steps in. He stops, seeing the positions.

"My apologies, fellas." Barry chuckles. "Who we got here?"

"A real cutie." David grins. He grips Y/N's hair, forcing her head back. Barry stares at her for a few moments before recognizing her.

"Hey, ain't the Maybank's little one?" Barry asks.

"Oh, yeah. On the drug run for her daddy. He must've known we needed a stress reliever." David chuckles.

"No, no, no, let her go." Barry orders.

"What? Barry, come on, man." Robby protests.

"No. Nah, man, she's a minor. We don't need the cops on our ass for raping anybody, much less a minor. I draw the line at fucking pedophilia, bro." Barry says.

"Barry--"

"No. No, I'm not gonna have the cops on my ass cause of you two idiots." Barry says. "Let her go."

David rolls his eyes, but climbs off the bed. Robby reluctantly unties Y/N, yanking the rag out of her mouth. Y/N coughs and gasps, trying to catch her breath.

"I-I need-- I don't have 200." She tells Barry.

"What your old man asked for only costs 100." Barry says.

Y/N looks at him in confusion before looking back at the older two who are both grinning and quietly laughing. Y/N sniffles, trying to not cry anymore. She shakily holds out the money to Barry who takes it and gives her the drugs.

Y/N makes an instant run for the door, racing out of the trailer.

- - -

Y/N gets home, rushing in, not wanting her dad to see her tears. She passes JJ who is in the kitchen.

"Y/N?" He asks, frowning when he sees her tear streaked face as she charges past him. "Hey." He calls, following her.

Y/N tosses the drugs to Luke who is sitting on the couch with a beer.

"Hey! Don't throw shit!" Luke scolds.

"There's your fucking coke!" She croaks out, her voice cracking. She storms to her room.

"You made her get your drugs?" JJ asks, looking at his dad.

"Don't yell or swear at me, you little brat!" Luke sneers, standing up.

Y/N turns, placing her hand on her door, and glaring at her father.

"Fuck you!" She screams, slamming her door shut.

"Y/N." JJ's eyes widen in fear.

"That's it, you bitch!" Luke shouts, charging towards her door.

"Hey, hey, no. No, no, no! Dad! Dad, stop!" JJ gets in the middle, blocking his father from his little sister's room.

"I'm gonna teach that brat a lesson!" Luke shouts, making sure Y/N hears her. "Remind her why she's such a worthless piece of shit! Why her mother abandoned her!"

"Dad, stop!" JJ shouts, only to earn a fist to his eye. JJ stumbles to the side, wincing in pain. Luke storms for his daughter's room, slamming the door open.

"You little--" Luke charges at Y/N who backs up into the corner of her room, realizing how stupid her decision was. Before he can reach her, JJ jumps him from behind, dragging him away from the girl.

"Run, Y/N!" JJ shouts, the girl standing there in fear. "Run!" He screams making Y/N snap out of her state of shock and she dodges Luke's hand as she runs out of the room.

JJ slams Luke's head against the wall, kicking him to the floor, knowing he'll pay for it next time he sees him. JJ runs out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and then he runs outside where Y/N is.

"Come on." JJ grabs her hand, dragging her over to his motorcycle. He gets on and she quickly follows.

"I'm gonna kill both of you!" Luke shouts, walking out of the house. He manages to get over and grips onto Y/N's arm making her shriek.

JJ uses the helmet and hits Luke over the head with it making him stumble back. He puts the helmet on Y/N's head and then starts the motorcycle, revving the engine. Before Luke can grab at them again, JJ speeds off.

JJ drives until he's at the chateau. The Twinkie isn't there, letting the siblings know that John B isn't home. Y/N immediately gets off the bike, taking the helmet off, and tossing it onto the ground.

"Y/N!" JJ calls, doing his best to put the stand down quickly as she marches towards the chateau. "Y/N!" He calls, running after her.

"Leave me alone." She hiccups.

"Hey, come on. Tell me what happened." JJ says, following her inside.

"I don't want to." She sniffles.

"Come on, munchkin. Tell me. I can help."

"No, you can't! Just leave me alone!" Y/N shouts, slamming the door to the bedroom shut. JJ flinches at the slam of the door and he hears Y/N start to sob from inside the room.

"Y/N?" He softly calls, gently knocking on the door. "Come on. Please, let me come in."

"Leave me alone." She cries out.

JJ quietly sighs, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He grips the doorknob, but just as he goes to turn it, he pulls his hand away. He knows Y/N needs time alone sometimes after something bad happens. And while he hates it, he knows pushing her to accept his comfort or talk about it will only push her away.

"I'll just... I'll be on the porch." JJ tells her, keeping his voice soft. "Okay?" He calls, hoping to get a response. He doesn't get one.

JJ sighs, running his hands through his hair, as he makes his way to the screened porch, immediately lighting a joint.

- - -

JJ is still sitting on the porch and on his third joint. His leg bounces up and down anxiously as his thoughts don't stray from his sister. He's finally broken out of his thoughts when he hears the screen door creak open and looks up to see his sister walk out.

Her eyes are red and puffy, tear stains on her cheeks, and her nose is red. A broken look rests in her eyes, one JJ is more familiar with seeing than he'd like to be.

"Hey." He softly greets. He offers his best comforting smile and puts the joint out. Y/N walks over and sits next to him on the couch, keeping a little distance between them.

They sit in silence for a little while, JJ not sure how to start talking about anything.

"Can you... can you tell me what happened?" JJ gently questions. Y/N tenses up making JJ's heart clench. "Please, munchkin. I-- if you can't go into detail, that's okay, but... but a brief summary, maybe? Tell me who I have to beat up."

"I... I didn't listen earlier. When you told me to leave." Y/N quietly says. "I stayed home. I-I figured if he was asleep and I didn't make myself known, then I... then I'd be fine." She says, keeping her gaze on a loose thread of the couch she's messing with.

"But he... he came in and-and he made me go and get his drugs for him." Y/N sniffles, tears springing to her eyes as her mind goes back to her time in the trailer.

"And I... I know he usually gets the stuff from Barry, but Barry wasn't there when I got there. Just... just two guys around dad's age and they were working on the drugs or... or whatever you call making drugs."

"They... they said that what dad buys was $200, but I... I only had $100. So... so I tried to pay half and then promise to come back later with the other half. However I would get that. I don't know. But supposedly, possibly I guess, you can't do that."

"So, they... they thought of another way for me to make up for the missing 100." Y/N says, wiping her eyes as tears start to fall again. She sniffles, glancing up at JJ, practically seeing the wheels turn in his head.

After a moment, his eyes widen, and his heart drops as he feels sick to his stomach.

"No." He whispers, shaking his head, anger swimming in his teary eyes.

"They... they dragged me to the bed. And... and said the more I struggled, the longer I'd be there. And I... I didn't want to be there for very long." Y/N hiccups. "So, I... I let them tie me down and-and stuff a rag in my mouth. I... I just let them do it. They were bigger and stronger and I... I couldn't handle them, I couldn't do it. I just wanted it to be over."

"Before he could... before he did anything more than, uh... more than grope, the-the door opened and it was Barry. He made them let me go. He-- he knows I'm still a kid and he didn't want the cops on his ass for raping a minor. Assaulting a minor is already bad enough. So is doing that to a grown woman, but I guess a kid makes it more complicated or something. He doesn't need his business going down the drain and ending up in jail or-or whatever."

JJ's jaw clenches and his hands curl into fists, trying to fight every bone in his body to punch something right now.

"And the drugs even only costed $100. They just... they just wanted an excuse to do that." Y/N says quietly.

"What were their names?" JJ asks.

"Wh-why?" Y/N asks.

"Just give me their names." JJ orders.

"I... uh... they, um... Ro-Robby and... and D-David. David did-- did everything but-but tie me." Y/N says.

"I'm gonna fucking kill them." JJ practically growls, shooting to his feet and heading for the door.

"No. No, no. No, JJ, please!" Y/N calls out. "Please don't go. Don't leave me." She sobs. The pain in her voice is enough to make JJ stop. It both breaks his heart more and fuels his anger.

He huffs, knowing she's more important, and he contains his anger. Looking back at her broken state, all the anger leaves his system, replaced with heartbreak and sympathy.

"I'm not goin' anywhere." He assures, walking back over. He sits next to her, holding an arm out. "C'mere, kiddo." He pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a protective hold. Y/N sobs into his shoulder, gripping onto his shirt as tightly as she can, her body racking with her cries.

JJ tightens his grip, pushing his own tears back as he does his best to comfort her.

"I got you." He assures, placing a hand on her head. "I got you. I'm right here. I'm here." JJ places a soft kiss to her head, smoothing some of her hair down. "I got you, munchkin." He whispers.

- - -

Y/N managed to cry herself to sleep eventually. JJ left her on the couch, lying her down and covering her up with a blanket. He sits in the arm chair by the couch, watching her sleep, the anger radiating through his body.

He looks back when he hears a car and watches the Twinkie pull up. He spots John B driving and Pope is in the passenger seat. JJ gets up, storming off the porch, marching towards the Twinkie.

"Gimme the keys." JJ orders his best friend.

"What? Why?" John B asks.

"Just give me the fucking keys, man." JJ demands, holding his hand out.

"JJ, what's up?" Pope asks, concern in his voice.

"Some shitheads assaulted Y/N -- sexually. I'm gonna go fucking kill them." JJ declares.

"Wait, what?" John B asks.

"Is she okay?" Pope asks.

"Of course she's not fucking okay, Pope!" JJ yells. "Would you be okay?"

"Hey, we care about her too. I just-- it was a question." Pope says.

"Okay, well, look, you're not going alone." John B argues.

"The hell I'm not." JJ glares at him.

"No. No, man, you go alone, you're probably not coming back. Especially if this was some kook--"

"It was two cokeheads. Two pieces of shit that have nothing better to do than torture a little girl. So, personally, I don't really give a shit what the consequences are." JJ says.

"Yeah, well, I bet you she does." John B says, nodding to the chateau where he knows Y/N probably is. "You're the most stable person in her life, J."

"Well, that's a scary thought." The blonde scoffs.

"She can't lose you. So I'm going with you. To help you and to make sure you don't get yourself killed. Either that or you're fucking walking." John B says.

"Fine." JJ relents. "But you." He points at Pope. "You're staying back with her. I don't want her alone."

"Okay." Pope nods.

"Plus, your fighting skills suck, mathlete." JJ says making Pope roll his eyes. JJ holds his hand out for the keys.

"Fuck no. You're too pissed to drive." John B says, getting in the driver's seat.

"Whatever." JJ grumbles, getting in the passenger seat. "Just go as fast as you can."

"No doubt." John B says, starting the car and speeding off.

- - -

John B pulls up to the trailer park and stops outside the trailer JJ tells him to. JJ is out of the car before John B is even able to put it in park. JJ storms up to the trailer and slams the door open.

"Whoa! Hey, man!" Barry exclaims.

"You two David and Robby?" JJ asks, nodding to the two older men around his dad's age.

"Who's askin'?" Robby asks.

"Which one's David?" JJ asks.

"Sorry, bro. I don't swing that way." David laughs. JJ gives him a sarcastic smile before punching him.

"Whoa!" Barry exclaims.

"Holy, shit!" Robby shouts. John B rushes into the trailer, watching JJ grab David's shirt and slam him against the wall.

"Dude, hey. Hey, kid! Relax!" David says.

"Yeah, kid. I'm a fucking kid! You know who else is a fucking kid?! My baby sister!" JJ shouts.

"Oh, shit." Barry mutters.

Robby tries to pull JJ off of David, but John B grabs him and punches him. He knees Robby in the stomach, shoving him to the ground.

"Look, we can talk about this--" David tries.

"Talk about this?!" JJ shouts, slamming David against the wall. "Talk about you trying to rape a fourteen year old girl? Talk about that, huh? Yeah, do you know how fucking sick that is? Assault is bad enough, but you gotta go after a kid who is barely out of middle school?"

"Well, hey, it's not my fault they're tighter at that age." David smirks.

JJ immediately punches David, the force sending David to double over, groaning in pain. JJ repeatedly hits and kicks at the older man, not stopping for anything.

"JJ." John B calls after a while when he notices David half-unconscious. "JJ. JJ!" He calls, but the blonde doesn't listen to him.

"Hey, hey, hey!" John B rushes over, trying to pull his friend away.

"Get off me!" JJ shouts.

"She wouldn't want you in jail, dude!" John B shouts. "Y/N needs you!"

His words finally manage to get through to JJ making the blonde stop. He breathes heavily, trying to catch his breath. JJ balls David's shirt in his hands, yanking him up, glaring at the older man's bloody appearance.

"One of you lowlifes ever talk to my sister, ever touch her -- ever even fucking think of or mention her again -- it will be the last fucking thing you ever do, I swear to God." JJ sneers. "Stay away from kids, you sick fuck."

JJ spits in his face before getting up and storming out.

John B delivers a few kicks to David's abdomen making him weakly groan in pain. John B looks over at Barry who is standing across the room, smoking a joint.

"Nobody knows about this shit." John B states and Barry holds his hands up.

- - -

JJ and John B get back to the chateau with some pizza, soda, and beer. They walk inside, Pope and Y/N sitting on the couch. Y/N is curled up, resting against the arm of the couch. She has a blanket covering her and the two are watching Tangled, it comforting Y/N.

They look up as the two boys enter, Pope perking up at the food.

"Sweet." Pope says, standing up, walking over to the counter where JJ puts the boxes down.

"You guys actually went to get food?" Y/N asks.

"Yeah. Where else would we be?" John B asks, putting the beer and pack of soda bottles on the counter.

"I don't... I thought that maybe... forget it." Y/N mumbles, turning her attention back to the TV.

John B looks at JJ who gives him a look to shut up, not wanting to tell her anything. JJ puts two pieces of cheese pizza on a paper plate and grabs a bottle of soda. He walks over to Y/N, putting the bottle on the coffee table and holding the plate out to her.

"Thanks." She mumbles, taking the plate. JJ softly smiles at her, gently ruffling her hair. The three boys each get their own food and some beer.

Pope sits back down in his previous spot and John B sits on the floor, putting his stuff on the coffee table. JJ sits next to his sister.

"Oh, sweet, I love this part." John B says, watching the characters sing in the pub.

Y/N glances at JJ as he picks one of his pieces of pizza up. Her eyes immediately go to his bloodied knuckles.

"JJ." She quietly says, getting his attention. She glances up at his face before refocusing on his hand. JJ follows her gaze, putting the pizza down.

"Oh, those-- those are old." He dismisses, eating the pizza with his other hand.

"Then why are you hiding it?" She asks.

"I'm not." JJ says.

"Jayje." She mumbles.

JJ sighs, but leans closer to her so he doesn't have to talk loud.

"Look, it's fine, Y/N/N. Nothing's gonna happen to me and those shitheads got taught a lesson. No old, weird, disgusting creeps are gonna bother you now. Promise." JJ tells her.

"You shouldn't have done that." Y/N whispers.

"Have you met me?" JJ asks. "If you think I'm letting anybody get away with hurting you, you're fucking high, kiddo." He says making Y/N smile the slightest bit.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @ironmaiden1313

#jj maybank #jj maybank x sister reader #jj maybank x sister!reader #obx jj #outer banks #outer banks jj #obx

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quarter-life-crisis2 · 1 year

Text

Just enough help

✿ Yoongi x reader (she/her) (Namjoon is there for 2 seconds)

✿ wc: 2.1k

✿ baby angst, minimal fluff

✿ summary: You're stuck, not knowing what to do in your life to be happy and content. A surprising conversation makes you think that maybe you can turn things around.

✿ warnings: some talk of capitalism, hopelessness, and being stuck in life, a touch of loneliness & low self-esteem, but nothing physical, just one little wish of being more beautiful, weed smoking occurs (oh no, 2/2 on this one), talk about purpose and shit that's keeping me up at night, but it's not too heavy, ends with more hope than it starts I promise

Maybe part two...?

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

A lovely spring day by the canal, birds singing, sun shining, couples smiling, all that bullshit and yet you’ve been walking around with a dark cloud above you. Sometimes going for a walk makes you feel like you’re finally photosynthesising after a long winter, yet seeing all these happy people reminds you of how bitter you feel.

Sitting down on the patch of grass overlooking the water, staring into the distance you feel like everything you’ve been working towards has been completely pointless. You pictured this amazing life for yourself, with a career you love and are confident in, living it up in the big city, with a highrise flat, a dog and a partner. Yet all you’ve got right now is disappointment, in yourself and your achievements.

And that just makes you feel ungrateful because you have a career, a decent one at that, that pays you enough that you don’t have to worry about your bills and you can indulge here and there. Your flat might not be overlooking the city, but it’s nice enough, you decorated it to your tastes and you don’t have to share it with any strangers and argue over whose turn it is to do the dishes.

Yet it just feels like it’s all wrong, it’s not you, you’re not really living. You’re going through the motions every day, seeing how much you can get away with before you get called in for a disciplinary meeting. Seeing how many hours you can spend laying down on your bed with your eyes closed, picturing you’re someone else entirely, someone better, more confident, more interesting, more beautiful.

You thought you finally had it, that treasured feeling you’ve been chasing for as long as you can remember, that content little light inside that made you walk with a little more joy, make you lift your head a bit higher, like you actually like yourself. How fragile was it really? It seems like all it took was a slump, and then you went right back to isolating yourself, not taking care of yourself and no longer trying.

“Here, take this”

A water bottle is suddenly in your line of vision, startling you from your self-deprecating spiral. Looking up at the man standing in front of you, realising you’ve been crying, in public, in broad daylight, completely sober. Shock and shame quickly mix together, so you take the bottle hoping he’ll leave you alone to wallow for a bit longer before you pull yourself together and make the hour-long journey back to your corner of the city. No such luck, he seems to not get the hint, sitting down next to you, a good 4 feet apart.

“Don’t worry, I just bought it, it’s sealed. You just looked like you needed it.”

You look down surprised, to the unopened bottle, muttering a small thanks and taking a sip. He’s settled in, staring out at the beautiful view, looking completely at ease with your discomfort, while you’re inspecting his profile, confused about what the hell he wants from you. He can’t possibly just be nice, no one talks to crying people here, you might as well be invisible. The last time this happened, when you were 20, having just moved cities, far from home, it was like you suddenly got a superpower, if you ever cried in public, and you did for a while, a lot, everyone avoided eye contact like they could catch some crying disease.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Letting out a sudden laugh, you might as well engage in this, whatever this is, it might never happen again. Hopefully, it never does, how many times can one embarrass themselves before their self-esteem finally reaches rock bottom?

“I’m just being dramatic, it’s nothing much.”

“Try me”

“Fine, if you’re really that interested... I just fucking hate my life... I hate my job, I hate my flat, and I hate that I’m not where I thought I’ll be at this age. But I’m sure I’m not the first or the last to think that, so I should just be happy with what I’ve got, it could be so much worse.”

“So what? Just because it could be worse, what, can’t it be better as well?”

“I guess, but at this point, I don’t know what better looks like. I’m sitting here complaining about how unhappy I am, yet I couldn’t even tell you what I want. Pretty fucking pathetic.”

You’re angry you realise, you’re angry with yourself mainly. What is the point of this little sad song you’re singing for yourself? You’re not grateful for what you’ve got and you’re not trying to get anything better, so why would you deserve some amazing life for yourself if you can’t even try?

“Splif?”

Looking at the guy again, you realise he didn’t say anything back to your lovely rendition of your failures, just offering you a smoke.

“Fuck it, why not.”

So you sit there, in silence, going back and forth, smoking this stranger’s weed looking out at the orange hues in the water reflecting from the sunset.

“How old are you?” you finally ask, once the buzz kicked in and you can feel your anger subside, making room for the light haze.

“30”

“And are you happy?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes…?”

“Yeah, sometimes. I’m happy right now.”

“Why would you be happy right now? I doubt anyone wants to spend their Saturday afternoon wasting their weed on a random crying stranger.”

He doesn’t look at you at all while talking, just sits there calmly, takes a final toke, has a sip of his coke and lays down on the grass before answering. This man seems like he’s meditated his way to inner peace right now.

“It’s not that bad, the weather is nice, there’s music playing, there’s no screaming children. I had a nice lunch and a nice smoke, and you’re not crying anymore. So I’m happy right now. It doesn’t take that much.”

He’s right, it’s a beautiful day, it’s as peaceful as the city will ever feel, and you’re not crying anymore. So you stop, take a deep breath, trying to embody his carefree attitude, and lay down on the grass. You focus on the clear sky, the gentle breeze moving the tree leaves above you and the gentle guitar you can hear from somewhere behind you.

“How old are you?”

Looking to your right, he’s finally looking your way, sitting up on his elbows, eyes a bit droopy and red.

“28”

“And what did you think would already happen that hasn’t?”

“I’m not sure anymore, I just thought I’d feel some purpose, like I’d be some inspiring career woman. But all I feel is just dread… like, is this it? For the rest of my life, just wake up, drag myself to do something that’s good enough, that pays me enough, that’s just not annoying enough or hard enough that I leave. Get home, eat, watch some movie that’s interesting enough, sleep, repeat.”

“What’s annoying about it, your job?”

“It doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. I’m helping a bunch of rich corporations figure out if they can maybe squeeze another million out of people while trying hard not to spend a cent to help anyone. Not even their own employees. They ask for more money, or better parental leave, or bereavement days, or to not be discriminated against after helping them increase their billions and they say “Sorry, no can do, but here’s a ping pong table and a couple of beers on Friday.” It just doesn’t matter at best and at worst I’m helping capitalism thrive at everyone’s expense. Surely this isn’t what we’re meant to be doing.”

“Yeah, well I agree with you on that… So you obviously know why this doesn’t feel right, then what should we be doing?”

“What, all of us, as a society?”

“Yeah, all of us.”

“We should be helping each other. Not fucking over everyone we can just so some rich dude can buy another yacht. But so what? I’m not gonna start some class revolution. I can barely keep my fridge stocked. It doesn’t matter how I think we should be.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure a lot of people feel that way.”

“Maybe… No, you’re right, I know they do. I didn’t come up with any of this. Just not the people that can actually do something about it.”

“You can do something about it, anyone can. Why can’t you help people?”

“Cause it won’t make a difference.”

“Did that water make a difference?” he points to the empty bottle on your lap.

“I mean, I’m not thirsty anymore…? What’s your point?”

“Did the weed make a difference?”

“Yeah, it did. So what, should we just give out weed to people and hold hands and hope our corporate overlords decide to join us?”

“You’re thinking too big. How do you feel? Like right now, this second?”

“I feel… I feel high. I feel like I’m chatting shit to a stranger.”

He laughs a bit, continuing his gentle interrogation.

“And how did you feel 20 minutes ago? Be honest.”

“You’re really walking around providing free therapy?”

“Just indulge me…”

“Fine, I felt like crap, and really fucking hopeless.”

“Well, you still seem a bit hopeless, I won’t lie to you, but you’ve smiled about 1.5 - oh, there we go, 2 times now, so surely that’s a tiny bit better, no?”

“Yeah, I guess so…”

“Well then, I helped you a tiny bit. Do you feel like that matters at all?”

“In the grand sch-”

“No, no, not in the grand scheme, to you, does it matter to you? That you’re high and feel a little bit less crappy?”

“Yeah, I suppose. But, that’s not helping people, that’s just me.”

“Well you’re a person, I’m a person, we’re both people, unless that’s not the case, which if you’re not, please tell me now because that’s a great high conversation to have.”

You laugh a bit amused at how this dude is just taking your ramblings in stride, somehow finding time to not only make eye contact with a crying stranger but somehow give them life advice as well.

“3, that’s a full smile, new record. Well, now that we’ve established we’re both people, and I helped you a tiny bit, and you helped me pass some time and have a nice chat, then why would it not matter?”

“Right… so you’re saying I should start small?”

“Well if you could actually fix society, like all of it, I’d be really fucking impressed, but I doubt you can just wake up one day and do that. Maybe just think of what you do well in your job, and see if anyone is willing to pay you for it, some place where it’s helping, someone, anyone. Even if it’s just one person. I’m sure there’s something.”

You look at him for a few seconds, just surprised. It’s not like he’s told you the secret to the universe. You’ve probably given this advice to a friend before, ‘start small, focus on what you can control’, ‘every little bit counts’ all of that. But sometimes, just knowing something isn’t enough, you need someone to tell you just the right thing at the right time.

“Thank you.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you, that actually really helped.”

“Nah, I’m sure you would’ve gotten there eventually. My friend’s finally here, I’m gonna head out. Hope you figure it out.”

You watch him walk away with a little wave. You’re surprised, you realise. He didn’t do anything creepy, he didn’t try to hit on you or ask for your number. He didn’t even ask for your name actually. He was just nice, he listened, gave a little bit of advice and went on his way. He did help, so maybe it’s a sign. How many times would this realistically happen? You would’ve said 0 30 min ago. So maybe you can turn things around, figure out a way to feel useful, a little bit less like a hypocrite.

……

“Who was that?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean? You were talking for ages.”

“I don’t know her, just seemed upset so I talked to her for a bit.”

“And had a smoke.”

“Yeah, and had a smoke.”

“Sooo…did you get her number?”

“No.”

“What? Since when do you talk to strangers just because? You barely even talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you man, I just did.”

“Yeah, whatever you say… come on, let’s go, we’re already fucking late.”

soooo I'm clearly going through something

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x oc #angst #yoongi angst #lia's hideous creations

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angelhwajoong · 3 months

Text

Title: Rule No. 1

Chapter 3

Seonghwa blinked, trying to process what Hongjoong had just asked him. He swallowed his food and burst out laughing, shaking his head. "You're kidding me, Joong. What did he say?"

"Hwa ... I'm serious, if you don't believe me, call him and ask him yourself." Hongjoong spoke and took the plate from Seonghwa because his expression was changing into one of disbelief and fear. He set the plate down and pulled him into a soothing hug. "We don't know anything yet. Let's not jump to conclusions. Do you have one or want me to get one?"

"I don't have any .. I mean, Joongie... you are an angel and I am a vampire. That shouldn't be possible at all. It's probably just a flu or something?" But Seonghwa's voice didn't sound very confident. He didn't seem to believe himself. Hongjoong kissed his head and stood up.

"I'll go get one from the supermarket around the corner. Do you need anything else?" Even though, the vampire was scared, he was eyeing the pizza and clicked his tongue. Hongjoong couldn't help but chuckle and nodded, understanding. There was a pizza restaurant on the way. It also took off his mind a little. After all he thought the same as Seonghwa but San had been certain. He pressed another kiss on his lips and walked towards the door, taking one of Seonghwa's scarfs to hide his bite marks. No one would notice that he was an archangel but he rather played safe than risk anything. "I'll be quick, babe."

Seonghwa hummed and tried to calm himself down with the leftover slice of Hongjoong's pizza. He was the heir of their family business, Hongjoong had his own duties to take care of. His family was going to kill him. How would he explain this to his parents and moreover tell them who the father was. He couldn't even lie and say it was a one night stand because if he was really pregnant with Hongjoong's child, he'd never be able to get rid of it as his parents would demand. Although keeping it would be a huge risk and were they even mature enough to raise a child? He didn't even question whether Hongjoong would raise it with him because he was 100% sure that he would. But he knew that Hongjoong was worrying about his health, about the people around them to find out and his safety.

After finishing the pizza, he stood up with a sigh and filled a bottle with water. He'd empty it by the time Hongjoong got back. He wanted to get over with it fast. By the time, the scent of pizza filled his nostrils, Seonghwa had finished half if the bottle, though. His throat went dry as Hongjoong came through the door and he quickly took a few more gulps. He was feeling the need to use the toilet already, good.

"Hwa, sweetheart, I'm back. Did you know there are pregnancy tests especially for vampires? Apparently you guys need more sensitive tests." Hongjoong explained with surprise in his voice and put the pizza on the table - he got a huge one. Who was supposed to eat this monster? He was also holding a decent bag which Seonghwa just had to snatch away. When he looked inside, he saw at least 5 pregnancy tests, chocolate, tissues, his favourite face masks and candles. He looked at his boyfriend with a quivering bottom lip.

"To make sure the result is right. No matter what the result is, some chocolate for comfort, human food seems fine for you today so you will experience comfort food. Tissues in case you need to cry, I wasn't sure if you still had some at home. Your favourite face mask to make you relax and some candles for the mood." Hongjoong explained and was attacked with a tight hug. He coughed dramatically and cleared his throat. "I love you, too, Hwa but that's a little too tight."

Seonghwa quickly let go and tried to say something but the lump in his throat was too big, so he pointed to his throat and made an x sign with his fingers. Instead he cupped Hongjoong's face and kissed his lips to show him his gratitude. Then he took one of the tests and pulled Hongjoong with him. He stopped at the kitchen to get a paper cup and then walked to the bathroom.

"Let me give you some privacy, babe." Hongjoong spoke softly as he stopped in front of the bathroom. They didn't mind being in the bathroom together when one of them had to pee but this felt kind of intimate? Seonghwa pouted but nodded before entering and closing the door behind him. He did his business into the cup and dipped the pregnancy test before placing it on the sink and getting rid of the liquid and the paper cup. It wasn't his first pregnancy test. Now they had to wait for 3 minutes.

"Everything alright in there?" Hongjoong asked and Seonghwa opened the door. He nodded and had a worried expression on his face as he hugged his boyfriend and exhaled deeply. Hongjoong kissed his neck gently. "No matter what, I'll stay with you, Seonghwa."

"I want pizza ... I'm still hungry ..." Seonghwa whispered with a raspy voice and Hongjoong had to hold back his laughter. They could as well spend the waiting time with food. He pulled Seonghwa back to the living room and sat down on th sofa, pulling him in his lap. He opened the pizza box and took a slice to feed the vampire. Why did it look so adorable with his big eyes and those fangs when he ate, though? Hongjoong took a slice as well and ate happily, he had been hungry since he left but he didn't want to tell Seonghwa, not wanting him to feel guilty for eating the rest of his pizza.

