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luffles424 · 3 years

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Theory into Practice

☼ Pairing: Yoonji x reader x Jungkook

☼ Genre: fluff, smut, pwp (with some plot), teeny bit of angst, f2l, college au (technically more so grad school au)

☼ Count: 10.2K

☼ Warnings: 18+, drug use (pot), mentions of alcohol use, threesome, dom!Yoonji, dom!reader, sub!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, teasing, dirty talk, one thigh smack, thigh riding, fingering, hair pulling, breast play, oral (f & m receiving), face sitting, unprotected (pls stay safe), aftercare

☼ Summary: A normal night in with Yoonji leads to some interesting revelations with her and surprisingly, Jungkook.

☼ a/n: lmao it’s been a while. Hope you enjoy the Yoonji thirst, my girl doesn’t have enough fics out there. Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~

———

“Who of our friends do you think is the subbiest?”

You blink. It’s really a testament to how much you and Yoonji have smoked tonight that your immediate reaction isn’t to splutter at her question. Instead, you just blink slowly, the question slowly making its way through your synapses before you can articulate a response. You take another hit, using it to buy yourself a little more time. Holding the joint back out to her, you let the smoke slowly seep from your lips.

“Who says I’ve thought about it?”

You know exactly who you want to be subbiest. But you’re not going to reveal that. Maybe not yet. You might be high, but you still have enough of your wits to keep from spilling things you want to keep hidden. You’ve had good practice at that, smoking often with her and never divulging your crush, even when the topic of partners has come up. Which does come up fairly often as you both attempt to navigate dating while in grad school.

There’s a snort from the other end of the couch and Yoonji’s head lulls against the back of it so she can fix you with hazy, unimpressed eyes, though there’s a smirk just barely tugging at her lips. “I didn’t. But we’re talking about it now.”

Pursing your lips, you think of how to respond. In truth, you’ve thought about it a little, but not particularly in relation to your whole group of friends. Maybe just a person or two who you were particularly interested in that are in said friend group. Most notably, the women sitting on the other end of the couch from you currently.

Yoonji laughs, foot kicking out to nudge you, and you grin at the flood of happiness that always accompanies hearing her laugh. “Damn, it’s not that deep. Why are you thinking so hard?”

Catching her foot, you dig your thumb into the sole of her foot, causing you both to dissolve into giggles. “We have a lot of friends,” you shoot back. An excuse and you both know it.

You and Yoonji have been friends for too long for you to really be able to avoid answering a direct query. It’s only been luck that has kept your crush hidden from her. You’ve been friends since you met in 2nd year of undergrad, paired randomly as roommates and then continuing to remain roommates until even now when you live off campus in an apartment together. And many of your friends have come together and you both now share a common friend group.

Once Yoonji wrestles her foot free of your tickling grasp, she shifts in her seat, face far more serious than the topic at hand should really call for. “Fine, fine. I’ll accept your excuse,” she gives you a look that’s hard to interpret, though you mostly just don’t want to think too hard about the calculating look she’s giving you. It leaves you feeling exposed, like she can read your thoughts and knows all of your deepest secrets. Which is partially true, you and Yoonji share everything, save your feelings for her. “Which way do you think Jimin goes?”

She’s really going to make you do this? Well, you might as well give some actual thought to this. “With his praise kink? Definitely more sub leaning?”

Yoonji raises an eyebrow. “Leaning?”

“Well yeah. He’s definitely a switch. You’ve seen how he is when he’s focused. But he also likes helping others. Plus,” you pause, mostly just to be dramatic as you smirk knowingly, Yoonji leaning closer as she waits for what you’re going to say next, “Siyeon said he’s as good a dom as he is a sub.”

Scoffing, Yoonji reaches over to give you a little shove. “That’s cheating!”

You giggle, catching her hand before she pushes again. “It’s not!”

“It is! That’s insider information! This is supposed to be our opinion.”

Waving her off, you settle back onto the couch. “I gave my opinion. I would’ve had that before Siyeon told me. All she did was confirm.” You pause thoughtfully for a moment. You don’t want this to be all you, so you pose the next friend to her instead. “What about Seokjin?”

Yoonji drums her fingers on her bare thigh and you have to fight the urge to get lost in staring at the vast expanse of smooth, exposed skin she’s subjecting you to tonight while you’re impaired like this. You want to know if they’re as soft as they look. You know her hands aren’t, not anymore since she started learning guitar, finger’s growing rough and calloused. The first time she had held your hand after had startled you, now you love feeling the slight roughness brush against your skin. Dragging your gaze from her fingers to her face, you watch as she starts to speak, trying to remain focused on her words and not the way her pretty pink lips form them.

“As much as I’d love to say sub because he would be just absolutely gorgeous all tied up and begging. I think he’s a bit more dom-ish.”

Mulling it over for a moment, you nod. He likes caring for all your friends, you can certainly see that transferring over into the bedroom. You add, “Yeah… But like, a soft one, ya know? He’d be so gentle and caring about it. I bet his aftercare game is amazing.”

Shifting, Yoonji stretches her legs out and echoes your thoughts. “Definitely. You’ve seen the way he cares for all of us, but definitely the younger guys. He’d be so amazing at that. What about Taehyung?”

“Hm, a dom. Maybe a little less gentle than Seokjin, but still a soft-ish dom. Namjoon?”

“Dom leaning switch. Sometimes he just really needs to get out of his head and let go of control. Hoseok?”

“Straight up switch. I think he probably doms more often but he’s all too happy to go with whatever his partner is in the mood for. Jungkook?”

Yoonji’s face lights up. “Oh,” she coos. “The sweetest sub ever.”

You stare at the way her eyes seem to glaze over with her words and something like jealousy swirls with heat in your belly. You can’t tell if the spike of jealousy is about the way she sighed her answer so sweetly, like she’s thought a lot about this. Or if it’s because you have the same thoughts and some part of you feels possessive over Jungkook. “Why’s that?”

She shoots you a coy smile that leaves you feeling slightly uneasy. “He’s just such a sweet boy and always so eager to please.”

You can’t deny that you’ve also thought that, dreamed that were true. You’ve heard rumors of how Jungkook is in bed. Domineering, cocky, rough. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining him beneath you, whimpering and begging. Yoonji nudges you and you blink at her, realizing that you must’ve zoned out for a moment. She purses her lips, barely hiding her knowing smile.

“One more,” she declares.

Frowning, you think through your shared friends, but can’t imagine who she might be referring to. “Who?”

Her answering smirk has your heart stuttering in your chest, equal parts dreading what’s about to come out of her mouth and anticipating. “Me.”

You swallow. She’s really going to make you answer that to her face? While you’re both high? You chew your lip, looking her over slowly. You know exactly how she leans, the benefit and downside to living together for so long. The words stick in your throat though, not quite able to bring yourself to voice your knowledge. To give yourself away like that, to show just how much you’ve paid attention. Yoonji says nothing though, looking at you expectantly as she waits for your answer.

Taking a deep breath, you rationalize that this is just a game. You’re just giving opinions. It doesn’t have to be incriminating to anything deeper. You just won’t give reasons, just an answer which way she leans. “Dom.”

She grins, looking pleased with your answer. “You too.”

“What?” you blink at her, confused by what she means.

“I think you’re a dom too.”

Your breath catches. You hadn’t thought about the fact that if you knew her preferences then she likely knew yours well. You’ve both talked about your sex lives with each other, but you’ve never delved deeply into what happens when you’re in your room with others. Staring at each other, your mind races. How much has she heard? How much does she truly know? Her gaze drops to your lips for a moment.

But before the conversation can go any further, there’s a knock at the door. The tension that built between the two of you suddenly breaks as Yoonji crows happily, jumping from her seat to go retrieve the food you’d ordered. Burying your face in your hands, you take a few deep breaths, trying to get your thoughts under control. You really can’t be sitting here, high and horny and thinking about Yoonji and Jungkook. Especially not while one of those people is sitting here with you.

By the time she’s back with food, you’ve got your tangled thoughts mostly controlled and the previous conversation isn’t brought up again. Yoonji complains about something Namjoon did while they were studying earlier in the day and then you’re both complaining about school and theses and classes and thoughts on doms and subs is forgotten about entirely. And you’re all too happy to just forget it happened at all.

At least for the most part. You can’t help it if in the late hours of night, when exhaustion reigns and sleep eludes you, if you let your thoughts slip to less pure things as you hand slips into your panties. If when you’re alone, you think of you and Yoonji knelt over Jungkook as his big, shiny eyes shine brighter with overwhelmed tears and begs his noonas to let him cum. You don’t let it leave those times though, left in the dark and forgotten in the daylight hours. You ignore the thoughts when you go to lunch with Jungkook, have dinner with all your friends, go grocery shopping with Yoonji, let yourself act as if that conversation never happened.

You assume Yoonji has forgotten it too. Or at least chosen to leave that conversation with that night.

Until you come home from buying snacks one night for the weekly smoking session to find Jungkook there too. Which in and of itself isn’t too strange. While you and Yoonji are the primary partakers of this night, all of your friends rotate in and out when the mood strikes. Most of the others usually go out drinking. Or study. And everyone rotates between the three activities with whatever strikes their mood (or is required by their grades).

But Jungkook had said earlier in the day that he was going out with Tae and Jimin. He’s not even dressed for it, like he was just stopping by for a moment and then going to meet up with the others. Instead dressed comfortably in loose gray sweats and a matching sweatshirt, his blond hair still slightly damp from a shower under the hood he still has pulled up.

You give him a smile as you set the snacks on the coffee table and move to sit on the couch. “I thought you were going out to drink?”

Jungkook shuffles from foot to foot nervously, glancing from you to Yoonji, who’s sat on the other side of the couch. “I uh… changed my mind?”

You frown, unsure of his odd behavior. He’s acting as if he’s never been to your apartment before, despite the fact that besides the two of you, he’s here the most. But Yoonji simply beckons him to sit, which he does so after a moment of hesitation, nervously tugging his hood off his head. Once he sits, you expect Yoonji to pull out a blunt and get the night started, but the silence stretches and she makes no moves to do so. You reach out to nudge her, head tilted questioningly.

She gives you a quick glance before looking at Jungkook. “I have a proposition. For you both.” Brows furrowing, you’re about to question her when she continues. “Your noonas have a little theory they’d like to test.”

Your heart stops. There’s only one possible thing she could be talking about that would involve both a proposition and a theory that you both had. Is she just planning to ask him? But that wouldn’t involve a proposition…

Oh.

She’s planning to ask him to let you both dom him. Stomach knotting uncomfortably, you worry that this could ruin the friendship the three of you share. That it could ruin the entire friendship dynamic of the whole group. You could lose a roommate, friends. But even with the bad scenarios running through your mind, you can’t deny the bolt of heat that sears straight to your core at even the barest hint of possibility of getting the pretty boy before you underneath you instead.

Jungkook swallows, gaze darting from Yoonji to you and back. You wonder what Yoonji said to him to get him to come tonight. “What… What’s the theory?”

She gives a soft smile, but there's a predatory edge to it. You’ve seen it on her when you’ve gone to bars and clubs, wielded against unsuspecting people that she wants to spend the night with. You’ve seen the effects of that look on people and Jungkook is no different, already looking like he’s hooked on her every word, even if there’s still a touch of nerves in the tense line of his shoulders. She gestures for Jungkook to move from the chair to sit between you both on the couch. He hesitates before shuffling the short distance to sit where directed. You can’t help but note that he’s good at following instructions. It makes something hot twist in your belly.

Yoonji shifts, kneeling on the cushion so she can press closer to Jungkook, close enough to whisper in his ear, though her tone is loud enough for you to hear too. “Your noonas have a theory that you are just the sweetest little sub ever.”

Jungkook tenses up at the words, and though it’s hard to tell if it’s from discomfort or just shock at Yoonji’s bold statement, you slide closer to be a reassuring hand to counterpoint Yoonji’s boldness.

“If anything makes you uncomfortable, Jungkook, just tell us. We don’t want to cause you any discomfort, okay?” you murmur soothingly, hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. Yoonji peaks around to give you a grateful smile, although you’re unsure if it’s because you are joining her in her proposition or if it’s because you know enough to ensure that Jungkook’s comfort is the most important thing here.

Thinking for a moment, Jungkook gives a small nod and Yoonji takes that as her sign to continue. “Would you let your noonas find out if they’re right?”

“B-both of you?” he swallows, gaze darting between the two of you.

Leaning closer, you let your lips brush his ear, relishing the shiver you feel run through him. “Your noonas have seen the way you look at them when we dance together on nights out.”

He stiffens beneath you and you pull back just enough to see the flush starting to color his cheeks. In truth, you know he’s not the only one that does. Jimin and Taehyung fairly regularly comment on how you both steal the show. And you and Yoonji aren’t blind, you know the way you both captivate an audience when you’re together, dressed up and putting on a show just for the thrill. But you’ve definitely caught Jungkook staring the most. Eyes hooded and lips parted like you and Yoonji are there solely for his entertainment. The way you’ve seen him have to restrain himself from approaching the both of you. It’s even more thrilling than the eyes of strangers on you.

Yoonji coos. “Do you like watching your noonas together, baby?”

She doesn’t allow him a chance to answer though because as soon as the question has been asked, she’s nudging him back so he’s more reclined, leaving the two of you staring at each other over his chest. A moment passes, where you just stare at each other, as Jungkook looks between you both.

There’s a wry twist to her lips and then she’s reaching out to pull you in for a kiss. The sudden press of her soft lips to yours has your brain short circuiting. All thought and reason leaving you, focus narrowed entirely down to the pressure of her mouth on yours. She tastes like strawberry and the sudden, lightest brush of her tongue across your lip has your brain kick starting again just as she starts to pull away. That simply won’t do. Hand tangling in her hair, you keep her close, keep the kiss going as you deepen it and you relish the slick slide of her tongue against yours.

You’ve imagined kissing her so much, but it’s nothing compared to reality. Yoonji is demanding, just as demanding as you are, and there are moments where the kiss turns a little rougher as one of you tries for the upper hand. It’s addicting, the feel of her, the rush, that you get lost in the kiss. So much so, that you entirely forget about Jungkook beneath you until he lets out a soft whimper. Pulling away from Yoonji, you both glance down at him and you nearly coo at the sight. He looks much like he does on nights that you’ve caught him watching you dance. But up close like this, you can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his tongue darts out occasionally to lick at his pink, bitten lips, how blown his eyes are already and he hasn’t even been touched yet.

Disentangling yourself from Yoonji, you run an affectionate hand through Jungkook’s hair. “Do you want this, baby?” When he starts to nod again, you tighten your hand in his hair, halting his movement. “We need your words, Jungkook.”

His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He clears his throat, eyes darting down in embarrassment before trying again. “Yes, noona. Want this… Want you both…”

Pleased, you let your hand drift down, cupping his cheek and thumbing gently along his cheekbone. “Yeah? Have you thought about this a lot? Have you thought about your noonas often?”

Swallowing, his gaze darts between the two of you nervously. And oh, you had just been teasing. But the nervous flit of his gaze, the way he won’t focus on either of you for longer than a moment. He has thought about the two of you. You wonder what he’s thought about, for how long. Has he touched himself while thinking about one of you? Both of you? Yoonji seems to pick up on the implication of his nonanswer too, because her lips are curling into a teasing smirk.

“Have you, baby? What a naughty boy. Thinking about your noonas like that.” Jungkook squirms, mouth open like he’s about to protest the statement, but Yoonji continues speaking. “Noona has too. Thought about how pretty you’d look and how good you’d be.”

Jungkook falters, blinking big eyes up at Yoonji with wonder. Like he never imagined that either of you would think of him the way he thinks of you. A breath shudders out of him as his eyes squeeze closed. You make the decision to move this from the couch if you’re going to go through with it.

Shifting, you push yourself to your feet, glancing at Yoonji to see that she follows your actions with a questioning furrow to her brows. Jungkook blinks his eyes open at the movement, blinking up at you both. You hold your hand out and after a moment, he takes it. Pulling him to his feet, Yoonji grabs his other hand and takes charge in leading Jungkook down the hall to her bedroom.