The arch angel had almost forgotten about the test because he was so busy eating and feeding his vampire if it wasn't for the latter tugging on his shirt after they were half through the pizza. Hongjoong swallowed and stood up with him ro go back to the bathroom. Seonghwa looked at him, wanting the other to check instead of himself. The archangel gave him a reassuring smile and nodded, stepping inside to take a look. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt as if someone was suffocating him. Was he going to become a dad?

Hongjoong came out, chewing on his lips as he looked down and had his hands behind his back. He looked at Seonghwa and tilted his head, seemingly unsure what to express. Then his lips curled up into a smile and he held the pregnancy test up for Seonghwa to see. "We are going to be parents!"

Seonghwa's mouth stood agape and tears burnt in his eyes which caused Hongjoong's expression to change. He looked at him worriedly and was about to say something as the vampire hugged him tightly and started sobbing into his shoulder. "A-are we even ready to t-take care of a mini version of us?"

Hongjoong exhaled a deep breath that he didn't know he had held. He was already afraid that Seonghwa might not want to keep the pregnancy. Of course, there was a lot to discuss and prepare, but the image of a mini Seonghwa running around them was adorable. "Why shouldn't we? Yes, we are still young but there is never the perfect timing. We can do that and you will be a wonderful mom."

"You think so?" Seonghwa sniffed and looked at his boyfriend with teary eyes. Hongjoong looked at him so lovingly that he was about to burst into a new set of tears and then he even kissed his lips that were wet with tears. How did he find this amazing man? The archangel nodded and placed another kiss on his lips and then on both of his cheeks, his forehead and even his wet nose, which made Seonghwa cringe. "Joongie... I cried like a baby just now, that's disgusting."

"Hwa ... are you serious? I even sit next to you and hold your hair when you throw up. I think we are past that stage." Hongjoong chuckled and the vampire just grumbled something under his breath. "Let me call San for an appointment. I trust him but he doesn't know that you are my boyfriend. I didnt want too many people to know, it's risky."

Seonghwa nodded and broke the hug, following Hongjoong back to the living room where they sat down. While Hongjoong made the phone call, the vampire grabbed a slice of pizza and took his phone to dial Minho's phone number. Hongjoong hung up after 2 minutes and nodded.

"We can visit right away. His clinic is half an hour by taxi. Wanna eat up and then leave?" Seonghwa nodded, chewing happily on his slice. He was amazed and happy that he was able to eat this delicious stuff. Hongjoong smiled wide and patted his head gently. It was so cute to see him like that. They should focus on the positive things for now. Hongjoong would worry about their parents later.

When Seonghwa was filled they both got ready to leave. Hongjoong adjusted the scarf to hide his bite marks and checked his hair, while Seonghwa checked his full appearance in the mirror, especially if he had put on any weight already. "Babe, you're handsome and beautiful the way you are and no, you did not gain weight yet. Even if you do, there is nothing that can damage your beauty."

Seonghwa looked at him with a straight face but he could see tears threatening to spill and he quickly hugged the vampire and spread tiny kisses over his face. "No, no, no. Don't cry, my little bunny. I will shut up, okay?"

"It's just so much today. I'm pregnant and then you are here, my way too amazing boyfriend and I do believe you every single word when you say such things. They are not just to make me feel better and I'm just so grateful to have you." Seonghwa rambled quickly and squeezed Hongjoong lightly before letting go and wiping his tiny tears. "Let's go."

"Oh, wait- I forgot to give Minho a call." Seonghwa fished his phone out and called their friend. "Minho-yah~ I'm sorry, I'll have to cancel dinner. I'm on my way to the doctor with Hongjoongie... oh nothing serious, I will tell you guys when I'm back... yes, talk to you later."

"I already called a taxi, should be here in 5 minutes according to the app." Hongjoong smiled and took Seonghwa's hand as they left the apartment together. Both of them had a strange but positive feeling in their belly.

Half an hour later the couple arrived in front of the private clinic and San was already waiting for them at the entrance. The doctor bowed lightly and gave Hongjoong a handshake. He was well-built with wide shoulders and a buff chest and arms. He had sharp facial features and wore a pair of black framed glasses. "You're lucky, I have a free spot. The clinic was packed today, you wouldn't believe it."

"Good for u- my friend's boyfriend. He's been sick for a few days, can't drink blood packs but suddenly can eat human food. The test was very clear but we thought its better to get it checked out by a professional." Hongjoong and Seonghwa had agreed to keep their relationship a secret in front of the doctor even though he was Hongjoong's friend. "My friend had to take care of his sick mother that's why I offered to accompany Seonghwa."

Hongjoong gritted his teeth as he got elbowed by his boyfriend who gave him a subtle death glare. Okay, maybe that was a bit too much. They followed San to one of the rooms, passing a few couples on the way who appeared to be expecting as well. San was running a gynaecological clinic and seemingly seeing anyone regardless of race - seemed like a good guy.

They entered the room and San closed the door, signaling Seonghwa to take a seat next to the ultra sound. He disinfected his hands and took a pair of gloves as he sat next to Seonghwa who laid down and cleared his throat as he lifted his shirt, revealing his toned stomach. Hongjoong sat on a chair at the end of the doctor's couch and looked at his boyfriend with pursed lips. San didn't say much so far and put the cold gel on Seonghwa's stomach. The vampire didn't flinch at all.

"Okay, let's see what we have here. You said these symptoms are running for a few days? Nothing unusual before that?" San asked while checking the screen and moving the ultrasound device. Seonghwa shook his head no. "Found the sweethearts. Let me see which week you are. Since you are a very athletic and toned man, it may take a while until you will actually start showing. But if you feed them well, they might grow in no time as well. No excessive sports from now on. Some light training to keep in shape isn't wrong or harmful, though."

"Th-them?" It came in unison from both Seonghwa and Hongjoong and Seonghwa stared with wide eyes and an open mouth at his boyfriend. San looked at them with a smile and nodded. He pointed to the two little strawberry sized embryos on the screen.

"I assume it is about the 10th week. Two babies, it's very clear. Congrats on parenthood. But Hongjoong, I will be honest with you ... I never had a mixed race pregnancy in this clinic before and I also don't know of any case of angel and vampire ..." San sighed as he looked at him and then at Seonghwa. "I suggest you to be careful and listen to what your body says. Closely. It will know best what your babies need. About the gender, I can't tell yet, they are not in the right position."

"How ..." Hongjoong started but San just smiled at him. So they had been obvious. "We didn't want many people to know about us. I hope you understand. But ... this pregnancy can't be dangerous for Hwa, right? He can drink my blood, he's only getting sick from blood packs, not from my blood."

"Don't worry, you two. I need to protect my own kind, right?" San expanded his fangs for a moment for Seonghwa to see who visibly relaxed. "We can't control our love and even I can feel your deep connection with each other. Those rules reach far back into the past and we have to become more modern. I'm sure this is also a reason why you were able to get pregnant, Seonghwa."

San handed Seonghwa some tissues to wipe himself clean and rolled aside with his chair so Hongjoong could sit beside his boyfriend. He watched them hug and whisper things to each other, his own face adorned by a bright smile. "I'll have you registered as my patient and list the father as unknown as precaution. I don't want you to be at risk. I do trust my employees but better be safe than sorry."

The couple looked at San with a smile but teary eyes. Hongjoong spoke up for them. "Thank you. I don't know what to say."

"No need to. Seeing you two looking forward to become parents is why I love this job." San spoke and his voice sounded sincere. "Seonghwa, I'll prescribe you some vitamins and other supplements. If you notice any side effects, give me a call. Hongjoong has my private phone number. If you two need protection at some point because you think you are in danger, I have connections and vacation apartments here and there."

"Thank you so much." Seonghwa spoke and sniffed softly at so much love they received. He placed a hand in his stomach and looked at Hongjoong. They didn't expect two at all, but they would manage it nevertheless.

#skz #smut #fanfiction #kpop #ateez fic #ateez #ateez fanfic #fanfic #yaoi #mpreg #seonghwa #seongjoong #shapeshifter #hongjoong #ateez san

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iamthemain-character · 2 years

Text

I Can’t Run From My Family Line

Tubbo’s life hasn’t been kind to him, but he realizes he can make a choice about who he’s going to be.

c!tubbo

TW: very angsty, mentions of alcohol/alcoholism, child abuse, abandonment, canon violence, proceed reading with caution

author’s note: the events do not go in canon order, it’s really just like flashes of tubbo’s memories as the song progresses

a/n pt. 2: i also took some creative liberty with tubbo’s story and sprinkled in some headcanons

image by sadist

My father never talked a lot

He just took a walk around the block

'Til all his anger took a hold of him

And then he’d hit

Linking the last daisy to the first one, Tubbo held out the newly finished flower crown. It looked almost identical to the ones his mother used to make, a fact that made Tubbo’s heart swell with pride. Excited, Tubbo got up-carefully clutching the crown in his hands- and ran as fast as he could on his little legs to go show his father.

As Tubbo stepped through the door, his nose wrinkled at the stench that wafted through the air. His father didn’t do much towards cleaning, and at five years old Tubbo didn’t really know how to either. So instead he did the best he could with stained cloths and rotten food in the fridge.

Carefully stepping over and walking around the various empty alcohol bottles on the floor, Tubbo carefully approached the sleeping form of his father on the couch. Schlatt was sprawled out, a beer bottle in one hand and the other covering his eyes. Schlatt’s head was just in reach, so carefully Tubbo placed it on top.

Not wanting to awake his father, Tubbo slowly started to walk away; unfortunately, he failed to see the bottle right behind him, and it made a loud crashing nose as his heel sent it into the others next to it.

With a jerk, Schlatt awoke, his eyes bloodshot and distant. Whipping his head around, his eyes landed on his son. “What are you making all that noise for huh? Can’t a man get some decent sleep around here?”

“I’m-I’m sorry Dad, it-“

The flower crown slipped down Jschlatt’s face, and he took it off. Looking at it in his hand, his face seemed to soften, and for a split second, Tubbo wondered if his father was going to cry. But then Schlatt took a drink from his bottle and his face was angrier than before.

“Did you make this? Put this on my head? Are you trying to make a fool of me? A real man doesn’t wear flower crowns, can you stop being a wuss for one day of your life? XD, I swear you’re trying to be an embarrassment to me.”

Staring down at his toes, Tubbo curled them inside his worn out shoes. “I made it just like mom did, she always said they were your favorite.”

Setting the beer off to the side, Schlatt leaned down and gripped Tubbo’s shoulder, his overgrown nails digging through the thin fabric and into Tubbo’s skin. “Listen here boy; your ma here right now? Was she out there in that stupid daisy field with you?”

Tubbo shook his head, afraid to speak, but Schlatt’s hand came up and slapped the former’s cheek. “Look at me and speak boy, or are you dumb in both ways?”

“No sir.”

“That’s what I thought.” Schlatt held out the flower crown in front of Tubbo, and then snapped his fingers around it, crushing all the soft petals. Throwing it to the floor, Schlatt crushed the remnants under the heel of his shoe.

“You need to stop wasting all your time on stuff like this. You’re useless, and it’s about time you started putting in effort around here. I ain’t gonna coddle you and hold your hand, let you grow up into a worthless boy. Get to work Tubbo, or else you’ll end up nothing forever.”

I say they're just the ones who gave me life

But I truly am my parents' child

Carefully Tubbo readjusted the tie around his neck, wanting to look his best for the cabinet meeting of the L’manburg. It was the first one since Tommy had been exiled, and they would be meeting with Dream to make negotiations to restore travel and peace.

Tubbo ran his comb through his hair once more, but as he placed it down again, his hand brushed the picture that sat on his dresser. It was an image of him and Tommy, laughing together, arms around each other’s shoulders. Tubbo remembered the day it was taken perfectly; all the building they had done, catching fish in the pond, and just making each other laugh. It had been the best day of Tubbo’s life.

Shakily, Tubbo reached out and gently pushed the photo face down, unable to look at Tommy’s face any longer. Looking in the mirror, he straightened his shoulders.

“For the good of L’manburg.” Tubbo nodded at his reflection, but for some reason his voice sounded so timid and unsure.

Then, slowly, Tubbo’s face changed before him in the reflection. Suddenly, instead of his own figure, the face of Schlatt stared back, smugly smiling.

“For the good of Manburg.” For a moment, Tubbo seemed to hear his father’s voice.

Tubbo’s hands curled around the edge of the dresser, clutching so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Breathing short, he shook his head over and over desperate to be rid of his father, who was supposed to be dead and out of his life.

As tears slipped from Tubbo’s eyes, he looked back at the reflection, only to find his own face there again, now very pale and terrified. Tubbo turned, leaning against the dresser, and slid down to the floor as sobs wracked his body.

Was he becoming his father?

Scattered 'cross my family line

I'm so good at telling lies

That came from my mother's side

Told a million to survive

Trying to act natural, Tubbo forced every muscle in his legs not to run out of the building. Having finished preparations for the festival, he was desperate to get back to Pogtopia to discuss what the plan was. The door was just in front of him, and Tubbo was almost home free, when suddenly a voice stopped him.

“Ey, you leaving for the day Tubso?”

Trying not to roll his eyes, Tubbo put a fake smile and turned to look at his boss.

Schlatt’s tie was undone, loosely draped around his shoulders, and as always, a bottle was clutched in his hand. Even as president, Schlatt was continuously drunk.

“Yes sir, everything should be ready for the festival.”

“Good good, great work kid.” Taking another swig of whatever liquor he had, Schlatt came closer to Tubbo, clapping his hand on his shoulder. Though not nearly as hard as when Tubbo was a kid, it took everything in him not to lose it right there and then.

“You know what, why don’t you come have a drink with me and ole Quackity tonight? We can discuss some of the agenda for the festival.” Schlatt smiled at Tubbo, but it was anything but warm. While his offer seemed like an invitation, it really was more of a strongly enforced idea.

Tubbo had already been caught leaving so many times before, and he began to sweat as he started to panic, not sure how to escape this one. He really needed to get to Pogtopia, but he didn’t know how to leave without making it suspicious.

“Mr. President, that is such a kind offer, but unfortunately I have…… I have a doctor’s appointment!“ Going with the lie, Tubbo just nodded slowly, hoping it was looking reassuring.

“Oh my XD, are you alri-“

“I’m pregnant.” Tubbo blurted. His face burned red immediately, realizing what he was saying.

Schlatt blinked a few times, obviously not prepared for this response. “Oh well, congratulations?”

“Thank you sir.”

Stepping away, Schlatt looked at Tubbo’s stomach, squinting a little. Then he looked back up, smiling as usual. “Well Tubso, perhaps another time.”

As Tubbo watched him leave, he let out a large breath. He was beginning to wonder how long he could keep up with all these lies.

It's hard to put it into words

How the holidays will always hurt

I watch the fathers with their little girls

And wonder what I did to deserve this

How could you hurt a little kid?

“Yeah Michael, you got it! Keep going bud!”

Tubbo watched his husband and son with a smile, sipping his coffee as the morning light streamed through the window. Today was a day just for the small family, with Snowchester’s problems and needs waiting for another day.

Happy with his new possession, Michael toddled back to the table, returning to his breakfast and babbling to his new friend.

With a soft smile, Ranboo stood up and came over to Tubbo, wrapping his arms around him and placing a kiss on the latter’s head. Tubbo hummed as a sign of content, and for a moment he felt like his heart felt so full that it would burst.

“So I was thinking we should take Michael to the flower field, I think he’d love to learn how to make daisy crowns.” Ranboo’s voice resonated in Tubbo’s ears.

Instantly Tubbo’s stomach turned into knots, and a cold chill ran through him from head to toe. For a moment, the happy scene before him wavered, replaced by images of his angry and drunk father’s face. Tears pricked at Tubbo’s eyes as he remembered the crown he had so carefully made, crushed and broken by the person he had loved most. Tubbo had tried to pick up the pieces after Schlatt had left, carefully weaving the shredded stems back together. That broken daisy crown had sat on his nightstand for months, dried out and dusty. Sometimes Tubbo wondered if it was still there, waiting for a day that would never come.

Tearing himself from Ranboo’s grasp, Tubbo walked over and took Michael into his arms, holding him gently. “That’s a great idea boo; every kid should have a chance to make a daisy crown.”

I can't forget, I can't forgive you

'Cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me

“Tubbo, let’s just talk about this-“

“Talk about this?! Ranboo we are so beyond talking about this!” Tubbo stared down at his husband sitting on the couch, daring him to say or do anything.

“Look, I’m sorry, it-“

“Oh, you’re sorry? And let me guess, I’m supposed to say, ‘Oh it’s okay, let me forgive and forget!’ is that it?” Letting out an incredulous laugh, Tubbo started collecting things and putting them in a bag.

“No, I’m not saying that, I just-“

“You just what, Ranboo? You can’t just leave for a day and a half, no word, no hint as to where you have gone, only to show up at our door in the middle of the night with absolutely no explanation as to where you have been! Unless you do magically have an explanation now?”

Turning back to Ranboo, Tubbo raised an eyebrow as he waited for his husband’s response.

“I told you Tubbo, I can’t explain it.”

Tubbo’s heart plummeted into his stomach, and he returned to packing.

“Well then; you may not care about this family or our marriage, but guess what Ranboo? I do care.”

Tubbo left the room, Ranboo following closely. Once they reached Michael’s bedroom, Tubbo gathered his child into his arms, quickly turning and going towards the front door.

“Wait wait wait, where are you going?”

Tears burning in Tubbo’s eyes, he turned to look at Ranboo. “I’m leaving, and I’m taking Michael with me. So you can walk away, you can leave, but I won’t let you leave me, I won’t let anyone leave me behind ever again.”

With that last sentence, the dams seemed to break. Tears streaming down his face, Tubbo crumpled to the floor, sobbing as he cradled his son in his arms. Ranboo knelt next to him, gathering Tubbo and Michael into his arms, and he gently stroked his husband’s back, pressing soft kisses on top of his hair, whispering reassurance into his ears.

After a while, the tears started to slow, but weak and exhausted from the turmoil, Tubbo just relaxed into Ranboo’s arms. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh no, no. I’m sorry Tubbo. But I love you, and I’m not going to ever leave you or Michael. I promise.”

All of my pain and all your excuses

I was a kid but I wasn't clueless

(Someone who loves you wouldn't do this)

Tubbo shifted uncomfortably in the box, clutching tightly to the worn stuffed bee his mother had made him. His eyes never left his father’s as he watched him crouch down next to the box, getting eye to eye.

“Look Tubso, it’s better like this, right? I just, you just can’t keep staying with me. Your mother, she should’ve stayed, you know? She should’ve been here, taking care of you. I-I can’t take care of you kid. So uh, you just sit tight okay? You, you hang onto that bee okay?”

Tubbo nodded solemnly, and the slap that usually came from his silence never did. His father just sat there, hands gripping the edges of the box. For the first time in Tubbo’s entire life, his father actually had tears in his eyes.

“You’re going to be okay, this is for the best kid. Yeah, yeah you’ll be fine. It’s not my fault, I wasn’t meant to have a child, especially not without it’s mother. No, no you’re going to be fine. Yeah.” Schlatt stood up, looking down at Tubbo. He gave one curt nod, then promptly turned, got up on his horse, and left.

Tubbo watched him ride into the distance until he couldn’t see anymore. But still his eyes stayed in the same position, willing his father to come back. Tubbo didn’t cry, he didn’t scream, he just sat, clutching that bee to his chest. He felt hollow on the inside, like he was all empty.

Hours passed by, and as the sun started to set, so did the chill of the night. As the nighttime dew started settling on his skin, Tubbo began to shiver. Yet still he waited, hoping that somewhere, somehow his father had changed his mind and would come back to get him.

Then, a shadow in the distance started to emerge. Hope filled Tubbo’s heart, but then confusion replaced it as he realized the figure looked nothing like his father. As the man came closer, Tubbo could make out that he was wearing his favorite color, green. A funny hat sat atop his head, he looked like no one Tubbo had ever seen before.

The stranger slowed the horse to a stop, dismounting it and cautiously approaching Tubbo. “Hello little one. What are you doing out here?” He looked around, trying to see if anyone was around, but as he realized it was deep in the night, the stranger’s heart sank as he realized this child had been abandoned.

Turning back to Tubbo with a smile, the stranger held out his hands. “I’m Philza, and I’m just on my way home. How about you come home with me? I have a warm bed and some nice stew, and I have a little boy about your age who I think you might like.”

Tubbo looked back down the road, still hoping to see his father. But as he looked around, that tiny glimmer of hope snuffed out, and Tubbo realized his father had left him forever. Turning back to Philza, Tubbo gave a small smile and nodded his head, taking Philza’s hand.

All of my past, I tried to erase it

But now I see, would I even change it?

Might share a face and share a last name, but

(We are not the same)

Tommy seemed almost like his old self again, rushing around, giving suggestions/orders to those around him. The determination on his face reminded Tubbo of the Pogtopia days, the first time Tommy had to fight for L’manburg. Now as Technoblade and Dream threatened their home once again, Tommy was stepping up to bat.

Tubbo stood to the sidelines, unsure of how, if even, to approach Tommy. Their argument and fight had only brought up more pain, and resulted in Dream getting the last disk. Regret constricted Tubbo’s heart as he realized that Dream had been right, he had been the weakest president. He had let a man who didn’t care about his people or nation come between himself and Tommy. Now both were suffering as a result of it, and their home was in danger.

Looking into the glass window pane beside him, Tubbo saw the reflection of his father once again staring back at him. His father, JSchlatt, who lied, manipulated, and abused everyone around him, until he died of a heart attack surrounded by people who hated him. What this his legacy? Was he just doomed to be his father’s child forever?

Tubbo took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. Facing forward, he vowed to himself that that wasn’t, and would never, be the case. Tubbo would never, ever be like his father; he was going to be a better man. So forward Tubbo walked, until his was near Tommy.

The blond stopped in his tracks, surprised by the approach of his former best friend. For a moment, an unbearable silence hung between the two.

“I’m sorry.”

Tommy and Tubbo both blinked in surprise, not expecting the other to apologize at the same time. Then, the tension broke, and both started laughing their heads off. Their laughter filled their air, loud and clear and joyous.

Hearts full, the two boys closed the distance and threw their arms around each other, hugging each other closely. It wasn’t perfect, and they would need to have a long and deep talk, but for now, Tommy and Tubbo were back together.

And at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

#Spotify #tubbo #dsmp tubbo #c!tubbo #beeduo #dsmp #dreamsmp #dream smp #mcyt #minecraft #c!tommyinnit #c!shlatt #c!jschlatt #l’manburg #c!ranboo

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kimvvantae · 3 years

Text

the misadventures list; 1 (m)

➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au

warnings: explicit sexual content in future chapters. coarse language. me trying to be funny i guess

rating: 18+

word count: 6k

A/N: so excited to finally share this one with you guys!! i really needed to write something lighthearted after so much angst (even tho yall know me so there's definitely gonna be a lil bit of angst in the future). feedback is always much appreciated!

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

➜ Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

Working in a 24h convenience store is quite the experience.

Despair leads humans to take drastic decisions. Living alone as a college student in a big city is in itself a situation of despair - especially if you have no family to help you out with the bills and not enough professional experience to get a decent job. So, when you saw the rent coming just around the corner and you had a spectacular amount of $15 in your bank account, you accepted the first job offer that appeared in front of you.

Yes. You accepted the night shift.

Does it mean that you barely sleep these days and you feel that your brain is going to actually melt? Yes. But at least the salary is a little higher than your last job and the store is two blocks away from your apartment.

Also, sometimes you end up witnessing interesting things.

The store is pretty empty most of the time - which means that you just sit behind the cashier counter for hours straight trying not to die of boredom. You can study a lot, which is good, but sometimes, when you already did everything you had to do - from organizing items on shelves back and forth to wiping the floor twice or feeding the dog that always passes by around 2AM -, you have no choice but sit there and question your life choices.

When customers do come, though, it's usually the same type of people. You have already memorized the pattern of customers: sad college students that come to buy dinner (usually noodles. Delicious, cheap and unhealthy. What else could a broke young adult want?), or drunk college students that come after leaving clubs to buy some snacks, or drunk and sad college students that don't have that many friends to go out with, so they buy beer, eat noodles and cry alone in their respective apartments/dorms. You somehow relate to all of them.

From time to time, some people out of the pattern show up, though. There was that homeless man that once came in to simply buy Oreo but you ended up discussing the consequences of the 2008 financial crisis for about forty minutes (a really smart man, that one). There was also that time when a woman walked in wearing nothing but lingerie and bunny ears; she bought some condensed milk, called you pretty and left (you never blushed so hard in your life). Or that time you had to chase a 12 year old down the street holding a baseball bat because he tried to steal a vodka bottle (fortunately, you didn't need to actually beat him up. The little devil threw the bottle and ran away while people stared at you like you were crazy). Oh, let's not forget that time a group of people with questionable fashion sense tried to lure you into becoming a part of their cult (something about aliens and illuminati. That time you got actually scared).

After three months of working here, you got convinced that this small convenience store is actually an anomaly in space-time. A place where dimensions merge. Universal rules don't apply here. One day a talking polar bear might just walk in to buy Coca-Cola and you'll be like oh, that's neat.

And tonight is one of those nights when the matrix seems to fail and a weird ass dude shows up.

It's true that you heard the front door open a few minutes ago; you simply lifted your head from behind the counter, trying to peek at them, but the person disappeared behind the shelves quickly. Because you were too focused on highlighting your textbook, you didn't really pay mind to whoever it was. After around ten minutes, you felt your body itching and your vision blurring after so much reading (tax law is one of your least favorite subjects) and decided to reorganize the items on the snacks section once again.

That's kind of how it went for around four minutes.

Then you notice that there is an actual person sitting on the floor behind the refrigerators.

You gasp.

The person turns his head to look at you.

The first thing you notice is the unusual silver hair. The second thing is the fact that he's holding two phones in his hands. The third thing is the Rolex on his right wrist.

The fourth thing is the smile he opens as he sees you - an actual smile, so big that his eyes almost completely close.

"Hi!" he says in a happy voice. As if it's completely normal of him to be sitting on the floor of a store, knees close to his chest, for almost twenty minutes.

You immediately step back, ready to run the fuck out if you need to, your heart still beating rapidly from the scare.

"May I help you, sir?" you ask, unable to not scowl at him.

He's still smiling. He shakes his head. His hair and earrings sway as he does. "No, thank you! I'm fine. Just… sitting here." he laughs. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. I'm definitely not a weirdo. I'm just…" one of the phones in his hand starts ringing. He clicks his tongue and frowns. "Wait a second."

He slams it on the floor.

Like. Literally fucking slams it.

And steps on it a couple of times with the back of his foot until you hear the noise of glass shattering. When the screen doesn't turn on anymore, he sighs in relief.

"Anyways, as I was saying… I'm not a weirdo." he smiles again. You step back. "It's just that I had a fight with my brother and all… you know how siblings are, right?"

You don't reply. He doesn't seem to notice how you look at him as if he's indeed the weirdest dude in the world - or he's simply too good at ignoring it.

"Oh, so you're an only child, I guess? Well, lucky you." He laughs again. It also seems that he's talking to the voices in his head. "I'm actually hiding here for a while. So don't mind me! Really, I'm just gonna sit here for thirty more minutes until it's safe to go outside again."

And he smiles prettily once more.

You just stand there, staring at him like he's got a second head, for long seconds. His smile doesn't falter. His cheeks might be hurting at this point.

"Your brother isn't a gang leader or something, right?" is the first thing you ask. His eyes widen and he quickly waves his hands dismissively.

"No! Gosh, of course not," he laughs again. "He's just… kinda tall."

You stare at him for a few more moments.

Well, it's not as if he's committing a crime anyway. It also looks like he's being honest. So you just shrug.

(After seeing so many strange people during the night shift, very little things surprise you anymore).

Before you can say anything, though, you see him widening his eyes as he spots something behind you.

"Shit!" he exclaims before, once again, disappearing behind the refrigerator - he comes so close to the wall and hugs his legs so tightly against his chest that he might as well become a ball.

Confused, you look back to the glass front door - just in time to see a man walk in.

It honestly looks like one of those stupid drama scenes.

He's tall. Really tall. Wears a black long coat that looks very expensive, has pitch black hair styled to the side and a suit that also looks very expensive.

You can almost imagine the slow-mo camera, the pink filter and the romantic drama OST playing in your head.

To say that you're starstruck is an understatement.

The only thing that kind of kills the moment is his expression of pure fury.

The man looks around, tip-toeing to have a better view of the entire store (not that he needed to tip toe to have a better view). He walks to the cleaning products aisle with heavy steps, seemingly in search of someone.

Then, it hits you.

He's just… kinda tall.

If he turns the corner, he'll definitely see the weirdo sitting on the floor behind the fridge.

Maybe it's compassion. Maybe it's the fact that the man is indeed very tall and looks like he could break the other guy in two. Maybe it is God whispering in your ears, saying, my child, if you don't intervene, that poor weirdo will probably show up on the news as a murder victim.

You don't know what it is, but you end up quickly following him to the other corridor.

"Excuse me, may I help you?" you say, forcing a smile.

He stops and turns around - just before turning the corner and coming face-to-face with his prey.

"Oh." Gosh. He's even better from up close. "No, thank you. I'm just…" He tilts his head and caresses the back of his neck, stepping closer to you. "Actually, have you seen a stupid-looking guy with bleached hair walking around here?"

You have to swallow a laugh.

"No." You say, sounding apologetic. "I guess I would have remembered someone like that."

The man sighs, seeming slightly disappointed.

"Alright. Thank you anyway. Good night."

He walks away slowly.

The store goes back to silence for many seconds, the only audible sound being the buzz of the refrigerators.

Then, the bleach-haired weirdo shows up from behind the aisle. You've honestly never seen someone look so relieved in your life.

"Thank you so, so much!" he says excitedly, putting his hand over his chest. "Oh my God, I thought he was going to kill me. You saved my life. My heroine!"

Now that he's standing close to you under proper light, you can't help but disagree with his brother.

This man right here is anything but stupid-looking.

Albeit shorter than the other, you notice that he has… well… nice body proportions. His skin is so ridiculously clear that it reminds you of fine chinese porcelain (it makes you feel self aware of your own oily skin and you quietly regret not exfoliating your face those last few weeks). When he smiles, his eyes almost completely close, which makes him look somehow cute. However, the thing that most draws your attention is his lips. They're just so… plump. And healthy. You can notice the subtle gloss of lip balm.

His clothes are quite simple - white buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants -, but you see the little Prada written on his belt and yet again you see the huge golden Rolex on his wrist - like his brother, everything about him screams I am rich.

On top of that, he smells good.

You're conflicted.

You don't know if you're feeling attracted to him or if you're just plain jealous.

Quirking your eyebrow up, you cross your arms. "Well, I also felt that he was going to kill you. You must've done something really bad."

"Oh, no. My brother hates me for simply existing in the same space as him." He says it so light-heartedly that you don't know if he's serious or not. He lifts the shattered phone in his hand. "Also, I stole his phone, so… I think his reaction was fair this time."

Oh.

"I would have wanted to kill you, too." you blurt out in pure honesty.

He laughs again, covering his mouth with his fist and slightly throwing his head back. He's the type that laughs with his entire body. Does this man know how to fake laughter very well or does he genuinely think everything is funny?

"Don't bother! This is one of his phones. I just gained some time before he can call my parents." You can't help but frown. Did he seriously destroy his brother's phone just so he couldn't call his parents? "Anyway, I'm sure he left. I think I should, too."

"Yeah. Hm… Good night. And good luck with your psycho brother." You say awkwardly, starting to feel a little weirded out by him - because when he looks at people, he actually looks at them. Like. For real.

"Thank you. Good night!"

He opens the front door and only leaves after peeking his head outside to check if his brother isn’t sneakily waiting for him, waving at you cutely.

You stand there for some moments, putting your hands on your waist.

Well.

This is one more situation that will make you say "you won't guess what happened to me this time" to your friends; now, two handsome rich guys were playing mortal hide and seek during your shift. And you think it'll be just it - another strange story to your list about people you're never seeing again.

This time, though, you're wrong.

It's around the same time at night when, once again, your eye catches silver hair walking into the store.

You feel forced to put your textbook down this time.

He smiles and waves excitedly. Today, he wears a red turtleneck under a long black coat, black pants and leather black shoes that look very expensive. He takes off his sunglasses as he walks in (sunglasses at 1AM? Really?). "Hello!"

You stare at him, straight-faced, for long moments.

"May I help you?" You can't hide your suspiciousness.

"I just decided to drop by and say hello to my heroine!"

Oh no. He really is a weirdo.

"Okay." You're speaking and moving slowly as if you're facing a dangerous and angry dog. "Hello."

He nods, still smiling.

You watch as the silver-haired man puts his hands on the pockets of his coat, trying to fake a nonchalant act, and slowly walks around the store, humming quietly. He looks at every shelf and refrigerator but it's obvious that he's not searching for anything in particular.

It goes on for a few minutes.

It's painful to watch.

Finally, he comes to the cashier holding a can of Pringles and a Coke, making you get up from your chair. He pays for the items with a black card that feels heavy when you take it on your fingers.

"Do you want a plastic bag?" You ask, as usual.

He takes around two seconds to reply.

"No. I'm… I'm eating it here."

You stare at each other in silence.

"Are you hiding from your brother again?"

"Yes." His shoulders drop as he says this, finally letting go of his façade. "Can I just stay for some time? I know he won't search for me here again. I won't bother you, I promise!"

He sounds whiny. Like a little kid begging for more cookies.

This grown ass man is literally pouting at you.

You exhale heavily. "Alright. No problem, I guess." You still eye him suspiciously as he sighs and smiles, relieved. He does have a pretty smile. "Are you sure your brother isn't a gang leader?"

"No. He's just unbearable." He taps his fingers on the counter. "Do you… have a stool or something?"

You blink. "A stool?"

He tilts his head awkwardly. "Yes. I don't wanna sit on the floor again."

Oh. Sure.

There is actually a tiny stool hidden under the counter. You give it to him and he puts it on the other side of the cashier counter, happily sitting on it and opening the Pringles can.

You sit back, still moving slowly. This situation is awkward.

“Do you want some?” He offers you, his cheeks full and his eyes round. You shake your head.

“No, thank you.”

He just keeps eating in silence for a few moments, humming happily as he chews.

Your eyes slowly fall back over the textbook.

“Oh! I didn’t even tell you my name! That’s so rude,” he says out of sudden with - once again - a type of excitement similar to a child’s. You don’t know if it’s cute or creepy at this point. “I’m Jimin. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” He repeats your name under his breath, nodding.

Silence.

You lay your eyes on the textbook once more. Everything you hear is the quiet sound of him chewing his crunchy chips.

“What are you reading?”

When you lift your head again, he’s kinda closer than he was a second ago. His eyes are gleaming with curiosity, stretching his neck to try to see a glimpse of it.

Awkwardly, you close it to show him the cover. “Hm… I’m just studying.”

He scowls. “Tax law? God, that's awful. What’s your major, by the way?”

“Economics.”

He chuckles.

You cross your arms slowly, frowning. “What’s funny about it?”

“Nothing.” He licks his fingertips. “It’s just that… I think of old bald men with huge goggles when I hear the word accountant. I don’t imagine someone like you.”

“Is this a compliment?” You quirk one eyebrow up.

“Half and half. This kinda makes you boring.”

You stare at him in silence.

Is this dude you just met calling you boring?

“Well, I’m sorry if my attempt at having a better life sounds boring to you.”

“Don’t get me wrong!” He’s quick to say, waving his hands. “It’s just that… all the math… and sitting behind a desk your whole life, reading papers, analyzing numbers… it sounds terrible.” He scowls as if he has a lemon inside of his mouth.

“It doesn’t sound terrible to me.” You defend yourself. “I like when things are organized and working the way they should.”

He licks his lips. That was a little bit distracting.

“I have a different mindset.” He explains. “I’m a free spirit, you know? I don’t like feeling tied like that. The idea of being just a gear inside of a big company that gives two shits about you is suffocating.”

“Really? And what’s your profession?” Honestly, you don’t even think he went to college.

“International Relations.”

You snort. “And doesn’t it mean that you have to be a gear inside of a big company to work with something like that?”

“I know.” He nods vehemently, lifting his eyebrows. “And I hate it.”

“Why did you major it, then?”

“It wasn’t really my choice.” He taps his fingers over the counter. “My family wants me to be in their business, you know.”

You watch him in silence.

As curious as you are to know why the hell does this man keep hiding from his brother, you kind of feel that he’s even more eager to tell you what’s going on.

“That’s why you’re hiding?” You bet. Jimin clicks his tongue.

“Kinda. If they find me, they’ll definitely force me into a position.” He sighs tiredly. “They don’t understand that I’m not like my older brother! He wants to be CEO or whatever. Why don't they just let him carry the family business if he wants it so bad? I was never interested in the first place!” He pouts a lot as he talks. It's stupid - everything about this guy feels a little bit over the top; definitely not the type you'd normally be into -, but you have to control yourself not to stare at his lips all the time.

You shake your head incredulously and rest your back on the chair.

“Why do I feel that you’re judging me?” Jimin asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Because I am.” You say. “I would love to be forced into an important position in a big company. What’s your family’s business, by the way?”

“The Aurum Steel Company. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.” He says nonchalantly.

You gasp.

“Aurum Steel Company?! Are you kidding me?” You stare at him, jaw dropped. Sure, it was obvious since the beginning that Jimin was rich… but being the heir of one of the biggest steel companies in the world?! “You know what? I wouldn’t just love to be forced into a position. I would actually kill to be in any position.”

“It’s a freaking steel company! Do you know how boring it is?!” Jimin says as if you’re the crazy one.

“Oh my God. Rich people problems have never been so real.” You shake your head, staring at him wide-eyed. “That’s offensive, even”

“You’re saying this because you don’t know how those people live.” Jimin gesticulates a lot as he speaks. “Being honest, they don’t even have lives at all. They just work, work, work and work. I would honestly rather die.”

"So you don't like to work, basically."

"I never said that." he crosses his arms. "I don't wanna work with that."

"Then, what do you want to work with? Maybe you could convince your parents to leave you alone if you give them enough of an excuse."

He leans his elbow on the counter and rests his face on his palm, thoughtful. "I don't think they'll accept any excuse at all. You see, they kinda let me do whatever I wanted to do for the past few years. My dad was like, 'it's okay if you want to enjoy life for now, but some time you'll have to assume your responsibilities.'" He deepens his voice, mimicking his father's voice, which makes you want to laugh. "I've been living overseas and all. But… now that I turned 25, they decided to corner me from all sides. They said that if I didn't come back, they would block all of my bank accounts."

"And did they?"

"Yes." he nods. "But I came back, talked to the bank manager and they unblocked it."

"So that's why your parents and brother are mad at you?" you quirk your eyebrow up.

"Yes. They've been hunting me around the city. But I don't want to go see them." Jimin whimpers, dramatically pretending to cry. "Hyungsik found out in which hotel I was, so I had to escape. And that's why I'm here."

You stare at him in silence while he pouts at you.

"Wow. What a tragic life of yours." Jimin nods, closing his eyes. It’s hard to guess if he didn’t get the dripping sarcasm in your tone or if he simply ignored it.

"I know. I don't even have a place to sleep!"

You stare at the Coke he bought resting near his elbow. "Well, I think if you want to escape, you'll have to figure out a place to sleep and leave real soon."

He frowns. "Why? Are you kicking me out?"

"No. It's just that you used a credit card to buy those things. If they're really hunting you down, they must probably already know that you bought something here."

Jimin freezes.

His eyes widen.

"Shit!" he swears under his breath and gets up in a jump. "I'm so fucking stupid!"

"Do you want me to agree or…?"

"Don't." He takes the Pringles can and - believe it or not - manages to smile once again. "Thank you for letting me stay again, Y/N!"

He waves goodbye and runs out of the store.

Again, the only noise to fill your ears is the buzz of the refrigerators. You sigh and open the Coke he left behind, drinking a little bit.

Whiny millionaire man complains about having responsibilities and runs away.

One more goes to your list.

It’s not like you totally weren’t expecting it at this point.

Just like he simply entered the store and acted as if his presence was 100% normal - and even acted as if he had some sort of intimacy with you, spilling his whole life in the span of ten minutes -, he took a place in the back of your thoughts and stayed there throughout the day. The strange, dramatic, spoiled yet charming man.

After spending some years of your life in a private school as a scholarship holder, you unceremoniously learned to hate rich people. Most of your colleagues were spoiled, selfish and arrogant, with only a few exceptions. Sure, being rich doesn’t mean someone is inherently bad. But, as you noticed after years of watching teens cry because their parents won’t take them to Paris this vacation, growing up with so much money makes someone be so self-centered and so unaware of real life problems that it makes them unbearable. As Rousseau said: humans are born just fine, society (capitalism) fucks them up.

Yes, seeing Jimin whine about not wanting to work at his family’s billionaire company sure offended you somehow. Yet… there was something different about him. Some type of naivety and honesty that refrained you from hating his guts.

The fact that he’s stupidly handsome and has the prettiest lips you’ve ever seen in your life helps? Of course.

So… Yeah. You kind of were expecting him to show up again.

It made you feel stupid. What, do you think you’re in a cliche drama now?, you scolded yourself as you sat behind the counter, ready to start the long shift. Hot millionaire falls for poor hardworking girl?

You probably shouldn’t get your hopes high.

So, as you go about your nightly routine - wipe the floor, feed the dog, restock the refrigerators, throw expired food away, serve two customers in the span of three hours -, you sometimes peek at the front door, expecting to see silver hair walking in.

At around 2AM, he indeed shows up.

This time, you fully drop your textbook, a deep frown covering your features.

Jimin looks… different.

First of all - his hair is a mess. Not perfectly styled at all. He wears a pink oversized hoodie, blue patterned pajama pants that do not match in any way, socks and flip flops. No earrings, no rings, no watch on his wrist.

On top of that, it looks like he either discovered all of the world’s dirtiest secrets or was chased by Satan himself.

He’s pale. His eyes are widened by default.

You watch, frozen, as Jimin opens the first refrigerator he sees, takes a water bottle, walks on a bee line to the cashier, slams some money over the counter and sits on the stool.

He literally gulps the whole water bottle in, like, five seconds - then stares blankly at nothing.

You don’t move for a few moments.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask hesitantly. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“My parents want me to get married.” He blurts out.

You almost choke.

“What?!”

“They found a candidate.” He holds the empty pet bottle so tightly that it smashes. “My brother told me that they want to arrange everything as fast as they can.”

You simply stare at him, jaw-dropped, for more time than you can process.

“This can’t be serious.” You say, tilting your head slowly. “Maybe your brother was messing with you.”

“Hyungsik is not the type that messes around with people.” Jimin says, shaking his head.

“They can’t force you into marrying someone. What, are we in the XIX century?” You cross your arms. It sounds so fucking surreal.

“Their minds are stuck in the XIX century. And this type of thing is much more common than you think.” Jimin exhales and rests his head on his hands. “I’m so fucked up!”

“Well, you… you can not agree with them.” You weakly try to elaborate. “You can say no.”

For the first time, Jimin lifts his head and looks at you as if you just said the stupidest thing in the world.

“Yeah, I could say no and have my name erased from the testament. Actually, they’ll block all of my accounts for real the moment I say no.”

“But you have some savings of your own, right? I mean, your own money, right?”

Jimin goes silent.

It hits you… Jimin is so rich that he never even considered not having money. Why would someone with “endless” money save money?

“Wow. You really are fucked up.”

“I have a little money saved!” He tries to defend himself. “But I think what I have is enough to pay my apartment’s rent...”

“You could, I don’t know… be like 99% of the world’s population and find a job to sustain yourself.” You shrug.

He, once again, stares at you as if you just said something very stupid.

“Aw, come one. You’re making things harder.” You whine.

“They’re making things harder!” He grabs his own hair as if he wants to rip it out. “I either chain myself to a company I hate or to some random woman for the rest of my life!”

You, once again, fall silent as Jimin whimpers as if in physical pain. You can see his side of things - it’s easy to tell someone to live independently and find a job, but honestly, if you’re a stupidly rich person going through the risk of losing all of your fortune, would it really be an easy decision?

Hesitantly, you lean closer to him. Why are you even caring to give advice to a man you barely know anyway?

“Have you ever tried talking things out with them, Jimin?” You ask in a quieter voice. “Have you ever been honest to them?”

He crosses his arms over the counter and rests his chin on them. Although his hair looks like a bird nest, he still somehow manages to look cute. “They would never listen to me or accept me. They’re so… ugh.” He rolls his eyes. “They’ll never understand that I don’t want to work in an office for the rest of my life. They won’t understand that I would never marry someone because of business. I know many people that are in fake marriages like that and all of them have affairs. I’m sure my parents would say, it’s not even real! Why are you hesitating so much?, but, look, call me old-fashioned, but I kinda wanna marry someone someday because I like them, you know?” Once again, he ruffles his own hair. “And what if I want to marry a guy? My parents would try to fucking exorcise me! That’s how backwards they are!”

You gulp, starting to feel honestly sorry for him.

“Well… I don’t know what to say.” you shrug. He sighs, pouting, and looks at you.

“You don’t have to say anything, really. Just the fact that you’re listening to me already helps.”

You frown a little bit. “Why did you come here again, anyway?”

“Because any of my ‘friends’ would say I’m being dramatic and that a fake marriage isn’t a big deal.” He’s pouting so much that his voice comes out a bit muffled. “I had a feeling that someone normal like you wouldn’t think like that.”

You lift your eyebrows. “Someone normal. I don’t know if I should feel offended.”

“I just don’t know what to do!” He completely ignores your last sentence, ruffling his hair violently and tapping his feet on the floor like a kid throwing a tantrum. “If there was anything I could do to at least delay their plans!”

“You’re saying as if they’ll make a surprise wedding tomorrow.”

“That’s kinda it! Hyungsik said that they want to introduce me to this random girl at their wedding anniversary next week!”

“Wow.” You rest on the chair back once again, silently thanking the Heavens for not being in his shoes. “With all due respect, your parents really suck.”

“I know!” He growls painfully and rests his cheek on the counter. You think of a sad puppy as you watch him. “If I could at least convince them a little bit… make them believe that I’m a responsible adult…” at least he recognizes he isn’t. “If I did something that would make them give up introducing me to this girl, at least for now…”

Jimin mumbles his own pain quietly for a few seconds.

Then, you see the exact moment an idea crosses his mind.

He freezes.

His eyes widen.

Then, he looks at you.

Really looks at you.

Slowly, Jimin straightens his back.

“If I showed up to their wedding anniversary with someone… someone that looks like a decent, nice person, someone that put me on the right path… if I seemed to be so in love with this decent and nice person that they would feel embarrassed to introduce me to the girl…”

You feel the corners of your lips going down as you nod accordingly. “Do you think it would make them give up?”

“Yes. At least for some time.” He says quietly and slowly.

“It still sounds pretty fucked up, but if it’s the best solution you would have for now…” You shrug, nodding.

“Mh-hmm.” Jimin nods.

Silence.

He’s still staring at you.

You frown. “What?”

Jimin keeps silent.

You finally notice it.

The tiniest ghost of a smile in his lips. His eyes gleaming with mischief.

It hits you.

“No.” You shake your head vehemently. “No fucking way.”

“Aw, come on, Y/N!” He brings the stool closer to you, so much that now he sits right in front of you. “Do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?”

"No."

"Then why not?"

“Because- no!” You’re borderline hyperventilating. “It’s just absurd!”

“But you agreed that it’s a good idea!”

“Well, not with me included!” You cross your arms, as if protecting yourself from this crazy man. “Why me anyway?! I just don’t fit this role!”

“Why not?” He asks again, tilting his head. “You’re perfect for the role!”

“Well, first of all, I’m fucking broke. Do you think your parents would approve of you dating someone that owns anything but unpaid bills and a goldfish?!”

“Y/N, listen.” He puts his opened palms over the counter. His eyes are gleaming way too much. He’s excited. “My father has a heart of stone, but my mother… well, she also has a heart of stone, but let’s say that, hm, it’s eroded? Like, if you press really hard, she kinda gives in.” Okay. His metaphor was a little bit impressive. “She wouldn’t like to see me dating a poor girl, but if said poor girl is actually a dream girl that knocks some sense into her son’s reckless head, she would soften! My mom likes rom-coms, I know what I’m saying!”

“Dream girl?” You snort. “I’m anything but a dream girl.”

“I’m 100% sure that you’re on summer break and yet there you are, reading a freaking textbook about tax law. What’s more perfect than the image of a humble, hardworking person? Sure, at first mom will say you’re a gold digger, but after she gets to know you…”

“Oh my God- stop. Just stop. I’m not doing this.” You wave your hands. If you still had any doubts that Jimin is crazy, now you have none.

He tilts his head, quirking one eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t wanna do this because you’re the low self-esteem type? Come on, you’re pretty. Basic, but pretty.”

Your jaw automatically drops. If looks could kill, he would be dead.

“Did you just call me basic?!”

Jimin sends you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see an ounce of style in you. This ponytail is especially awful.”

“I fucking work in a convenience store! Of course I won’t get all dressed up!”

“Really?” You hate the way he quirks that damn eyebrow. “What about the split ends of your hair?”

You immediately feel yourself holding your own hair, as if hiding it from him. Your body heats up in anger. “Who are you to talk about my split ends?! Your hair is so dry that it looks like fucking hay. I can see the black roots from miles away!”

“Look, I’m having a pretty stressful week. It’s not like I had a lot of time to take care of myself.” Jimin crosses his arms defensively. “Besides, I’m going to the hair salon tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, yeah? You’re having a stressful week, I have a stressful life.” You pat your feet on the floor impatiently. “And no, I’m not ‘the low self-esteem’ type. I’m fucking pretty.”

“I know.”

There’s something about the way he agrees with you so quickly that makes your stomach drop for a second.

Just for a second.

“Anyway.” You clean your throat, adjusting your position on the chair. “You said yourself that you’re against fake relationships, didn’t you?”

“I said I’m against fake marriage. A life-long thing. We’ll pretend to be dating for a weekend.”

“And you think your parents will believe this theatrical act in a weekend?”

“I see them once a year. Sometimes twice. They don’t spend enough time with me to know me that well at all.” He presses his palms together and puts them in front of his face as if praying, looking at you with round, begging eyes. “Please, Y/N! All of my other girl friends are too well-known, no one would believe in me. It’s just three days! Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise! My parents booked a resort in Hawaii this year-”

You choke on thin air.

“Hawaii?!”

“I know, right? Last year it was in the Alps. Personally I prefer a tropical place much more-”

“Wait, wait.” You raise your hands, making him finally stop. “Are you seriously talking about a resort in Hawaii?!”

Jimin nods. He is serious. “See? A weekend in Hawaii! It’ll be great, right?”

“No.”

He throws his hands up and groans. “Sweet Jesus, what do I have to do to convince you?!”

“First- I don’t even have a passport.”

“I can get it in time for you. We still have a week.”

“Second- my job. If you don’t know how jobs work, you can’t simply tell your boss ‘hey, I’m spending three days in Hawaii’ out of sudden!”

“I can also-”

He stops as if choking on his own words.

Once again, you see his eyes gleaming - and you shiver as you realize that he had another (probably awful) idea.

Jimin leans his arm on the counter, a determined smirk on his lips.

“Yesterday you told me that you’d kill to have a position in my family’s company, isn’t it? Alright, then. If you go on this trip with me, I’ll give you a job in the company.”

Silence.

You think of your egg-sized apartment. You think of eating noodles constantly because it's what you can afford on a daily basis and the gastritis you’ll probably develop because of it. You think of the same old tennis shoes you wear everyday because you either buy your noodles or you save it to buy new ones. You think of working on this night shift that gave you an awful sleeping routine and purple bags around your eyes.

And, for the first time, you seriously consider doing this.

“Are you serious?” You ask with suspicion.

“Of course.” Seeing your sudden interest, he gets excited. “The company has a lot of those trainee programs. I’m sure I can put you in the financial department easily.”

“But… but if we’re going to pretend that we’re dating, won’t it be weird that your girlfriend will join the company as a trainee?”

“Do you know how many people work there? My family doesn’t even bother to know who works for them, except for the higher positions. You don’t have to work at the headquarters, either. They’ll never know.”

More tense silence.

You bounce your leg nervously, passing your hand on the back of your neck. I can’t believe I’m considering this. I don’t even know this guy at all. He might just be a freaking psychopath.

Jimin stares at you expectantly. Damn, this guy really likes to stare at people.

You should take your own morals in consideration. Are you seriously selling yourself to this spoiled manchild? Is it that easy to take things from you? Weren’t you the type to hate rich people and capitalism overall and-

Fuck it.

“A weekend, right?”

“Right.” He nods.

“Three days, right?”

“Right.”

“We impress your parents, convince them that you’re a changed guy, then you find me a job and leave me alone.”

“I’m not so sure about the leaving you alone part, but yeah, exactly.” You frown.

“And why wouldn’t you leave me alone?”

“Well, you might fall in love with me. Who knows?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, making him giggle.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Before you can fully comprehend the consequences of your actions, you sigh heavily and nod.

“Alright. I’m in.”

Jimin claps his hands excitedly, opening the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“You really are my heroine, Y/N!” He extends his arm over the counter. “We have a deal!”

You gulp and shake his hand firmly.

Your friends will definitely get shocked when you tell them the newest strange thing happening in your life:

You accept to fake date whiny millionaire man mentioned previously.

The list is increasing rapidly.

“You better do what you promised, otherwise I’m killing you.” You threaten very seriously.

Jimin laughs and - once again - quirks that damn eyebrow up.

“Of course. I wouldn’t let my girlfriend down.”

He fucking bites his bottom lip.

A heat creeps the back of your neck.

God.

You’re in trouble.

tags: @shrimpmsg @hesmyphenominiall @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @vantxx95 @sweettaeguk @moonchild1 @jikooksgirl19 @yesalexus

#ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #jimin imagine #jimin scenario #jimin smut #jimin fluff #bts jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #fake dating au #fic:the misadventures list

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loveelle · 3 years

Text

Keep it On

Reggie Peters x Reader Smut

Request from Anon: Can I request a Reggie x reader smut, while reader is wearing Reggie’s flannel?

A/N: Reblogs help inspire me to write more because then more people see!

Warnings: smut (18+)

WC: 2.4K

MASTER

---

5 minutes was all you needed alone with Reggie which, unfortunately, was more time than you’ve had alone all week. You loved the band, but god, you would trade the three of them- Alex, Luke, and Julie- in for just 5 minutes with your boyfriend. Okay, maybe that’s not true, but that doesn’t mean you’re no longer eager for alone time with Reggie.

You were sitting on the couch in the studio, eyes scanning over your boy with his bass hugged right to his chest as the band finishes the last of their song. His hair was glistening with sweat as he pushes it out of his face, focused entirely on Julie singing in hopes he can get his playing on time. You know he does by the small smile he gives himself to celebrate and his eyes flicker up to you briefly.

The look Reggie sends you cause your heart to race as you wink at him, making his eyes widen when you follow the wink with a smirk. He knows that look you’re giving him and he knows exactly what you want, something he’s been aching for lately as well.

“I need a break.” Luke huffs as he falls into the chair next to him, his guitar slumped on top his chest before he picks his head up. “10-minutes?”

You almost cry out in joy.

“Sounds great. I’m starving!” Julie groans loudly when she puts her mic back in its stand and clutch her stomach. Luke follows after her, despite not being able to eat, he won’t leave the young girl’s side. Alex takes one look at Reggie and you who was almost squirming in anticipation before he makes the decision to follow Luke and Julie. As soon as the three of them leave the room, you pounce off the couch and into Reggie’s already awaiting arms.

“I actually thought they’d never leave.” Reggie mumbles as his hands grip the back of your shirt to bring you closer against him and his lips meet yours.

You hum into his touch, your fingers trailing lightly on his chest until they were brushing Reggie’s jaw before you pull from the kiss slightly, just enough to talk. “I was about to ask them to join us.”

You go back in, wanting more than anything to finish the kiss and other things, but Reggie’s gasp and surprised look stops you. “R-Really? I mean, r-really?”

“Me, Reggie.” You mumble, squeezing his cheeks. “Focus on me.” You giggle and Reggie’s eyes widen before he snaps them close, crinkling his face. You giggle more at the sight before kissing his nose, getting him to open his eyes. When they meet yours, paired with Reggie’s smile stretched wide, you were glad he was holding you because your knees became weak.

Reggie’s mouth dips in the kiss from your mouth to your neck, his fingers slowly but surely find the bottom of your shirt and before you could think, it was over your head and thrown somewhere in the studio. As his hands travel your now bare back, you moan softly and cup Reggie’s face so you could kiss him again, pulling the flannel off of him in the process. You smirk at the feeling of Reggie’s biceps, giving them a squeeze before you tug on his tank top and it’s over his head. You pull back, letting your eyes move down Reggie’s bare chest and Reggie looks down your bra clad one, adjusting the growing bulge in his pants and you decide to help out, reaching behind your back and undoing your bra, tossing it into the abyss along with your shirt.

Reggie’s breath hitches as his eyes fall on your chest, your nipples already hardening against the cool air in the studio. “You are…” Reggie’s voice trails off before he looks up into your eyes, “Did you know you are gorgeous? Because you absolutely are.”

You don’t know how he does it, but when he compliments you like this, you can do nothing but believe him as your cheeks flair and your heart races. “Well, come over here and remind me.”

Reggie was in front of you in a second, one hand slips behind your back while the other slowly trails up your front, cupping your left boob and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You moan into his mouth, Reggie’s tongue slipping in you kiss him hard, savoring the minutes you have with him alone. You start on the buckle of his belt, barely getting it undone before someone knocks at the door.

You pull back from a frozen Reggie with wide eyes. “Where’s my bra?” you whisper sharply to him as you look around the room, not seeing your clothes anywhere. “Where’s my shirt!?”

“Here, just take this!” Reggie’s whisper was louder as he shoves something into your hands and it takes you only a moment to realize it’s his flannel. Reggie watches you throw the piece of clothing on quickly and button it up, the view he had of your boobs slowly disappearing, but then something else strikes him quickly.

It was really hot seeing you in his flannel and knowing you had nothing on underneath.

He gulps and the thoughts disperse as the door opens and Julie steps inside, her hands covers her eyes and you stifle a laugh. “We’re decent.” You yell to Julie and she hesitates before letting her hands fall.

“Sorry, just didn’t want to walk in on anything because I forgot my water bottle.” She grabs her bottle, shaking it in the air before her eyes flicker down to Reggie’s flannel on you and realizes just how much she was interrupting. “Okay, have fun.” She rushes to the door before stopping and her eyes narrow at the two of you. “But wipe down anywhere that you um,” she trails off, her eyes widening as she implies ‘anywhere you fuck’ and you quickly stifle your laugh at her before nodding. “I don’t really know how doing it as ghosts work, but I don’t think it’s sanitary.”

Before you can say anything, Julie is out the door and Reggie’s mouth is attached to your neck again, your eyes rolling back immediately along with a moan you don’t even have time to try and hold back. “I see you’re as excited as I am.” You whisper to him, pushing your fingers through his hair and letting your nails scrape lightly against his scalp.

“Oh, you have no idea.” He mumbles and his smirk presses against your skin. You lick your lips, dragging your teeth across your bottom one.