The air in Yoonji’s room feels thick with heat. She flips a light on, letting soft, purple light fill the room and leaving it cast in subdued shades. You both release Jungkook’s hands, moving in near perfect synchronicity despite the fact that you’ve never done this before. There’s something unspoken that moves you both together. Standing side by side, you both face Jungkook, gazes slowly trailing over the younger man. He shuffles on his feet under the scrutiny, hands clasping in front of him like he’s a child about to be scolded.

Yoonji’s head tilts, finger coming up to tap her chin in thought. “Something seems wrong here, doesn’t it?”

Humming, you nod in agreeance. “Yes, yes it does. Jungkook,” the boy starts at the call of his name, head jerking up to stare at you, like a deer caught in the headlights.

Yoonji snaps her fingers. “You’re right. Jungkook, baby, strip for your noonas.”

“N-now?” His fingers twitch where they’re clasped before him.

It’s cute how shy he has become. You’ve seen him shamelessly strip his shirt off at parties to do body shots, confidently pick up women at bars, boldly barge into rooms and capture everyone’s attention. You’ve only seen him this shy once, and that was when you all had first met him, before he had come out of his shell and grown close to you all.

When he makes no move to start undressing, you speak up. “Jungkook,” you wait until he’s looking at you. “Do you know the stoplight system?” He thinks for a moment before nodding, face clouded with confusion. “Color?”

Gaze darting from you to Yoonji and back again, his tongue peaks for a moment. “Green.”

Yoonji grins proudly at the answer. “Aw, are you just shy then, baby? Nervous about being naked in front of your noonas for the first time?”

Ducking his head, Jungkook gives you both a quick nod that you just want to coo over, however inappropriate that reaction may be right now be damned. Instead, you shoot for comforting. “How about we start slow then? Just your shirt. You can do that, can’t you, baby? We’ve seen you shirtless plenty of times before.”

Jungkook fidgets for another moment before his fingers grip the edge of his baggy sweater. Eyes squeezing shut, there’s only only a second more of hesitation before the sweater is being pulled up and off. He clings to it, the fabric hanging in his hands in front of his chest, but doing very little to hide anything. He peaks an eye open and sees the way Yoonji quirks an eyebrow at him and the sweater drops from his hands to the floor.

You’ve seen Jungkook shirtless plenty of times. Your entire friend group has. There was a period of a few months back towards the beginning of your friendship after he had gotten comfortable with you all that you would’ve sworn that he was allergic to shirts with how often you saw him shirtless. You know how toned he is, have been subjected to his ridiculous workouts on occasion, how diligently he works out simply for the fun of it. Muscles that shift under golden skin that you’ve seen at parties and on beach trips, that you’ve allowed yourself to glance out, appreciate and take in, but never to stare for too long and get caught.

Now though, you drink your fill of the sight before you. Jungkook is tall, and when he’s shirtless he exudes a cockiness born from the hungry looks of others; his posture always making him seem taller, take up more space. But now, now his shoulders are hunched, like he’s trying to make himself smaller, seem less big even though his muscles make that nearly impossible.

He glances up at you both through the curtain of blonde bangs and you can see the way the flush from his cheeks starts to spread down his neck and chest. It makes you itch to mark the pretty skin up, stake a claim on the sweet, shy boy before you.

There’s a pleased hum from beside you. “Such a good boy, Jungkookie. You’re so good for your noonas, aren’t you?”

He nods quickly, eyes positively shining at the praise. Well, you both certainly pegged that one right. Oh, now there’s an idea. That might have to wait though. You don’t want to completely overwhelm him right at the start.

“Now the pants, baby,” you grin, watching the way he swallows at the command.

Hands trembling slightly as he reaches for the waistband of his sweats, his nerves seem to grow now that he’s about to be fully exposed before you both. He takes a deep breath and then shoves his sweats and underwear down his legs. Your breath catches in your throat and you know Yoonji must be having a similar reaction given the sharp inhale you hear from her.

Jungkook is absolutely stunning naked. You’ve known that his thighs were thick and just as toned as the rest of him, catching glimpses of the thick, corded muscles whenever he ditched sweats and his baggier clothing for jeans that looked like they’d been painted onto him. His hands immediately come together again in an attempt to cover his cock, already hard and leaking. But his hands do little to cover his long, thick cock, but it’s endearingly adorable that he tries.

“So pretty,” you murmur, eyes tracing over every inch of skin. You don’t know what you want to do first to him, so many ideas flash through your mind as you stare at him.

“So good, too. Can you lay down on the bed for us now, baby?”

Shyness seemingly forgotten for a moment, Jungkook nearly launches himself onto the bed, landing with a little bounce before he’s shuffling around so he’s stretched out in the middle of Yoonji’s bed. His eagerness is a good sign, showing that even if he’s nervous, that he very much wants to be here. The dark bedspread makes his skin seem to glow more and he looks absolutely gorgeous spread out for you.

Yoonji moves closer to the bed and you move to follow suit and stand beside her at the foot, both of you just taking a moment to look at Jungkook. His cock twitches where it rests against his belly and heat pools in your belly at the knowledge that it’s yours to touch. At least for tonight.

She turns to you then, hands landing on your hips to pull you closer. Chewing her lip for a moment, there’s an emotion that briefly flits across her face but before you can pin down what exactly it is she’s leaning in to press her lips to yours once again. Not letting yourself dwell on her expression, at least not now when there’s a very eager boy spread out for you both and Yoonji’s tongue slipping into your mouth. You can overthink later. Right now, you should just let yourself fall into the feel of her.

Her fingers dig into your hips and you let her get away with it only because you take the opportunity to slip your hands beneath her shirt, gripping her waist just as tightly for a moment before you’re tugging her shirt up and off. Kiss momentarily broken, you take the brief pause to look her over. Her bra is black and lacy, pushing her breasts up in a way that makes you want to get your mouth on them . You also know for a fact that it’s her ‘getting laid’ bra. Meaning she must have been pretty confident that the two of you would agree to this. You’re a little mad that she didn’t give you any sort of heads up to let you wear something better than just a comfy, colorful bra you use for daily wear. At least it’s cute.

Leaning in, you nip harshly at her bottom lip in retaliation and you know by her giggle that she knows exactly what it was for. What a cruel tease, you’re definitely going to get her back in the future. You don’t know how just yet, but you will. You sooth the bite with your tongue, but you don’t get a chance for another proper kiss because Yoonji takes the opportunity to tug your shirt off as well. She pulls away after dropping your shirt to the floor, hungrily eyeing you up as her tongue wets her lips. You feel a heady rush at being able to pull such a look from the typically collected Yoonji.

A moan pulls your attention back to the bed, where Jungkook has taken it upon himself to start lazily stroking himself, muscles shifting as his hips flex up into his grip. Exchanging glances, you and Yoonji quickly rid yourselves of your bottoms before climbing onto the bed on either side of Jungkook. This behavior simply won’t do.

Sitting on your knees beside his thigh, you're quick to let your hand smack against the skin there. The sound echoes in the quiet room and Jungkook jerks, though you don’t know if it’s more from the sudden sound or the heat that blooms across his thigh even if the smack you gave him was fairly mild in terms of punishment. But it has the desired effect, his hand halting on his cock, though he doesn’t remove his hand from himself. His expression morphs into a mix of betrayal and confusion.

“Oh, sweet boy,” Yoonji coos, hand wrapping around his wrist. “Have you ever done this before?”

Swallowing, he looks nervous again, gaze darting around the room, but never landing on either of you before he minutely shakes his head. Yoonji gently pulls his hand from his cock, letting it slap wetly against his belly.

“Aw, you poor thing. Have you always had to be the one in charge, huh? Do those girls see your big, pretty muscles and tattoos and just assume that you’re going to be domineering too? No one’s ever taken care of you like you deserve?” Yoonji murmurs, eyes burning as she speaks.

Jungkook’s breath hitches as he blinks up at Yoonji. He shakes his head slightly and you can see how deeply he wants this. Wants to try, to let go and have someone else take control for once. Letting your fingers trail up his thigh, you trace a single fingertip up his cock with a featherlight touch, drawing a delightful gasp from him. He’s so sensitive to touch, it’s going to make this so much more fun.

“Lesson number one, baby. No touching without permission. That includes your pretty little cock. Bad boys get punished.”

“And punishment can get much worse than a little slap on the thigh, sweetheart.”

His eyes widen. “I-I’m sorry! I d-didn’t know!”

Shushing him, you rub soothingly at the red mark you left on his thigh. It’s light and fairly small, a testament to how tame the smack was, but it makes you want to leave more, make them darker. Marks that remain for days, that remind Jungkook of your hands on him. “It’s okay, baby. You’re still learning. You won’t be punished.” You smirk teasingly. “This time at least.”

Licking his lips, he looks between you both. You can tell he’s thinking about something, but you can’t tell if the thought of punishment might actually be enticing to him or if he’s trying to figure out the rules without being told. Always the overachiever.

Yoonji releases his hand, letting it fall to rest against the bed once more. “We’ll go easy on you, baby, don’t worry. You’ll be a good boy for us, won’t you?” Jungkook nods quickly, hands clenching at the bedspread. “What do you want, baby?”

“Want…” he licks his lips, seems to think slowly over his wants in this moment. “Wanna see you kiss again.”

You giggle. “Aw, sweet thing,” you glance over at Yoonji, “doesn’t even want a kiss for himself.”

Yoonji tsks, wide grin matching yours. “Someone must really enjoy watching.”

Planting a hand high on Jungkook’s thigh, Yoonji mirrors your actions as you both lean closer to meet over Jungkook once more. This kiss is slow, you take your time and enjoy the feel of her soft mouth against yours. You could easily get lost in the kiss again, it would be so easy. Jungkook’s thigh twitches beneath your hand and you give him a small squeeze, acknowledge that you haven’t forgotten about him and it draws a soft moan from him.

The sound seems to spark something in Yoonji, as she surges closer, deepening the kiss. Her free hand comes up to rest on the side of your neck, thumb brushing along your jaw. Not wanting to be outdone, you reach out and let your fingers trace her collarbone before following her sternum down until you can palm at one of her covered breasts. That draws a soft gasp from her that you greedily swallow down.

Her hand tightens on your neck, pulling like it’s possible to pull you closer and her other hand abandons Jungkook’s thigh to grope at your breast. You both get greedy for the feel of each other. Your hand quickly leaves Jungkook’s thigh as well, slipping behind Yoonji to undo her bra. It falls slack on her shoulders, hindered from coming off by her hands on you. Bumping her hands off for a moment, you tug the offending article free from her and toss it off the bed. Yoonji wastes no time in getting her hands back on you once you’ve removed the bra and you’re now free to palm her tits in your hands.

Jungkook whimpers below you both, his hand bumps your thigh before it’s being jerked away. “N-noona…”

Parting with a gasp, you both look down at Jungkook, his hands fisted at his sides, knuckles nearly white. Your hands fall from each other as you give the prone man your attention. You’re impressed with his restraint, you hadn’t expected him to be so well behaved the very first time. But that’s actually pretty typical of Jungkook, excelling at anything he tries.

His pupils are blown with lust and he swallows his nerves as he speaks. “C-can… Can I touch too?”

“You wanna touch your noonas while they kiss, baby?” Yoonji asks. He nods, eyes wide and Yoonji’s answering smirk is bordering on mean. “Why?”

“W-what?”

“Why do you want to touch your noonas while they kiss, baby? I thought you just wanted us to kiss and touch each other?”

He looks to you, seemingly lost by the question. But you simply raise an eyebrow and wait for an answer. He squirms a little, cock twitching. “Um… I… I…”

“Have you thought about touching us before?” you murmur, reaching out to cup Yoonji’s breast, thumbing at the nipple and drawing a sigh from her. “Have you thought about noona’s pretty tits and how they’d feel in your hands?”

Whining, Jungkook nods his assent eagerly, eyes fixed firmly on where your hand plays with Yoonji. Yoonji presses a quick kiss to your lips, casting a teasing look to Jungkook before she’s reaching up to unclasp your bra and tug it off of you to toss it behind her. Yoonji raises herself up onto her knees, pulling you with, and she leans you both together until your breasts press together. They’re just as soft against you as they were in your hands. If you weren’t focused on teasing Jungkook, you’d pin her down and get your mouth on them.

She glances to the side to look at Jungkook. “How do you wanna touch, baby?”

His eyes drag down your bodies slowly, gaze darting so quickly like there’s so much he wants to touch and he doesn’t know where to even begin. “Noona…” he whines.

You chuckle. “Aw, baby. Do you need your noonas to help you?”

“Please.”

“Put your hands on our hips.”

He’s eager and quick to comply, hands coming up to rest hot and heavy against the curve of your hip. His fingers flex against you, like he wants to move his hand to touch more but they remain in place. Yoonji leans in to kiss you again and you think you could kiss her forever. After a moment, you break the kiss, trailing your lips along her jaw and down her neck. Laving your tongue over her pulse point, you relish the shiver that runs through her. You’re overcome with the urge to mark her and so you let your teeth sink into her skin before soothing it with your tongue and sucking kisses. Yoonji groans in the back of her throat and you move down her neck to suck another dark mark and draw more noises from her.

You know logically that she’s been as affected by all this as you, but hearing the proof is intoxicating. It goes straight to your pussy and the longer you go on, the more you feel drip from you to soak your panties.

“What do you want next, baby?” Yoonji pants, hand reaching to cover the hand on your hip. His gaze drops to where your breasts are pressed together, but he doesn’t say anything. “Do you wanna touch noonas’ tits? Greedy boy,” she chuckles breathlessly, ending in a gasp when you nip at her collarbone.

His hands twitch against you like he is fighting the urge to just do what he wants, to do what he’s always done with women. But he remains diligent and keeps his hands where he was told too. Pressing one last kiss to Yoonji’s neck, you pull away, staring at the darkening marks while a possessive heat curls in your belly. You shift then, nudging Jungkook’s thighs slightly apart and then you’re throwing a leg over to straddle his thigh, dropping down to press your clothed pussy against the corded muscle. The damp material drags deliciously against your pussy and any other time, you would ride his thigh until he was begging you to touch him or let him touch.

Gasping, Jungkook’s hand tightens enough to bruise and you grin down at him. “Can you feel how wet noona is for you, baby?”

He nods a little dazedly, looking down where you’re pressed against his thigh like he can’t believe what he’s feeling or seeing. Giving a little grind, you feel a rush of desire run through you at the breath that rushes from Jungkook’s lips.

“Baby,” you purr, “didn’t you want to touch noona’s tits?”

“Please…”

“Go ahead, baby.”

His hand quickly abandons your hip once he’s given permission; big, warm palm cupping one of your breasts like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched. You have to fight down the urge to giggle at the unexpected tenderness. Yoonji moves beside you, straddling Jungkook’s other thigh and she takes the opportunity to move Jungkook’s other hand for him, placing it over one of her breasts.

Gaze darting from one hand to the other, his hands remain frozen for a long moment before he’s tentatively squeezing. Then he quickly grows more confident, seemingly more familiar with at least this part as his fingers tease at your nipple. Leaning slightly to the side, you press a kiss to Yoonji’s shoulder until you have her attention and then you’re pressing your lips to hers once more. Letting your hand slip into her hair, you tilt her head, deepening the kiss. Her hand lands on your waist, fingers tracing a burning path down until they can grope at your ass.

Your hips jerk, clit dragging across Jungkook’s thigh and a moment later, you feel his muscles shift as he flexes. Breaking the kiss with a gasp, you glance down at him with a smirk. Jungkook looks perfectly debauched beneath you both. The flush dusting his cheeks stretches down his chest, his bright eyes burn with want as his hands work on both you and Yoonji. His cock rests heavy against his belly, tip dark with neglect, but he seems wholly oblivious to it even as your attention zeroes in on it.

“What a good boy you’re being. Giving noona something to grind against?”

His dick twitches at that and you let a finger brush gently down the length. A loud gasp leaves his lips, hips straining upward but he can’t get very far with the combined weight of you and Yoonji pinning his legs down. You give a deliberate grind down, Jungkook’s eyes quickly zeroing in on where your clothed pussy meets his bare thigh. Hands falling still on your breast, he licks his lips before his hand is slowly sliding down to timidly tug at the waistband of your panties.

“Can… Can these come off?”

Yoonji hums. “Wanna see noona’s bare pussy, baby?”

Nodding quickly, he looks up at you both with wide eyes. “Yes, please. Wanna see.”

The hand on your ass slides around to rest just on the waistband of your panties. “You wanna see just how wet our pretty baby boy has made us?”

Breath shuddering, he nods again, eyes trained on Yoonji’s hand as it finally slips into your panties. You groan as her fingers slip between your folds, fingertips teasing across your clit before dipping lower to gather your wetness. Before she can do much more than leave a few teasing touches, she’s pulling her hand from your panties and holding her hand up for you all to see. Jungkook’s gaze bores into the glistening digits, licking his lips slowly.

“Open,” she commands and his mouth falls obediently open, hope shining in his eyes when her fingers inch closer to his lips. “Do you want to taste noona?”

“Yes,” he breaths out, tongue extending like it’ll get Yoonji’s fingers to his mouth faster.

She stops just before she reaches his tongue and when he strains closer in an attempt to touch, she pulls her fingers away, keeping them teasingly just out of his reach. “Answer noona’s question first, baby. Good boy’s always answer when asked a question. And you wouldn’t want to be bad, now would you?”

Blonde hair flies as he quickly shakes his head no. “No! I’m good! I promise! Please, I wanna taste noona!”

Yoonji’s smile softens. “What a good boy.”

With that, her fingers press against his tongue. Moaning, Jungkook’s lips close around the digits as he sucks enthusiastically. You wonder if he’s as enthusiastic when he’s eating someone out and your pussy clenches at the thought. A few moments later, she pulls her fingers free and Jungkook’s lips purse in a pout, drawing a laugh from both of you. You shift, finally tugging your panties down to discard over the edge of the bed. Jungkook’s eyes are drawn back to your pussy, now bared for him to see.

His hand twitches where it rests against your hip, but it doesn’t move and there’s a rush of heat that accompanies the fact that he’s doing so well already. Turning to Yoonji, you begin to tug at her panties, earning a laugh from her as she moves to help you get them off of her.

As much as you want to take in Jungkook’s reaction to you both being naked before him, you can’t stop the greedy part of you that reaches out to slip your hand between her legs to touch. A soft sigh leaves her lips and you can’t help but lean in to smother the sound with a kiss. Your fingers find her just as wet as you are yourself and you relish in the moment to tease your fingers along her pussy.

Whining, Jungkook squirms beneath you both, thigh inadvertently bumping your hand harder against Yoonji and further smearing her wetness across your palm. You pull your hand away and Jungkook follows the movement with laser focus.

“Want to taste your other noona, baby?” you tease.

“Yes, please,” he murmurs.

Biting your lip on a smile, you move your hand slowly closer to his open mouth, watching the way his eyes light up with excitement. But before you reach his lips, you stop, drawing a pretty pout from the boy. Then you wink and you quickly bring your fingers to your own mouth instead. Twin gasps greet the action as you slip two fingers into your mouth and moan at the taste of Yoonji on your tongue. Your eyes slip closed as you suck your fingers clean and when you pull your fingers free and glance down to Jungkook, you’re met with a look that is equal parts jealous and hungry.

Hand dropping to the bed beside him, his eyes widen as you lean over him. “Still want a taste, baby?”

His gaze darts to your lips as he nods. You seal your mouth over his, taking advantage of the surprised part to his lips to slip your tongue in. He whimpers, hands coming up to rest on your hips as he chases the taste of Yoonji on your lips.

Kissing Jungkook is nothing like kissing Yoonji. He’s like putty beneath you, following your lead where Yoonji fought you for control, kept you on your toes. Not necessarily aggressive, but Yoonji kisses you with a consuming hunger, burning you from the inside out. Jungkook is like a breath of fresh air, he’s soft and needy, making these quiet little huffs with each brush of your tongue. You wonder if he realizes that he’s moved his hands, that he’s touching you when he’s not supposed to be, but you decide to let it slide just this once. You’re much more interested in drawing out more of those sweet, little sounds from him.

A moment later though, his hands are being pulled away and Yoonji is tutting him as she leans against you to pin his hands to the bed. “Naughty boy, what did we say about touching?”

With a whine, he pulls away from your mouth. “‘M sorry... “

You snicker. “Is noona so good at kissing that you forgot the rules, sweet thing?”

Jungkook lets out a low whine again. “Noona.”

Yoonji shifts against you, hands adjusting her grip on Jungkook’s wrists and you’re momentarily distracted by the press of her breasts against your back. Pressing again, she forces you to drop fully against Jungkook as she hooks her chin over your shoulder.

“I’ll just have to hold you while noona kisses you, hm?”

He squirms beneath you and you see him strain feebly against Yoonji’s hands. You all know that he could easily break her hold; that the strain he shows is feigned and exaggerated. But his acquiescence to her grip, to you both taking control, is the most telling thing to his desires. He wants this, just as much as you both. Even if he’s new and inexperienced in this aspect, he wants.

His lips part with small huffs and you can’t help yourself when you dip back down to kiss him. He squirms again before melting entirely into the kiss, letting Yoonji hold him still while you lick into his mouth. A heady rush fills you at his pliancy, you always imagined him submitting, but it was nothing like this. Jungkook behaves like he’s been subbing for you both for ages, like he knows the routine, that the momentary lapses in following the rules is nothing more than being a little bratty to provoke a reaction.

The kiss stretches, you don’t know for how long, getting lost in the feeling of Jungkook beneath you and the softness of Yoonji’s breasts pressing into your back. Jungkook’s hips twitch, his cock brushing wetly against your side and you finally decide to have some mercy on him. Lifting slightly, Yoonji gets the hint and sits up fully, allowing you to do the same. You smile at the way Jungkook is laid out, eyes lidded, lips kiss swollen and flush sitting high on his cheeks. He looks fucked out already and barely anything has happened yet.

Taking Yoonji’s hand in yours, you lift it to your lips to press a soft kiss to the palm. “I think it’s time to reward our baby, hm? He’s been so good for his first time.”

Her fingers brush your cheek as she smiles. “He does.” She turns her attention back to Jungkook. “How do you want your noonas, baby?”

Swallowing, his gaze flicks back and forth between the two of you. He takes a long time to answer, seemingly nervous. “I… I don’t know… I’m s-sorry…”

“Aw sweetheart, there’s no need to be sorry. You’re just overwhelmed, huh?” He nods, lips pursed in a pout, and you continue. “Do you want your noonas to pick something for your reward for you?”

“Yes, please… There’s too many things… I can’t pick…”

You pat his side affectionately. “It’s okay, baby. Noonas will take good care of you.”

His eyes shine at your praise as he nods eagerly. You and Yoonji exchange looks and seem to be thinking the same thing as you move off Jungkook’s thigh to move further up the bed and Yoonji shifts to fully straddle his hips.

Yoonji grins as she sees the way Jungkook follows your movement. “Ever had someone sit on your face, baby?”

Eyes widening, his gaze darts to Yoonji before turning back to you and you raise an eyebrow when he doesn’t answer. “N-no…”

“Pinch my thigh if you need to stop for any reason, okay, baby?” You wait for him to murmur a quiet ‘okay’ before moving to throw your leg over his head.

You feel his breath hot against your wet folds and when you glance up at Yoonji, you see her focus is trained where you sit just above Jungkook’s mouth. With a lick of your lips, you lower yourself until your pussy presses to Jungkook’s mouth, which instantly falls open, tongue darting out to lap at your slit. Groaning, you grind against his tongue, giving yourself a few seconds to enjoy the pleasure sizzling in your belly.

Then you’re reaching up for Yoonji, grabbing her hips to tug her until she’s hovering over Jungkook’s cock. One hand slides from her hips and you let your fingers trace lightly along her slit, knuckles brushing his cock as you do.

You hold Yoonji’s gaze as you begin speaking, fingers dipping between her folds to tease at her clit. “Gotta get noona ready for you, baby. Get her nice and stretched for your big, pretty cock.”

Jungkook whines against you and Yoonji lets out a low moan as you slip a finger into her. Yoonji is warm and wet and tight around your finger and your breath stutters as she clenches around the digit. Letting your finger curl, you rub against her walls, searching for that spongy bundle of nerves.

It takes a few seconds, your attention being pulled by Jungkook’s tongue as he enthusiastically eats you out. But you find it quick enough, signaled by the sharp gasp that leaves her lips when you finally brush against it. Grinning victoriously, you tease at the bundle until her thighs begin to quiver, pleased to have wrung such a reaction from her.

Her hand darts out suddenly, gripping your wrist tightly. Her gaze is dark when it meets yours and she arches an eyebrow at you. “I think you’re enjoying yourself more than getting me ready for our baby,” she teases.

Your body heats. She’s not wrong, you maybe did forget what you were doing a little bit. Grinning, you slide your finger out until just the tip remains before thrusting back in with two. “Guilty.”

She opens her mouth to speak again but you let your thumb brush her clit and it effectively silences her retort. She glares for only a moment before letting her head fall back with a groan and letting herself enjoy the slow pumps of your fingers.

Slipping a third finger in, Yoonji’s hips start to move, little grinds that push your hand against Jungkook’s cock. You lift your hips slightly, giving Jungkook a moment to breath.

“Are you ready for noona to ride you, baby?” you ask as you pull your fingers from Yoonji.

All you get in response is a whimper as you grasp his cock with your wet fingers, other hand settling on Yoonji’s hip and you guide him to her entrance. You give her hip a squeeze and she lets herself drop, pulling your hand away so her hips can settle flush to his. You can feel Jungkook’s breath panting hot against your pussy, his hands squeezing tightly at the sheets.

“How does noona’s pussy feel, baby?” you murmur. He whines and you give his nipple a pinch, making his hips jerk. “When noona asks a question, she expects an answer.”

“‘M sorry… Noona feels good…”

You let your free hand settle on Yoonji’s other hip. “How’s he feel?”

“Fuck… so good. He’s such a good boy.”

Jungkook’s hands suddenly wrap around your thighs. You jerk in surprise, ready to reprimand him, but before you can say anything, he’s pulling you back down onto his mouth. Yoonji laughs breathlessly, hands coming to rest on his belly as she starts to lift her hips.

“How’s his mouth?”

Giving her a groan in response, you grind against his tongue, toes curling as his fingers tighten against your thighs. Both of you fall quiet, save for pants and moans, letting yourselves be consumed with chasing your own pleasure for a moment. Heat simmers in your belly, building with each swipe of Jungkook’s tongue and teasing suck to your clit. Jungkook’s efforts combined with the view of Yoonji riding his cock has your orgasm building until one harsh suck pushes you over the edge.

Head falling back, you moan as your orgasm spreads through your veins, igniting like fire and leaving you shuddering as Jungkook seems to get even more enthusiastic below you. You vaguely hear Yoonji swear under her breath, but you don’t have it in you to look at her as Jungkook draws your orgasm out.

Finally you lift your hips, overstimulation beginning to creep in, and you and Jungkook pant together as your high slowly ebbs away and you come back to yourself. Blinking your eyes open, you see Yoonji’s have slipped closed as she moves and you find your gaze glued to the way her tits bounce with each movement.

Seeing an opportunity, you reach forward, letting your fingers find her clit and her eyes shoot open with a gasp at your touch. You grin, shifting so you’re knelt beside the pair. “Baby,” you coo, “look how pretty noona looks sitting on your dick.”

It takes him a moment, but Jungkook’s head lifts and your pussy clenches at the sheen of your slick covering the lower half of his face. His lips are parted as he makes sweet, little noises, soft moans and whines, and his hazy eyes trail over you both like he doesn’t truly know where to look. You swirl your fingers, drawing a wheezed gasp from Jungkook and you can’t help the teasing grin that forms.

“Aw, baby. Did noona tighten up? Is she close? Are you gonna be good and let her cum on your cock?”

Jungkook’s nodding before you even finish speaking, hips twitching in small little thrusts and you pick up the pace on her clit. Leaning forward, you take one of her nipples in your mouth, teeth teasing the bud before you sooth it with your tongue.

“Fuck… gonna-” She cuts off, moving faster until her hips slam down as she starts to cum.

You keep your fingers going, gradually slowing down as her orgasm shudders through her. Jungkook whines and squirms beneath her, but remains more still that others would. She tugs your hand away finally as she continues to shiver with aftershocks. You bring your fingers to your mouth with a teasing glance and lick them clean as she watches through hooded eyes.

Jungkook whimpers, drawing both of attention to him and Yoonji lifts herself off his cock, drawing an even louder whine from him.

You pat his side soothingly. “Don’t worry, baby. We’re gonna take care of you. Want your noona’s mouth?”

He blinks wet eyes at you both, cock twitching where it lays against his belly and Yoonji laughs. “I think that’s a yes.”

She takes him in her hand and his hips strain up into her grip. He’s so desperate already and you have barely even teased him or drawn this out. He’s definitely going to be fun in the future. Leaning down, you let your tongue swirl around the tip, licking up the taste of Yoonji and Jungkook together. They taste wonderfully divine. His hips strain upwards again and you and Yoonji each use a hand to hold his hips down as you continue your slow, teasing licks. Once you’ve licked all traces of Yoonji from him, you take him into your mouth, humming in content at the way he stretches your lips.

“‘M g-gonna… please… please can I?”

“Aw, you’re asking permission? You’re such a good boy. Of course you can cum, baby. You’ve been so good to your noonas.”

It takes only a couple bobs of your head for his back to bow as the first spurt of salty fluid hits your tongue. He cries out, body strung tight as he cums down your throat. You let your tongue rub at his frenulum as you and Yoonji work to draw out his orgasm as long as possible. When he begins to tremble and whimper, you finally pull away, licking your lips clean as you do.

Jungkook’s eyes are shut tight, shuddering through the last aftershocks and he looks beautifully debauched. Glancing at Yoonji, you see the same fond look on her face that you know to be on yours. Leaning down, you pepper a few kisses to his lips and cheeks before stretching out beside him and cuddling up to his side.

“You did such a good job, baby. You were so good for us,” you murmur, letting your hand rub his belly.

Yoonji mirrors you and after a moment, halts your rubbing by interlacing your fingers with her. The look on her face is hard to read, but she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“The best baby,” she agrees, turning to Jungkook and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Jungkook gets a goofy grin, seeming to melt between the both of you at the praise. At the rate he’s going, he might have a bigger praise kink than Jimin. You all fall silent, breath evening out and simply enjoy the afterglow. You assume Jungkook at the very least has fallen asleep as your mind begins to swirl with the implications of what just happened.

Leave it to your overthinking to ruin a nice postcoital cuddle. But you can’t help but wonder where this leaves the three of you. Was this just a one time thing? Does it mean anything deeper? You want so badly for it to mean more, but you also know that getting your hopes up leads to more hurt in the end.

Jungkook surprises you by breaking the silence, voice rough like he’s fighting sleep. “What does this mean?”

He sounds so small when he says it, it makes your heart ache a little. You’re not sure how to answer him though, because you also don’t really know what this means. You know what it means for you, but you can’t speak for Yoonji, or even Jungkook.

Yoonji pushes up onto her elbow so she can look at you both and you see that same fond look in her eyes again. It makes something warm and content twist in your belly. “I thought I had made my intentions clear, but I guess not. I like you.” Before the hurt you feel can stretch too far, she looks at you. “Both of you. I had intended to get that done first tonight. But, uh, well things got a little carried away.”

Jungkook snorts. “Only a little?”

She pulls her hand from yours, giving him a quick pinch. “Hey! Don’t go getting mouthy now.”

Grinning in response, he wraps his arms around you both, tugging you somehow closer. “I like you both too… I have for a really long time…” he pauses, seeming to think for a moment before continuing. “And I really liked tonight… What we did… I’d like to explore more of that…”

They both look at you and you can’t help the giddy grin that spreads across your face. You push yourself up just enough to lean across to give Yoonji a kiss and then turn to give Jungkook one too. “Of course I like you both. God, who couldn’t? You both are so wonderful.”