“Believe me, I have an idea.” You reach your hand down Reggie’s chest to the front of his washed-out jeans, palming his hardened erection and causing Reggie to moan in your ear, the sound shooting right to your core. “Take your pants off, Reg.” you whisper and push away from him enough to undress yourself again, pulling the top few buttons undone on the flannel before Reggie stops you, his hands gripping your wrists as his eyes dart between your eyes and your great display of cleavage.

“Keep it on.” He mumbles and you hear him, but the surprise causes you to inhale sharply.

“W-what?”

Reggie drops your wrists, continuing to undo his pants as he talks. “K-Keep it on. I wanna-“ He pauses only briefly, cheeks starting to redden. “I wanna fuck you in my flannel.”

His confidence as he tells you what he wants makes your knees weak and you nod quickly, gulping back how turned on you were. “That sounds… I mean, yeah. We can do… That’s hot.” Reggie drops his pants to the ground, leaving himself only in his boxers as he stands in front of you. You smirk. “And that’s hotter.”

Your pants hit the floor right after and Reggie groans at your black panties peaking out from under his black and red flannel, making his cock twitch inside his boxers. You jump forward, latching lips again tongues clashing together in the kiss. “The bed?” Reggie mumbles amongst the heavy and you nod, only breaking the kiss as both of you teleport to the bed up in the loft.

You fall back on the bed, head thrown back in pleasure as Reggie’s mouth moves down your front, pressing kisses along your neck to your chest, slowly unbuttoning the flannel as it goes. “Fuck, Reg!” you moan out as Reggie takes your nipple between his teeth, cupping and squeezing your other boob in his hand.

Reggie basks in the sounds he’s pulled from your lips, from your gasps and pants to your whines and moans as he slips a hand under the band of your underwear, grazing his fingers over your lips and teasing your clit. He battles between smirking and smiling at you as he pulls the last piece of your own clothing off you, leaving you only in his flannel and he slips his own boxers off.

“How much time do we have?” Reggie asks as he strokes his hardening member, your eyes drawing to the action and a rush ending to your core.

You shake your head. “Not long enough.” You mumble and Reggie grins at you, surprising you with a peck on your lips before he was putting a condom on and slipping into you. You gasp as he fills you, his slow movements causing the gasp to turn into a low moan from the both of you. His head dips onto your shoulder and after a few seconds he starts thrusting, bucking his hips against yours at increasing speed. “God, Reggie you feel so good, oh my-“ Your mouth hangs open as Reggie pulls his head back to look at you with his crooked smile, your eyes catching a beautiful glimpse of him before they roll back gently and Reggie reach your highs within moments of each other. Reggie was mesmerized with the sight below him, your chest was heaving and springing free from the flannel when your back arches off the bed.

Your moans turn to heavy pants as Reggie softens inside you and relaxes on top of you. He pulls out with a groan from him and a breathy moan from you as you kiss his cheek and he collapses on the bed next to you, taking care of the condom into the trash.

“Do we have time for another round?” Reggie asks quickly, his eyes battling to stay focused on yours when your boobs are still teasing him with peaks from his shirts.

You giggle, rolling a button between your fingers as you shake your head. “I don’t think so, baby.” He frowns and decides to leave his eyes on your chest, something that makes you giggle harder. “Why are you-“

“Because they’re going away when the band gets back and I’m gonna miss them!” He argues with a pout but it’s enough for you to cover your mouth as you laugh. Reggie sighs dramatically and pulls the flannel open before pressing a kiss to the middle of your boobs with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.” He whispers to them and you roll your eyes.

“Should I give you three some privacy?” You joke and run a hand through his hair gently. Reggie shakes his head before buttoning the button between your boobs, covering them but also giving Reggie the sexiest look he’d ever seen. You snort. “Why did I even bother with trying to look sexy when we were alive when I could’ve just thrown on a flannel and called it a night?”

Reggie’s eyes flicker up to you. “You could breathe and it would be sexy but there’s just something about you wearing my flannel that’s just hot.” He shrugs, moving his body up to reach to reach your lips. You cup his face you kiss him, only to hear the door open and your friends. Reggie’s eyes widen. “There’s no way that was 10 minutes.” He whispers and you shake your head.

“Reggie? Y/N? Break’s over!” Luke’s voice calls out and you face palm as Reggie scrambles after you, shrugging on his boxers and you slip your panties back on before grabbing his arm. He whips his head around.

“All our clothes are downstairs!” You whisper sharply to him and Reggie glances over the railing to see Luke and Alex chilling downstairs.

“Uh, guys?” He calls out as you button the flannel. He tells them to leave and the duo grows confused before Luke slaps a hand against Alex’s chest and focuses on a small pile of what appeared to be clothes laying by the loft’s ladder. Alex looks and sighs before catching onto why Reggie and you wanted them to leave. No one needed to tell him twice as he disappears to inform Julie not to head inside, however the younger girl was far more perceptive than the ghost boys.

Luke’s face scrunches in disgust as he looks up at Reggie hiding you behind him on the loft. “Really? In the studio?” He asks exasperated as you giggle against Reggie’s back and peak over his shoulder.

“In your old bed.” You tell him with a smirk and Luke fakes a gag, disappearing right in the middle of it. You shake your head and Reggie grabs your hand before you both teleport off the loft and downstairs, separating after a quick kiss to throw your clothes back on.

Reggie watches as you shrug off his flannel and put your bra back on, throwing your shirt back on. “I need a day off from the band.” Reggie sighs out of nowhere as you glance up at him, with a small smile.

“You need a week off.” You joke to him, raising a brow and grabbing his flannel again to hand to him.

Reggie gulps, glancing between you and the clothing article. “And- and with a whole week off, what would we uh…” he stutters and you wait patiently as he tries again. “What would we do?” He rushed out and you furrow your brows in minor confusion before You realize what he was getting at, what he wanted to do all week and you smirk. “Sex?” He blurts out, clocking the teasing smirk on your face. “We’re gonna- gonna have sex all week?” You smirk deeper and shrug, watching Reggie’s cheeks darken when all your friends walk back into the studio. You say nothing as you fall on the couch behind you, Reggie’s eyes don’t leave you as he clutches the flannel in his hand. Finally, he turns to the rest of the band. “I’m gonna need the next week off.”

#Reggie Peters x reader #Reggie Peters imagine #Reggie Peters fanfiction #Reggie Peters #Jatp x reader #jatp imagine #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms x reader #Julie and the phantoms imagine #Julie and the phantoms fanfiction #Julie and the phantoms #jatp

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shig-a-shig-ah · 3 years

Text

LAYING CLAIM

» pairing: dabi x fem!reader

» cw: dubcon, revoked consent, noncon (we’re going on a journey, okay?), rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, crying, gratuitously fanon characterization. 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Started this months and months ago, and since I’m finally getting around to wrapping some WIPs, I guess you can have it now. Thanks @thebiggergroove for beta-reading!

» wc: 5.3k

» ao3 mirror

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The thing about Dabi is he's not usually a possessive guy. Fucking is fucking, as far as he's concerned—it doesn't really matter who is doing it with whom as long as everyone is getting off on it. But goddamn if there isn't something about you that makes him want to make you his.

And he's gotten that, more or less. It took some sweet talking and cajoling, and a few late nights where he made you come until you couldn't see straight, but you agreed not to go sleeping with anyone else. Sure, you've made him promise the same, but that's fine. Not that he's going to actually stop, of course, but he goes out on recruiting missions alone and he figures what you don't know won't hurt you.

That's all enough to satisfy him, at least for a little while. But then a few weeks pass and there it is again: that stupid jealousy and all those unbidden thoughts about the people you were with before him. People he knows. You never talk in too much detail about your past hookups, but he's not stupid, is all too aware that he's not the first one in this ragged band of miscreants that you've crawled into bed with. You've fucked Jin, and Shigaraki, and probably even Magne, god rest her soul—Dabi hadn't missed the way the two of you had huddled up giggling in the corner of the old bar one night, disappearing together unusually early, making those bedroom eyes at each other. And in theory that's fine. Nothing wrong with two girls having fun together, after all. Hell, bi chicks are hot and Dabi wouldn't mind taking advantage of that someday.

But first he needs to find a way to get the image of you with your legs spread for half the League out of his goddamn head.

If he's being honest, it's Shigaraki who bothers him the most. Magne is dead. Jin is a decent dude and, Dabi has to imagine, tame as a kitten in the sack. But Shigaraki, well...Dabi can tell just by looking at the guy that he's a freak, and the idea of you riding Shigaraki's dry, crusty dick, of letting him do who-knows-what filthy shit to you? It just gets to him.

And then Toga has to suggest that stupid game and go putting ideas in his head.

You're all sitting around the crumbling office space that passes for a hideout, drinking to celebrate the League's first successful double-amputation (because fuck that germophobic, transphobic prick), and blondie is just begging to play a drinking game. Normally Dabi doesn't go for that shit—why anyone needs an excuse to get wasted is beyond him—but he's in a good mood, and you make that adorable pouty face as you tell him that you played in college, that it's really fun, and somehow he finds himself sitting in a circle on the dusty floor with the rest of you losers playing 'I haven't' or whatever the fuck it's called.

It's all bland shit to start. Toga's never driven a car, Shigaraki's never gone to school. But, after you've made your way around the circle once, everyone seems to be loosening up and Spinner takes one for the team by getting to the interesting shit and admitting he's never slept with a girl. It spurs a moment of awkward silence made all the worse by his red face and obvious self-consciousness about being a virgin, but then Compress stage-whispers "Neither have I," before winking salaciously at the blushing lizard and taking a dramatic pull from his beer bottle. It's enough to lighten the mood.

After that, Dabi's forced to admit it's a decent game. There's not much he hasn't done sexually or criminally, and since those are the two topics everyone focuses on, he finds himself getting hammered faster than usual. It's a good thing too—his buzz makes it easier to ignore the look you and Shigaraki exchange when Jin announces that he's never tried watersports, easier to pretend his gut isn't twisting at the knowing smirk on your leader's face as he raises his beer bottle to drink and you follow suit.

That particular moment makes it all the more surprising when, on your next turn, you hide an embarrassed face behind your hand and announce that you've never taken it in the ass.

Dabi can't stop thinking about it the rest of the night. Obsessing over it, and the idea of being your first, your only, even if only in some less than conventional way. The thing is, it's downright tame in comparison to a lot of what you two get up to, so barely even kinky that it's almost impossible to believe you've never tried it. Sure, you've never done it together, but he'd just figured neither of you were all that into it, since it hadn't come up when you were doing lewd shit to each other.

That kind of sex is fine from his perspective, but only fine. He doesn't actively seek it out because in his mind nothing beats the feel of being balls-deep in a warm pussy, but that doesn't mean he hasn't done it. He's hooked up with plenty of girls that were into it and has always been happy to oblige; hell, he's even taken it more than once, on account of the fact that when it comes to the bedroom he's willing to try anything twice.

But doing it with you? Well, that thought sticks. The two of you finally go to bed and Dabi's so turned on by the idea of your virgin ass that he can't help testing the waters, prodding teasingly at that tight hole with one spit-slicked finger until you're squirming away and whining. He doesn't manage to convince you right then, but he makes those puppy dog eyes that are far more effective than they have any right to be, and you agree to give it a go in the future.

"Not here," you specify, the words fuzzy on your drunken tongue. "Someplace nicer, with a real bed." You already have your reservations, and you certainly don't relish the idea of undertaking that particular venture now, on a worn mattress in this falling apart building, with its paper-thin walls and complete lack of hot water. Between your booze-fueled haze and the seeming interminability of the League's poverty, you mostly forget about that casual promise by the following morning.

But Dabi doesn't. He picks up a small bottle of lube the next day and carries it around in his pocket shamelessly, a little reminder that he has something to look forward to besides roasting that prick Endeavor, and he strokes himself off to the idea more than he's proud to admit as he waits for the League to move on to better things. He can be patient, when he needs to be.

That patience takes a toll though, and the minute the League settles into their new digs in Re-Destro's sprawling villa, where there's actually privacy and clean, comfortable beds, Dabi shows up at your door with a cheshire grin and every intention of finally getting something from you that's just for him.

You grimace when you remember that promise, try briefly to talk him out of it even, but he isn't so easily dissuaded. It's made all the harder by the fact that you can't give him a specific reason why you've never tried it, beyond that it seems uncomfortable and you hadn't particularly enjoyed the couple instances when you'd allowed someone to slip a finger or two in there.

"C'mon, baby girl," Dabi coos, his breath hot in your ear as he pins you to the wall, working two unnaturally warm fingers into your cunt. "I'll make sure it's good for you. Be gentle, get you nice and warmed up first, all that sweet shit."

It really is unfair how persuasive he can be when he fixes those pleading turquoise eyes on you. The way the pads of his fingers are curling just right deep inside isn't helping either, and he teases you like that until you give in to his cajoling, though you still insist on waiting a couple nights so that you can do your research and make sure you're entirely prepared. Dabi demonstrates his appreciation by burying his face in your cunt and not surfacing for air until you've come three times and are begging for a break.

When the night finally arrives, Dabi's feeling positively giddy. He slips into your bedroom with a bottle of wine and a couple glasses he's brought, a little something to help you relax because he's a gentleman when he wants to be. It should be good booze too—he lifted it from Re-Destro's private stash, and he's certain baldy doesn't drink anything that costs less than ¥30,000. Of course, Re-Destro doesn't love sharing either, but the uptight prick is too scared of Shigaraki to complain about anything the League does. They all take advantage of that, because they can and because it's fun to watch him bite his tongue when they piss him off.

You don't make it easy for Dabi to focus on pouring the drinks though, not when you're reclining in that armchair by the window, freshly showered and fidgeting nervously. He was half-erect before he got here from just thinking about what he was going to do to you, and the sight of you acting like you're some blushing virgin spurs him all the way to rock-hard. By the time your glasses are close to empty, he's straining uncomfortably in his pants, and can't fight back his impatience any longer.

"What do you think, doll?" he murmurs, setting his glass to the side and standing up, shrugging his jacket off before leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. "You ready to move this to the bed?"

The way you chew at your lower lip anxiously before nodding makes his dick throb.

You empty your glass with one final, large swallow, your heart racing as you rise. You know it's stupid—you and Dabi have fucked countless times and a lot of it hasn't exactly been vanilla—but it's been a long time since you've actually tried anything new. His obvious excitement doesn't help either, paradoxically; it leaves you fretting about what will happen if you're somehow bad at this, or if you can't take it and have to stop. You've never really worried about disappointing him before, but now the thought weighs acutely on your mind.

It's with halting steps that you approach the bed and then, when you can't realistically drag your feet any longer, you finally tug the nightgown you're wearing off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor to reveal what's underneath.

"Damn, baby girl," Dabi breathes, looking you up and down. You'd figured that since it was a special occasion you might as well dress up, donning a strappy bra and panties. They're little more than elaborate, crisscrossing pieces of lace, all white since he'd seemed so fixated on this pseudo-innocent, first-time act. His reaction doesn't disappoint, eyes lighting up as he stares at you hungrily.

You let yourself fall back on the bed, nestling against the many pillows. The look on his face has your stomach fluttering, and the wine has helped you to relax a bit despite your nerves, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout your body. It's joined by a different kind of heat when you feel the mattress dip beneath Dabi's weight as he positions himself over you, one knee resting between your thighs, just barely brushing against your center, a hint of what's to come.

"You look so good I could just eat you up," Dabi whispers hotly against your ear before tracing his lips over your jaw. Even though he wants to take his time, let himself savor this, it's taking every ounce of patience he has to keep the promise he made to get you worked up and ready for him, to not to tear those pretty bits of satin and lace off and have his way with you right then.

You whine eagerly when his mouth slants hungrily over yours, savoring the feel of those mismatched lips, the way the rough skin of the bottom one contrasts so deliciously with the top. Hot hands run over your sides as the kiss deepens, your tongues tangling together, and you moan against him.

When you finally break for air, Dabi moves his lips to your throat, his tongue lapping at your pulse before he sinks his teeth into you. He loves to mark you up, loves making sure everyone can see that you're indisputably his, and it's even hotter now that he knows he's going to fuck you in a way no one else has. You're shivering beneath him as he works, your hand tugging insistently at his hair, and Dabi lets out a low, throaty growl.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's eager, huh?"

Your hips tilt in response, pressing needily into his firm thigh, and Dabi can feel the skin on his cheeks straining against his staples as he grins. He traces one hand up over your ribs, cupping at your supple breasts, teasing your hardening nipple through the flimsy fabric of your bra. Those deft fingers work under the seam of your lingerie as he shifts his weight, increasing the pressure against your center while he pinches and tugs at the peaks of your breasts until you're whimpering, spreading slick along his leg even through your thin panties.

Dabi pulls away abruptly, rolling onto his back and tugging at you to change positions, shaking his head when you move to mount his hips.

"Come here, baby girl," he says, his tongue tracing over his bottom lip. "Like I said, I wanna eat you up."

The promise in those words sends a bolt of heat straight through your core as he guides you to straddle his face, hot breath tickling your inner thighs. One calloused thumb brushes your clit lightly through your underwear, blue eyes sparkling when your breath hitches at that soft touch. When he pulls that useless fabric to the side and runs his tongue over your already-damp slit, you shudder.

Dabi lets out a pleased groan at your reaction and gets to work more earnestly, lapping at your sensitive nub, licking and sucking until you're moaning and only then shifting a little so that he can lap at your insides, that same rough thumb replacing the pressure of his tongue on your clit. It strokes firm circles as he buries that hot, wet muscle inside you, the metal barbell there teasing your inner walls as you grind involuntarily against it. You can't help but whine when he withdraws it, but that disappointment is quickly replaced by you startling as that same wet muscle extends further back to tease at your puckered entrance.

"A-ah, Dabi, wait," you protest, your face heating up self-consciously almost at once.

Dabi pauses, shifting just enough to keep his reply from being muffled as one warm hand runs reassuringly up your thigh. "I don't think I can help myself, doll," he says, his slick-coated lips splitting into a wide grin, "you just taste too good."

That heat in your face worsens as he dives back in, not even waiting for you to respond before he's flexing his tongue to poke at that tight ring of muscle. You still try to squirm away, feeling unprepared for this. You hadn't even considered it among the possible activities were volunteering to participate in, but Dabi is holding you firmly in place with the hand not working at your clit, and when another whine of protest escapes you, it's weaker than the first. The foreign sensation of his tongue against your neglected hole has you hyperaware of the press of his thumb at your apex, and you can feel tension building in your core even as you writhe in embarrassment.

It's as though he knows, too, and you suppose maybe he does; after all, he's the one who's done this before. He thrusts his tongue a little deeper, rolling your clit between two hot fingers with enough pressure to cut off any further protests. A long moan is the only sound you can muster as you spill over the edge, your thighs clenching around his head and your hips jerking shakily as you ride out your climax with his tongue still buried obscenely in your rear.

Dabi's face is covered in your juices by the time he slides from between your thighs, and he wipes it away carelessly with one arm as he repositions you again, pinning you on your back and wasting no time peeling away your now-soaked panties. He grins at the sight of your glistening folds and swollen clit before stripping off most of his own clothes, kicking them unceremoniously to the side and relaxing between your legs, kissing at your still-trembling thighs.

He teases at your sensitive cunt with his fingers, coating them in your juices as you whimper. "Ready for a little more?" he asks, and you nod despite the fact that your cheeks are still burning from before and your stomach is knotting with nerves.

"Just...go slow, okay?"

"Of course, baby girl," he promises, "I told you I'd take good care of you." With that, he starts to work you open, dipping one finger into your tight hole just until he reaches the first knuckle, working it in and out slowly. His other hand toys at your clit, stroking and rolling that puffy nub again, making you mewl.

Dabi waits until you're relaxed before trying any more, pulling away from you just long enough to dig the lube from the pocket of his discarded pants, coating his fingers with it. He works that lone finger deeper this time, in and out until it's buried to the last knuckle.

The sensation is strange, but not entirely unpleasant; even if you think you'd rather have that finger curling in your cunt, the slight stretch is still adding to the faint throb already growing inside you, the one that worsens when his thumb returns to your apex.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Dabi growls when one well-placed stroke of his thumb has you clenching lightly around his finger. He ruts his hips against the sheets, trying vainly to find some relief for his aching member, but it's not enough—he needs to feel you, needs the vice-like grip clutching his fingers to be wrapped around his cock, and he needs it soon.

You feel him withdraw to add more lube, and then he's fingering you again, adding another digit to stretch you wider. It comes with a stab of discomfort when he forces his way past the second knuckle, and you reflexively try to pull back. "Dabi, that's too much."

He abandons his soothing attentions to your clit, one warm palm pressing you tight against the mattress to keep you in place, stroking soothingly at your hip. His breath tickles over your inner thigh as he chuckles softly. "If you can't take this, how are you ever gonna take me, hmm?" he says teasingly. "You're doing great, baby, just relax."

You will yourself to unclench, trying to picture Dabi's satisfied face once you're taking him, that adoring look he sometimes gives you, the one that you relish. Your efforts are only marginally effective, but Dabi keeps pushing deeper, fucking you slowly but insistently with those fingers, and when you don't complain again, his thumb returns to caressing your sex.

"That's a good girl." Dabi picks up the pace, cursing under his breath. "You're doing so good."

You're wriggling against his hand now, trying to increase the friction at your center, not quite minding the foreign sensation of his fingers and the uncanny fullness they bring so much now that there's heat thrumming in your core. "Y-yeah, like that," you pant encouragingly, and Dabi grins.

"That doing it for you?" he purrs. "Think you can take more?"

You start to shake your head—the stretch now feels like all you can handle—but Dabi's already adding a third slick finger, shoving it in with less restraint than before. You feel more than discomfort this time when three knuckles breach your asshole, and it quickly dampens the arousal that had been steadily building. "Dabi, slow down," you gasp.

"Aw, are you sure you can't handle it?" His blue eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide with arousal as he looks you over with the hungry gaze. "'Cause if I'm being honest, it feels like you're trying to suck me in. Like this greedy little hole wants to get fucked."

The huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, even as another whine of discomfort escapes you. For just a second his expression darkens slightly, but then he's slowing his movements, twisting his fingers instead of thrusting them in and out.

"Better?" he asks, and you think you catch an edge of impatience in his voice.

It is better though, a little at least, enough that you can focus on the way your cunt flutters every time his thumb strokes over your clit. So you just nod; it's not like this wasn't bound to be a little unpleasant at points, right?

Dabi's smile stretches wider, his thumb working faster. A mewl slips from between your lips and Dabi takes that as encouragement, his fingers resuming their persistent thrusts. It's still uncomfortable, though not quite as bad as when he started, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to bite back your complaints. You let your eyes fall closed instead, trying to focus on his attentions to your hooded nub, on the heat that's pooling in your lower belly. You're inching towards another release, and you let a hand lift to your breast, tweaking at the pebbled flesh of one nipple to help yourself along.

"D-dabi, I'm close," you stammer, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Yeah?" His movements speed up, his voice breathy and excited. "Do it, baby girl. Come for me and then I'm gonna fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You swallow hard, trying not to dwell on those words for now—you can tell you've loosened up more, tolerating the jab of his fingers, but his cock is substantially larger than those, all too intimidating. Thankfully, it's not hard to remain distracted, to focus only on your approaching peak.

Dabi can feel that orgasm rip through you when it hits, your asshole clenching around his fingers as you keen, and it's then that he reaches the limits of his patience. He needs you now, needs the thrill of burying himself in your tight ass and claiming you for his own, of reaching his own release deep inside and then watching his seed spill out afterwards. What a satisfying sight that will be.

He scrambles up from between your legs to catch your lips with his, fumbling his boxers off as his tongue invades your mouth. When he pulls away, his eyes are bright, needy. "Ready for me?" he asks.

You're not, not really, but you can see the fervor in his eyes, hear the urgency in his voice, and you convince yourself that he won't be able to work you open much more with his fingers no matter what. Your agreement doesn't matter anyway—he's already rolling you onto your side and slotting his chest against your back, his straining erection poking at the cleft between your thighs.

"Like this?" you ask, surprised by the choice of position.

"Just like this," he pants in your ear. His teeth nibble at your lobe as he slicks his cock generously with lube. "Want you spooned against me so I can see those cute faces you make, feel you squirming when you take me."

And fuck, when he slips one hand back down to finger your asshole one last time, it doesn't disappoint—your body ripples against him when that invasion catches you off guard, and he can see the way your lips part obscenely as you gasp at his touch. His fingers abandon your tight hole almost as quickly as they'd entered, and then Dabi is aligning himself with your entrance, using the last of his restraint not to slam his hips forward and bury himself inside with a single thrust.

You can feel the spongy head of his glans, and the slick coolness of the ring that adorns his tip, prodding at your rear. One of his arms worms its way under your side, his hand groping distractedly at your breasts as you tense in anticipation.

"Relax, baby girl," he murmurs, but he doesn't wait for you to even try. He's already slipping in, moving slowly until he encounters resistance an inch or so inside, and then pausing.

He has to struggle to keep his composure. Even like this, with not even the full head of his cock in your ass, his balls are tightening, just the thought of what he's doing nearly enough to send him over the brink. He waits until he's sure that won't happen and then starts moving, pushing insistently to work you open around his length with shallow thrusts.

"A-ah, Dabi, g-go easy," you stutter, already squirming. You can feel your body resisting the intrusion, so much larger than his fingers, and it aches slightly every time he tries to breach that inner ring.

"I am, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you." His cheek is nuzzling against yours, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach, but his motions don't change at all even as he murmurs so sweetly. He only slings one arm over your hips, toying lazily at your clit. That attention helps you relax, helps distract you a little, but it's not enough to prepare you for when he drives himself in further, finally surging past that taut band of muscle.

The invasion brings a sharp pain, one that has you crying out. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your body reflexively contorting to try and escape the cause of that hurt, but his arms tighten around you, holding you in place as he continues to work himself deeper with every thrust.

"Dabi, that hurts." Your words are sharper this time as each stroke sends another unpleasant throb through your overstretched hole, but his only response is to plunge the fingers rubbing at your clit into your dripping cunt.

"Shh, you're doing great." He curls his fingers, stroking against that spongy spot deep inside. It makes you writhe, but that does nothing to address the pain between your legs as he fucks you.

"Dabi, don't, that's not helping, I—"

"It's okay, baby girl, you're taking me so well," Dabi coos. You'll adjust, he knows you will—you're usually up for anything, of course you can take this. And fuck, there's no way he can stop now, not when it's even better than he'd imagined—hotter and softer, your pillowy walls enveloping his length every time he plunges into you, the exquisite tightness of your entrance massaging his shaft with each thrust.

"I'm not— I don't— I don't want to do this anymore." You can hear the desperate edge in your voice now. Your heart is racing and there's a cold sweat forming on your skin as tears of pain and confusion start to leak down your cheeks. "Dabi, stop."

"Shh, shh, you're fine. You—fuck—you feel so amazing. 'S never been this good with anyone else, fuck."

"I don't care, I don't want this." You can't understand what's happening, why he's not listening. You twist your head to look at him, pleading with your eyes, but he's barely even focusing on you. His blue eyes are glazed and half-lidded as his lips wander over your shoulders and your neck, all the while murmuring those useless reassurances against your skin. You're thrashing now, your feet scrambling for purchase on the sheets as you try frantically to pull away, but he keeps his tight grip on you, one of his legs hooking around your own to hold you in place. "Dabi, I said stop!"

He shushes you again, rutting into you harshly, and a choked sob escapes you when he bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your backside as you struggle against him. You feel sick to your stomach, and it only worsens when he pulls out until nothing but his tip remains, then drives himself back in with one agonizingly rough thrust.

You keep begging, pleading, wracking your brain and trying every past safe word you can recall, but he only continues to pound into you, his breathing erratic as he pants in your ear. "It's okay, baby. You're taking my cock like such a good girl. You're—ngh—making me feel so good."

The ache between your legs is diminishing slightly as you adjust to his girth, your body entirely unconcerned with whether you want that or not. He's still fingering your sopping cunt too, his palm grinding against your oversensitive clit with each plunge of his long digits, the lewd squelching sound of those attentions mingling with the sharp slap of his hips against your ass as he fucks you.

"You like this?" he asks, but you know he's not really asking. "You like knowing I'm the only one? That I'm making you mine, just mine, just like how it should be?"

"Dabi, stop. Please stop." Your appeals are feeble now, far more for yourself than for him as you continue to utter them between quiet sobs. Dabi's somewhere far away, awash in the tight heat of your ass and the satisfaction of finally staking his claim on you, aware of your supplications but not hearing them, not really.

You slump, still sobbing, and let him take what he wants. His attentions to your cunt have a coil tightening in your gut, but when your climax hits it's perfunctory and mechanical, no real pleasure to be found even as your hips jerk and your holes spasm, a joyless whine passing from your lips.

No real pleasure for you, at least. But fuck, the feel of you squeezing around his cock as you come is what Dabi has been waiting for, your insides massaging his length as though desperate for him to decorate your walls with his cum. It's a gift he's glad to grant—he rocks his hips more urgently, keeping his thrusts shallow now so that he's sure to get it all deep inside.

"Fuck," he groans against your neck. "Gonna make me come, baby girl. That what you want? Want me to fill you up?" You shake your head, but his movements are already growing spurtive and erratic, his grunts louder and throatier, and then you can feel his cock jerking inside you, a hot rush of cum flooding your guts.

Dabi doesn't stop then, either, keeps fucking his seed into you until he's softening, not quite able to work himself in and out of your tight, abused hole any longer, and only then does he finally pull out, a dribble of cum leaking obscenely down your thigh.

You're sniffling, drawing shaky breaths, and you try to pull away the moment his arms relax around you. They only tighten again, his lips planting soft kisses along your temple.

"Shh," he murmurs. The sound of his shushing makes you want to scream. One hand lifts to wipe at the tears on your cheeks. "You were so good, baby girl, there's no need to cry. You were fucking incredible." He means it too, doesn't think he's ever come so hard in his life as he did now, making you his.

Dabi can't wait to do it again.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi #dabi smut #dabi fanfic #fanon dabi #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #bnha fanfic #bnha reader insert #reader insert #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: crying

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angelguk · 3 years

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dedicated to the lovely @himboksj happy (very late almost criminally late) bday present! so whew... there’s a lot happening in this one! return of jock!jk and his wonderful girl oc now featuring!!: squirting, creampie, oral (fem receiving), mild choking, biting, boobs in face!!, anime tiddy mentions, praise kink galore, multiple orgasms, the use of a vibrator, jaykay is sick actually, over-stimulation, mild spit kink, dommish!jk, (redacted) pet name, mentions (and watching) of porn, everybody is in love and horny, crying cause the dick too good, fingering but not really. 5k of words that should have never left my brain. listen to continuum & nothing without you by tanerelle (kindly check masterlist for the pretty boy drabble mini masterlist if you want to read the rest of this au!)

Jeongguk didn’t mean to go snooping through your things. It was 100% accidental. He just remembered that you kept some athletic tape in your drawers because Jeongguk usually needed to wrap his knee or ankle after practice and you ensured that he always had some near (in case he came crashing at yours instead of going back to his dorm after Coach brutalised him during drills). And, anyway, you were at a point in your relationship where Jeongguk didn’t necessarily feel the need to outright ask you if he could poke around your drawers. Of course, he respected your space, but it’s not like he wasn’t nosy when you were best friends. You were in the shower too, he didn’t want to bang on the door and ask where you kept the tape.

Imagine his surprise when he reached the final drawer in your dresser, idly rummaging around for the blue athletic tape he knows is buried somewhere, and his fingers latch around a silky cloth instead. He knew what it was immediately, the shape a dead give-away. A discreet bullet vibrator, stuffed under your unnecessarily large collection of fluffy winter socks. Perhaps he stopped breathing, the twitch in his loose workout shorts undeniable. He’s not surprised that you own one and yet, his brain can’t fathom you using it. Even now, Jeongguk’s still growing used to seeing you come undone around his length, the feeling of your walls tight on his cock as your mumble his name. It drives him mad. He’s seen you in every kind of state; sobbing hysterically, laughing until tears slip from your pretty eyes, stumbling drunk in the streets, eyebrows furrowed with anger at him, that soft tiny grin you grant him on good days, the pout your lips settle into when you don’t get your way. He never fathomed he’d ever see you in that way, skin flushed with heat, eyes cloudy with ecstasy, your heat pressed against his own. He finds new ways to fall in love with you every day but it reaches new heights when he’s deep inside of you. Maybe he’s mildly obsessed with seeing you unravel, but that’s a secret he keeps to himself.

He does take a peek at your toy though, a soft velvet-like purple vibrator. It’s cute actually, something you would definitely purchase. But then the sound of water hitting the shower tiles slows down and Jeongguk swiftly tucks the toy back into your drawers.

“Oh?” You say when you open the door to him standing stiff in your room. The steam from the shower wraps around your figure in gentle wisps, sunlight filtering in from the window behind you, the image of an innocent angel appearing right before his eyes. “You’re here.”

“Practise ended early,” Jeongguk returns, his gaze trailing the droplets of water that slip down your skin. You smell good, just like that vanilla and peach shower gel that you dearly love. And the towel hiding your body is loose. It’s not his fault that he’s hard in his pants. When he moves to hug you, your face contorts, a downward tug at your lips that Jeongguk longs to change with a kiss.

“I’m wet,” you whine, brushing past him. “Go shower, you always stink after practise.”

He huffs, strong arms catching your fleeing figure and quickly wrapping you into his chest. “No. Don’t want to. I missed you and you can’t even hug me? You’re so mean to me.”

“Guk-” Jeongguk cuts that complaint with his face in your neck, lips colouring your skin rouge with a kiss that intends to leave a mark. “You can’t,” you mumble, but your fingers settle on the nape of his neck, tangling in the growing strands of his hair. “I have to get to work soon.”

“It won’t take long,” Jeongguk returns, feathering kisses across your skin as he nudges you to the bed. “I promise. Let me do this, I’ve missed you, bunny.”

Your towel is discarded somewhere in the amble to your sheets, your thighs wrapped around Jeongguk’s face a second later. He watches your body carefully, teasing your clit with purpose before he allows himself to slip his tongue deep. He notes the twitches in your thighs, the way your buck your hips against his face. He ignores his desire, for the time being, nose buried at the apex of your cunt, tongue covered in your slick, his lips latched on your clit. You like it fast, purposeful sharp flicks that make you squirm until Jeongguk has to pin your hips down, the lave on your heat brutal. His brain can’t help but wonder how you’d behave with your toy grazing your clit and his cock burrowed deep. You’re so sensitive, response to even the softest kiss he lays on your cunt. Would you be wetter than this? You’re already dripping down his face, his mouth glistening with your desire. But he wants to see if you can do more than this, squirm more than this, make a bigger mess than this. The thought surfaces as he feels your body lock, the tension in your limbs drawn high as your hands reach for his. You cum on his face with your fingers intertwined, his name falling from your lips as the afternoon sunlight hits your skin. It’s then and there that Jeongguk decides, with his mouth wet from your release, he’s going to see you squirt one day. For him and him alone.

He waits for the moment to naturally strike, silently scheming wicked thoughts every time you crawl into his sheets. It happens one evening, an empty bottle of wine at the foot of your bed and hentai porn playing brazenly on his laptop screen. Somewhere between downing the bottle and cuddling in his sheets Jeongguk had mentioned an uncanny resemblance between your gigantic chest and the anime boobies he’d grown fond of since his introduction to hentai. You’d immediately dismissed him, whacking him hard on the head and then Jeongguk had to prove it to you, opening his favourite website and pulling up a video that had your jaw-dropping.

“Your boobs do that, you know,” he says. Which grants him a sharp kick to the shin.

“Jeongguk, what is wrong with you?” He can tell you’re not annoyed, but there’s a lilt in your voice that makes him pause, doe eyes flicking to your face. You may be kicking him under the blankets but your eyes are stuck to the video, a distance glaze colouring your gaze. He can tell by the way your thighs draw together that you’re not as averse to this as you pretend to be.

“Turn it off,” you mumble.

“Why? I can tell that you like it.”

“Jeon, I’m not joking.” There’s a glare paired with that sentence, but he reads right through it.

“Fine,” Jeongguk offers, fingers already typing what’s been on his mind since the day he discovered your vibrator.

“What are you—oh.”

There’s a quiet lull. He clicks on a video that’s more familiar to him than he’ll ever willingly admit out loud. It starts the way Jeongguk prefers it to, with a man on his knees, his head buried between the thighs of a girl.

“What are you doing, Guk?” A warning. A question. Jeongguk is not sure what you mean by that and he’s too hesitant to take a look at your face to decipher the tone in your voice just yet. He takes the jump instead, hoping you don’t mind the fantasies of his mind.

“Have you ever squirted?” Somewhere between the exchange of words in Jeongguk's room, the man on his laptop screen slipped two fingers into the girl. It doesn’t help that your boobs are falling right out of your loose camisole, resting right on his bare arm.

“Jeongguk,” you return. “Answer my question.”

“Answer mine first,” he looks at you then, trying hard to read your eyes. There’s no heat in your face, just an innocence that colours your features. Wide eyes, your legs draw together, a hard swallow that he sees in the low lights that illuminate the room.

“No,” you say, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “So why are you showing me squirting porn?”

It’s then that Jeongguk realises he wants to ruin you. As horribly cliché as it sounds, he longs for that. And the urge for it doubles when your gaze falters, flicking quickly for the screen before drifting back to his. The couple is still fucking on his screen, hard quick loud thrusts that travel to the pit in his stomach fast. He’s hard in his briefs, a painful throb ebbing through his length when your hand drops to his chest.

“Guk?”

He shuts the laptop, the moans cut off, a heated silence taking its place. The bed feels too big when he gets up, ignoring the confused look you give him.

The vibrator is exactly where he left it, oddly comforting because it means you don’t use it. You have him after all. But he needs the toy for tonight.

“What? Guk? What’s go—when did you find that?” You’re embarrassed, he knows it from the way you squirm under the blanket. He glances down at it, finger pressing the switch that turns it on. A quick run through shows ten decent vibrators at different levels, it’s rather intense even in his hands, the low buzz that it emits filling the room forbidding before he shuts it off.

“A couple of weeks ago,” he says. You groan, your head dropping into your hands.

“Put it away, Guk! And don’t go through my stuff ever again.”

“Why? I think it’s cute.”

“Cu—what is the point of this, Jeongguk? I don’t get what you’re trying to do?” And there you go, staring at him with those wide ingenuous eyes. So trusting, so clueless. He draws closer then, considers taking his underwear off so you can see just what you do to him. But when your gaze drops he halts. It’s not about him tonight. It’s about you.

The bed dips under the weight of his as he says it, the toy still in his hands. “I want to see if you can squirt.” He sees the way your back stiffens, the raise in your brow.

“I’ve never done that,” you splutter, falling back as Jeongguk crawls over you.

“I know. But you can.”

“I can’t, Guk. I don’t think I can.” Your pretty lips are drawn into a reluctant pout, but there’s a bright curiosity sparking through your gaze that Jeongguk knows all too well.

“See, you don’t think you can. You said that before. And then I made you cum five times in a row.”

“No that was different—”

“We’re just seeing if you can. We don’t have to if you don’t want to but I think it’d be fun to try.”

You pause, trying to ignore the heat blooming between your legs as you weigh the decision before you. There were times when you thought you were about to, an edge in your orgasms that felt dangerous. But your body never let you go there fully, drawing back from your slipped from heights you couldn’t handle. You can tell Jeongguk won’t grant you the same precautions. His eyes a dark, toeing a line that feels forbidding. The covers are gently pulled from you, Jeongguk staying silent as you ponder. But the moment the cool night air hits your skin you know what he’s asking for. It’s a strange level of vulnerability, a bareness that makes your skin prickle. He wants something that you’ve never given anyway else — not even yourself. It’s a lot to ask for and his directness makes you pause. The hesitation crumbles when his hand settles on your thigh, wide warm palm gently nudging your clasped legs apart.

“We really don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Jeongguk says, honey eyes locked on you. You know he’s being honest; he wouldn’t push it if you said no. And yet, something twists in your stomach. You want this. The realisation is sudden and you don’t know if it’s because of how perfect Jeongguk looks tonight. Chestnut curls a messy halo on his head and his shirt hanging loose from his broad shoulders. Or maybe it’s how he looks at you as if this is the only he’s ever really wanted in the world. As if you’re the only thing he’s ever really wanted.

“I want to—I mean I want to try.” You let yourself fall open then, something clicking as Jeongguk slots right against you perfectly, your sleeping shorts bunching up when his hips roll with intent. His lips land on your neck a moment later, a kiss so soft that you don’t feel it at first, lost in the way he hits your clit when he bucks into you. Jeongguk draws you back with a bite, one sharp enough to leave you gasping, your back arching from the sheets. He lets his hands slip under then, the vibrator momentarily forgotten as he maps your skin, lips feather-light once more, kisses gentle enough to leave you delirious.

“So good to me,” Jeongguk mumbles, eyes drifting to your lips. He draws close then, mouth fitting yours in a dreamlike perfectness. It’s flavoured with wine and want, a clear hunger in how he parts your lips. The hands that grip you are hard but his lips are gentle, savouring the taste of you against his mouth as if he wants to commit it to memory. The softness of the act has your skin tingling, bright and wild yet slow like the turning of the Sun. When you part, the air is different — charged, the current that swims through the atmosphere finding a home in your body as it settles in the depth of your gut. Jeongguk doesn’t give you time to ponder, mouth trailing from the corner of your lips to the hollow of your neck where he bites. It hurts enough to shock your senses, sweeping you back from the heavenly haze to the alarming reality of what he’s about to do to you. Your whimper hits the air as his tongue presses into the mark, painting your skin dark. A pointed reminder. You’d thought Jeongguk would be possessive, but sometimes he surprises you with it. The purposeful touches, the harsh bruises he likes to leave high on your neck. Or anywhere on your body, really. There are times he’d press his fingertips into them when you’re willing enough to let him choke you, the flash in your eyes spurring his hips forward.

For now, he busies himself with breathing a new one to life, one you know he’ll play with tomorrow — or later tonight if you give him the chance. Your brain can’t think that fair, zoning out as his mouth works a claim on your skin. Eager fingertips are drifting down your thighs, brushing past the band of your sleeping shorts. It’s expected that you’re already wet, but Jeongguk delights in his find with a muted moan in your neck. His fingers don’t go further though, grazing light against the damp fabric of your underwear. The swivel of your hips is automatic but Jeongguk quickly stills it with a hard press of his palm into your skin. You’re forced into the mattress, freezing when he finally wanders from your neck to your chest. So slow, wet lips idly trailing until his face lands between your chest.

“Gukkie,” you hadn’t realised how gone you already sounded until you spoke, voice wavering. He hums in response, non-committal, his hands shifting from your hips as he focuses on freeing you from your top so he can get your boobs in his mouth.

“Don’t tease me today.” You’re trying to sound firm, pliantly raising your arms so he can get you bare. But that firmness shrinks when your eyes land on his. So dark in the dwindling moonlight bleeding through your half-open blinds.

“Why?” There’s that smile of his, one corner hung higher than the either. You’ve sunk yourself in a sea brimming with sharks. “You sound cute when you whine, bunny.”

“Jeong — fuck.” There’s no point in protesting when he’s buried himself between your chest, tongue already toying with your nipple. Too many guys before him had misunderstood how to touch you there, but Jeongguk knew — he had learned. Studied your body so that he knows when to nip or kiss, shifting from pain to pleasure until the line blurred and so did your vision, until the only sound filling the room are harsh breaths and the quiet murmur of his name. Your hands eventually stray to his head, the heat in your core demanding attention as you guide him down. Jeongguk complies, not because he doesn’t want to tease you any further, but because he loves tasting you too much to ever say no.

The sight he finds sends an ache down his length, already hard but now leaking into the fabric of his grey sweats. You spread yourself so easily for him, light pink panties coloured dark with your wetness.

“Cute,” Jeongguk whispers, falling naturally into his place between your legs. It wasn’t meant to grace the air, but he’s glad it did when he notes the bashful smile tugging at your lips and how you twist to shift your head into the pillows the closer he gets. Which, honestly, makes him pause. He wants you to watch, needs you to. Something in the base of his brain needing constant affirmation that he’s making you feel good driving his next set of movements.

The hand on your chin is unexpected and adamant. You can’t help but give in, wide-eyed when Jeongguk forces your gaze onto him. “Need you to look bunny, can you do that for me?” The nod you give him is instinctual, heat blossoming in your bones when Jeongguk smiles, satiated and proud. Perhaps you should have put up more of a fight, but how could have known what he would do with only the tender touches he’d lift as your guide. Even the quick kiss he plants on your clothed cunt revealed nothing of what’s to come. So gentle as he pulls he fabric down your hips, discarding it somewhere in the sheets, his eyes never leaving the wetness on your lips.

“My pretty girl,” he says, nipping the inside of your thigh. You squirm at that, futile because Jeongguk just held you closer. “All mine, right bunny?”

“All yours,” you return, voice far and your mind slipping from your hands. Jeongguk apparently takes that to heart because he devours you, nose burrowed in the apex of your cunt, breathing you in as his tongue mapped the velvet of your walls. It doesn’t take long for your legs to wrap around his head, back raising from the bed and the drip of your slick coating your inner thighs. Yet, Jeongguk relishes it, forgoing breathing as he eats you open, toying with your clit as if that was his sole life purpose. You forget the world with a speed that should concern you, thighs trembling with each determined swirl of his tongue over that bud. Again and again, until you spill into his mouth, wet and creamy, creating a mark of your own on his lips. He keeps you there, unrelenting even when your whines hit high and your chest heaves. There’s a ringing in your ears as the high wanes away, which is swiftly placed by a quiet mumbling that sinks into your skin.

“Tastes so good,” Jeongguk murmurs, licking between your folds. “So fucking good.”

“Jeon,” Something twists in your gut when he drops a final kiss onto you as if he was thanking you for letting him do that when you should be the one on your knees thanking him. When he softly drops your leg to the soiled sheets you decide it quickly, already shifting onto your elbows.

“Yes?” Such innocent eyes staring back at you like he didn’t just fuck you open with his tongue.

“I want you too,” you’re already shifting but Jeongguk is quick, fingertips hard on your jaw when he halts you. He knows what that means, reads it in how your gaze drops to the crotch of his pants, wet just like you were. But that’s not what he wants, besides, he’d rather save that for other places.

“No.” When he says that you almost deflate, but then Jeongguk drops his hand from your jaw, swiftly dragging his shirt over his back and off his body. There’s nothing that can suffocate the desire that blooms in your chest. He’s so beautiful, hard lines and warm skin, kissed by the Sun herself. There’s an itch in your palm instantly, and you hastily register that if you don’t touch him you might die. Yet, your eager hands are pinned over your head, wrists wrapped tightly in the grip of one of his wide calloused palms. There’s a brief moment where his attention is caught by the bounce of your chest before you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that you’ve never asked Jeongguk to fuck your tits before. But as you stow that away for later concern, Jeongguk’s other hand drifts to the discarded vibrator, sinister now in his command.

“Don’t want to fuck your mouth, bunny. It’s not about me tonight, it’s about you.”

“But—” Jeongguk swallows that protest with a quick kiss, the taste of you on his tongue igniting a fire that crackles and consumes until you feel nothing but heat and want, all fuelled by your erratic lovesick heart. You kiss until the only thing filling your lungs is him, like a heavy smoke that envelopes you, travelling through your body until you pull away, warm chest flushed against his. There’s a stupid twinkle in his eyes and it makes you feel sick, swaying dangerously when he shifts away. You don’t want him to go, but you don’t move when he gives you that look. The devastating ache dissipates when his pants drop from his hips, hard cock meeting the cool air. The twitch that travels down his length echoes between your walls, eagerly clenching around nothing. Jeongguk just smiles, stripping bare leaving himself vulnerable to your eager eyes. You wait, behaving good because you want to for him and Jeongguk notes this, delivering a pleased slap to your cunt when he pulls you close, one hard enough to jolt through your spine when his palm hits your clit.

“I’m kind of sensitive,” you whisper, shy again. Which is funny because weren’t you begging for his cock down your throat a second ago?

“I know,” Jeongguk returns, uncaring. The vibrator comes to life a moment later, buzzing low through the room. He knocks it up to the second-highest level.

“Jeongguk! Start low then work it up. I can’t take it like that directly, it'll chafe me.” Which is right, your clit is already feeling dry, slick staying solely between your walls. Jeongguk notes that, pausing before sinking two of his fingers deep. You squeak, hips lifting when they brush against that spot in your walls. He works you open deftly, pleased when you grind your hips into his hands, spurred on by the feeling of something finally inside of you. But it’s fleeting, Jeongguk dragging his fingers out and over your clit before raising his fingers to his lips and licking them clean.

“Now it won’t,” he states, and before you can open your mouth and deliver a retort the vibrator is pressing against that bundle of nerves, tremors echoing in your bones as your legs squeeze shut in an attempt to get away. Jeongguk pins them open, cock leaking against your thigh and he rolls the edge of the toy over your clit, before you jolt so hard the sheets shift and he knows exactly where to place it. He works it out of you, praise naturally falling from his petal lips when you give in, eyes shut tight and your heart stuck in your throat. The vibration feeds the heat in your gut, drawing it to the surface of your skin, sweat beading along your forehead and a dampness forming down your spine. It feels both quick and slow, coaxed out of you with steadfastness. Jeongguk’s gaze never strays from your pussy, locked there as he etches this moment into his memory. You look gorgeous, whining and twisting underneath him. He can tell that this is a lot for you, judging from how you bury your face away from him. He would have forced your eyes on him, if he wasn’t already so enthralled by how perfect you look like this, moans low colouring the air bright with their sound. His own want multiples when your body freezes, strung tight, the edge beckoning you over.

He pulls the vibrator off then, depriving you of your release because his brain demands that he feels this one around his length.

“Jeongguk!” You’re on your elbows, eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. “Why-w-why would you do that?” There’s a waver in your tone, a lilt so pretty he can’t help but smile.

“When you squirt you’re doing it on my cock.” He states it like it's final. And it is from how he draws you close, vibrator momentarily lost in the sheets, the head of his length brushing against your wetness.

But what catches your attention is when. A loaded promise. A determined one.

You spread your legs open, shifting until he slips past walls stretching to accommodate his welcoming presence. “Okay then, make me.” You say it with your gaze on his, watching as his eyes glaze over hips already bucking deeper, before your words register in his brain and Jeongguk’s gaze shifts into a dangerous glint.

He tugs you hard, pulling close enough so that he sinks in deep, cunt already moulding to the curves of his cock. “With pleasure.” Those words are warning, painted right into the heat of your skin as he sheathes himself inside of you. The groans in the air belong to both of you melting into one distinctive sound. It’s cut by the lewd squelch of your wetness coating his length, one that settles in Jeongguk’s gut, release already creeping into the corner of his vision. But he holds it back by knocking your legs further apart, mouth returning to the bruise he left earlier, teeth sinking into the sensitive skin. You arch into him, shifting as pain bleeds through your nerves. The motion allows the last inch of him to slip past your walls, spearing you open, before Jeongguk draws himself out and returns with a hard slow thrust. He fucks you deep, right into the bed, the frame creaking with each loud meeting between the two of you. You can’t do anything but cling onto him, eyes fluttering as his cock drives into you, determined with every piston of his hips to see you unravel. And you do, with a sickening quickness, already weak with the remembrance of your past edge. You feel soft underneath him, pressed against his skin like you hope you find a home for yourself there. And Jeongguk provides — lips mapping your skin gently and a pride in his tone that makes you want to do anything for him.

“That’s it, good girl.” You can’t say anything but his name, whining with every drag of his length along your walls. “So good to me,” he whispers, sweet, unlike his unforgiving hips. “Pretty girl and she’s all mine.”

“Yes,” you gasp, wanting this more than ever. “All yours—a-all—hnghhhh—y-yours! Jeongguk, please! P-please, please, please.”

He slows, smiling into your neck. “What bunny? What do you want?”

“Wanna cum, Jeongguk p-please let me cum.” When he moves away you feel your gut drop. The vibrator is flicked back one, humming dangerously. “Guk—” you start; he shushes you with a purposeful thrust.

“You said you wanted to cum. Remember what you promised me, bunny?” You nod, slow, nervous but your need overriding your fear. Jeongguk just smiles, shifts himself a little deeper, and then places the vibrator where you need it most. It’s not instant, but it’s quick and violent, travelling through your bones and Jeongguk rocks himself deep, curls damp on his forehead and his shoulders tense but his body still giving. You match his movements with your own, shuddering the closer you feel it creep, ripping itself right out of your limbs, drawn to the surface with no remorse, your eyes falling shut and hips seizing. The vibration paired with the feeling of Jeongguk fucking you full is intoxicating, and unlike you he doesn’t hesitate, playing with your clit unforgivingly.

You don’t even hear yourself, mouth agape and your back high from the sheets, all you know is heat, burning from the inside out. No air in your lungs as it spills from you, right onto his length, walls drawn tight. It hits his abdomen, leaving his muscles wet and glimmering as the moonlight greets his skin. Jeongguk shuts down, hips moving automatically, the vibrator thrown aside, still buzzing forlornly. He couldn’t give a damn about it, bending your legs back and fucking into you hard as you coat his cock in your wetness. If it was loud before, it’s obscene now. The nails in his back spur him further, a need he’s never felt before consuming him whole. It’s already there, the white of his desire clouding his vision, but his brain suddenly stills.

Jeongguk’s hand on your chin draws you back to Earth, mind nothing but mush as he continues to fuck you open. They’re erratic thrusts, and with them, you slowly release that your cheeks are wet. Jeongguk realises it the same time you do, thumb gingerly brushing the tears falling from your eyes away. There’s a strange new awareness buzzing through your body, like your bones feel new, limbs reformed. But nothing could prepare you for that thumb on your cheek travelling down, grazing your lips until they fall open. He slips it past, lets you flick your tongue against it, before demanding. “Open.”

And you do, because what wouldn’t you do for him.

“Can I?” He questions, and somehow you know what he is asking. Another claim. Something else you’ve given nobody but him.

“Yes.”

There’s a fall in his shoulders as if he was afraid you would deny him. But how could you ever? His thumb leaves your lips, hand drifting until it settles on your neck, pressing firmly but not tight. And then his own lips part, hips unwavering, for what he sends down your throat. You swallow, oddly thrilled by it while Jeongguk watches silently, almost in marvel. It does something to you, the way he stares, like he cannot believe you’re his. And you feel that sentiment in how he kisses you next, desperate, pleading, thankful. You return it, tongue soft against his as you feel his back draw taut, a low groan spilling down your throat when Jeongguk finally snaps, euphoria bleeding through his brain. You feel it hit your walls, warm and wet, painting you white, a strange satisfaction settling through your body.

When he eventually rolls over, quiet like he’s still recovering, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, an attempt to keep his love locked in. His hand cups your own, guiding you back into reality with a gentle squeeze.

The still buzzing vibrator is what you hear first, followed by the joint panting of your lungs. You move to grab it, hoping to hide the revelation in your eyes by glaring at him. Jeongguk is still too lost to care, face flushed a vibrant rouge.

“Turn this stupid thing off,” you mutter, legs still stuck, fused to the bed from the shock of your orgasm. Jeongguk snatches it up, waving it through the air as he turns it off, before giving it a fond kiss.

“Gross,” you comment, smacking his hard chest.

“No,” Jeongguk returns, dropping it. He plants a ginger kiss on your forehead. “I quite like it actually, we should order another one. Do you think they do vibrating panties?”

You hit him again, rolling over until your leg swings over his. He keeps looking at you like that, and it keeps clawing right through your heart. “You’re so sick and evil,” you say instead of the annoying comments that flutter in your delirious brain. You want to call him pretty, beautiful, perfect, maybe the best thing you’ve ever had. But you can’t let Jeongguk know he has all that power over you — not when already made you squirt and spat down your throat in one sitting. “Can you clean me up? I’m getting sticky.”

Jeongguk stills like he’s suddenly remembering what he just did, where he just came. And then you feel the rise of his chest, gaze flicking up to meet his. Bright and full of something akin to adoration, before he blinks it away.

“Give me a moment, I think I just saw God.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #bts fanfic #bts scenario #au: jock!jaykay

1K notes · View notes

jeonfiles · 3 years

Text

better left unsaid - jjk

genre: angst, rebounds

pairings: jungkook x reader (ft. namjoon)

warnings: arguing, alcohol, profanity, break ups, light smut, use of drugs, jungkook is a fucking dick, jungkook has major attachment issues, toxic relationships, oc cries a lot, namjoon has a heart of gold, unrequited love

synopsis: you knew you shouldnt have given him that second chance, not the third or the fourth either. no matter how much you try he always slithers his way underneath your sheets, arms wrapped around you.

word count: 2.7k

music: into your arms, so it ends?, you will fade, thinkin bout you, julia, my insecurities not yours, fuck u, goodluck, my dear i will think of you

note: uhh ive never written a y/n fic so bare with me, if u listen to the music you’ll be able to feel the story a lot more so yeah if u have time u should, not proof read

Light coming through the cracks of the blinds, making you squint your eyes when the daylight beams into your eyes, head resting on the kitchen island Looking up, you saw the clock ticking on the wall, 11:32 am.

You had stayed up till 5 am, waiting for him to come home, but seemingly, he never did. Reaching for your phone, you saw 4 missed calls from the one and only,

Jeon Jungkook, saved in your phone as “Koo <3″, Rows of messages too, all from the same contact.

Koo <3 [05:34 am]

baby pkck me up pleseee

im so wsated

Koo <3 [06.46am]

dont be mad at me jsut pick me up

i dont knw hewere the fuck i am

i love you

Koo <3 [07:31 am]

i got a rde home i’ll be home by 12

i need to talk to someone frsit

im sorry if i woke ypu dont be worried

You took a few moments to collect your thoughts, but there wasn’t much to collect. This whole thing, was a routine by now.

Standing up to make yourself a cup of coffee, you could literally not feel your own backside, you were so sore from the barstool you had been sitting on all night, and it made you groan in pain.

Two coffee cups right beside the kitchen sink, which you couldn’t bring yourself to clean up, because it was from the last time you had coffee together, which was 2 weeks ago.

The inside of the cup had a coffee crust at the top, and both your lip tint marks on the outside.

When you finish your cup of coffee while watching a bad telenovela, you go sit in your favorite chair and pull out a few books from the backpack hanging on the chair next to you, getting ready to get some studying done.

For a few seconds you imagine Jungkook hanging over your shoulder laughing at the way you write your A-s and R-s, or the way you always sign your homework at the bottom of the page.

And when you open them, there’s no one there. The only sound is from the refrigerator, making refrigerator noises.

You had met Jungkook 3 years ago, when you were at college orientation, senior year of high school. He also wanted to attend Yonsei, just like you.

And when he whispered to you about how bored he was, you couldn’t help but giggle, and then you got yelled at.

It was worth it though, because everyone was jealous of you afterwards,the Jeon Jungkook had talked to you.

Jungkook was an all-rounder as they called it; great physique, intelligent, charismatic and great at sports.

And god, he had a beautiful face, and such a filthy mouth, and it didn’t go long before you gave in to his seductive ways and slept with him. The morning after, he wasn’t in bed with you, and your heart sank.

Luckily, he was in the kitchen making you breakfast.

It was all bliss from there, showering you with love, gifts and kisses for two years, and you even ended up moving in together.

And now? You barely remember what he sounds like, smells like and is like.

A distant memory, just as distant as him.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted as you heard 3 knocks on your door. The exact same way he had always knocked when he had forgotten (or lost) his keys.