Jungkook giggles happily and then in the blink, he’s managed to get you and Yoonji pushed together as he hovers over you both. He gives you each a kiss to the forehead. “So does this mean you’ll be my girlfriends?” Laughing, you give him a nod and he glows with happiness. “I have the prettiest girlfriends.”

You and Yoonji both reach up, each cupping one of his cheeks. Warm floods you, feeling happy and content with them both.

“And we have the prettiest boyfriend.”

#bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #yoonji x reader #yoonji smut #yoonji fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts smut

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Note

Im so excited!!!! Here’s a little “It’s always been you. You and only you.” sprinkled in with Green-Eyed Epiphany

~Notes: OMFG bubby!!!! You are so beyond adorable! Thank you So SO much for the sweetness!! I really hope you like this XS and fingers crossed this fits the promptXS <3 <3 <3

Prompt Smash Game | Send Me A Prompt💜 | A Reblog Is Like A Huge, Warm Hug!!!

~R: my mom’s working the night shift at the clinic👀👀

~S: Kinky😏

~S: I can be there in 15

~R: make it 20 and get Chinese x

~S: sometimes I think ur j using me for the food

~R: and bring henny😈

It’s seventeen minutes since Remus sent the last text when the front door of his modest ranch house begins to thump with a familiar wrapping that’s three quick knocks followed by two slower ones, and he has to wrestle down the eager grin from his face when he swings it open to find one of his closest friends standing at the threshold in that customary weathered, leather jacket that he found two summers ago when Remus had taken him thrifting for the first time, and an impish sort of smirk that definitely would look ridiculous on anyone else, but only makes Sirius all the more maddeningly attractive.

“What took so long?” Remus asks mildly, pulling him indoors by the sleeve and gesturing for him to set the goods on the kitchen counter once they cross the small foyer.

“You wound me, Lupin.” Sirius retorts, quick-silver eyes flashing before he pins him against the island and puts his hands on either side of his waistline with more gentleness than Remus would’ve expected before they began this whole sorted affair— Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word for it?

It’s not an affair, or tryst, or carrying on or whatever the fuck else Lily says when she’s teetering on the wrong edge of tipsy and thinks it’s her right to call Remus out on his bullshit— on his stupid, beyond obvious crush he’s been fostering for one of his closest friends since junior high.

It’s none of those things— It’s not nearly as dramatic.

It’s just— Just that yes, Remus has been harboring a tiny infatuation for Sirius ever since that first day of the seventh grade when he had moved to this tiny, coastal town after his parents divorce. But how could he have not? Sirius is hilarious, and a genius, and so gorgeous that sometimes it feels like his insides are twisting up whenever he glances over at him. And on that first day, he had just caught Remus’s eyes from across the library shelves before classes begun, and smiled in that uniquely electric way of his, and asked if Remus could put slime in a very specific locker, (Snape’s), for a very specific reason, (Because he kept following Lily around like a creep), on account to no one suspecting the new kid. And yeah— Remus was lost on him an embarrassing amount from then on.

Sure, it can be regarded as kinda pathetic on Remus’s end— kindling this nest of emotions so close to the chest— but also it’s not as if he’s been lovestruck by his crush, like it’s some sort of waterlogged scarf he’s got dragging him down. His attraction towards Sirius is like a soft melody that’s swelling in the backdrop of all their interactions, nothing overwhelming— not a flood plane, not yet at least. It’s warm, and it’s familiar, and it’s persistent like a flutter of a humming bird’s wings. And Remus doesn’t mind pining over someone as fantastical as Sirius Fucking Black.

Graciously, in some strike of incredible luck, Sirius never caught on to Remus’s silly feelings, not until that night when they were watching an old movie in Remus’s basement while James and Lily were celebrating an entire year together— save for all their sudden stops and just as speedy starts— and Peter was visiting his grandmother in Tampa Bay. It was the first time they had been alone together since Remus broke up with Caradoc for the final time, and Sirius just looked so fucking good in that casual, white v-neck and his skinny jeans that make him look like some echo of James Dean on his best day. And Remus isn’t sure who exactly moved forwards first, or how the fuck Meg Ryan wandering the Seattle streets was some sort of aphrodisiac, or why Sirius— who could have any guy he would ever want— was actually humoring him, but one second they’re lying down on the sofa— Remus caged between Sirius’s expanse and the cushions behind them— and the next he’s tasting PBR on Sirius’s lips, and has got a fist full of his dark hair, and is thrilling at the feeling of Sirius’s thigh between his legs. And yeah— it just happened like those sort of things are want to do, and by the end of it they were sticky and breathless and diffident in ways they never been around one another, in ways Remus reckons Sirius has never been around anyone.

But the next weekend, when Sirius’s latest sorta— but not really— boyfriend had canceled on their dinner plans, Sirius wandered over to Remus’s bedroom window and it was another tumbling of frenzied hands and loosen buckles and thrusting hips. And then it just became an easy release— a sort of poetry, an understanding in all but name.

And that’s fine. They don’t have to talk about it. Remus knows that Sirius isn’t the type to settle down with a partner, to go bowling for a date, or texting countless messages that amount to nothing at all at the end of the conversation, or putting up with another dude’s parents taking photos of them before leaving to prom or homecoming or whatever the fuck else. And Remus is sorta sick of the idea of love, of trying so hard only to end up heartbroken and eating a gallon of Chubby Bunny in his favorite sweats and cursing John Hughes for pretending Hollywood romances can happen to ordinary high schoolers.

So yeah— This thing they’ve fallen into with each other is good. They’re friends— best friends— and they have fun and they’re apparently really fucking good in bed together, and Sirius never looks at Remus with pity when he spots him gazing at his profile absentmindedly, and he doesn’t mind when Remus traces invisible designs against his skin when they’re soaking in the after glow, and he never treats him any different. Sirius still slings his arm around Remus’s shoulders when they walk down the halls, and he still buys him his favorite chocolates when he feels poorly, and he still faces Dorcas's disapproving wrath when he drags Remus out of the library to have a little mischief— whether it’s smoking a blunt in the abandoned skatepark in town or playing some stupid prank on those assholes in their year.

For all intent and purposes, they still behave the same they’ve always acted around one another, but just with the miraculous addition of mind-blowing and dulcetly ductile sex.

This is good, this is fun, this is completely untethered from the bull shit of romance.

And if Remus mouths against the juncture of Sirius’s neck a little too intensely— trying to pry off the memory of the hickey Sirius had been sporting after spending the weekend with Gideon Prewett— Well no one has to be any the wiser, and by the sound of Sirius’s hitched breaths, he seems not to mind even slightly.

“Except my apology?” Remus asks, more coy than he ordinarily acts as he drops his arms around Sirius’s neck, and leans on the balls of his feet to whisper against his temple.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” Sirius retorts, labored as all get out, kneading his fingers into Remus’s ass that’s only covered by the thin layer of his plaid pajama bottoms. “You are going to have to do a lot more for me to forgive the lip.”

Remus laughs in a stammering sort of way as Sirius tugs him along, walking backwards to his room that he’s become incredibly intimate with since the first time they did this three months ago.

“Sirius, the spring rolls— they’re gross if we have to heat them up again.”

“I’ll postmate us knew ones,” Sirius insists, covering Remus’s mouth with his own with fervor. “C’mon babe, do not tease me like this.”

Sirius must’ve caught his mistake, because he suddenly goes as red as Remus feels— The pet name was to close for comfort considering their strictly friends with benefits nature, but Remus is already half hard, and he really does not want to end this, so with a sly wink, he returns to nipping at Sirius’s jawline, rutting against him in a very unambiguous way. “Fine, if you really don’t think you’ll need the nourishment for your stamina?”

The words have their intended effect, and Sirius makes a small growl deep in his throat before practically tearing off Remus’s shirt, and dipping beneath the waistline of his pants, scooping him up and racing to the bed.

And they get lost in one another beneath the pale glow of Remus’s lamplight and the moon spilling through the window, relearning each others every patch of skin for minutes on end that wax and wane like the delta of ocean waves, unspooling into something tangible and tantalizing with every kiss punctuated with teeth that Sirius trails across Remus’s collarbone, and the way Remus palms greedy hands up and down Sirius’s back until he gets the hint and undresses.

“Well come on, you’re not an invalid, Lupin.” Sirius jeers and Remus chuckles as he follows suit until they’re both finally, blessedly nude. And with an easy assurance of them having done this more than a dozen times now, Remus crawls into his lap and kisses him straight on the mouth, preening how Sirius moans against him— canting up wantonly and grabbing at his hips with a sort of intensity that will probably leave bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers, and Remus absolutely adores the idea of that, feels something hot and needy and desperate unfurl in his gut as he presses their mouths more forcefully together, going buzzed when he gets to relish in the sensation of their tongues running against one another, and the taste of the ridges on the roof of Sirius’s mouth, and the slide of the soft skin of his inner cheek— gasping when Sirius pulls away abruptly, panting an almost reverent, “Mother of God, Remus,” and tackles him flat on his back before they commence, with the addition of both their hard, leaking cocks thrusting against one another and Sirius’s hand in Remus’s hair pulling that bit more forcefully while his other one roams the dips and planes of his side— skirting against the divots of his stomach muscle before he wraps it around the pair of them and begins to pull in earnest, to the rhythm that Remus swears was strung from the heavens above.

“Oh— Oh, yeah— Sirius,” Remus breathes out in a haggard sort of way, words that he refuses to ever call a mewl even if they’re stretched out and crackle with emotion.

“Yes—, just say that again,” Sirius practically demands, his mouth completely covering his ear in a wet, hot heat— his teeth scraping against the soft shell. “Remus, baby, just say my name, tell me you want it.”

And God, Remus is feeling so heady— like he’s floating and he couldn’t possibly come back down— that he probably would’ve listened to anything Sirius asked of him, especially if he does that thing again, when he squeezes the slick length of them with a tad more force than they usually play at. “Sirius, Sirius. Sirius, please, I’m close,” Remus shrills in an unsteady staccato— his normally smooth tenner going pitchy and pleading, and he can feel his toes curling, can feel the eminent release coming— What he does not expect is to feel something poking at his entrance, didn’t expect to be struck dumb by the sensation of the tip of Sirius’s large, dry finger poking right there, right against the fluttering hole, while he’s still pumping them in tandem, and the second it hooks inside Remus goes a startling sort of static , sees blasts of white blotching his vision and his head thrown back and his dick spirting out heavily against Sirius’s deliciously defined torso.

And he’s just breathing heavily now, during the come down, can barely make out anything through the heavy weight around him, the one cushioning his head— but he does graciously feel Sirius’s cock fucking into his own hand against Remus’s thigh and then idly the feeling of his come splattering him, but then after that he can just barely hear the distant padding of feed against floorboards, followed by a wet washcloth being dabbed against his skin. So when he finally forces himself to focus, he sees Sirius cleaning himself off, wrapping it into the pair of joggers Remus was wearing earlier and tosses it to the corner of the room.

“Rude,” he scolds with no heat, shuffling closer to him when Sirius lies down besides him once more and circles an arm around his torso.

“THat’s what you get when you’re acting like a lazy fuck,” Sirius counters, smug as all get out while he threads a hand in Remus’s hair.

“Hmm, didn’t see that in the papers recently. Is it a new law?”

“Yeah, actually just past on the senate floor.”

“Interesting… Well considering that only one of us has a senator for a father, I really have to ask to see the power-point you shared with him to get this bill through the stalemate,” Remus’s head bounces against Sirius’s chest from the force of his laughter at the barb.

“Oh, stuff it, Lupin.”

Hiding his smile into Sirius’s skin, Remus does as told, and they both just lie there, as if everything’s gone suspended just for the pair of them, just so Remus can count out the beats of Sirius’s heart pulsing against his sternum, and can feel the way their legs tie into one another, and can feel Sirius mouthing against his temple, blowing his curls with every exhale.

And Remus thinks that he’d do anything to remember this exact moment for every single day from here on out.

But then the quiet is abruptly and permanently punctured by the sound of his phone chirping, and he has to breathe in deeply before separating from the warmth of Sirius, and fishes down for the device that’s still crammed into the side of his bed from where he had hidden it after that initial text.

“Is Dearborn still on your ass to try again?” Sirius asks, a bit stilted.

Remus wonders if he’s just imagining the tension twisted in the question, but reasons that Sirius’s never been Caradoc’s biggest fan, so he just shrugs it off— really doesn’t want to get into some stupid argument about his asshole of an ex when he’s still feeling so content. “Nah, ’s James. Still trying to force me to go to the homecoming dance with you guys.”

“Oh,” Sirius retorts, lips pinched while watching Remus redress. “You should go, Marls is pregaming and you know she always gets the good shit.”

Remus shakes his head while puttering over to find a new pair of sweats and a sweater. “Nah, just not feeling it this year— Erm, you’re taking Gid I assume.” He’s not sure why he asks it, supposes he’s always a glutton for some pain and shitty feelings to inspire his playlists habit, but also maybe it’s him trying to sober himself. Trying to remember that despite this— despite everything they just did and how easy it’s always been for them to fall into step with one another— Remus isn’t good enough to be seen with Sirius in the light of day. He’s probably not handsome enough or cool enough or something else that makes Sirius absolutely revolted from the thought. Probably that he’s beyond bookish, and looks painfully virginal and isn’t nearly as sly or snarky as his other conquests.

Truly, Remus should just be thankful that Sirius wants this at all, he shouldn’t be so crazed over the why nots of the situation— it’ll only kill him trying to be something he never could actually affect with any credence.

Schooling his features to something passably indifferent, Remus pivots to face him again, is startled when he finds Sirius still naked and staring at him with a burning sort of intensity in his storm cloud eyes.

“He hasn’t said anything, but I guess he’s assuming as much,” he finally says, running a hand through his overgrown fringe, that familiar twitch of the corner of his mouth grabbing Remus’s attention. The one that tells him Sirius is actually irritated about something he’s not letting himself say out loud.

“Erm, good? Gid’s a decent guy.” Remus mutters, head ducked once it gets to a point that he can’t stand Sirius looking at him like that— Not after how blissed out and ferocious he had been groping every inch of Remus only moments ago. “You guys are nice together.”

And it’s like the breath before the worst of storms when his words collapse between them, making the pregnant silence go suddenly suffocating.

“Right,” Sirius intones once Remus levels their gazes, hurriedly standing and collecting his own clothes, fracturing the moment completely. “Right. Whatever, yeah. I’ll go to the fucking dance with fucking Gideon Prewett. That’s good.”

“Sir—“

“No, it’s fine. You can just stay home, and mourn over that douchebag Dearborn some more, even though you ending it with that dick was the best decision you could’ve made, Remus, and I’m not even saying it just because I’m petty. He is a prick, and you need to finally get a clue how much better you deserve, damn it!”

Remus’s head feels like it’s swimming. Why is Sirius so angry all of a sudden? Does he not like Gideon? Why can’t he just cut it off like so many times before? And why the hell is he petty over Caradoc? The entire situation feels like someone’s just handed him a wedge of Swiss cheese and told him to knit it back together.

“What is up your ass?” He decides is an appropriate enough question for his floundering, and shutters back only slightly at how fuming Sirius looks when he rounds on him— clothes disheveled and fearsome glower heavy on his face.

“Whatever Remus, if you can’t see that Dearborn is bad news—“

“I’m not pining for Dearborn,” Remus interjects, really doesn’t feel like listening to one of Sirius’s ridiculous diatribes about him, not now. Not when he’s still so bewildered by everything else. “Why would you think that?”

The fire in Sirius’s eyes vanishes as quickly as someone blowing on a candle, and it’s his turn to gawk, gaping at Remus, shoulders dragged down and eyes wide. “Wait— You’re not?”

“No…. I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.”

“Oh.” Sirius looks contemplative for a moment, before the righteous anger that only he could ever wear with such conviction, melts over him once more. “All right, then what the fuck is this?”

Remus stiffens, feels his veins lace with ice, an his breath catch somewhere in his throat, really does not think he’s ready for this conversation. “This?”

“Yes, Remus, this!” Sirius demands, sounding harsh in comparison to the barely croak Remus had spoken with. “Listen I don’t care if you want me to wait some more, if you need to lick your wounds or whatever. But why are you like pushing me on other people? Why do you want me not to be around? why do you want me to go out with other dudes?”

Remus lies back on the chest of drawers now, feels beyond dazed. “What the hell are you talking about, Sirius?”

Sirius clenches his teeth right then, the hinge of his jaw going taught

before he skulks closer, not letting Remus drop his gaze. “Is it me? Is it that you just can’t see me that way? Are you just stringing me along or something? Because I really didn’t think that was your style, but if it’s that, then Remus—“

“Stringing you along?” Remus asks in a voice barely above a whisper, just needs to feel his lips forming the absolutely risible words, even if it makes it so something dark passes across Sirius’s beauteous features.

“Remus, I swear to God! Stop repeating everything I’m fucking saying!”

“Then start making some damn sense!” Remus snaps, suddenly heated as he straightens and pins him with a proper scowl. “What in holy hell are you going on about?”

“God! Do I have to spell it out!” Sirius barks, cutting the final step dividing them and grabbing for Remus’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “I know you just wanted to fuck around with someone after Dearborn showed his extreme dickitude, and listen, I was so fucking ecstatic that you wanted me for it. But I can’t do this in-between shit anymore! I’m sorry, but I can’t! And I get if this is annoying, but I’ve been crazy for you for so long. And I just can’t keep myself at an arms length anymore, not now that we’ve really had each other, not after you let me actually touch and taste and fuck you and— Damn it, this isn’t coming out the way I wanted, all right! Damn it, maybe Evans was right and I should’ve made queue cards like some dumb ass— But then James pointed out how unromantic that was, and Marlene said—“

Gently, Remus puts his shaking fingers against Sirius’s lips, effectively killing off anything else he’s about to say. And slowly, everything is beginning to slot into place, and he’s so spiteful over how they’ve been such idiots this entire time— swears to put salt into Lily’s coffee next time he sees her.

“I didn’t know you actually were into me Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius’s dark brows hike up to his hairline. “How the hell didn’t you know?” He demands against Remus’s fingers, thunderous and insulted looking.

“Because you never fucking said as much!” Remus defends himself, feels a mangled sort of laughter squirming out. “God, we’re idiots.”

“We’re?” Sirius asks, hesitant and red faced before Remus moves his hand to peck softly against his mouth.

“I’ve been half in love with you for years you absolute ass-wipe, it’s always been you! You and always you.” Remus tells him breathily, still fighting down the last remnants of his actual, god forsaken giggle— like he’s thirteen again and getting buzzed off his mom’s peach wine coolers. “I only never said anything because I never thought I’d have a chance with someone like you— Someone so— so— Someone so amazing.”

The smile Sirius favors him with right then is something absolutely incandescent, and his eyes shimmer with a very distinct sort of joy that Remus wonders if anyone besides him has ever witnessed. “Then you’re definitely the biggest idiot between us, Lupin.” Sirius declares, knocking their foreheads together, and lacing his hand into Remus’s own before squeezing meaningfully.

“Fuck off,” Remus snorts, presses forwards for another languorous kiss, not feeling in danger of being swallowed whole any more— finally letting himself drown and knowing that Sirius will be there to pull him back up no matter what.

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Sirius smirks, snakes his arms around Remus’s waste that bit tighter.

“Hmm, there is the problem that I usually don’t put out until at least the third or fourth date,” Remus says mildly.

“Pff, ‘s fine, Lupin,” Sirius insists, grinning beatifically. “I like you being a hussy for me!— Oof, careful with the merchandize, you were speaking some real exaltations about that part of my anatomy not too long ago.”

Moving his knee from the point at hand, Remus sticks out his tongue at him. “See if you ever get any ever again, Sirius Black.”

When Sirius laughs, it sounds like the strike of lightening against unmarked land, and the honey cloaked side of a knife’s edge, and like everything splendid Remus has ever known. And he thinks that yes, he could get used to this right back.

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #REMUSXSIRIUS #SIRIUSXREMUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #Spilt Ink

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Game Night

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 1,722

Warnings: none

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

It’s game night in the Morales household. The boys and you all sit down with drinks and snacks and decide to play one of the most friendship ruining games on the planet. Who will win the cutthroat game of monopoly?

“Babe, can you get the door?” You shouted, hearing Frankie shuffle around the living room. “The boys are here!”

Frankie eagerly bounded to the door, almost falling on his face on the slippery wooden floors. He quickly righted himself and pulled the door open, embracing Benny, Will, and Santiago in one go.

“Boys!” You said cheerily as they entered the house. “C’mon! I made dip, and there’s drinks in the fridge, and there’s also a secret dessert.”

“If you weren’t married, I would get on one knee, here and now,” Benny said, pulling you into a hug. “You are the best!”

You laughed. “Yeah? Let’s see how that holds up. I distinctly remember cleaning my carpets for a week after our last game night.”

“Excuse you!” Will called from the living room. “Benny called me a dumb whore for charging him money! I couldn’t let that slide!”

Laughing, you cleared away the coasters and remotes from the living room table, leaving it blank for tonight’s game.

Frankie grabbed a box from the supply closet and set it down on the living room coffee table. The box in question was beat up and held together with packing tape, but the name of the game was still legible. Monopoly.

“Are we playing teams?” Frankie asked as you all gathered around the table, you setting the snacks down and going out to grab beers for the boys.

“If we are, I call Frankie!” You shouted from the kitchen.

Will snorted. “You’re married. Of course you’ll be a team. Benny?”

Benny fist-bumped his brother. “Hell yeah!”

“And me?” Santiago said, amusement making his voice light.

“Pope,” Frankie said. “Every time we play, you kick all our asses. You don’t need a team.”

Santiago snorted. “Sounds fair,” he said. “Although, I would appreciate a partner to teach my secrets to.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. Ever since you and Frankie had gotten married, Santiago had been bugging you for a baby. You had no idea why he wanted you to have one so bad, but he did.

“Pope, if I do end up pregnant, I promise you’ll be the second person I tell,” you said, leaning towards the table and grabbing your favorite piece. The horse and rider. “Right after my husband.”

Santiago grabbed his piece, the battleship, and smiled. “Of course.”

Benny and Will took their piece, the cannon, and you all set the pieces down.

“Who’s rolling first?” Frankie asked, grabbing the dice and holding them out.

Will rolled for his team first, getting a solid 8. Santiago went next, rolling a 10.

“Good luck,” you said to Frankie, leaning on his shoulder as he rolled the dice. A quick count of the dots gave you an 11.

“Fuck yeah!” Frankie said happily, scooping up the dice again. “We get to go first.”

Nothing much happened for your first go around of the board. Everyone knew the strategy of ‘wait to see how the game would play out’ and that had led to plenty of long monopoly games. You and Frankie agreed on the light blue and pink properties, and managed to buy Vermont and Virginia in two turns. You also, after a quick discussion, bought Illinois when you landed on it, knowing that the reds and the yellows were Santiago’s strategy.

Another go around of the board, and the strategies began to emerge. You and Frankie got two railroads and another two properties in your target area, and it seemed that Will and Benny were too busy trying to outsmart Santiago that they didn’t even realize you and Frankie were very slowly taking over half the board. Santiago, in true Santiago fashion, kept his strategy as hidden as possible, buying properties from the entire board instead of focusing on one area. By the time you’d all passed Go again, tension was still, surprisingly, low.

That changed quickly. You and Frankie bought what was affectionately referred to as ‘the slums’ but was actually just the two brown properties with a lucky roll of snake eyes, and through a well timed chance card, Will and Benny ended up in jail, both agreeing that it was complete bullshit while Santiago laughed.

“Houses?” Frankie murmured in your ear as he added the second brown card to your stack.

You glanced at what Santiago had and what the brothers had. “Wait. Santi’s trying to edge us off those orange properties, but give it another go around. He’s got that last blue one, Connecticut, but we’ve got Illinois, which he needs. And I’ve got no clue what Will and Benny are doing.”

Frankie nodded, taking the dice and rolling again, getting you two the last pink property.

“I’m gonna go grab more food, anyone want anything?” You asked, standing and looking around.

“Another drink?” Benny asked, holding up his empty beer bottle.

You took it, scanning the table for anything else you could recycle. “Of course,” you said. “How about I bring out the prize tonight, hm?”

The boys cheered. Monopoly wasn’t a game where you often congratulated the winner. In fact, half the time Frankie managed to beat everyone, you jokingly refused to kiss him. But tonight, you wanted to up the stakes.

Grabbing another beer for Benny, you balanced a covered pie tin with your other hand and walked back into the living room, where Frankie was happily arranging what had been collected in Free Parking.

“Boys!” You announced happily. “Tonight’s victor will be awarded the grand prize of,” you pulled the tin foil off the pie tin. “A homemade cherry pie.”

Immediately, everyone went wild. You laughed, covering the pie back up and setting it down on the kitchen counter. “Shall we keep playing?”

The game continued, a few more go arounds of the board securing the final few properties. You and Frankie had almost every property you wanted, along with three of the four railroads.

“Uh, guys,” Benny said finally after you charged him for a railroad. “Team lovebirds are destroying us right now. How’d we let that happen? How did no one notice?”

You laughed, grabbing the dice and rolling them. “I guess we’ll be keeping that pie.”

“Not if I can help it!” Santiago held up the final light blue card. “Suck it!”

“Mhm, we’ve got that last red one,” you pointed out, moving your piece and reluctantly handing Benny and Will some money. “Whenever you’re ready to trade, we’ll be here.”

Will whistled, pushing the dice towards Santiago. “Dude, that’s rough.”

Santiago leaned forward. “Nah. I want that damn pie.”

Not long after that, Benny and Will went bankrupt, much to their disappointment. However, it meant they could man the bank and they wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire that would become your game.

The game continued to drag on, neither you nor Santiago willing to back down. Money was exchanged, Will and Benny’s properties were bought, and houses were built.

By the time anything interesting happened, you and Frankie had a solid chokehold on half the board. It was a war of attrition, a simple back and forth of the money. And then, by some miracle, you rolled the dice and landed on free parking.

It was a crushing blow for poor Santiago. Suddenly, you and Frankie were up by almost five thousand dollars, able to afford a bunch of houses and, very slowly, you were able to drive Santiago to bankruptcy.

“Damn!” He yelled, realizing he was done. “Good game, damn I cannot believe I lost.”

You grinned, standing. “Pack all of this up. I’ll go cut the pie.”

While the boys cleaned, you got five plates, putting a slice of pie on each one. Using old waiting skills and going very slowly, you carried all five plates out.

“Jeez babe!” Frankie said, jumping up to help you. “Gimme some of those! You could’ve asked for help.”

“I had it,” you reassured, sitting on the couch and sinking your fork into the pie. “Fuck, that is beautiful.”

For the rest of the night, you and the boys ate, drank, and pulled out a deck of Uno cards to keep the fun going. Of course, Benny kicked all your asses, but he was the only one who ever actually strategized Uno. Everyone else enjoyed tipsy fun, laughing when someone got screwed and groaning when someone won.

Eventually, some time well past midnight, you sent everyone to bed, or the couch in Santiago’s case. That included Frankie, who pulled you into your shared bedroom and grinned. “Babe, I got a question.”

“Fire away.”

Frankie came up behind you, putting his hands against your belly. “When are we gonna tell them?”

“Tomorrow,” you murmured, resting your hands overtop Frankie’s. “I wanna watch Santi spit coffee out his nose.”

Chuckling, Frankie led you to bed. “You’re evil.”

The next morning, you gave each of the boys a coffee cup, smiling as you received sleepy murmurs.

“Hey Benny,” you called, opening the fridge and peering into it. “You got any use for a perfectly good bottle of wine?”

“Uh, why?” Benny asked, looking up from his mug.

You shrugged. “Frankie’s not a wine guy and I can’t drink it.”

“Yes you can,” Will said. “You drank a whole bottle with Benny last month.”

“Bitch, I wasn’t pregnant last month.”

As you’d guessed last night, Santiago choked on his coffee, coughing so violently that Frankie had to thump him on the back a few times. “What?” He yelled when he was finally able to talk again.

“I’m pregnant,” you said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Surprise. You’re all gonna be uncles.”

Santiago fist pumped the air. “Hell yeah! I get a monopoly partner!”

You laughed, doubling over the counter. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“I have my priorities,” Santiago said with a smile.

Benny stood, looking you up and down. “Can I touch? Please?”

You shrugged, gesturing him closer. “Nothing to touch yet, but yeah.”

Benny’s hand was warm on your belly, and he grinned at the expanse of exposed skin. “Hey,” he said directly to the baby. “I’m your uncle Benny.”

“Ben,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re talking to a month old bean.”

But now Will was beside you, and so was Santi, and there was Frankie behind you. Surrounded by your boys, you grinned. “I love this family.”

#Triple Frontier #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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mikauzoran · 3 years

Text

Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter One

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter One

A whole week had passed since The Breakup, and Luka was still reeling.

“You brought this upon yourself,” he reminded bitterly as he rolled over and found the space on the bed next to him empty and cold.

He kept telling himself, “You broke up with her”, “It was the right thing to do”, and “You couldn’t keep waiting for her to move on. That wasn’t healthy”, but the words never quite sank in.

One week later, he was even more of a mess than when he’d finally gotten the courage to break things off. The pain of being without her, knowing that it was really over, was worse than having her by his side knowing that she was thinking about someone else when she kissed him.

At least before he’d had a place in her heart, even if it was only second.

With a groan, Luka pushed himself up to sitting and grabbed his phone off the nightstand.

There was a text from Juleka berating him for drinking too much, not returning her texts, and taking crap care of himself.

Rose had also sent him a message reminding him about family dinner that Sunday.

Jacob, the bassist from his band Eternal Nocturne, had texted him not to be late for the auditions for a new lead singer that afternoon.

Luka cursed, setting his phone down without replying to anyone. He scrubbed his face with both hands and then forced himself to kick the covers off and get up.

It was already almost noon, and the mature, adult part of his brain knew that he had to get his stuff together. He was twenty-six, and he’d been through breakups before. He would survive this one as well…even though it didn’t feel like it at the moment.

He pushed himself out of bed and began to search around for something clean to wear.

He really needed to do laundry. And the dishes. And the grocery shopping.

Luka winced as he uncovered a lacey pink bra with white polka dots under a pile of jeans that reeked of alcohol and stale bar smell.

He needed to make a breakup box, put all of her leftover things in it, and send it back to her.

His heart sank at that realization, the finality of it.

He put the bra back under the jeans and promised himself he’d deal with it later. When he was feeling better…. Whenever that happened to be.

The important thing just then was to find something that could pass as clean so that he could get to the audition and not let his bandmates down. He was already disappointing himself and his family. He needed to do right by somebody at least.

Adrien was screwed.

He’d been back in Paris for two days, and, already, his funds were almost entirely used up. He’d found a cheap hostel in Pigalle where he’d been able to shower and get a decent night’s rest without having to worry about anyone bothering him, but he wouldn’t be able to stay there for much longer unless he found work.

That was turning out to be much harder than anticipated. In Paris, people were a lot stricter about having to have valid identification to secure employment. They were also a lot more persnickety about hiring Adrien Agreste, even if it was just to wash dishes, clean hotel rooms, or wait tables.

Maybe he could talk to the owners of the hostel about working the front desk. He’d done that before in Nice and Lyon.

If the situation really got dire, he could always try to find someone like Nino from his past who would be sympathetic and maybe let him sleep on a couch or something until he could get back up on his feet again.

He didn’t want to do that, but it was beginning to look like he had no other choice. It had been four years since his father’s arrest, four years since Adrien lost his family, his fortune, and even the ability to use his own name. He’d thought that maybe people would have cooled off and moved on, that it was safe to come back to Paris, back home…but it wasn’t looking like it so far.