And even though you should have let him suffer a little, you rushed to the door to open it, and in front of you, was your biggest nightmare.

It was your love, crying his eyes out, bleeding from one of many cuts on his face, looking nearly dead. He collapsed into your arms, and you could only utter a few words, along the lines of:

“How could you do this to us?”

As he was laying curled up in a ball on the couch, face plastered up, ice bag on his knee, wrapped up in a blanket, you realized. this was your que to cry.

So, you did. You cried in silence, sitting across the room from him. You weren’t mad at him for coming home late, or getting in another fight, probably the 5th just these past months, you had gotten used to that by now.

There was a whole other reason that made you cry.

He smelled like Victorias Secret Bombshell, you recognized the scent because it used to be your favorite, however, now you’ve moved onto something less sweet, and more elegant, like Caroline Herrera.

He smelled like someone who wasn’t you, his girlfriend.

He smelled like another girl.

It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe because the Jungkook that had come home to you that morning wasn’t your Jungkook.

Your Jungkook was varsity jackets, star of the american football team (which your school was known for), selfless and humorous, and he would always take care of you.

Your Jungkook was not ungroomed hair, cigarettes and worsening grades. He was not cold and lifeless, and he would never make you cry.

Despite this, you were carding your fingers though his hair, thumb wiping away the blood on his lips while he was sound asleep as you slowly fell asleep next to him.

Maybe it was time to let him go.

Maybe.

You woke a few hours later from your phone vibrating.

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:01 pm]

Hey Y/N! Have you started working on the statistics assignment?

If you haven’t, would you be interested in meeting at the library tomorrow? You’re really smart and i’m kinda struggling ://

You [07:03 pm]

i finished it yesterday, but if you buy me coffee i’ll come help you hehe

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:04 pm]

You’re the best, I’ll bring you a machiatto!! :D

Maybe it would be nice for you to get out of the house, even though you hate the thought of it, and you would much rather just swim in your own sorrow.

But you did go out the next day, and you helped Namjoon get a decent grade, enough to pass with good margines, he thanked you by taking you out for ramen at a convenial store not too far away.

You thanked him for the ramen with a trip to the museum, and he thanked you for the museum trip with a picnic in the park at night, which led you to crying over Jungkook in his embrace, telling him every single little detail.

He made you realize it was time to let Jungkook go and make room for new people to enter your life.

You went home that night, and you found Jungkook passed out on the couch, and you could genuienly feel your chest tighten. Soft features which stood out under the moonlight glow, disheveled brown locks which hung down in his eyes.

He was gorgeous, until you saw the credit card on the table next to three bottles of soju and an empty beer can on the floor. And you knew what he had used the credit card for, though you didn’t want to say it out loud.

You cleaned everything up, and you threw the residue of the white powder right in the trash can, and you recycled his bottles and cans before finally, nudging him to wake up.

“Jungkook, wake up.” You spat coldly, or at least you attempted to.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes before opening his eyes, and s huge smile on his face. “Y/N, you’re home!” He reached to kiss you, but you backed away.

“Y/N?” Jungkook questioned, he didn’t quite understand what your intentions were.

“Don’t try anything Jungkook. This was your last chance, and you fucked it up, again.” The room turned ice cold. “I’m getting you help Jungkook, you need help. And then...”

He understood what kind of help you meant, and since he had now sobered up, he agreed, nodding. “And then...?”

“And then.” Your words were ludged in your throat. “And then I’m leaving you.”

His whole face dropped, smile turned into the frowniest frown you had ever seen, and it was all silent before his lower lip starts trembling, and his eyes start turning glassy.

“It’s alright. Sorry for burdening you.” Was all he could say before tears rushed down his cheeks, and he started shaking.

So you did what you always had done, and you wrapped your arms around him, head resting on your chest as he sobbed.

“Is there anyone else?” he cried out before another wave of sobs hit him.

This exact question made your stomach hurt, and your throat burn. You really had no idea.

Or you did, but you didn’t want to.

You loved Jungkook so much, but you couldn’t be with him in this state. So you did what every rational person would do in this situation.

“Yeah.”

You lied.

“Oh ok. I don’t have the right to be mad do I?”

You shake your head no.

“I love you Y/N. I’m sorry I’m so messed up.”

“It’s ok.” was all he said before he fell asleep in your arms again.

That night you slither your way out of his embrace and you pack your suitcase in the dark, bringing all your essentials, trying to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake Jungkook.

Packing enough for two weeks or so, you make the bed and leave your t-shirt “accidentally” in the bathroom, and you make sure all his clothes are folded, and then you sort his pencil case, throwing out old pens and worn out erasers.

You leave a grocery list on the counter, and you tuck him in good under the blankets after you took his jeans and socks off so he could sleep comfortably.

You placed his vitamins and medicine by the refrigerator so he’ll see it when he goes to grab something to eat.

Puffed up pillows, a pair of sweatpants, t-shirt and underwear is now placed neatly on his bed. Then you walk into the kitchen again, and you see Jungkook still sound asleep, sniffling a little still.

There’s one last thing, and it makes you cry. It makes you sob so loud you cover your mouth and muffle the sound you make. Sinking to the floor, your whole body is in contact with the cold tiles.

Only a year ago you could never imagine yourself even shedding a single tear over something as small as this, but here you were, on the edge of a panic attack.

Two worn out, matching couple mugs still placed by the counter. one if the first things you two had bought together, as well as the necklace hanging around your neck.

Finally, you stopped crying and started cleaning the mugs, lip trembling as you dried them and placed them in the back of the cabinet.

You unhooked your necklace and laid it down on the counter, and the biggest lump formed in your throat.

Actually, there’s a little detail you forget.

You kiss Jungkook on the forehead and leave a note on the coffee table.

“Dear Jungkook,

If you want to make this up to me (this does not mean a new chance!!) you call the number at the bottom of the page. No matter what happens, I’ll always have room for you in my heart. You even have your own little VIP lobby in there. And - if it’s urgent, call. I still care for you, and I always have. You were the best boyfriend I’ve had, but good things always come to and end, don’t they? Anyways, I’m tired so this letter fucking sucks, but deep down you know how much I love you. Remember to get groceries, shower, get fresh air and study. If I forgot something you can keep it, as long as you call the number and tell them you’re my friend. They’ll help you love. Try and get a part time job too, your student loan and your dad’s money won’t last forever. Good luck Koo. Hwaiting!!

-L/N Y/N <33″

You cringe when you think of the letter’s contents, before you roll out your suitcase out of the front door, whispering a faint “Goodnight Love.” as you close and lock the door behind you.

Standing by the elevator, you cry again. This time, louder, but you still reach for your phone and type out a text to the newly edited contact in your phone.

You [02:13 am]

coming outside now, im a crying mess and im super cold, is your car heated?

sorry for making you wait btw :((

Joonie <3 [02:13 am]

dont worry about the crying part, i’ll hold you. and yeah car is heated, so waiting here wasnt all that bad. you ready for this?

You [02:14 am]

i have no idea but i cant stay here any longer and i trust you sooo

lets start our new chapter. eh?

4 months later...

He had been good to you, great even.

You had been on expensive dates, picnics, had heart to heart conversations, and he’d been so understanding.

Today, it was your 2 month anniversary, and he had asked you on a magnificent date, which he had planned every second of.

At the end of the day, you told him how you don’t love him. He said it was alright. Namjoon loved you, so much, yet he understood you needed time.

You went to sleep that day, warm in Namjoon’s embrace, wondering how Jungkook was doing.

You felt bad, but you missed Jungkook.

You were both with someone new now, and you knew he was in good hands with someone stable enough to care for him.

Before your eyes closed shut, you shed a few quiet tears and hoped that you’d fall in love with Namjoon soon, and deep down you knew you would.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #namjoon smut #jungkook ff #bts ff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon ff #bangtan smut #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk ff

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aetherarf · 3 years

Note

You should write that Scaramouche story, hehe! I'm sorry but imagining him being a sobbing mess is just.. [drools]

Decided to write it and just attach it to this ask because reasons

[[ WARNING: N. SFW CONTENT, BONDAGE, OVERSTIM ]] [[ Summary: Scaramouche loves taking care of you, but sometimes even he needs to relax... even if he's not very good at it, you figure tying him up and filling him up, forcing him to cum until he's too exhausted to be stressed, is the best course of action.

Word Count: 2'387 ]] Scaramouche looked at the long, slick ribbon of silk. He rubbed his fingertips on it, it was gentle enough that it wouldn't hurt his scarred skin, but he still seemed so suspicious of it, almost angry, as though this long strip of fabric had personally offended him. "It's just silk," you said, as he examined it intensely, "It won't kill you."

"How do I know you won't?" He asked, not meaning it in the slightest. He balled up much of the silk, tossing it onto the bed he sat on, "Are you sure this is a great idea?" "Absolutely," you said, full of confidence and conviction. After all, everyone needs a break... No matter how it comes about. Scaramouche sighed, "Right, right. I just..." "Do you not want to?" You asked, knowing you and Scaramouche had talked about it several times already, but with how slow Scaramouche was to accept new things...

"I do," He sighed, "Dread of change is worse than change itself."

"So wise," you teased, "About getting--"

"Say it and I'm changing my mind."

It was an empty promise, but you decided to be kind. "Right. Well, I do have somewhere to be," you teased, grabbing the cloth and swinging it in a small circle.

He knew, you both knew that if he really wasn't okay with this, you'd stay with him and reassure him, but this little song and dance was a part of the whole play.

"Fine, fine, did you get everything?" He asked, grabbing his hat and setting it off to the side before he began to undo the rest of his clothes, setting them off to the side in a, relatively, neat pile. Just as he was finishing, you didn't give him a spare second to breathe, already holding the silk rope, looping it around his neck, and grabbing his arm to pull it behind his back, tugging on the rope like a leash, to get better leverage, watching how perfectly his back arched.

"You're eager," He hissed, voice low and irritated.

"Your friend is eager, too," you teased, only for him to huff,

"Don't tie my wrists too tight."

"I know, I know, you can get out if you fight enough." You tie a knot around one of his wrists, sticking two fingers under it, "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine, it's fine."

You quickly tied another knot, and again, it was loose enough to pull off with some effort, but not too easy. His hands clenched into fists as you went about continuing to tie him up, a few more loops around his arms, a little star design over his chest, and his legs... but the ribbon was long enough for a bit more.

For a good reason.

"Stay still," you whisper, and he huffed,

"I couldn't really move if I wanted to."

In your hands, you toyed with a much smaller ribbon... a cutting from the original, since it was more than long enough, but you had a specific idea in mind for its purpose.

"Before we... you know, do anything, do you want to be gagged? Just a ribbon over your mouth."

"Why? You won't hear me." He huffed,

"Because I feel like you enjoy having your mouth stuffed. So, do you?"

He just muttered, a little flustered as he looked away...

"Scara?"

He refused to even look at the ribbon you wanted to tie over his mouth.

"Scara, I need a clear answer."

"Yes! Archons, take a hint."

"Sometimes the hints you give me are very very vague," you mention, "Say ah..."

He didn't make any noise, but he did open his mouth, the ribbon set between his teeth, and he clenched his jaw on it, as though he couldn't help it.

You tied a knot at the back of his head, "Say something?"

He just muffled against the silk, likely an insult or a witty comment like I can't exactly talk, now can I?

You pressed a gag over his clothed mouth, onto his lips, and he almost chases... but stops, knowing he can't really kiss you back, not with how he couldn't even completely seal his lips anymore.

"Snap your fingers once if no, twice if yes, are you ready?"

He hesitated, then in quick succession, he snapped twice. You shoved him inbetween the shoulder blades, to be pushed onto his chest, and he groaned, hissed at this treatment, but you didn't mind. He prepared himself before hand, but, oh, how pretty he looked, tied up and forced to do whatever you want...

You just had one desire. To push him. You reached back over to the small box of supplies, pulling out a bottle and a device.... a toy.

A vibrator, it didn't have many ridges or curves, but it was large, and just shaped well enough that once inserted... it wouldn't be easy to get out without hands. The bottle only had lubricant, to make it easier and less painful, hopefully not painful at all.

Liberally, you poured it over the top, and you noticed Scaramouche staring... he looked... nearly hungry. You wonder if Scaramouche could fit this device, as large as it was, inside of his mouth... maybe even his other end couldn't take it. A disappointment, but you were about to find out.

You pressed it against his hole, that was shiny and slick, "Relax," you coo, and he exhales through his nose... and relaxes. Just as he does, you finally shift your palm to the end of the toy, pressing on it with some force--it slips barely an inch in before it stops, and he groans.

"Scara," you whisper, "You need to relax... or do you want to stop?"

He snapped his fingers once... which meant no. You assumed it was in response to the latter. Then, he took a deep breath, exhaled... and relaxed again.

You pushed it in, slower this time, a little amazed a man as little as him could take it... at all, really. Eventually, there was a soft pop, and all but the end that was meant to stick out, the end with a switch with a few numbers tacked to the side, was left. You looked down at Scaramouche, tears in his eyes, breathing heavily, and his legs shook, until he couldn't stabilize himself, and he fell onto his side, the landing soft and cushy by the bed.

"Sca-oh."

You saw his tummy, a little bulge. You reached down, rubbing it. If it wasn't for how familiar you were with him, and his arched back, you wouldn't have noticed, oh, but you did... He whined softly as you even touched it, and as you looked further down, you saw his dick leaking little drops of liquid. You grabbed the end of the silk rope, and tied it so it pressed on the toy, just to make sure it stayed in place... like adding insult to injury.

"Here... Let's just get into it," you cooed, and he made a low moan, but it turned into a shout as the device turned on--3, you decided was a low enough number to not overwhelm him, but not so low that he couldn't enjoy himself, too. Out of 10, that could seem pathetic... but you'd rather understimulate him than overstimulate.

For now, at least. You wanted him frustrated, not destroyed.

"Is that okay?" You asked, tilting your head to the side--His eyelashes fluttering as he was struggling to adjust, "Snap twice to tell me you're okay."

There was a second of silence... Then he snapped, once, then twice, nodding as well. You gently brush his bangs out of his face, and he sighs through his nose...

"Well, I'll see you later, Scara." You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "Unless you don't want me to?"

You, really, were just going out for a short amount of time, likely no more than an hour. But, that was the point, to leave him alone, trapped... but in a good way.

He didn't say anything, but he hid his face away from you, unwilling to admit, even silently, that he was enjoying this already.

"See you later, Scara!" You left, leaving the door to the bedroom cracked open... but you'd make sure to leave the front door shut and locked, just so only you could see him in this state. No one else should, after all.

And Scaramouche was...alone. For a few long moments, he laid there, just trying to rationalize his breathing, but eventually, he was able to calm down a decent amount. But as soon as he was calm, he was disappointed. There was pleasure, but it wasn't... enough. If it was just, maybe, a little more, he wouldn't still be able to think.

I don't want you to think, you had said, in response to how he was chronic overthinker, driving himself to paranoia, but this wasn't working.

With how his legs were tied, if he was sitting up he'd be sitting on his knees... he could probably buck his foot enough to either turn it off--so it wasn't infuriatingly enticing, or turn it up, which was what he wanted... Sure, he could undo the silk, just by determination to wiggle out of it, but he didn't want to do this a second time, he couldn't tie himself up...

A few tries, and he failed. He managed to jostle it within him, causing him to cry out, but it wasn't enough.

One last try, and...

He all but screamed a low, desperate moan, as the device was turned to max power, his insides burned like they were being forced to mush, and he came, shooting his load further than he thought his body was possible--But his hips were bucking, unable to move from the ribbon that bound him, thighs desperately clenching and unclenching as he felt tears pour from his eyes, realizing he was sobbing, screaming from the sensation.

With how his body buckled, he could only sob and cry out, unable to gather himself enough with each orgasm wracking him, to undo the rope, to try and flick the device down to a lower power...

and, a sick, twisted part of his mind loved this abuse.

...

You were holding a few things you bought. A few things you've been needing for awhile, a cute little bracelet you thought Scaramouche might like, since it was subtle but still nice, things like that... When you looked at the time, you realized you were gone far longer than intended, but... well, what was an hour compared to three?

Walking in, you shut the door behind you quickly, and then you froze, hearing Scaramouche moan so... so whorishly. You turned and looked to the hallway, did he get bored of it, undo it and begin riding the toy for his own amusement? He sounded like he was muffled, and he didn't seem like he'd ever keep on a gag if he could 'help' it, or at least, pretend he couldn't.

You set down everything on the table, resolving to deal with it later, as you rushed to the bedroom, knocking the door open.

He was still on his side, breathing heavily... Tied completely, but he was moaning so much, so... endlessly. He looked the same before you left, but...

You walked over--he seemed so dazed, he didn't even notice you. The first problem was the mess--he seemed to have came over and over again, and even as you watched, his spent dick, barely even hard at all, spewed out a few clear drops of liquid, unable to muster anything else. You were suddenly very thankful for the towels you had set down. You looked back to the toy, and your face dropped--

It was at max. You, immediately reached over, turning it off. The sound of buzzing stopped, one you only now noticed, and his moans immediately ceased. You half wanted to take it out now, but... oh, the rope, that wouldn't let you. It was fine, you set this up to fall off him as soon as a single knot was removed.

Gently, you reached up to the back of his neck and tugged on the end of the rope that hung out, and it all loosened. Scaramouche wasn't moving, but he was breathing... how exhausted must he be?

You finally removed the ribbons, deciding to show a little extra mercy and to untie his mouth, and he took ragged gasps.

With a steady hand, you grabbed onto the end... and gently, you tugged, and he moaned, prompting you to stop... was it best to leave it in? No, no, it wasn't a wound, it was a vibrator up his ass, of course it was better to get it out.

It was hard to ignore how he moaned, with each little movement, as you tried to be as gentle as possible when removing it... until it finally flopped onto the bed, his hole oozing with the excess lube, gaped from the massive size, clenching and loosening...

Oh, how destroyed he looked. He was beautiful, but you were still worried, gathering him up in your arms, not minding how he was coated in sweat and drool.

"Scara, talk to me," You half-pleaded, wondering if there was something wrong.

"Tuh.. tie...rd..."

"... Tired?"

He grunted weakly, of course he would be... you should probably get him water. But, you were distracted, as he weakly lifted his hand, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his stomach...

Oh, despite everything, he was hard... his poor little cock, red and oozing, covered in mess.

"Pleah..." He whined desperately. Slowly, you moved your hand, wrapping around him, and he moaned, nodding as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, mouthing at it... likely his attempt at kissing.

It only took a few strokes for him to cum one last time, a pathetic mess of liquid that looked no thicker than water, and just as clear.

"Are you okay?" You asked, not minding the mess... there was potential for something bad happening, but...

"Yeh... yes..." he weakly forced out, "Stay..." He whined, the first fully coherent word he could muster.

Well... You could hold him for a few moments. You'd deal with his sweatiness, and getting him water, soon... just after he's gotten the affection he, clearly, so desperately needs...

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader #// this is so bad #// am sorry #naughty bark #anonymous

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adorethedistance · 3 years

Text

9 P.M. - Alive!Luke Patterson x Reader Modern Day!AU

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide, painful breakup, and angst.

Words: 1991

Summary: Luke breaking up with you made your world stop turning, and when it finally starts moving again after four long months, Luke is back in typical agitator fashion.

A/N: Not requested, and I wrote this in about two hours so bear that in mind. I’ve been toying with an angst idea for a little bit now, and because all of my requests rn are fluff, I decided why not give Luke a little love since it’s been a minute since my last Luke fic. This isn’t proofread so proceed with caution.

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Dana’s voice cuts clear over the mindless chatter in the busy diner. She tucks a stack of menus under her arm to brush a loose strand of sandy blonde hair out of her face.

“I’m here to talk to Y/n. She isn’t returning my calls and she only has her phone on silent when she’s working.”

A solid four months ago, Luke Patterson had broken Y/n Y/l/n’s heart into a couple billion pieces in this very diner. After Luke requested to meet up as soon as possible, Y/n told him she’d be clocking out for the night around 9 PM, and true to his previous request Luke had arrived at 9 on the dot. He considered taking her to his car for more privacy but in fear of forgetting his long, crafted speech, he opted for a secluded booth in the very back corner of her diner.

He still remembers the evening, clear as day. They sat down across from one another on the red vinyl seats with nervous tension exponentially rising between them. He remembers the way she ruffled her loose hair after having it pulled back for an 8-hour shift. He remembers the way she rested her right ankle on her left knee to massage away the calf pain from 8 hours of waiting tables. And he remembers the way her warm smile disappeared after he uttered the words “I think we should break up.”

Y/n was so shocked she couldn’t respond. Everything seemed to be going well between them. They had said their first ‘I love you’s and she had even opened up to the possibility of giving him her virginity. And here he was, a mere week later, claiming that he had fallen out of love with her over the span of a month.

Tears clouded her vision. She was quick to wipe them away before they fell, something Luke noticed that she only did when she was crying out of anger. With her normal sadness or even stress she just lets her emotions run their course. But the anger swelling inside of her at that moment, she so desperately wanted to hide. As a result, she brushed them away. She bit her tongue. She saved face, not wanting to let Luke know just how much he had hurt her.

Luke expected a full-on interrogation. He knew Y/n’s mind was one of insatiable curiosity and she had to have at least a million questions. However, if she did, she didn’t show it. The only question she asked, “Is this really what you want?” Her voice was steady, but Luke knew how badly she wanted to tear him apart, to ravage him right then and there. But after losing such a huge part of herself, Luke, she held onto her dignity so tight it nearly crumbled into dust and blew out of her clenched fingers. Without asking for any more information, she slipped out of the booth and hurried to her car as fast as her walk could take her.

At the time, Luke felt guilty for making her cry. Now he feels guilty for ever having let her believe she wasn’t good enough for him. The only problem is she wouldn’t give him the chance. And her best friend, Dana, didn’t seem like she would give him one either.

“Well, she’s not here. Have you ever considered she’s not returning your calls when she’s off of work, too?”

“Dana, I need to talk to her-”

“What could you possibly have left to say, Luke? Whatever you said to her that night broke her, it absolutely destroyed her. She hasn’t been the same since.” Luke had no trouble believing that was true, which is why it hurt so bad to hear, granted it didn’t hurt as bad as how Y/n felt that night.

“What? No- I-I really need to talk to her.”

“You really don’t.”

“I have to get her back, Dana!” A tornado of shock and anger consumes Dana to the point where all she can do is let out a bitter laugh. The look in Luke’s eyes indicates how hurt he is by her laughter, and Dana’s desire for vengeance has never been so strong. So, she continues to tell the truth. The ferocious, unabridged, hurtful truth,

“You don’t deserve a second chance. You don’t even deserve an attempt at a second chance. Knowing her, Y/n would never tell you this, but I will: you fucked up so bad, you made her almost make the biggest mistake of her life.”

“What?” Luke almost hesitates to ask, knowing he won’t like the answer.

“That night, she came to my place and cried so hard for three hours before she could even get a coherent word out. She stayed with me for three days and, had my shift not ended early that Tuesday, she wouldn’t be alive today.” The dumbstruck look on Luke’s face is only more motivation for Dana to twist the knife, “She almost didn’t survive losing you, Luke. And god forbid she gives you a second chance because she won’t survive losing you again.”

The diner is just crowded enough that no one is paying the two of them any mind as they faceoff by the hostess stand. Dana spent four long months consoling her best friend back to life, and she was not about to let Luke destroy all the hard work Y/n had put into healing.

“I can make this right.”

“How could you possibly make this right?”

“I know more now than I did before. I’ve changed!”

“So has she.” Dana’s biting words render Luke speechless. Once she realizes her work here is done, she continues setting up tables as they’re disinfected.

__________________________

Luke’s conversation with Dana in the diner left him shellshocked, but it also lit a fire under his ass that he needed to move forward. Rather than discouraging him, Dana’s words gave him a greater incentive to win her back: proof that he was willing to do what he said he would. At least, that’s what Luke told himself. Rather than stepping into the future with greater clarity, Luke went into the world with confidence so large and blinding, his actions may sabotage his true intentions.

That’s how he found himself so determined to win Y/n back. And that’s how he found himself face to face with the front door of her home. It’s 9 PM, just early enough to where she’d be home for the day, just early enough to where she wouldn’t be asleep, and hauntingly just the exact time he had broken her heart all those months ago. Before giving his conviction a chance to back out, he was raising a steady hand to ring the doorbell of her residence.

Y/n opened the door without much thought, expecting a food delivery; she was drastically off-put by Luke’s presence at her doorstep this late.

“Oh.” Was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“Hi. Can we talk?”

There it was. The phrase that was a paradoxical toss-up regarding her emotional state. Half of her has been waiting for this day for so long, dreaming of the boyfriend she once knew to come genuinely heartbroken and remorseful to win her back. The other half was terrified of this impending day as she realized she wasn’t nearly as emotionally strong enough to handle the situation as she thought.

‘Oh’ was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please just give me five minutes and if you never want to hear from me for the rest of your life, I’ll never bother you again,” he rushes out, knowing his time is finite. For what short period of time he thought it over, Luke always imagined pouring his heart out on her front doorstep. That’s why her silent sidestep and opening of the door caught him so off guard. He hadn’t anticipated her to actually give him a decent chance. Why would she? He broke up with her in the very diner she works in full time and crushed her heart so completely, the only things left behind had to be contempt and resentment.

Luke crossed the threshold of her small, cramped LA home with his heart on his sleeve. Reluctantly closing the door behind him, Y/n walks to her living room and sits on the couch amidst a mess of popcorn, her favorite chocolates, used tissues, and a bottle of Advil. The night Luke broke up with Y/n was four months ago and she’s still spending her Friday nights alone crying on her couch with a rom-com on the tv. A sharp pang of guilt cuts through Luke’s chest like a machete and his previous confidence completely dissipates into sadness. Though, he can’t tell if it’s actually remorse or just general pity.

“What did you want to talk about?” Y/n asks as if she doesn’t know what conversation they’re about to have. Luke takes a deep breath to prepare himself as best as he can before explaining what’s been on his mind.

“I am so sorry, Y/n.” His hopes for any sort of reaction are crushed once her blank stare doesn’t waver. In spite of everything that’s happened thus far, this is the moment Luke realizes this would be a lot more difficult than he anticipated. “That night, you asked if taking a break from… us was what I really wanted.”

“I remember.”

“I said yes and you left right after that. I know you’ve blocked my socials, but you haven’t blocked my calls, you just don’t answer. I’m sure you’ve got to be interested in why, you’re a very curious person.”

Luke wasn’t wrong there, Y/n had been wondering why. She had been wondering why since the words left his mouth that night, but she repressed that curiosity. She repressed it because she knew that whatever the answer was, it didn’t make any difference. Luke wasn’t hers to have anymore and that was what really mattered.

“I did it because I thought I was falling out of love with you.”

“You thought?”

“I wasn’t actually falling out of love with you.”

“You weren’t?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you break it off?”

“I thought I was falling out of love with you but really my attraction was just changing. Instead of just spontaneous and passionate and exciting, I began to see our relationship as comforting and secure as well as those other things. I thought my comfortability was falling out of love, but really, I was falling in love. I was no longer just super infatuated with you, I was in love with you. Genuine love.”

“Luke…” Y/n trails off. She has no real idea of what it is she’s thinking so she opts to let Luke continue until she can figure it out.

“I love you, Y/n. And I broke things off because, before you, I didn’t understand love. Hell, with you I didn’t understand it was love, but now I do! I love you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“So, what does this all mean?” Luke draws in a nervous breath, identical to the one he used to soothe his nerves as he stepped into the all-too-familiar house.

“I know I don’t deserve it because of what I put you through… but all I’m asking is for a chance to prove that I really do love you.” The looking shimmering across Y/n’s eyes tells Luke how her thoughts are running wild. She’s experiencing a new train of thought at a mile a minute and it terrifies both of them.

“You hurt me, Luke. And I want to hate you so much for everything that you put me through, but I don’t, and I hate myself for that. But, I’m sorry. I can’t give you a second chance.”

***

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1engele · 3 years

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daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 8. solo

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[warnings: underage drinking, smoking, weed, near death experience?, crying]

"never have i dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul." — You leave the roof late in the night. Sal had gotten up and retreated into his apartment a little while earlier—but you'd decided to stay and make sure he didn't come back there.

Three days pass. They all consist of fleeting glances and irresolute tension. Things remain the same with the group dynamic, except for between you and Sal. Neither of you seem to know how to continue from that conversation on the roof. No one else notices, though. They'd never suspected anything from the beginning, it seems.

The beginning of your involvement with Sal involved a little bit of buildup and then a snap which resulted in a sexual encounter (or two).

Now it was a bit different. Now things were a little less lighthearted.

It's a Saturday—you'd planned to spend it inside as usual. That's until your phone starts ringing.

You flip your phone open, read over the contact, and answer the call.

"Hi, Ash."

"Y/N," she starts. You hear the excitement to continue in her voice. "There's a party tonight."

"Oh?" You get up from your seat on your bed.

"Some stoner Larry has connections with invited him and said to bring friends. He wants to bring us—save for Todd. He doesn't do parties."

"Wait," your eyebrows furrow. "Me?"

"Yeah!" She says from the other end of the line. "It'll be fun. Cmon."

You bite your lip nervously, anxiety knotting in your stomach. "I don't know. I've never really.."

Ashley is momentarily silent on the other line. She must be contemplating what to say to convince you. "Sal's coming too. Parties aren't necessarily his thing, either—so maybe you guys could try it out together?"

You open your mouth and then promptly close it. Something inside of you suddenly really wanted to go to this party. "Um... alright. Okay."

"Cool! What're you gonna wear?"

You look toward the drawer that contained your clothes and bit your lip. "Not sure yet. I'll update you on that."

"Okay, don't forget to text me! See you at eight."

The call declined from the other line. The phone that held the phone to your ear slipped into your lap. You pressed your lips together and tried to ignore the familiar feeling of sickening nausea and anxiety.