He was starting to think that it had been a mistake to return, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He was tired of roaming the country and scraping by, and he couldn’t go on like that any longer. He wanted to establish roots and make a place for himself. He wanted to feel grounded again.

He was determined to figure things out and make it work, and if that meant going door to door to every restaurant, shop, and hotel in Paris until he found a job, that’s what he was going to do. He was through running away; it was time to settle down and make a life for himself.

He wasn’t sure what that life would look like, but if it included years of hard work, a partner who saw him and not his father’s crimes, some children who inherited his mother’s smile, and a pet or two, Adrien would be content.

He just had to find a job first so that he didn’t end up on the street nicking food out of restaurant dumpsters again.

As he descended the steps into the Métro, a flyer advertising auditions for a lead singer for a band caught Adrien’s eye.

He stopped and studied it, noting that auditions had begun twenty minutes prior at a bar just a few blocks away.

He grabbed the flyer and took off at a jog.

“No one’s coming,” Jacob grumbled half an hour into the audition time when it became apparent that not a single soul was going to show up.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Josie the drummer agreed, tipping back on her barstool so that it balanced precariously on two legs. “So, what are we going to do without a vocalist?”

“Yeah, we’ve got that gig coming up this weekend,” Jacob reminded, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip.

Josie and Jacob both looked to Marc—guitarist, keyboardist, and the band’s unofficial leader/mum.

“Josephine, don’t do that; you’re going to fall,” Marc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “…I mean, I can cover lead for one night.”

“Who’s going to do your backup vocals, then,” Josie demanded, setting her stool legs back on the ground.

“Luka can,” Marc informed.

Jacob snorted. “Luka’s drunk.”

“Luka is not drunk,” Marc growled defensively. “He knows better than to show up drunk. He’s just hung over, isn’t that right, Luc?”

“Yes, and I’m nursing a killer headache, so if we could take the volume of the talking down a few decibels, it would be greatly appreciated,” Luka groaned, pulling his newsboy cap down a little further to shield his eyes from the bright light emanating from the stage where the people auditioning were supposed to be performing.

“And who’s going to do Luka’s backup vocals?” Josie persisted, lowering her voice out of consideration for Luka.

“I don’t know. Jacob?” Marc suggested uncertainly.

Josie let out a bark of laughter. “Jacob can’t walk and talk at the same time. How is he supposed to play and sing?”

“Josie,” Marc scolded. “Be nice.”

“No, she’s got a point,” Jacob cut in. “I’ve walked into poles before because I didn’t see them because I was talking to someone. Multitasking really isn’t my strong suit.”

Marc opened his mouth to reply, paused to consider his words, and then shut his mouth.

“Excuse me?” a new voice called out.

The band turned their heads to find a thin, scraggly young man standing in the doorway.

He had scruffy, wild blonde hair and piercing peridot eyes, and it was impossible to say how old he was exactly. He looked young, but he had one of those ageless faces that could have just as easily been twenty as forty. His clothes had been expensive, good quality when they were new, but now they were well-worn and showing their age.

“Are auditions over already?” he inquired, taking a tentative step into the bar.

The door closed behind him, and now that he wasn’t backlit by the daylight pouring in from outside, Luka could see him clearly.

His eyes widened as he recognized his former crush whom he hadn’t seen in four long years.

“No, we’re still going,” Jacob informed.

“You here to try out, Kid?” Josie asked with a big smile, turning on her stool to face him.

Adrien nodded, holding up the flyer in his hand. “I just learned about the audition, like, ten minutes ago, so I don’t have anything prepared in advance, but I’m a good singer with a pretty expansive range. I’m a quick study too, so, if you teach me, I’ll pick up your songs right away.”

“All right,” Marc agreed with a grin. “Go ahead and take the stage, and we’ll see what you’ve got. What’s your name?”

“Émile,” Adrien responded with a smile as he took his spot in front of the microphone. “Émile Dupain.”

Luka frowned.

Surely, he wasn’t mistaken. The years had changed Adrien, yes, but he wasn’t that different. Luka knew that face, those eyes, that smile.

“Nice to meet you, Émile,” Marc greeted amicably. “I’m Marc. I play keyboard and some guitar depending on the song. I also do backup vocals.”

“I’m Josie. Percussion,” Josie took over. “This idiot is Jacob, our bassist,”

Jacob gamely raised a hand. “Sup.”

“and Mr. Doom and Gloom over there is Luc,” Josie completed the introductions. “He plays guitar and does backup vocals. Ignore him for right now. He just broke up with his girlfriend, so he’s kind of in a funk. Normally, he’s the nicest person, so give him another week and you’ll be best friends.”

“Thank you for broadcasting all that, Josie,” Luka grumbled as he waved at Adrien, just waiting for him to recognize Luka.

He worried that if Adrien were trying to conceal his identity, he wouldn’t appreciate the reunion, but a part of Luka hoped that Adrien would be excited to see him again. Luka was certainly happy to see Adrien.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Adrien replied, friendly expression not changing in the slightest. “What kind of music do you guys usually play?”

Luka fought down a tsunami of disappointment at Adrien not seeming to recognize him.

“Usually alternative or punk,” Marc supplied, not appearing to notice the way Luka slumped in his chair. “We mostly do covers, but we have our own songs too. Our next show is Saturday, but we’ll just be doing covers for that one, so it shouldn’t be too hard for you to get up to speed if we decide to hire you.”

Adrien nodded. “Sounds good. I’m a hard worker, so I’ll get the music memorized right away and be ready for the show.”

“Have you ever been in a band before, Émile?” Josie inquired curiously.

“Yes,” Adrien answered with confidence. “I’m a little out of practice at the moment, but I played keyboard and did a little bit of backup vocals.”

“What kind of band was it?” Marc asked.

“Uh…the genre’s called kawaiicore, if you’ve heard of it,” Adrien informed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Jacob’s forehead furrowed in concentration as he tried to recall. “It sounds familiar, but I’m coming up blank. What’s kawaiicore?”

“You know when I showed you Babymetal?” Luka reminded.

Jacob’s face lit up, and Josie started to nod too.

“Like Kitty Section!” Jacob exclaimed.

“Yeah!” Adrien perked up. “That’s—”

He cut himself off and went pale when he realized that telling them that he had been the keyboardist in Kitty Section was just as good as revealing his identity.

“That’s right,” Adrien completed. “Like Kitty Section. I can do other genres, though. I can sing anything: musical theatre, opera, jazz, pop—whatever.”

“So, what will you be singing for us today?” Marc prompted, very interested in seeing what Adrien would come up with.

“Well, I’ve kind of been living under a rock lately, so I’m not exactly up on what’s popular now,” Adrien hedged. “I mostly listen to music in Japanese, so maybe I could just sing something so that you can see if my voice is a good fit for you guys, and then you can give me a list of songs you usually do so that I can memorize them.”

“Sounds fair,” Josie replied with a shrug. “So, what are you going to sing?”

Adrien bit his lip and took a deep breath, scanning his mind for a song that would show off his abilities.

“Do you know Charles?” Luka spoke up. “That was popular a couple years ago. If you know that one, I could play the guitar part along with you.”

Adrien had been the one to introduce the song to Luka, and they’d played it together with Kitty Section with Adrien doing the main vocals. Luka still played that song from time to time when he was feeling nostalgic.

On stage, Adrien’s eyes widened in surprise. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, I know Charles. It’s one of my favourites. You wouldn’t mind?”

He narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look at Luka’s facial features, but the hat blocked Adrien’s view, and it was difficult to discern Luka’s face clearly in the dim lighting of the bar when contrasted with the blinding lights on stage.

“I’d be happy to,” Luka assured, reaching down to grab his guitar off of the amp where it lay.

“Thank you,” Adrien replied with a big smile that made Luka positive that he hadn’t been mistaken about “Émile’s” identity. “Ready when you are.”

Luka counted them in and began to play.

Adrien blew the band away with his vocals. His voice was smooth and lyrical, gliding over the notes like a swan across a pond.

“He has really clear intonation,” Marc hummed softly in approval to his bandmates after listening to Adrien sing for a bit.

“And he wasn’t lying about his range,” Josie chuckled as she drummed out the rhythm on her thighs and danced in her seat.

“I certainly can’t hit those notes,” Jacob laughed.

“Neither can I,” Josie snorted. “Well, maybe on a good day, but not the way he does. He just shoots all the way up there and drops back down again like it’s nothing.”

“It’s so clean too,” Marc added. “His voice doesn’t crack or squeak or waver or anything. He hits those notes dead center, and then he stays there until it’s time to move to the next note.”

“I think we struck gold,” Jacob snickered.

“He’s super cute too.” Josie smirked deviously. “He’s sure to attract a crowd. We just need to put some eyeliner on him and get him in leather pants, and—”

“—Distracting me,” Luka hissed quietly so that he wouldn’t interrupt Adrien.

Jacob waggled his eyebrows as he whispered, “What? Imagining Émile in leather pants?”

“Jacques,” Luka warned testily.

“He’s totally your type, though,” Josie joined in helpfully. “I think a new romance is just the thing to get you over your breakup.”

“Jacob, Josephine,” Marc called quietly but firmly. “Leave him alone.”

Josie and Jacob both held up their hands in a placating gesture and let the subject drop.

Luka redoubled his focus on his fingers, trying to banish the thought of Chat Noir from his mind.

“Waraiatte sayonara,” Adrien finished softly and then looked to the band for their judgment call.

Jacob started clapping, and Josie wolf-whistled.

“Can we do that song sometime?” Jacob directed at Marc. “I bet the bass part is killer.”

“Yeah!” Josie cheered. “I can’t wait to get my drumsticks on that.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t,” Marc agreed and then turned back to Adrien with a smile. “You really can sing. That was great.”

“You think so?” Adrien asked with a breathless giddiness, starting to squirm in excitement.

“Definitely,” Luka assured. “You sing like an angel.”

“Make him sing something else,” Josie demanded of Marc who had the grace to blush.

“Josephine, I can’t just make him sing for us,” he sighed and then looked to Adrien. “Would you mind singing something else?”

“Not at all,” Adrien easily agreed, eager to please.

He needed the job desperately, and if he could get paid just for singing, that was certainly easier than anything else he’d done for money the past four years.

“Um…let me think of something else I could sing for you,” he mumbled, chewing on his lip as he wracked his thoughts.

“…Do you know Ranbu no Melody?” Luka suggested. “That’s another one I could play along with you, if you’re familiar with it. I only know the minute and a half that was used as the Bleach opening theme song, though.”

“Yeah, I think I remember how that version goes,” Adrien fibbed.

Luka and Adrien had watched portions of Bleach together, and Adrien had sung along with all of the openings. If Luka still remembered the guitar part, surely, Adrien remembered the lyrics.

Luka counted them in again, and Adrien proved not to have forgotten at all. He sang with every ounce of confidence and enthusiasm that he had back when they’d been teenagers watching anime together.

It was reassuring for Luka to know that, even though Adrien might have changed in the years they’d been apart, there were some things that remained the same.

“How do you know all this weeb music, Luka?” Jacob wondered.

“The Boy was a total anime nerd,” Luka explained with an affectionate smile.

Jacob and Josie let out soft “Oooooh”s and started to nod.

The Boy was practically a mythical figure at this point in their friendship. Luka had talked a lot about The Boy over the years, just like he’d talked a lot about The Girl. Luka had dated many people and loved a small handful, but no one had penetrated so deeply into Luka’s heart as Adrien and Marinette.

“…He’s really good,” Marc observed, visibly delighted as he listened to Adrien. “He puts a lot of emotion into his voice, and I am loving it.”

“Yeah,” Jacob chimed in. “I have no idea what the hell he’s saying, but I feel it, Man. It’s intense.”

Luka’s smile turned melancholy as he remarked, “If I remember correctly, the song is about soldiering on and taking on whatever difficulty is in front of you and then carrying those experiences forward to present them to the person you want to spend your life with. It’s kind of like…we’re the sum of our experiences, and the singer hopes that the person they love will accept them anyway, even though they’ve got cracks and jagged edges in places.”

“Wow,” Josie whispered. “That’s…deep.”

“That’s what I got out of it, anyway,” Luka quickly added. “The Boy translated it into French for me, and then I kind of interpreted it artistically, taking some liberties, but that’s what I got out of it.”

“I like this song,” Jacob decided, tapping his foot along. “I like this kid.”

“We’re adopting him,” Josie decreed.

“Yeah.” Jacob nodded resolutely. “I need to get him to show me more weeb music. I feel like I’ve been missing out.”

“Wooo!!!” Josie cheered loudly as Adrien finished. “We love you!”

“Sing more!” Jacob encouraged as he clapped.

A blush spread across Adrien’s cheeks like fire catching on dried grass.

He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked to Marc for instruction, sensing that Marc was the leader of their little circus.

“I think it would be good if we all played something together to see if we mesh well as a band,” Marc decided. “Would that be okay with you, Émile?”

Adrien nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, of course.”

Jacob turned to Luka. “What song does he know that we could all play?”

Luka shrank, semi-hiding behind his guitar. “Why are you asking me?”

“You did the psychic thing with the songs in Japanese,” Jacob reasoned with a shrug. “Do it again.”

“Yeah,” Josie urged, reaching across Marc to poke Luka. “Do it.”

“I don’t know,” Luka grumbled. “How about This is Gospel? We play that one sometimes.”

And he had taught Adrien how to play it on guitar, so maybe Adrien remembered the lyrics.

“I know that one,” Adrien offered.

“Awesome!” Josie trilled, jumping down from her stool and heading over to the stage to join Adrien.

Once she reached him, she pulled him into a crushing hug.

It was kind of cute. Josie was a statuesque six-foot-two, and Adrien was only five-eight. (Five-ten with shoes on, he used to always insist, sensitive about his lack of height.)

“Hi. We’re adopting you,” Josie informed him as she pulled back with a grin and then abruptly turned on her heel and headed for her drum set.

Marc shook his head, getting up and making his way to the stage to turn on his keyboard.

“Josephine, don’t scare the poor kid,” he chastised wearily.

“I’m not!” she insisted. “I’m being friendly!”

Marc placed a hand on Adrien’s shoulder as he passed, assuring, “She means well. If we ever make you uncomfortable, just say something, okay?”

“It’s fine,” Adrien assured, wiping at the tears beading at the corners of his eyes, hoping that Marc couldn’t see. “I’m just…I’m not used to people being so friendly. I don’t…people don’t hug me. Ever.”

Marc frowned at that, his mum senses kicking in. “Do you like being hugged?”

Adrien nodded.

“Okay then.” Marc didn’t even hesitate as he pulled Adrien in for a hug—not a guy hug with a pat on the back, but an honest to goodness hug.

He pulled back with a smile, instructing, “Just let us know whenever you want a hug, okay? You’re family now. Family get hugs whenever.”

Adrien had to actually bite his tongue to hold in a whimper. He couldn’t find his voice to reply, so he nodded and rubbed away the tears that were quickly taking the previous ones’ place.

“I’ll give you a hug in a minute, Kid,” Jacob assured, picking up his bass. “I’m just lazy, and I’m already set up over here.”

“Same,” Luka latched onto Jacob’s excuse, figuring that now wasn’t the best time for a reunion with Adrien.

Josie counted them in and started the heartbeat-like rhythm that began the song.

Adrien took a deep breath and sang.

The full sound of the band all playing together resonated powerfully through the bar, giving Adrien chills.

It wasn’t perfect. The timing was a little off in places, and Adrien needed to learn his cues if he was going to sync up with the others. They needed to work out the backup vocals and other little things to make the performance come out smooth, but they were starting in a good place. They could polish this up and make it shine.

It felt good to be playing with a band again. Adrien hadn’t realized how much he’d missed making music with others, being a part of a team.

He’d been so alone these past four years.

Partly that was his own fault. He’d run away both literally and figuratively and shut people out who otherwise would have been there for him. He’d let pride and shame and fear of rejection win…and now he was finally realizing how exhausting it had been.

Now that these nice people were opening up to him and accepting him into their little family, it finally dawned upon Adrien that he’d been foolish to try to make it on his own for so long. He hadn’t realized how draining it had been until he’d been offered the chance to rest.

He needed to call Nino and reconnect.

He needed to find Marinette and apologize for giving up his Miraculous and taking off because he’d been overwhelmed after his father’s arrest and hadn’t felt worthy of being Chat Noir.

He needed to fix things, fix his life.

As the song came to an end, a feeling of calm and peace settled over Adrien.

He was still broke and not sure where his next meal was coming from or if he’d have a roof over his head in the intervening days between now and the show on Saturday when he’d presumably get paid, but, oddly enough, he felt a little better about things.

“We killed that,” Jacob preened as he set down his bass and went over to join the others on stage. “Excellent work, Kid,” he announced, pulling Adrien into a hug.

“I’m guessing I got the job?” Adrien hazarded a guess, looking around at his bandmates for confirmation.

“Oh, definitely,” Josie assured. “You know that one meme? ‘I’ve only known Émile for twenty minutes, but if anything happened to him, I’d kill everyone and then myself.’”

Adrien cracked up, beaming. “I don’t think anyone’s ever felt that strongly about me before.”

“Poor boy. And now he’s stuck with us,” Jacob snickered, giving Adrien’s hair a tussle.

“Let’s exchange contact information so we can get ahold of you,” Marc suggested. “Are you available tomorrow? We’re going to need a lot of rehearsal time between now and Saturday in order to be ready.”

“Yes. I’m available,” Adrien quickly confirmed. “I don’t have a phone, though, so if we could communicate by email, that would be great. I’m le chat de la princesse de la nuit on gmail. All lowercase and run together.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Marc assured, getting out his phone and opening up a new email. “I’ll email you all of our numbers and emails so you can get in touch with us. I’ll email you again later with the place and time. It’ll probably be Phantasmagoria over in the eighth arrondissement. You know it?”

Adrien nodded. “I had a friend whose band played there. He used to sneak me in before I turned eighteen.”

The fond smile on Adrien’s face gave Luka some hope that maybe he was still a good memory for Adrien and that Adrien wouldn’t be too upset when he realized just whose band he had inadvertently joined.

It didn’t occur to Adrien until later to wonder if Luka still played at Phantasmagoria and if Raoul the bartender still worked there and would recognize Adrien.

“Good,” Marc chuckled. “I’m glad you know it. Like I said, I’ll confirm place and time later this afternoon.”

He then turned to Luka. “Hey, Rich Boy. Would you mind picking up a phone for Émile? It’s going to be really inconvenient if we can’t get ahold of him.”

“You don’t have to do to that!” Adrien looked frantically between Marc and Luka. “I’ll-I’ll pay you back when I can. I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it, Angel,” Luka assured with a kind smile as he got up and started to put his guitar away. “My bio dad got hit with a huge dose of guilt a few years ago for never bothering to find out I existed let alone pay child support for me, so I’ve got a ridiculous trust fund that I don’t know what to do with now.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed, and he wanted to protest out of principle, but even he had to acknowledge that it would be really useful to have a phone, and he was too down on his luck to afford one.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it, Luc,” he replied with sincerity.

“Sure thing.” Luka smiled, giving Adrien a wink and doing an internal victory dance when Adrien smiled back at him.

“…Well, I guess if you guys don’t need anything else from me, I’m going to head out,” Adrien excused himself politely, starting to make his way towards the door. “It was lovely meeting you all.”

“You too, Kid!” Jacob assured, and Josie seconded the sentiment.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Émile.” Marc waved him off. “Be safe.”

Adrien returned the wave and turned to go.

Luka bit his lip, debating with himself.

“What’s that face you’re making?” Josie snickered, coming back to perch on her barstool.

“You should go ask him out to coffee,” Jacob suggested as he came over, making a shooing gesture at Luka.

“Jacob will babysit your stuff for you,” Marc volunteered.

Luka looked to Jacob, and Jacob shrugged.

“We all want you to start feeling better soon,” Josie explained, giving Luka a soft smile. “Spending time with someone new will be good for you.”

“Just don’t come on too strong so that you scare him off,” Marc cautioned. “Don’t do that heart-song stuff. He’s a good kid, and we need him for Saturday.”

Luka rolled his eyes, handing his guitar to Jacob. “Thanks, guys, but this isn’t a romantic thing.”

“Uh-huh,” Josie agreed disingenuously, a cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Have fun,” Jacob snickered.

Luka shook his head, making for the door.

He looked back and forth once he got outside of the bar and just happened to spot Adrien turning the corner.

He raced after him, slowing down as he began to catch up because he figured the last thing Adrien needed was someone he didn’t recognize barreling towards him and making him think he was in danger.

He decelerated into a walk and took a few deep breaths before calling out, “Adrien!”

Adrien froze, every muscle in his back going tense as he slowly turned.

“I’m sorry. I think you’ve confused me with someone el—” he started to say but then stopped short as he got a good look at Luka in the light of day without his cap obscuring the view.

Adrien’s eyes widened, his cheeks lost all colour, and his mouth dropped open.

“Luka?” he breathed, his heart stopping in his chest.

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commander-rahrah · 3 years

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RESIDENCY: SECOND CHANCES (AN OPEN HEART FIC): PART FOUR

Pairing: MC (Jordynne Holland) X Ethan Ramsey X Bryce Lahela; MC X Bryce; MC X Ethan. Please note that both pairings are present in this fan fiction — off & on, at the same times, and the relationships do ebb & flow. Please keep this in mind. Thank you.

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 3940+

Description: Everybody’s first day back at Edenbrook. Is this second year everything they will need it to be?

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: Ha. Soooo, its been a while. A long while. Many factors went into delaying updating this fic. First of all -- the pandemic. I am an essential worker. I am tired, and stressed. Yes, still. I am tired. I wake up, drive, work, drive, home, eat, sleep. That’s it. My freetime, creativity. mental health, etc. has been at an all time low. Second of all -- life. Soooo much has happened for my little family. My partner and I bought our first home and rescued our absolutely gorgeous puppy from a rescue shelter. It can be a bit hard to find time to write between putting your entire life into boxes, not having any furniture for 3 months and chasing after a puppy. Third -- I honestly felt like I lost my touch with my characters after reading Open Heart 2. The hiatus was understandable but long. There were chapters that were amazing, and heartbreaking and made me feel like I was soooo excited to write them. And then... by the end of Book 2... I felt lost? My favorite characters voices seem muffled. And I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep going. Do I ignore scenes/rewrite them? Would that compromise the premise of my fic? Being a fic that is in addition to the original PB story? I’m still a little lost if I am completely honest. Fourth -- general posting anxiety. Which I try so hard to avoid, and not think of. But comparison games, lack of notes and activity can get to you when you open yourself creatively online.

But messages of encouragement and inquiries into the next update helped! And I thank everyone who checked in on the fic and on me to see what was going on ♡♡♡ Honestly, I felt like I had no time to write, and even if I did I wasn’t motivated or inspired enough to do it. Tonight, I felt good. The news of OH3 was a bit of a kick starter for me I won’t lie. But I want to get back into these character’s heads -- I want to figure out the god damn mess that Jordynne has made for herself with Ethan and Bryce!!

As always any likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated. If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list please just let me know! It has been a long time since the fic updated so please let me know if you no longer want to be tagged or want to be tagged.

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy @owleyes-374 @lahelable @mayah-mahdy @paisleylovergirl @nicquix @emilymay100 @octobereighth @llamasgrl @timmagicktoad @lilyofchoices @msjpuddleduck @mfackenthal @paulfwesley @ccolz88-blog @mindlessdreaminxo @jooous @lapisreviewsstuff @choicesarehard @themingdynasty @omgjasminesimone @hopelessly-shipper @binny1985 @perriewinklenerdie @jens-diamondchoices @indiacater @chasingrobbie @writingsbymissy @dimitriwife @tacohead13 @amy-choices @mrsmatsuo @checkurwindow @imrookieramsey @bitchloveskcbaseball @mrs-ramsey

Previous Updates: Residency — Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen

Residency: Second Chances – Part One Part Two Part Three

Bryce stood near the entrance to Edenbrook — shuffling from one foot to another. Both hands were wrapped around paper coffee cups — one of which he took a careful sip of.

So he had stopped to get her a latte from her favorite café. He knew she would probably be in a huge rush to get to work early and wouldn’t stop to get one. He wanted her day to start off right. At least he hadn’t shown up to the apartment.

Well, the thought had crossed his mind but he had quickly pushed it away. This was about being her friend. He just wanted Jordynne to have a good first day.

His dark eyes kept flicking towards the subway stairs, waiting patiently for that familiar blonde head to come bobbing up. Placing one of the cups on top of the other, he balanced them carefully as he dug into his jeans pocket for his phone. Maybe she had texted —

“Oh Bryce — hey!” His ears perked up at the voice, and was met with a warm smile. The smile that occupied his waking dreams. He liked being the reason for that smile.

“Hey Jordy!” God, why did he sound so breathless.

“Happy first day as a resident!” He shoved his phone back into his pocket, before grabbing onto her latte and extending it out, “I thought you should be extra caffeinated for your day, so I got you...” But his voice trailed off as he realized she was already clutching a travel mug to her chest. “Oh you already got one.”

“Uh, yeah,” Her smile turned sheepish, “I had the exact same thought process as you actually.”

“Heh—,” he chuckled, “I guess I know you pretty well.”

Her green eyes flashed with a look he couldn’t quite read, “Guess you do.” “Well, do you want it still...?” He held out the lukewarm latte again, unsure what to do with it.

“Hey, I’m still Jordynne Holland. When have I ever denied extra caffeine?” Bryce’s white teeth bit his lip as they stretched into a smile. He handed her the cup — their fingers grazing slightly.

“Thanks.”

They fell into step behind the other roommates, trailing into the hospital. As they walked together, Bryce suddenly struggled to find what to say. He had never been one to stay quiet — usually he was the outspoken one. But now he just watched her grasp onto her two coffee cups tightly, her eyes low as she walked into Edenbrook.

Once they made there way into the staff locker room, they separated to their own lockers. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she carefully sat her two drinks down, before grabbing her white coat. She slipped it on effortlessly, before wrapping her stethoscope around her neck. Flipping her blonde ponytail out, she turned to speak with Sienna — her voice to low for him to hear.

Jordynne looked amazing — her lean legs and hips wrapped in a deep green skirt that showed off just enough that it was both sexy and tasteful. Her high necked pale blouse brought out her olive skin. She could be the woman on the front of the pamphlets they hand out to pre-med undergrads. She already was the doctor she was aspiring to be — and he knew she would fit in well with the Diagnostics team. He thought of Ramsey — his pressed trousers, and leather dress shoes. His watch that probably cost more then Bryce’s car. Grinding his molars, he looked down at the wrinkles trousers and Nikes in his hands. Peeling his shirt off he tossed it gently into his locker, letting out a sigh.

But he quickly masked it as Jordynne went to leave the locker room. “Hey,” He caught her attention before she went to leave, “You’re gonna kill it, Holland.”

“Thanks Lahela,” She gave him that smile again. The one that made everything flutter.

“I’ll save you a seat at lunch?”

“Oh—“ Her eyebrows furrowed slightly in the middle, “I’m not sure how my day will look with the team... I’ll play it by ear?” She offered, looking a little guilty.

“Yeah— yeah of course...” His voice sounded a little strained. “We’ll catch you later.”

She nodded at him, pushing her hands into her pockets, “Okay, yeah. See you guys in the atrium,” She called out over her shoulder, her blonde ponytail swinging as she walked away.

Bryce’s brown eyes flickered over to the rest of her roommates, who were all watching with slightly worried looks. It was starting to settle in. Maybe this second year, this second chance — was the beginning of everything changing. ________________________________________________________________ He had originally come up here to get accustomed to his new surroundings. Get a lay of the land. The board had spared no expense with the new wing expansion — and the Diagnostic team’s new office was no joke.

Ethan was standing across the hall from the room — staring into the room through the glass walls. Everything inside was sleek, shiny and new. His hands were bunched up fists in the pockets of his trousers, and the tie around his neck felt a little tight. Had he forgotten what all of this was like while he was away?

Thirty minutes he had stood there.

Thirty.

Standing there and imagining where he would sit at the table — discussing with the team, leading them to the right diagnosis. Researching at the desk, pouring over the hundred books that was supplied for them in there.

But the picture in his head was fuzzy. Even in his imagination Ethan felt like something didn’t feel right. What was it?

The team? No. Mirani and Hirata always did excellent work. He could rely on them.

Was it that Naveen was missing? So many of his biggest successes with the team was with Naveen. And he definitely felt his absence this past year. He had also never really adjusted to the idea of being the team lead for the department. It was thrust upon him, not once but twice. And both times he had been unprepared. Being a leader wasn’t exactly what he had always hoped for in his career.

Ethan’s thick brows were furrowed as he thought, the gears in his mind whirling. Why had he been staring at the office for thirty minutes? What was stopping him from going inside and just doing his damn work? That’s what he came back for — so what was his trepidation?

The light flickering on in the diagnostic teams office brought him back to reality. The room was illuminated, the white light shining through the glass walls and spilling into the hall.

There she was.

Jordynne stood at the entrance of the office, her back facing him as she took it all in. She hadn’t notice him from across the large hallway. Ethan stepped back into the shadows — hoping she wouldn’t see him capturing the moment. A silent laugh escaped him as he watched her set not one, but two coffee cups down onto the table. His lips remained upturned as he watched her wander deeper into the room, running her fingers over the smooth surface of the whiteboard. She had a soft smile on her face as she looked around her.

“Good morning Dr. Ramsey!”

Ethan almost hissed at the sound of the cheerful voice next time. Looking over he saw Dr. Baz Mirani standing next to him with a wide smile spread across his face.

“Morning,” He grumbled, looking back to his view of the diagnostics office where Jordynne had started to settle in.

“That’s Dr. Holland right?” Baz followed his line of sight, and watching her for a moment. “Are you going to head in?” The young doctor questioned, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

He cleared his throat, before shaking his head, “You go ahead.”

The young man didn’t think anything of it, and marched over into the office. Ethan could hear their muffled voices through the glass as they introduced each other.

He noticed the next person that came up to him — Dr. Hirata. She gave him a nod, before pausing for a moment and staring at him in the dark side of the corridor. He could tell she was calculating, attempting to deduce what was keeping him out of their new office. But her face remained neutral and she turned on her heel and headed into the room.

Maybe there were too many variables for her to figure it out too.

His blue eyes watched as the three colleagues got familiar with each other, shaking hands and pleasantries. Maybe this would be a perfect time to go in. He had missed the awkward introductions — the worst part was over. He just had to go into the room.

Running his hands over his white coat, Ethan crossed the hall and stepped into the brand new office.

“Introductions done?” He asked, his thick brows raised. He glanced over them quickly, not long enough to make any eye contact. “Great. We’ve got work to do.” The glass door behind him gently hissed as it closed — leaving them all in the office together.

Ok. First step done.

“We have an incoming patient from Manhattan Presbyterian.” The trio slid apart to make room for him as he marched to the board, pining up an abdominal CT scan.

Jordynne, June and Baz grabbed a spot at the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

“Can you describe the patient?”

“Male, aged 45. Asian American.” He watched as Jordynne took out her trusty little black notebook, and started jotting down notes.

“Symptoms?”

“He presented with a fever, vomiting and diarrhea, and was treated for the flu. He returned several days later with enlarged lymph nodes, abdominal pain, and a rash on his shoulder.” Grabbing onto a black marker, he started to write the known symptoms down on the white board. With his back turned to the group for a moment, he let the corners of his lips turn up for a split second. This felt good. “What did his former doctors think it was?”

“Hodgkin lymphoma.” He made sure he kept his face neutral -- to not give any answers away.

June scoffed, “Amateurs. And his blood?”

He almost laughed.

As the conversation started to amp up, Ethan slipped back into his role on the diagnostics team easier then he had imagined. Bouncing off of each other during the differential — he had missed this.

Then he realized Jordynne hadn’t said anything. She was sitting in her chair, looking slightly awestruck. But she was still writing notes diligently and observing them going back and forth.