You don't rush yourself on getting ready for the party, because the time you're due to be done won't be for a while.

You take your time with the hours you have. You shower, take your time on eyeliner, mascara, and lipgloss—and finally decide on what you'll wear.

You decide on a square neck white cropped tank with short sleeves and your nicest pair of light blue, slightly washed out jeans. You slid on your favorite, sort of chunky white sneakers over white socks.

It isn't long after you finish when Ashley calls and informs you she's arrived at the apartments and Larry and Sal have already joined her out in the car. You give yourself a once-over in the mirror and then leave the apartment.

Your mother was nowhere to be found. She's either at work or drinking with her coworkers.

Once you've opened the door and climbed into the Ford Fiesta, you immediately realize your predicament—Sal is the only person in the backseat with you.

The drive there is decently long and painfully tense. Neither you nor Sal know how to speak to each other, so no words are exchanged beneath the heavy metal music emitting from the radio.

When you finally arrive at the party, it's recognizably crowded, drunken teenagers are flowing from the front door, in and out, and there's a good amount on the lawn. The newest radio hit is playing on a considerably loud speaker, and the vibrations are notable even from a distance.

"Woah," Larry says, staring at the house as Ashley pulls onto the side of the road. "Didn't realize he was so popular."

You all exit the Ford Fiesta and cross the road. You cringe as you watch someone vomit onto the grass, and another person ripping from a bong in the wide open.

Smoke flies into your face and your eyes as you enter the home. You cough, waving a hand as you blindly follow after your friends.

Eventually, the four of you find yourself on two couches directly facing each other. You on one, Larry and Ashley on the other. Sal is stood to the side.

Larry materializes a bottle of Fireball that you guessed he stole from someone on the way in, opens the cap with his teeth, and takes several gulps.

"Where did you get that?" Ashley laughs over the music, pulling the sleeves of her lavender sweater over her hands.

"Stole it," he looks to Sal and directs the bottle toward him. "Want some?"

"Sure," Sal replies, to your surprise—taking it from Larry's grasp and walking away and in your direction.

"You're drinking that?" You ask him, testing the waters.

"No, actually," you watch Sal round to the other side of the couch to linger behind you. "I'm limiting him. He'll thank me later."

Once he's out of your field of vision, you tip your head back and gaze up at him—your perspective on him being upside down. Your gaze zeroes in on the bottle of Fireball he's clutching in his hand.

"Hey," you say, meeting his eyes. "Give me some."

It was time to give him that excuse—the excuse to break the ice.

He leans in a bit, gesturing toward you with the bottle. "You want it?"

A grin pulls at your glossed lips. Instead of reaching for the bottle, you open your mouth and tilt your chin up.

Sal looks on for a moment but laughs once he realizes what you want. Everyone else at the couches seem decently distracted with each other and the overall environment—so he doesn't seem to worry about it too much.

He reaches his hand around and towards your neck, gripping your jaw in his fingers and holding you firmly. You feel his cold rings press into your skin when he tips your head further back just a bit—and then steadily pours a shot-amount of Fireball into your mouth with his other hand.

Sal stops at the right time, looks on as you pull back and sit up, and cautiously watches the back of your head as you assumedly swallow the whisky. But when you turn a bit in your seat to peer at him over your shoulder, you're holding your mouth closed and pressing a closed fist to your lips while soundlessly giggling.

"What?" He laughs, a hand moving to the top of the couch. He leans in a bit. "Can you not swallow it?"

Your shoulders shake slightly as you continue to laugh. You shake your head up and down.

"Do you need to spit it out?" Sal asks, his tone warming into concern.

You shake your head from side to side. You meet his eyes and swallow, gasping as the liquid slides down your throat and burns all the way down. You cough, the flavor of cinnamon and what tasted like Big Red gum overloaded your senses.

"God," you breathe out, giggling all the while. The alcohol is gross but you're feeling good. "It's not great."

"Yeah, that's why I'm holding Larry off, so he won't be puking his guts out later."

You look up to the boy, who's sat on the arm of the couch opposite to you. He's busy talking to some equally stoned guy, so you can't manage to catch his eye—but you catch Ashley's.

She had this look of astonishment on her face.

Had she been watching what happened? When Sal poured Fireball in your mouth?

Your face grew hot thinking about it.

Sal wanders away from you again, and you find yourself drinking more than you should. Eventually, your rationality disappears.

It's been a few hours and Sal hasn't seen you for a while. So when he hears about a girl wearing a white crop top walking across the roof of the house, he feels like he's going to vomit.

It takes him a record time of 6 seconds to get out of the door and onto the lawn. Upon looking up at the roof, his suspicions are confirmed. He shoulders past multiple people to place himself near the front of the crowd and gazes up in horror.

"Sal!" You yell, gesturing toward him with something between a wave and a point. "I'd recognize that hair anywhere!"

Multiple heads within the crowd turn away from you and towards him. He puts aside his social anxiety and the wave of unease that washes over his body and tries to focus on you. "Please come down," he rushes out, raising his voice just enough for it to be audible over the crowd.

You laugh like he's told a hilarious joke and he quickly realizes his mistake. That's the worst thing he could've told your intoxicated self. You move toward the edge of the roof, shaky and uncoordinated. "You want me to jump?"

"No!" He exclaims, his hands flying up, fingers splayed. "No. Don't do that!"

"Holy shit!" He hears Larry shout from somewhere closer to the front door of the house. Sal guesses he's just now catching wind of the current situation. Moments after, both of his brunette friends are at his side.

"What the hell is going on?!" Ashley yells, verdant eyes glued to the sight before them.

You lost your balance once again, but this time a bit worse—your foot catching on a shingle on the roof and effectively knocking the red solo cup out of your hand. It dropped onto the downward slope of the roof and the liquor inside of it spilled down the side.

Whenever Sal witnessed the toe of your white sneaker catch onto that shingle, he felt as though his very soul had been ripped from his body. Immediately after he watched you regain your footing and stable yourself, though—his heartbeat calmed to a steadier pace.

"I'm going up there," he stated beneath the chatter.

Both Ashley and Larry's heads whipped toward him.

"You'll kill yourself!" Larry exclaims incredulously. Ashley opens her mouth to assumedly second Larry's statement, but Sal cuts her off by walking away.

"Not before she does," he mutters, pushing his way through the density of bodies and forcing his way through the front door. His senses are disoriented like he's been submerged beneath water as the volume of the music scratched at his eardrums and pulsed the innards of his skull. Adrenaline courses through his blood like a drug whilst he shoulders past both mindlessly drunk and carelessly high teenagers.

Sal doesn't spare them a second glance, but their unconcern does remain in his mind. The fact that they're continuing their lives while he feels as though something that's growing into something of importance in his is about to be taken from him... it's mind-numbing.

He's never been an optimistic person, he's always tried to view things in the way they're most likely to happen—and all that's beneath that two-story house is a long drop and concrete. If you fall, you'll break your head open and you'll die.

He finally makes it to the stairs. He makes a break for it then, tripping over his own feet multiple times. Anything could happen in this amount of time, and he knew no one else was going to help him.

Sal's thoughts grow more and more disordered as he navigates the dark halls of the house. The music seems to have only grown louder, the deafening mixture of guitar and drums taunting him.

He remembers the window on the outside of the house. Sal estimates which room it would be, locates it, and approaches the door. He turns the knob, but it doesn't fully rotate.

The door is locked from the inside. Of course. Who would have a party and leave the bedroom unlocked so people could fuck all over your comforter?

He bites out a curse only he hears and prepares himself to force the door open.

Sal grabs the doorknob tightly, prepares himself, and rams the side of his body into the wood. He doesn't even feel the pain, just does it again, and again.

He goes until that half of his body is numb.

The door finally budges, and he wastes no time entering the room. He doesn't hesitate when he reaches the double-hung window he'd been seeking. He grips it at the bottom and pulls it up and open, clenching his teeth together painfully.

Sal stares out at the vastness of the night, the golden streetlights, and how they shine down on the crowd of people below him. They all seem to be looking at the same place, up, but not at him—and he can only swallow thickly.

Carefully, Sal moves to sit on the windowsill, gripping what was above him tightly, his legs outside. He then ducks to leave the room and shivers as cool air hits the front of his neck.

He starts walking the roof, steadily—like his life depends on it. Because.. it does.

Or yours. Yours depends on it.

"Y/N!" Sal calls as he finally reaches a point where you're in his line of sight. Momentarily, he's worried he'd scared you. But you turn your head, meet his eyes, and smile. Despite that, your face spells fear all over it. Something must have sobered you up a bit while he'd been inside.

"I'm going to come to you. Do not walk towards me!"

You blink lazily, because you were drunk, and nodded. You shivered, hugging yourself. It didn't seem to do much, though. Your arms were bare.

"Fuck," he breathes, gazing down at the fall that could await him if he misstepped and immediately reverted his gaze. Blood rushes between his ears as he steadily makes his way towards you.

"Please don't fall!" You suddenly exclaim, your hair tussling in the breeze. A strand blows over your face, so you quickly raise a hand to move it back in place.

He looks up from his feet and stares you in the eyes. "I won't," he affirms, you and himself, continuing across the roof. "Just stay put, okay?"

It doesn't take long to get over to you. He's mostly sober, so it isn't hard on that part. What's difficult is calming his steady heart.

He's not scared of falling. Not necessarily scared of injury or death. But he is scared of not making it to you.

Once he's at an arms reach of your shaking form, he reaches out a hand, palm facing the darkness of the sky.

You seem to read his mind, slowly grabbing his hand. Sal maneuvers your joint hands to where your palms press together and your fingers are interlaced. He doesn't know if it's the blood rushing through his ears or the distance from the ground, but it's as if everything below becomes very quiet.

You meet his gaze, your pretty eyes glossy with tears. The eyeliner you were wearing had just begun to collect beneath your lower lash line.

He squeezes your hand and leads you to be in front of him.

It's not long after that that he's gotten you off of the roof. Sal watches you slip through the open window before turning toward the density of people beneath him on the ground. He breathes in as he catches both Larry and Ashley's eyes—he can't read their expressions, but he wouldn't be surprised if there was shock written all over it—and then ducks back into the window.

As soon as the window is shut and it meets the windowsill once more, Sal whips his head toward you. "Y/N-"

Before he'd saw your face, and the language of your body as you were sat on the edge of the bed, he was going to scold you, and then go downstairs and find you some water and sober you up—all of that falls down the drain when he sees the stream of tears falling down your face. Every time you blink, more drop—quickly staining your cheeks with black makeup.

"Oh," he breathes, suddenly speechless. "Y/N-"

You attempt at taking a breath in, it seems—but it's a failure because it hitches and turns into a shoulder-shaking sob.

"I'm sorry," you cry, roughly dragging the tips of your fingers beneath your eyes. This only smears the running mascara further. "I'm just drunk."

Sal momentarily feels like breaking down in tears himself, that's how much this entire ordeal stressed him out. He approaches your trembling body and crouches down in front of you.

"Hey," he says, softly. "It doesn't matter whether or not you're intoxicated. Your feelings still matter, okay?"

You sniffle, still attempting to wipe your tears away, and reluctantly nod. "I'm sorry," you try again.

He places his hands on your knees and squeezes them firmly. "It's okay."

You jerk into a sob, leaning forward and pressing the side of your face on his shoulder. You slowly tuck your arms beneath his and cross them over the expanse of his back, palms flat on each shoulder blade. The convulsive gasps were hard to stop, making it hard to breathe.

Sal breathed out softly against the prosthetic, raising his arms and encasing them around your torso.

He didn't wonder about the reason for your tears. Assuming things wouldn't help you anymore.

"I don't know why I did that," you whisper, quieting yourself to swallow your saliva. "Maybe I do. I think I was trying to prove something to myself."

He finds himself holding you tighter, your chest pressed to his, feeling your heartbeat through the fabric that separated you both—oddly enough, even at this moment, it reminds him of that night in the car. You had been even closer to him then, though.

"It was stupid," you murmured. "Why would I do that, after what we had talked about last night?"

"What if we jumped together?" he remembers saying.

"Some things can't be explained," he replies earnestly. "You don't need to know why you did what you did. It was stupid, though. I'd probably walk across the roof of a two-story house for you again, but.."

You pull back and meet his eyes, your face wet. The majority of your makeup had been cried off and your lipgloss had been smudged.

You must've sensed his examination, breaking the visual contact and sniffling. "I know I look ridiculous right now."

Sal smiles. He knows she can't see it, but maybe she'll hear it. "I don't think so," he murmurs, looking off to the side. "I think that's a bathroom. You can clean up in there if you want."

You follow his gaze and then return your eyes to his and laugh a bit. You still sound drunk, he notes. Obviously. He'd poured a good amount of Fireball into your mouth and watched you drink plenty of other things.

"Feels kinda weird using a stranger's bathroom," you laugh, your breath hitching from the earlier crying.

Sal rolls his eyes humorously, gripping your knees tighter as he pulls himself off of the floor. "The guy who lives here is Larry's friend—and a stoner. I doubt he'd mind. And if he does get mad, I'll take responsibility for it. I forced that door through, anyway.."

Your gaze swivels toward the door, which is not shut but mostly closed. When he glances to where you're looking, he notices it seems a bit.. crooked.

He inwardly cringes. "I'll pay for it. Come on."

Sal follows you into the bathroom. You seem reluctant to enter first, so he does, opening the door and reaching to the side to turn the lights on. They do what they're supposed to—eventually. They're momentarily unresponsive before becoming alive—the illumination brightening the room with a dull yellow hue.

You step onto the tile and began to search for whatever it was you needed. You kneeled at one of the cabinets below the sink, opened it, and ducked your head lower.

"Oh!" You exclaim quietly, reaching in and pulling out two things. A bottle of half-empty makeup remover and a bag of some cotton rounds.

"Maybe he has a girlfriend?" He hears you say to yourself, standing up, nudging the cabinet closed with your foot, and placing the things you found beside the sink.

Sal reaches over and closes the door. He'd rather not have to witness the sight of some drunkards wandering in and fooling around on the bed.

"Lock it," you say. "I'd rather no one- no one see me like this."

His hand was already on the doorknob, so he just reaches down a bit and locks the door.

He watches you struggle a bit with the bag of cotton rounds, trying but failing to open it, so he reaches forward and delicately plucks it out of your grasp.

Sal slides the makeup remover over and pats the place on the counter it was previously. "Sit."

You peer into his eyes inquisitively but waste no time hoisting yourself up and onto the cold surface.

After that, he plucks the bottle of makeup remover off of the counter and douses the cotton round in the liquid. He reaches forward from the distance that your knees created between the both of you, but you spread your thighs and press the heel of your shoe into his lower back, pulling him in so he's between your legs.

Sal doesn't see it suggestively, because you're drunk—but he's glad you asked him to lock the door because, with his luck, Larry or Ashley would find their way into the bathroom and get all of the wrong ideas.

The firmness just beneath his navel presses into the edge of the counter as he cups one side of your face and began wiping away at the eyeliner and mascara and everything it messed up.

"Thank you," you say sweetly, blinking at him with appreciation in your eyes. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

He remembers a silhouette. Her back was turned to him, golden hair cascading just past her shoulder blades. He remembers blue eyes that looked a lot like his own staring into a mirror, a hand which adorned a wedding ring wiping away makeup from the day.

"Read it on the label of the bottle," he replies, meeting your eyes and looking away.

As he's finishing up, he hears a rapping of knuckles against the locked door. He tosses the used cotton rounds into a trash bin in the corner and then locks eyes with you curiously.

"Occupied," he calls out, still looking at you. The knocking only gets louder, which makes you laugh.

"He said it's occupied!" You yell over the unintelligible music downstairs, your words breaking into a giggle. You press your knees against his waist, and he doesn't even realize it when his hands meet your thighs.

The knocking ceases, fading into a voice. "Is that you guys in there?"

Fucking Larry. Speak of the goddamn devil—that's what he would've said if he'd come knocking sooner.

The both of you seem to be thinking the same thing, locking eyes in terror. You quickly get off of the counter, and Sal unlocks the door and swings it open.

Sure enough, he's standing there—in all of his glory and highness. Larry blinks, the whites of his glossy eyes tinted red. He looks between the both of you before speaking. "Why were.."

"I had to pee," You choose to deadpan.

Sal feels himself grow even paler than he already is. "I came in.. after.. that."

Larry intakes a mouthful of whatever is in the red solo cup he's holding in his tan, lanky fingers, and swallows thickly. "Okay," he croaks, instinctively cringing as the alcohol passed through his chest. He gestured the cup toward you. "Uh..crazy stunt you pulled up there, huh?"

Sal saw your face shift in his peripheral vision. "Huge lapse of judgment," you reply.

"Nobody could tell who you were, so don't worry about that," the brunette smiles a bit. He returns his attention to Sal. "They've started playing country," sure enough, Sal hears the sound of a banjo from the speakers downstairs, effectively punctuating Larry's statement.

"Yeah.." Larry mumbles, sipping his drink and looking up and through his eyebrows. "Ash said to come find you guys so we can leave."

It doesn't take much, after that.

As you're leaving, Larry pulls the door open and furrows his brow at the condition of the hinges. "Wow. How old is this thing?" He mumbles.

Sal hears you snort.

The three of you descend the stairs, skirting past countless teenagers standing on the steps drinking or smoking. Sal makes the mistake of letting you fall behind and feels you stumble and smack him in the back. It's easy to steady himself, quickly gripping the railing—but he's concerned about you, so he turns around.

A guy with a cigarette balancing in his teeth is eying you with frustration pulling at his features. His gaze pulls from your face and down your body absentmindedly.

"Watch it," he murmurs.

"Sorry," you breathe, jerking your head away and meeting Sal's eyes worriedly. Keep walking, you express in the hues of your eyes.

Sal reaches forward and interlaces your fingers with his as he'd done on the roof. He makes a show of it, too—so the guy with the cigarette sees the rings on both of his hands. Sal gives him a distinct look when they lock eyes, rolls his jaw, and lets you lead him down the stairs, instead of the other way around.

By the time you're all nearly shot from weaving through the multitude of sweaty bodies and navigating through plumes of smoke thicker than fog, the three of you find Ashley petting what he'd assume is the host's dog.

No one questions it.

"You good to drive?" Larry asks, placing his cup on a nearby surface.

"Oh, yeah," she rises from her crouch beside the dog. The animal walks away, his golden tail wagging excitedly at the next person who would give him pets. "A gross sip of something put me off of drinking tonight a while earlier. And, uh.. the whole roof thing dried me out."

You sigh. "I'm sorry about that. It sobered me up, too."

She shakes her head, a wispy strand of light brown hair falling over her face. "It was stupid, yes, and I hope you don't do it again, but all that matters now is that you're safe."

Ashley blinks kind green eyes at you and smiles, reaching forward, taking your hand, and leading you away. Sal hears you laugh and follow after her as both of you head for the front door.

He turns to look at Larry once he loses sight of both of you in the crowd. He examines Sal with bleary dark eyes and looks as though he's about to say something, but he doesn't get to.

Even over the blaring country music, Sal hears a yell and then some fearful shouting. He whips around toward the sounds, which were toward the front of the house.

Red and blue flashing lights shine through the windows.

"Shit!"

"Ah, fuck," Larry groaned, nimbly wrapping his fingers around Sal's wrist and dragging him into the density of the panicked crowd. "Did you see where they went?"

Sal shakes his head. "No," he knows you're intoxicated. Panic settles in. He chews his lip, his eyes desperately scamming for a girl wearing a white top squared at the neck—you. "Y/N's had a lot to drink, Larry. If the police-"

"Don't worry about the Five-O, let's worry about the girls," Larry replies absentmindedly, keeping his firm hold on Sal.

"They must've gone to the Ford," Sal shouts over the music, which, for some reason, is still playing. "We were leaving anyway. I'm sure they're in the car."

Larry releases Sal and motions toward the back of the house. "There's a back door. I'll text Ashley and tell her to drive down the block and we can meet them on foot."

It was an agreeable plan. Waltzing out of the house and walking straight up to the car wouldn't be wise.

Larry does what he'd said he'd do. Turns out, Sal was right, they had made it to the car moments before the police had rolled up. Ashley informed him it was two squad cars and four officers. Seemed like overkill for a house party—but he wouldn't know. He didn't do this often.

When Larry was on the phone, Sal was very tempted to ask about Y/N, but refrained.

On the way to the back door, they crossed through the kitchen. Larry snatched an unopened bottle of alcohol of a brand Sal didn't recognize and carried it along with him for the road.

As soon as they made it out of the house, they both made a break for it, running between houses and into multiple different backyards on their way.

They slowed down once they were at a measurable distance from the party, gasping for air. Sal panted against the prosthetic, placing his hands on his knees and slowing his gasps into slow breaths, attempting to calm his racing heart.

They stood on the side of the road, the music in the distance (albeit a lot quieter) still pounding into the night.

Sal lowered himself down onto the curb. Larry joined him, raising the bottle he'd chose to bring with him to his mouth, and opened the steel cap with his teeth. He spits it onto the road and gestures it toward Sal.

"Bottoms up," he said, bringing it to his lips and taking several gulps.

Sal rolled his eyes playfully, eyebrows rising as Ashley's Ford Fiesta cruised down the road and slowed to a stop in front of them. He stood up from the curb and pulled Larry off of it as well.

They entered the car, sliding into the backseat. Larry continued to down the beer he'd found as Ashley turned around in her seat.

"The night's still young," she says. "Any ideas of what we could do?"

It's really not. Sal's a bit disoriented so he doesn't know what time it is but he wouldn't be surprised if it was 3 AM.

You then turn around in the passenger seat and grin mischievously. "Let's go to the lake."

Oh, great.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

172 notes · View notes

hockeylvr59 · 3 years

Text

Collide Part 2 || Sidney Crosby

Summary: Life as a single foster mom and a pediatrician didn’t leave much time for dating. But when Dr. Erin Lancaster becomes the pediatrician for Pittsburgh Penguins Defenseman Brian Dumoulin's baby boy, her association and quick friendship with his wife Kayla turns her crazy but quiet life upside down.

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Apparently my brain is just on a Sid kick lately. First a blurb update, now this one. Let me know what you think.

Warnings: alcohol consumption Word Count: 2,001

~~~~~

The weeks leading up to the holiday season were usually some of the best as a foster mom. The kids that I called my own, even temporarily, generally didn’t have a great experience with family holidays in the past and it was always exciting to teach them the magic of the season. The joy of watching the Macy’s parade and then football before having a big meal, going looking at Christmas lights, and everything else that filled the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

This year though, this year was tough. A few weeks ago, just days after my trip to the hospital, the seven year old I was fostering was moved to another placement. More biological siblings had popped up in the system and taking them would have placed me over my permitted limit. So instead, the rambunctious boy I was finally starting to make strides with was moved so that he could be with siblings he had never met, all because of the preference of keeping siblings together. A week later, my five year old was transferred back into the care of his mother who had successfully completed a rehabilitation program. I wasn’t sure the woman could be trusted but the court had decided she was fit enough to regain custody and there was nothing I could do about it.

Finally, yesterday, my newborn had been deemed stable enough to be placed with a paternal grandmother now that he was completely off the drugs. I had done my limited job of making sure that he got elevated care and now he was in the placement I knew he’d end up in all along.

It was the weekend before Thanksgiving and for the first time in a long time I didn’t have any kids under my roof. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t have any kids placed with me, it had been that long. Yesterday, it had been easy enough to ignore, I went into the office to catch up on paperwork, I picked up dry cleaning and went grocery shopping before drinking half a bottle of wine and falling into bed exhausted.

Today though, things were quiet and now that the world had stilled around me, my normally thick exterior cracked and I found myself sobbing steadily. I loved being a foster mom, I really did, but it was heartbreaking to know that these kids would never be mine for one reason or another. That while most days my house was full of laughter and as much love as these kids could manage, days like today would always be waiting at the end of it all.

While drowning my sorrows with a pint of ice cream I definitely didn’t need to be eating at 11am, my phone buzzed beside me with a message from Kayla Dumoulin. She had texted more than once over the past few weeks with worries such as whether Brayden’s cord was healing normally and whether she could cut his nails because he didn’t like the mittens but she didn’t want him to cut himself. Through our text conversations she had learned of my rapidly emptying house and her message this morning was just to check in and see how I was doing.

She was such a sweetheart and I replied with a shrug emoji declaring that if sobbing over a pint of ice cream at 11am was normal then I was doing just fine. The phone rang a moment later and I sighed seeing her name pop up because the message wasn’t intended to make her feel guilty or anything, it was just genuine honesty. Still, I answered the phone, setting the pint of ice cream aside for a moment.

“It sounds like you need some baby cuddles.” Kayla stated, the sound of soft chatter coming through the line. “Why don’t you come over. Brayden wouldn’t mind seeing his favorite doctor.” She suggested.

“That’s sweet but I’ll be okay.” I assured her. “I don’t want to impose. I’m sure I can find something to do.”

“You’re not imposing.” Kayla insisted. “Me texting you at 2am with a breastfeeding question was imposing.” Her voice was teasing and I sighed softly remembering being up with my own newborn when she had a question about hers since Brian was on the road.

“Seriously.” She continued. “Come over, snuggle Brayden, and give my husband a second opinion on this bottle of wine he just got since I can’t drink.” She suggested. Sensing that she truly meant it, I sighed and agreed reluctantly telling her to send me the address.

____

45 minutes later, I had cleaned myself up so it didn’t look like I had spent the last few hours sobbing. After putting on some light makeup, I had thrown on some black jeans, a striped long sleeve tee, and a tan pullover before deeming myself decent enough to head out.

Plugging the address in my phone’s gps, I drove over to Kayla and Brian’s neighborhood, parking down on the street in front of their house. It didn’t even register that there were approximately a half dozen cars spread between the driveway and the street already as I made my way up to the front door.

Kayla greeted me after just a minute and I gently teased that if I didn’t know better I wouldn’t believe she just had a baby as she let me inside. That made her smile, and as she guided me to the kitchen for a glass of wine I realized that there was a significant amount of noise coming from the living room. It wasn’t until she was murmuring for me to make myself comfortable that I realized the living room was occupied by almost a dozen Penguins players, football pregame on tv.

“Alright Muzz, you can give my baby back now.” Kayla declared half-joking, half-serious. As soon as the goalie handed the baby over, Kayla was crossing the room back to me and handing off the little boy who just snuggled into my chest as soon as he was placed there. “There...baby snuggles.” She murmured.

“Thanks.” I whispered, resting a hand over the infant’s back before taking a sip of wine feeling slightly uncomfortable as eyes slowly landed on me.

“Hey doc.” Brian greeted appearing from somewhere else in the house. “Let me know what you think of that wine, not sure if this brand is a keeper or not.” He stated simply portraying the feeling that I wasn’t at all anywhere I didn’t belong and that this was a normal occurrence. Nodding I promised to do so before just focusing back on the baby in my arms. The physician portion of my brain noted that he was doing well and had certainly been growing while the rest of me just found myself relaxing at the feeling of a baby’s steady breaths.

Most of the guys paid me no mind as the game started. Yet I felt one pair of eyes linger. As I stepped outside after handing Brayden off to feed just before halftime, a four legged companion joined me and I chuckled petting the Dumoulin’s dog Roo while sitting on the steps of their patio nursing my second glass of wine.

The patio door slid open and then shut before a body slid down next to me on the steps.

“So where are your foster kids?” A familiar voice asked and glancing over my eyes met those of the Penguins Captain.

“With another foster family, with their mother, and with their paternal grandmother.” I whispered, quickly taking another sip of the wine to try and push back another round of tears. “The sucky thing about being a foster mom is they always go away in the end.”

“I...I didn’t know.” Sid mumbled after a moment and I waved him off petting Roo and wiping at my eye with the back of my hand.

“I didn’t expect you to.” I stated simply.

“So that’s why…” Sid trailed off, stopping when I nodded.

“Baby cuddles to try and make everything better.” I shrugged. “To fill the three new cracks in my heart. It’s been a long time since I was childless.” I whispered. “I’ve been trying to recall when it was and I honestly can’t remember. I feel like it had to have happened at least a few times but I really can’t recall not having anyone since I became a foster mom in the first place.”

“How long is that?” Sid asked, tone softer now than it had been that day at the hospital.

“Two...almost three years. I applied to become a foster parent toward the end of my residency.”

“Can I ask how many?” Sid questioned.

“36.”

“In three years? That’s...wow.” Glancing over I could see the genuine shock on his face.

“I don’t know what the turnover rate is generally but I’m fairly certain my rate is higher than average. I get a lot of the drug addicted babies because of my skills and they’re generally only with me 2-3 weeks until it’s safe to move them into a more permanent placement, often with other family members.”

“How do you handle that?” He murmured, reaching down to pet Roo as well who had rolled over onto her back for belly rubs.

“Usually I just focus on my patients, on the kids that I do still have with me because they deserve all of my love and attention. This time? Crying over Ben and Jerry’s at 11am until Kayla insisted I come over.” A smile cracked Sid’s face and he apologized quickly declaring that this isn’t something to smile about.

“No it’s okay. You can find it amusing, I know it wasn’t the most healthy coping method.”

“Are you going to be okay?” He inquires softly.

“Yeah. Well, I should probably lay off the wine. Dumo has really good taste.” Sid’s eyes crinkled a little bit and he looked at me like be serious. “I will be. I mean it’s only a matter of time before I get the call that another child needs me.” I assured him. “I just...sometimes...days like this...they make me wonder whether I still want to do this, you know…”

“Go on…” Sid urged.

“I just...it’s so hard. Never knowing whether I’m going to wake up and have to say goodbye again. Constantly giving away pieces of my heart that I’ll never get back. Days like today make me just want to be a mom. Not a foster mom but a mom. To have my own kids who won’t be there one day and gone the next.”

“I get that feeling.” Sid murmured after a moment. “Not the ‘here one day gone the next’ part, but uh, wanting your own kids part, that I get.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke before dropping his hand back down to pet Roo, his fingers brushing against mine. Immediately my mind flashed back to the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine and I quickly pushed that aside.

“There you are!” Kayla exclaimed, popping her head out the door, her eyes shifting back and forth between you and Sid and noting how close you were sitting. “We just put out some food if you’re hungry and want something other than ice cream.” She grinned, dipping back inside looking like she was about to burst with what she just saw even if it was absolutely nothing.

When Sid stood he offered a hand out to help you up, murmuring for Roo to come inside and he’d see if he could find her a treat. The bulldog was eager for that and followed after him as you brushed yourself off and picked your wine glass up moving to rejoin the group.

Ridding of your buzz with some food and water and more baby snuggles you finally headed home with the feeling that there was something more to your conversation with Sid that you hadn’t put your finger on.

Outfit:

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #ppenguins #019

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lazarettta · 3 years

Text

The Babysitter

Characters ( Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader )

Rating (T) Word Count ( 2.9k) Warnings ( None, bad flirting, writing while intoxicated)

“For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

It was another late night studying on the living room floor of the Mayfair-Richards household. It wasn't uncommon for you to spend a majority of your nights here during the week and sometimes the weekend if you were needed and you usually weren't. Not that you would've minded anyway, your weekends weren't busy—mostly spent either dead asleep or trying to get out of plans you didn't want to be a part of anyway to get more sleep.

But it wasn't everyday that you were able to work for a Senator either, so even if you were busy, you weren't going to tell Ally Mayfair-Richards that. Not that she was a mean boss or anything, she was the Senator for crying out loud. And...okay yes, maybe you idolized the woman a little though it may be because you're studying law but honestly who wouldn't idolize this woman? She went through so much shit getting to this point in her life and career.

And she was hot. She was really hot but you kept it in your pants, but your eyeballs? Different story. You were just grateful that she chose you to watch her son when she was away, especially after you knocked over your entire cup of tea in her living room on the very carpet you were sitting on, and you were just a hot mess.

You thought you blew the whole thing, but the moment she produced the NDA to you a few days later when she called you back for a 'second interview' which included Ozzy this time, you'd been ecstatic and nearly knocked over another fucking cup but Ally was faster than you that time.

The giant TV was playing in front of you across the room but it was just the news channel but the volume was pretty low because Oz was asleep upstairs and you weren't really watching it anyway, you had your airpods in listening to Beyoncé and trying to create a decent scenario for one of the ten theories your professor assigned. It was due the next day so you thought picking the easiest one would work in your favor but it was turning out to be your worst nightmare—and you'd regretted choosing sleep over this, kind of.

You'd been so engrossed in your work, and music, you didn't hear the front door open and shut somewhere behind you or hear Ally quietly talking on the phone, her high heels click clacking on her polished wood floors as she came into the living room. Ally paused slightly at the sight of you and her coffee table, your books and yellow pads scattered everywhere, your head bopping slightly to whatever you were listening to as you scribbled away.

Ally smiled softly, and continued on her way upstairs to check on Ozzy knowing that she was going to find him safe, clean and fast asleep with a full belly. You'd been his nanny for four months now and you were such a blessing for Ally, she'd been reluctant to hire and trust another person with her baby boy but her career was too demanding and Ozzy was only ten. He could stay home alone for a few hours maybe, but not days or even a week or two.

After everything, Ally did have cameras around her home on the outside and she had one directly over the stairs because it overlooked the foyer and parts of the living room from an angle. She didn't want too many camera's inside of her home in case they were hacked but she wanted something at least.

Ozzy's room was dark except for his nightlight by the door and Ally quietly made her way inside, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing his curls from his face. She was ever thankful that he finally stopped having those horrible nightmares, it meant that she wasn't wasting her money on therapy sessions.

When Ally came back downstairs, you were predictably in the exact same spot you were in and Ally finally did away with her coat, placing it over the spine of the sofa and she stepped out of her heels before coming around and plopping herself down, careful not to knock over your stack of books.

The sudden movement startled you out of your skin and you quickly pulled out your airpods and looked at your boss, “Hey! Sorry, how long have you been home?”

Ally smiled down at you tiredly, practically sinking into the sofa and you could feel her exhaustion rolling off of her in waves, and you couldn't help but sympathize because damn, and you thought you were tired.

“I just got in, I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, things got busier than I expected and then everything went into chaos.”

You smirked when she threw her hands up half heartedly with a roll of her eyes, “Would a glass of wine help?”

“No, but it would definitely be a start if you join me for a glass?” she raised an eyebrow, and as much as you wanted to say yes you've already procrastinated enough and you really didn't need alcohol in your system around her lest you say something you absolutely shouldn't.

“I would but I have to finish this and it's getting late. Do you mind waiting up until my Uber gets here?”

“It's really late, you should just stay the night, (Y/n).” Ally sat up then, waving away your comment, though now she was closer and hovering over you a bit, “I'll take you home tomorrow after breakfast, that sound fair?”

It wouldn't be the first overnight stay but it would definitely be the first time that she'd be home too and you just couldn't say no to that even though you probably should have insisted more that you go home, but you accepted her offer without further debate. You'd gone back to your assignment, minus the airpods this time, and Ally got up to go to the kitchen and you could hear her fixing herself a glass of wine.

Ally set a bottle of water next to you on a coaster before settling back in her spot and finding something to watch on TV, and of course you noticed that she was a hell of a lot closer than she was before.

Your pen had paused on the yellow paper and your eyes glanced over the same sentence three times before your mind processed that you could practically feel the heat from her legs next to your arm through her slacks, and if you leaned just an inch you'd be touching her. You fought the urge to look back over your shoulder, but instead you looked up from beneath your lashes and saw that she was browsing the movie channels at a snail's pace.

Behind you, Ally was sipping her wine in one hand and flipping channels with the remote in the other but her eyes were nowhere on the TV screen. But she noticed the moment your pen stopped moving and your shoulders tensed more than usual, she'd been watching you closely and curiously.

“You okay, honey?”

You turned around to answer her with what you hoped was a calm smile and wished that you hadn't, really. Ally was going to kill you sitting the way she was sitting, her energy screaming big dick and the top three buttons of her shirt were undone and her hair was a little messy. Either she was going to give you a heart attack or your libido would.

“Sweetheart?”

You blinked, coming back to reality so fast you would’ve gotten whiplash, “Uh, yeah...maybe I guess I’m just tired too.” Yeah right.

You chuckled nervously, embarrassed really, and licked your lips again and Ally tracked the movement with rapt attention not that you would've caught it because you were busy being mortified being caught staring like a creep.

“Are you sure? You look flushed, drink some water,” you smiled at Ally, ever the mom.

“I’m not—” not what? Thirsty? Yeah you were but not for some water.

“You’re not what?” Ally pressed, still holding you hostage with her eyes alone.

“Not thirsty for water.”

Ally raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching and you hate that you noticed, “Oh? Then what would you like to drink if it’s not wine or water?”

Good question. One you didn’t have a good answer to. Not trusting yourself to formulate words into an appropriate sentence, you just nodded and turned back around and grabbed the water she brought you. You were determined to ignore until you were finished with your work—for the sake of your sanity and dignity.

Fuck.

Still watching you, Ally laughed quietly into her wine glass and finally settled on a movie, keeping the volume low as she got comfortable. Deciding to let you off the hook for not answering her question. (This time.)

A few days later...

It was another late night for you but you weren't working for Ally tonight, so you went to the gym instead after studying. You were still wearing your tights and sports bra when you left, only throwing on a jacket because the night air and sweat weren't a great mix.

You didn't have anything at home to eat that wasn't expired or so frozen it came from the ice age...it all went in the trash so all you had left in your fridge was a case of water and cheese sticks. It wasn't surprising though, you spent a majority of your free time at Ally's home and you just ate lunch and dinner there usually. So you went straight to the grocery store after your workout with your trainer.

“Hey (Y/n)!” you looked up and internally groaned, rolled your eyes and threw a whole bitch fit.

You offered Sean a tight near sarcastic smile, “Sean. What is up.”

“Nothin',” he said, leaning against the counter he was standing behind with a cheesy smile, his eyes leering—and it made your skin crawl, “Just working...you?”

“Uh,” you were already over this conversation, “Same, anyway—”

“You still work for that crazy killer lesbian?”

You stopped, pivoting back around slowly to see if he was joking or not, of course it was hard to tell because he was looking at your ass, but the minute he turned around his eyes laser beamed to your chest. Specifically your pebbled nipples and the bars pierced in them. You moved the labels of your jacket to cover them fucking pig.

“Uh, my eyes are up here and two, that 'crazy killer lesbian' is your Senator.”

He shrugged, “I didn't vote for her.”

“I'm...okay, it was nice talking to you but I have things to do.”

“Well, wait,” he moved in front of you, stopping your escape, “That's not what I wanted to talk to you about actually, uh, but listen...do you maybe wanna go to dinner with me this weekend? My treat?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, completely unimpressed with his audacity, “You literally just called my boss a crazy killer lesbian and now you're expecting me to go to dinner with you?” as if, you wanted to add but held yourself in check—barely.

“I'm sorry about that,” Sean only shrugged but he was bashful about it but it only served to irritate you further because it was obvious that he didn't quite mean it and you were mentally slapping yourself for just not ordering that damn pizza.

“Whatever, goodnight Sean.”

you tried to move around him but he shifted, keeping you in place and you knew you could've just turned around, you should've but he would've just followed you, “Well wait, you never answered my question. About dinner?”

“No.”

“Well, wait a minute...why not? The lesbian thing? It was just a joke. You can take one, can’t you?”

“And I'm not laughing, get the fuck outta my way Sean—”

“You—”

“I believe she told you to fuck off.”

Sean's eyes snapped up over your head slightly, and you would've laughed at his stupid face had you not been pivoting around yourself, your eyes meeting a very familiar chin and you looked up, but Ally's eyes weren't on you but instead glaring daggers into Sean. He'd be ten feet under if she got her way with that look. You wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it. (Maybe another version of it...)

“S-senator?”

“Oh, I'm not the crazy killer lesbian anymore? How disappointing.” when Sean could only stare at her like a fish out of the water, Ally stepped forward—a lot closer to you and you didn't have the strength to move or even look away, “I believe you were told to leave. Oh and if I even hear that you looked at or said anything to (Y/n) incorrectly, you're going to have a lot worse than a harassment complaint from a Senator to deal with.”

You didn't see him leave but you heard the squeaks of his sneaker and in seconds flat you and Ally were alone in the cereal aisle and you had absolutely no idea how to even breathe at the moment, much less process that she just saved you from...whatever that even was.

When Ally was satisfied that Sean was gone, she finally looked down at you—there was still a fire in them that you couldn't place but her brown eyes were softer than they were a few seconds ago, and you felt your shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You cleared your throat, taking a small step back—but you still felt exposed under her unblinking stare though not in the same way you felt with Sean, it was the complete opposite, “Yeah thanks to you, so um thanks...a lot. Your timing is impeccable, but what are you doing here so late? Where's Oz? Is he okay?”

Ally smiled at you, shaking her head disturbing her always perfect hairstyle, “Oz is fine, or at least he will be, he must've ate something today at school and it's not sitting well with his stomach,” Ally rolled her eyes but not at the fact that her son had food poisoning but that he had food poisoning from the school lunch. She could only imagine that other children—reforming school lunches was already on her agenda but now she was seriously considering moving ahead of schedule.

“Oh no, how bad?”

“Not too bad...he'll be okay, I'm just here for medicine to stock up on,” Ally reassured you, her eyes flickering over your shoulder for a second, “What are you doing out so late?” and wearing that? She mentally added, but held her tongue because she knew that it wasn't her place to comment on your attire—not that she was complaining about it, but Ally just didn't like the way Sean was leering at you either. She was a hair away from showing him how she earned her title.

Suddenly aware of how much skin you were showing, and that your jacket fell open again but unlike with Sean you didn't feel the need to really cover yourself (even though you knew that you should've). You appreciated her eyes more than his...and probably anyone else's.

“Oh, I went to the gym and since I don't have any food at home...”

Ally chuckled, “Is this your way of asking for a raise?”

“No! No, no you pay me plenty...I'm just too busy to cook is all and then I'm just too tired to eat sometimes. College life.”

“I was teasing, welcome to adulthood. It doesn't stop,” you laughed along with her but you both knew there was truth behind those words.

“I shouldn't keep you, I know you have things to do.”

“You know, I doubt you're going to get a decent nutrient meal here tonight, especially shopping while you’re hungry...” Ally hummed, seemingly thinking hard about something before opening her mouth to carefully speak those words, “You're more than welcome to come home with me for a late dinner if you have nowhere else to be. I'd be more than happy to feed you.”

Heh. Feed me what? You blinked, mildly surprised with how fast your mind went straight to the gutter and you felt your face heating up faster than a house fire, and you had no doubt in your mind that your boss knew exactly what she was doing to you.

But she didn't, Ally didn't have one clue to what was happening in your mind because her own mind was a pile of scrambled eggs while forcing her eyes to stay above your neck. You were both very much still in public.

And the last thing Ally wanted to do was make either you a cliché, especially with her being a public figure in a male dominant career field, both in politics and her restaurant.

“Unless you had your sights set on cereal?” Ally coughed lightly, suddenly nervous and you realized that you'd been standing there staring at her like a moron this whole time.

“No, I'd love to come home with you,” you said cheerfully, meaning every damn word for different reasons, and you smiled at her, before your eyes widened when realizing how forward you sounded, and suggestive as hell, “For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

Direct result after two blunts...sorry if it's kinda lame tho lmao I went in thinking I was writing smut and gave up somewhere

#ally mayfair richards #ally mayfair richards x reader #ahs cult #ahs x reader #sarah paulson #ahs imagine #american horror story #sarah paulson x reader

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By My Side (Part 4)

Summary: The reader goes to dinner with her step brothers, Michael and Nick, as well as Jensen. When Jensen starts to see how her brothers treat her though, Jensen and the reader have a heart to heart and start to try a different tactic with their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, sibling angst, minor violence, mentioned prior deaths

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

Monday Evening

“Hey pipsqueak,” said Nick, your arms crossed from where you sat on the couch trying to watch TV. “Since dad and your mom are at dinner at that fancy place, maybe you could take us out?”

“Yeah,” said Michael, still texting away on his phone at the other end of the couch. “There’s that steak place dad said was good. Y/N, you want to have dinner with your big brothers?”

“Not particularly,” you said.

“She still hate us?” said Nick as he came up to the back of the couch, ruffling your hair and placing his hands on your shoulders. “You gotta let that shit go. We were kids.”

“I was a kid. You were both twenty years old and you two harassed me until I moved out, well past when you knew better. Now that I have money, you two-”

“What was that?” asked Nick and you swallowed. “Come on. Let’s get dinner.”

“Whatever. Jensen! We’re going to dinner wherever you are,” you called out. “Jensen!”

He came down the far hallway near where your office was, his hand behind his back on his holster but you shook your head.

“We’re going out,” you said as he dropped his hand down. “To eat. We’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“I’m going with you,” he said. You thought that was odd of him but he made his jaw hard and clenched it. “It’s part of my contract. I go where you go.”

“He’s perky isn’t he,” said Michael as he stood up. You rolled your eyes and went towards the front door to get your purse.

Half an hour later the three of you were seated with Jensen sat at the bar close by and keeping an eye on you.

“Surprised he didn’t ask to sit with us,” mumbled Nick. “Why do you have a bodyguard again?”

“After my old manager tried to have me kidnapped for publicity,” you said.

“You know how to pick ‘em,” said Michael. You gripped the menu tight and reviewed it, already knowing your step brothers wouldn’t even pretend to offer to pay for their meals. You never quite understood them. Chuck was always good to your mom and nice to you. You weren’t particularly close but you didn’t dislike each other either. You got along, he asked about you, you spent time together whenever you visited them. Chuck had always been okay in your book. His children though you could have sworn were adopted with how horrible they could be to you.

“How much you want to bet me I could get that douchey little bodyguard over here in less then five seconds?” asked Nick, a smirk on his face you didn’t like.

“He’s just doing his job. Let him do it in peace.”

“I still don’t get why you have one,” said Michael as he looked over the wine list. “Compared to the other girl on the show, you’re like, not good looking.”

“Dude, I’m your sister. You’re not supposed to find me good looking.”

“I know that, dipshit. I mean, you’re just, plain,” he said. “You’re not the main lead. That’s probably why.”

“I’m co-lead. We have no main lead.”

“But you’re second on the call sheet credits thing,” said Nick.

“Cause Gen got hired before me.”

“She’s still hotter than you,” mumbled Nick.

“She’s married and they’re both my best friends.”

“I didn’t say I want to fuck her. Relax. You’re always so uptight,” said Nick. You bit your tongue and weren’t surprised when Michael ordered a few hundred dollar bottle of wine. You got the twenty dollar one you normally did that tasted just as good and Nick went for an expensive Scotch you’d never heard of.

“Oh,” you said to the waiter before he could leave. “The man on the end of the bar there, his drinks and meal are on me.”

“No problem,” he said as he took off.

“She’s got no problem paying for his food,” muttered Michael.

“It’s part of his job. For him, this is a business expense,” you said. You gnawed the inside of your cheek and forced a smile. “The garlic bread is very good here if you guys want to get some.”

“Good with me,” said Michael. He gave you a smile, a genuine one before he was checking his phone again. You’d always liked Michael far more than Nick. On his own, Michael was a pretty decent guy. When he got with Nick though, and that was more often than not, even into adulthood, he was normally pretty unbearable.

“Working any big new clients?” you asked, your voice a tad too high but he ignored it while Nick went to the restroom.

“Potentially. I actually got a job offer in LA. Senior partner,” he said.

“That’s great,” you said, Michael smiling.

“You’re actually happy about that, for real,” he said.

“You’re incredibly smart. You always have been. I’m really happy you’re getting out of our little hometown and going to work at a bigger firm,” you said. “That’s a really big deal. You should be proud.”

“Here I thought you’d tell me not to move to your city,” he said.

“Why do you think I’d say that?” you asked.

“You don’t like us,” he said, nodding to the empty spot beside him. “You never have.”

“You guys are dicks most of the time. You skipped over the getting to know each other thing and went right into horrible dick older brothers.”

“We weren’t horrible. We still aren’t. I have worked cases that would make your skin crawl. We’re the Brady bunch compared to most people.”

“My dad died and I was so excited to have big brothers, you know? That year was so horrible and Chuck made mom stop crying and laugh again and I love him for that. But you guys...it doesn’t matter. I’m happy you’re getting a promotion, Michael.”

“Our mom died too that year,” he said, lowering his head.

“I know she did,” you said. “Forget I said anything.”

“So when do you go back to work?” asked Michael as Nick returned.

“A few months from now,” you said.

“What are you gonna do after that?” he asked.

“Honestly I’m not sure right now. I like TV but I might do movies. My options are pretty open,” you said. “How’s teaching going?”

“Always a joy,” said Nick, taking a long sip of his water. “I got tenure finally. Not sure if I’m gonna stay though. If Mikey moves out here I might take a position at UCLA.”

“Oh. So you’re thinking of moving out here too?” you asked. Nick narrowed his eyes and you you looked away. “Maybe mom and Chuck will come out if you guys do.”

“Maybe,” said Nick. Thankfully you spotted your waiter come back with your drinks and you were able to order your appetizer and dinner, already expecting a nearly thousand dollar bill thanks to their alcohol choices.

“I’ll be right back,” you said. You excused yourself and walked over to the bar, Jensen sipping on a glass of beer while he half-watched a TV behind the bar.

“Require saving from your brothers?” he smirked to himself, turning before you could tap him on the shoulder.

“Why do you say that?” you asked, leaning against the padded bartop.

“Just a vibe I get, you and Nick especially,” he said. “Nobody gets a pass from me.”

“He’s not a great older brother but he’s harmless,” you said.

“He intimidates you.”

“Like I said, he’s not great but the worst thing he’s ever done was leave me with a group of strange guys. Michael did the same thing. Otherwise they’re just like, crappy older brothers.”

“Crappy or something else? Like I said, nobody gets a pass from me.”

“Jensen. They would never hurt me. I swear on my life.”

“Michael wouldn’t. Nick...I’ll be keeping an eye on him, both of them, whether you want me to or not. I’m the asshole bodyguard after all,” he smirked again.

“Well, it sounds like they’re both gonna move out here soon so we’ll be seeing them more.”

“Lovely,” said Jensen. “So why’d you come over? Need a break from them?”

“Yes. Also, I already told the waiter but your drinks and food are all on me. Feel free to order whatever you want,” you said.

“I’ll stick to the one beer. I’m at work still,” he said.

“They have really good steak. The filet is amazing along with the green beans,” you said. Jensen smiled and played with his glass, swishing the ice cubes around. “The lobster macaroni is also a great side.”

“That’s a hundred dollar steak.”

“Jensen, you know I can afford it.”

“I also know how much you’re paying me. I can afford it.”

“Jensen. I’m your boss. I’m paying for it. Next time I want Taco Bell, you can pay at the drive through if it makes you feel better,” you said. He smiled, a soft gentle little smile you’d never seen on his face before. You returned it, Jensen staring at you before he shook his head and it fell away.

“I’m going to lose this argument, aren’t I.”

“Yeah, you are. I’d much rather pay for your meal than those two bimbos. I like you better,” you said.

“Must have a pretty low bar for them then,” he said.

“Why’d you stop talking to me? After the paparazzi guy?” you asked. He shrugged and wiped off a stray drop of condensation on his glass. “Please?”

“There’s a line I have to keep with you. We can be friendly but if something happens, I am in charge. There can be no doubts about that. I felt that I needed to step back and reaffirm that boundary.”

“We can keep the boundary. But we can be friends too. If you say hide, I’ll hide. If you say run, I’ll run. I know you think I’m a dumb actress but-”

“You’re not dumb. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met,” he said. You blinked and he offered a half smile. “You have an ability to push through panic and be logical. I know guys with all the training in the world that can’t do that. You’re not a dumb actress. It’s obvious that you were raised to be intelligent.”

“My point is, I will do what you tell me to when it’s those hard moments. But I have confidence that you were wrong before. You can like someone, maybe even care about them like a friend, and still be able to protect them. I actually think it’ll make you better at your job.”

“Give me one example of where that works. Just one.”

“Maybe you want to try talking to your bestie, Jared,” you said. “Or literally most anyone in a relationship anywhere.”

“Touche,” he said. He smiled and nodded. “No more cold shoulder.”

“Thanks.”

“So I should try the macaroni with my steak?” he asked.

“And the green beans. You get two sides. You can get however many you want actually. The dessert selection here is even better than the steak if you can believe it.”

“I’ll have to check it out,” he said. “But no green beans. Traumatic childhood incident with them.”

“I better not be attacked by the cabbage patch kids. They might just take you down,” you said, Jensen giggling to himself. “Oh, he does laugh. Good to know. The roasted truffle garlic fries are really good too.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I think I’ll check them out.”

“Do you want to sit with us?” you asked, nodding back towards the table.

“I better not. I don’t think your brothers like me very much,” he said. “I got a better vantage point over here anyways.”

“Vantage point?” you asked.

“Got a weird feeling is all. I want to stay sharp tonight,” he said. You nodded and turned to go, Jensen catching your bicep. “If something happens, what do you do?”

“Duck and cover and wait for you to get me,” you said.

“Good girl. You did read my instructions.”

“Yup. Even read the part about how to get out of your hands being tied behind your back. Unfortunately, I’m not flexible enough and my ass is too big for that,” you said. He chuckled and you smirked. “Oh you know it is.”

“I’m not opposed to that fact,” he said. You went wide eyed and he laughed. “My boss is hot, what can I say.”

“You better stick to the one drink after all, Ackles,” you said, laughing as you lightly whacked his arm. “Try the triple brownie sundae for dessert. You won’t regret it.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“I think I gained five pounds,” said Michael, stretching out in his seat nearly two hours later, the waiter bringing over the check. You frowned at the bill but it was what you were expecting. You stuck your card in the pocket and caught the waiter pretty quickly. It was getting late and you were tired. Even your step-brothers were getting quiet so you hoped to get home quickly.

The waiter returned and you wrote out a tip, sticking your card back in your wallet and purse. You stretched as you stood up, your step brothers taking their time to get to their feet. You headed over towards Jensen when the sound of glass shattering caught your attention. You turned your head and heard tires screeching outside, spotting that the window at the front of the restaurant was gone now. You barely saw the cop car driving by before you heard sharp little noises in the air and felt like you got hit by a truck.

Suddenly you were on the ground, Jensen on top of you. Nick and Michael were ducked down under the table along with most everyone in the restaurant, some people at the bar hopping over the counter and diving behind the back. The whole place was silent and you all heard the front door to the place open abruptly. Jensen stood up in one smooth motion, his gun out and aimed, a shot ringing out a second later as someone yelled. A few seconds later there was a loud echo of feet, Jensen setting his gun on the ground and holding up his hands. Police filled in the place, two very angry looking officers rushing over to him and barking orders.

“It’s okay,” said Jensen to you as he knelt down.

Less than five minutes later he was released and some hostess was thanking him over and over still for stopping the guy that had come in looking for trouble. Jensen shrugged it off, only grazing the guy and the police pretty impressed with him for doing so.

“Are we free to go?” asked Jensen, an officer nodding. He waved for you and your step-brothers to follow, Jensen driving the four of you back to your place quickly. Nick and Michael took their rental car back to their hotel, neither one much in the mood to talk after what had happened.

Jensen checked that the house was secure before he went to his room and shut the door. You weren’t sure if he was okay or not. He seemed pretty calm but he had shot a guy, if only barely. Instead of heading to your bedroom, you wandered down the hall to his area of the house. There was a guest suite there he used for his bed and bathroom but he rarely used it unless he was going to bed and he always, always told you when he was turning in for the night.

As you were about to knock on the door you heard the faint sound of a shower and nodded. He was simply cleaning up. It didn’t sound like a bad idea to yourself honestly. You went down the hall to your room, flipping on the light. It was a soft white in there, the wall behind the bed a shiplap that led up to wood beams going across the vaulted ceiling. Another light was flipped on in the bathroom and you stepped under the shower for a few minutes, washing off your face and skin. After five minutes you went out to the bedroom and over to the closet, finding a pajama shirt and shorts to slip into. Your hair was thrown up in a messy bun and you found your oversized fleece hoodie you occasionally slept in. Tucking it under your arm, you headed out of the room and back down the hall, Jensen’s door still shut.

“Jensen?” you said, knocking on the door lightly. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” he said. Carefully you pushed the door open, Jensen walking out of his bathroom in just his boxer briefs, wiping a towel over his head. He tugged it down and stared at you, your eyes going to his chest, legs and everywhere in between.

“I uh, wanted to make sure you were alright,” you said, ripping your eyes away and meeting his gaze. He nodded and tossed his towel back into the laundry basket by the closet.

“I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah. I uh-”

“No need to be nervous around me,” he said.

“Right,” you said, Jensen walking right in front of you before stopping. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay and to say thanks.”

“It’s my job,” he said.

“Still,” you said. “I...here. I thought you might like this.”

“A hoodie?” he asked as you handed him the fleece. “What’s this for?”

“S’my bad day hoodie. I wear it to bed sometimes. Makes me feel better,” you said with a shrug.

“Old boyfriend’s?” he asked as he pulled it on, a soft smile spreading across his cheeks. “It’s so soft. Thanks, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome,” you said.

“So was it the boyfriends? Or you get it for yourself?” he asked.

“It was a birthday present for my dad. He died the week before. I never got to give it to him.”

“I shouldn’t be wearing this,” he said, moving to take it off when you caught his wrists. He was so much stronger than you but he let you manhandle him and move his hands back to his sides.

“It fits you better than it ever did me. Besides, I think you’re a little on edge and not telling me which is fine. It’s good for that,” you said. “I want you to keep it.”

“Y/N, I can’t keep something like this,” he said. You stared at him, Jensen swallowing. “It’s important to you.”

“Yes. But you gave me your blanket and wouldn’t let me return it. Fair is fair,” you said.

“Y/N-”

“S’an order, Jensen. Keep it.”

“Yes mam,” he said quietly.

“I hate when you call me that,” you said, moving your hands away from him.

“I know you do,” he said, a quick smirk crossing his face. “Why aren’t you using this yourself tonight?”

“I got my blanket. I’m good,” you said.

“It doesn’t explain why you’re giving me this though.”

“Lately, something else has been making me feel better and safe. My dad would have liked you.”

“Your father was a good person. A brave person,” said Jensen.

“You know how he died,” you said, Jensen returning a nod. “I used to be really angry at him. Why’d he have to go help that woman? He could have walked past and been alive. But since I got older, if I was that woman being attacked, I would pray for a man like that to come help me. I know he was good.”

“I will do my very best to be that man for you,” he said.

“I know you will. If you need something, come get me,” you said.

“Y/N,” he said just as you spun around. “May I have the morning off? You will be with family and my sister is in town for the day for work. I’d like to get lunch with her if I could.”

“Take the day,” you said with a smile, looking back over your shoulder. “She can come to dinner if you like.”

“She’s got a flight back at five thirty,” he said. “Thanks though.”

“It’s no problem,” you said. “Goodnight, Jensen.”

“Goodnight,” he said. You pulled his door shut after yourself and went down to your own bedroom to get under the covers. You stared up at the ceiling, hearing a light pitter patter on the rooftop. Rain was so rare in LA that you normally welcomed it when it came around. It reminded you of back home in a way.

A text popped up on your phone just as you were closing your eyes. It was from Gen and was a link to some news article about the restaurant, a picture of you and Jensen front and center.

You wrote back you were fine and turned off your phone, knowing you’d have to deal with questions in the morning.

________

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #au #bodyguard!AU #bodyguard!jensen #bodyguard!jensen x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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