“Six months ago, however, he was admitted for flu-like symptoms and a rash on his arm.” Ethan continued, drawing his eyes away from her and focusing back on the conversation.

“That could be the key. Did they biopsy it?” Baz asked, eyebrows raised and face hopeful.

He pursed his lips, “They didn’t.”

“Any history of dermatitis?”

“Was he on any medication prior to being admitted?”

June and Baz asked one after the other, going through their mental lists. “No and no.”

“It could be cutaneous Kikuchi disease.” Hirata suggested. But she didn't do suggestions -- she diagnosed.

Interesting.

June had gotten there first. But she was always like that. It was a race for her.

“The symptoms do add up.” Dr. Mirani nodded, giving his colleague a look of approval.

“I agree.”

There was a knock on the door, and they looked up to see Danny on the other side of the glass. Ethan waved him in where he announced the patient's arrival at Edenbrook.

“Excellent. Dr. Holland,” He spoke directly to her for the first time that morning —holding his breath as he waited for her reaction. But her face remained neutral, looking up at him through her lashes as she waited for him to finish, “Run a biopsy on the patient’s rash. If we’re correct, we’ll begin the patient on a treatment of nonsteroidal anti-inflammatories and prednisone.”

He noticed her swallow for a moment, listening to her instructions. “And if we’re wrong?”

“We’ll re-evaluate.”

“But we won’t need to,” June said confidently, leaning across the table at Jordynne with a wink.

“Team dismissed. I’ll page you if I need you again today.” He turned around, going back to the white board to add their final notes and treatment plan.

Out of his peripheral vision he saw Baz put a gentle hand on Jordynne’s shoulder. He lowered his head to speak in her softly, “I made the same face my first few days on the team. You’ll get used to it.”

Ethan crossed over to his desk to find the patient's file. Rummaging in his pockets, he found his glasses and slid them on. Without looking up from his file, he spoke to Jordynne who had remained in the room, “After you’re done with our patient, you can see Ines and Zaid for further assignments. You��ll be balancing your work here with your usual resident duties. Now that you’re in your second year, that will include rotations at the free clinic.”

“Yes, Dr. Ramsey.” Her voice was so professional, so trained. He had never heard her sound like that. It was like she had practiced.

He heard the sound of her crossing the room, and stepping towards the door. But then she hesitated. “Will we always diagnose a patient without seeing them?” She asked.

“No, but we’re often asked for help by other hospitals all over the country, so it’s a good habit to keep our blind diagnosis skills sharp.” He finally looked up from his file, using his finger as a bookmark in it. But when he looked over to, his stomach flipped slightly as he found that her green eyes already staring at him.

He could see her hesitation, and maybe some nerves. She had just been thrown into the deep end -- and it seemed she was struggling to stay afloat.

“Is everything alright, Jordynne?”

He couldn’t help himself. Plus, it was his responsibility to ensure her success on the team now. It was apart of his job to check in on her.

“Actually...,” She made sure the glass door closed, before stepping further into the room, “Could we talk?” Her fingers were knotted together in front of her -- she looked nervous, and vulnerable.

Ethan studied her for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek, “About the job? Or about us?”

Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, like she was in pain. But it was for just for the smallest moment -- he had barely even caught it. “The job.”

Placing the file down, he pulled a chair from the center table out for her where they sat down together. He adjusted his glasses on the crook of his nose, before settling into his chair. “I’m all yours,” He said, folding his hands carefully on top of each other on the table as he waited for her to speak up.

“Dr. Ramsey...," A flicker of doubt crossed her face, before she opened her mouth, "How are you sure you made the right diagnosis?"

Grabbing the file in front of him, he pulled out the patient's previous charts and placed them in front of them. “In medicine, the most logical answer is usually the correct one. In this case, the most obvious answer was Hodgkin lymphoma.”

“But the other hospital had already eliminated Hodgkin lymphoma.” She finished for him.

“Correct. Which allowed us to take it off the board and considered the next most logical answer.” He pointed back over his shoulder to the symptoms he had written on the board in his chicken scratch, “The patient had a persistent rash. Paired with the symptoms present, the most logical answer is Kikuchi disease." He met her eye easily across the table, before matching her vulnerability, "But as to how I’m so sure, I’m not. Which is why you’ll be running a biopsy. We need to trust in our diagnostic instincts, but the second we let arrogance overrule the results, we fail as doctors.”

“So I should use logic... and be humble?” Her eyebrows were tugging in the middle as she processed his advice.

“And read journals. I want you to turn yourself into a walking disease encyclopedia. You can’t diagnose the patient if you don’t study up. If the patients we saw had more common diseases... they’d never have been referred to us in the first place.”

“Got it.” She nodded -- eyeing the bookshelves behind them that were filled with textbooks.

“So what did you think of the team?" He asked curiously, "It was the three of us under Naveen last year, until he put himself out to pasture.”

A soft chuckle escaped her, “You mean became Chief of Medicine?”

He smiled at the sound, “Precisely.”

“Well, we just met but I think I liked Baz.” Jordynne offered, pursing her lips.

“He’s hard to dislike. Walking proof that genetics aren’t everything.”

“When did he join the team?”

“A couple years ago, when Zaid began his residency. He sought a position here to be closer to his brother.”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, “Can’t believe Zaid would be okay with that.”

“Supposedly, the old chief cleared it with Zaid before he approved the transfer. But I heard a rumor that it was Baz, dressed up pretending to be Zaid.”

Her mouth fell open, “He wouldn’t!”

He shrugged, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. “I don’t pay any mind to rumors.”

She smirked back at him -- and he could feel the nervousness and ice melting between them. They could do this.

Two colleagues conversing normally. This was fine.

“So if I want to get on Baz’s good side, how do I go about that?” She leaned in a bit more towards him, putting her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her fist.

Ethan thought for a moment before replying, “Baz is earnest to a fault. He respects authenticity more than anything so... as much as I despise saying anything so incredibly banal, my advice would be... “be yourself”,” He grimaced as the words left his mouth.

“Oof—“ She chuckled, “That must have hurt to say aloud.” She knew him well. “That’s why you’ll never hear it again.”

She let out another laugh, but this one sounded more sad. Then a sigh escaped her, and she started picking at her lip, “I thought I was so ready for this year. How do I feel like a clueless intern all over again?”

“Because you are clueless, relatively speaking.”

She frowned, “Gee, thanks.”

His stomach dropped -- that's not what he meant. “It wasn't an insult," He scrambled to get out, "You get to spend the second year of your residency in a small room with over three decades of collective medical knowledge and experience. Learn from it. Be inspired to become a better doctor from it.” He looked up, and found her already looking at him again. His thick brows furrowed, “What is it?”

“Oh uh... your glasses...," Her words trailed off as she looked at him, "They make you look smart.” She sounded a little breathless.

He did his best to ignore how that made him feel, the blush that might have been creeping up on his cheeks. So he hid between cheek and tongue. “You’ve caught me. The illusion behind my status. Without these I’m a simpering moron.”

The pair was quiet for a beat, before bursting out laughing. As they laughed, she casually tapped his hand with hers. “Thank you,” She spoke again, but this time her voice was quiet.

Her fingers had lingered on his hand, so she gave it a squeeze. They were cold on his warm skin.

Ethan's jaw set as he felt those familiar sparks. Jordynne...” His voice was a warning. It was only the first hour of their first day.

“I know.” She said carefully, but she looked down at the table.

“We’ll be okay. We’ll make it work.”

He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

“Yeah,” She breathed out.

He moved his thumb gently across her fingers, daring to give her just that smallest bit of comfort. But the sound of the glass door whooshing open caused him to rip his hand away.

“Whoops! Forgot my pager! That could have been very bad!” Baz strolled back into the office -- oblivious to what he had just walked in on.

Both Ethan and Jordynne bolted out of their chairs, stepping away from each other.

“Hmm. Yes. It’s right over there on the table.” Ethan pointed before shoving his guilty hands into his lab coat.

“I’ll get those tests run.” Jordynne had moved to the door, her arms crossed over her chest and face flushing red with embarrassment.

“Excellent. Thank you.” He said with a nod, watching as she turned on her heel and marched down the hallway.

Why was nothing ever easy with Jordynne Holland?

Would this year be any different?

_______________________________________________________________

"Cholecystitis." Jordynne said as she finished adding it to the whiteboard in the diagnostics room. Her perfect block letters standing out drastically against Dr. Ramsey's messy scratch. "Inflamed gull bladder which explains the abdominal pain after eating. Which is entirely separate from Kikuchi disease."

She turned around, capping the pen with a confident smile. Esme was standing near the door, watching the scene unfurl with crossed arms.

"I have to say, I'm not sure I would have spotted that." June spoke first -- looking mildly impressed.

"Nice catch, Jordynne." Baz gave her a big smile.

"Indeed. Especially since we had been diagnosing based on reports, not our own face-to-face interviews. Dr. Holland's specialty has always been listening to her patients. Well done." He gave her a nod, a smile threatening to show on his face.

"It wasn't just me. Dr. Ortega assisted." She nodded to her intern at the door. She knew that drove Ethan crazy -- passing along credit to her colleagues. But Esme deserved it.

"Hey," Esme nodded her head at the trio from the corner of the room, attempting a smile.

"So this is your intern?" Ramsey stepped forward, eyebrows raised. "Well, Dr. Ortega...," He sized her up for a moment, before moving his steely eyes over to Jordynne. "Dr. Holland's one of our best. Consider yourself lucky."

Jordynne felt warmth spread in her chest -- feeling proud of herself. High praise from Dr. Ramsey -- everything between them aside.

"I do, Dr. Ramsey."

"Keep me updated on his treatment." Ethan asked politely, before filing out of the room with the rest of the diagnostics team.

"So I guess you're pretty good at this." Her intern looked at her with a little smirk. "You saw for yourself, I learned from the best. Edenbrook has some of the best doctors in America, and you'll learn from them all. And not just the attendings, but your fellow interns too. I wouldn't have made it through without my friends."

"You telling me to what... be more social?" Esme looked up at her -- her face filled with doubt.

She shrugged, the corners of her lips tugging up, "It can't hurt."

"It definitely can."

"Donahue's from the other night? That's where everyone goes. But first, let's get you back to your patients." Jordynne started to shuffle out of the office, but Esme's voice stopped her.

"Right... Hey, Dr. Holland? Thanks for not bailing on me. Gotta say, that's a new one." She sounded genuine.

"Sure thing, Ortega. I got your back."

This year could be different.

39 notes · View notes

yandere--stuck · 4 years

Text

Yandere!Discord x Celestia

"Retirement?" Discord croaked, air catching his lungs.

"Yes! It's a great idea, don't you think?" Celestia beamed. "Luna and I can finally get a well-deserved break, I don't think either of us have had one since we were foals! And Twilight will finally be able to stretch her wings, well, so to speak, and gain confidence as a ruler."

"Retirement…" Discord breathed out in a whisper. "You're retiring…"

Celestia's face fell, but only momentarily. The Alicorn perked up as she picked up a tea kettle with her magic, a pink aura surrounding it as she poured more tea into her cup. A nervous chucked bubbled up from her throat.

"Well, yes, but it won't be permanent, of course."

Discord stared down at his paw and claw, resting against his torso. A paw and claw. Just another way he's different. But, one couldn't ignore how useful they were, like holding things you love close to you. His head hung and maw hanging open in pure shock. His ears hung low and brushed against the back of his head.

"Where will you go…? What will you do?"

"Oh, well, of course, we're thinking of doing some travelling. But, I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we get there!"

Discord sat silently, letting the pony's words consume him. She… She was leaving him. Again. Just when he thought things were getting better. Just when he thought they were getting closer. Just when he thought things would be like they used to be.

A memory made his heart pang with sadness. Sadness and grief and regret and pain… All things that could be frowned out by the numbing joy of chaos.

Nothing could hurt you if nothing made enough sense to hurt you in the first place.

… A snow-white filly with wavy pink hair and eyes of sparkling rose quartz, her legs too long for her body. A draconequus, a mischievous mishmash of many beasts, who loved her more than tragedy loved to befall both of them. Oh, how they loved to play together, how they loved to trick and fool and play pranks. It was perfect. And then it wasn't. Because she insisted that she doesn't have time for playing games anymore, Discord. She has a nation to worry about, Discord. Her people need her, Discord.

You're a draconequus, Discord, and everypony hates draconequui and they're all murderers and hateful and cruel and they're monsters and-!... Well, okay. She didn't say that. But, it felt like it!

… So, when it came time to choose her people and her steadily spiralling and increasingly chaotic coltfriend…

She sealed him in stone.

"I'm very sorry that I didn't tell you sooner." Celestia said softly. "I figured now would be the best time, considering Luna and I were planning on announcing it to everypony else, as well."

"It's… Okay." Discord lied, pausing a moment. "... When were you planning on leaving?"

"Today, at the soonest."

"TODAY?!"

Celestia flinched, eyes wide at the draconequus' outburst. Her dining partner seethed from the opposite side of the table, panting loudly through his snout. His sharp teeth were bared and a growl built up in his throat.

Pink eyes trained on Discord, not willing to leave him. "Discord, I…"

Discord shook his head, eyes screwed shut, leaning against the tabletop. "No, no, this wasn't supposed to happen… I… I thought…" Discord blinked open his eyes, training on Celestia's hoof, resting against the surface. Hesitantly, he reached out with paw-

The princess quickly retracted it, flinching at the draconequus' movements.

Tears bubbled up in Discord's eyes. "Celly, I thought we…"

"Oh, Discord, is that what this all about?" Celestia sighed. The princess bit her lip. "Discord… We… We're not like that, anymore. I don't- we… We can't go back to that. So many things have happened and changed. It wouldn't be right."

A sob escaped Discord's throat, wracking through his entire body. He wrapped his arms around himself in a vain attempt at comfort. His body seized up and seemed to attempt to fold in on itself as he cried.

This wasn't fair! This wasn't right! This wasn't supposed to happen!

"Discord, I'm so sorry. I had no idea you still felt so strongly-"

Why didn't she remember? They were in love! She loved him and he loved her and they loved each other and they still do, they're supposed to! So, why-?

"But, you have to understand… We're just not those kids anymore. We can't be like that together. It would be irresponsible-"

He was good again, he was so good, he was getting better, even! So why… Why wasn't he enough? He loves her, he deserves her. And she has to love him, too! Why else would she-

"-I truly am sorry. I may have been a bit tone deaf, and inconsiderate. So many times I try to teach my little ponies to be caring and considerate of others, when I couldn't even realize the pain you must still be feeling-"

Maybe… Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe, it was just like before. The outside world, the other ponies, everything else… Tricking her into thinking he was bad for her, that he wasn't a good influence, that there were more important things at hoof. And after all this time, she still hasn't unlearnt it.

"-And for that, I am truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me. Even if we can't be together exactly like you'd want. But-"

Then, Discord supposed, the outside world will simply have to go away. Oh, Celly will get her vacation, alright.

Momentarily, a feeling of guilty gnawed at him, before he mentally cast it aside. This was good. This was right. Discord was good. This was the right thing to do.

"-I hope we can still be friends."

"No…!" Discord growled.

"What?" The hurt in Celestia's voice almost made him whimper.

The draconequus easily reached over to grab at the princess' hoof, dragging her over to press her body against his. Underneath his fur, Discord's body was alight with fiery warmth at the feeling of Celestia against him. His growls turned into purrs as he nuzzled against her.

"Discord, let go!" Celestia squirmed in his grip.

Discord chuckled, tilting up her chin with a finger. "Not this time, my dear. I let you go once, and looked how that happened. I'll never let you go, again."

The snow-white alicorn glared up at him, (oh, she was so cute when she was mad!) her horn sparking with a pink aura.

Oh no, she doesn't!

With a simple snap, her horn disappeared completely, alongside her wings. She was completely powerless and at his mercy.

Another snap, and they were both in another building entirely, much smaller than the castle, certainly. Outside the windows, Celestia saw an endless expanse of chaos, with no meaning or rhyme or reason.

Her heart beated against her ribcage. This was his dimension…

"You're powerless now, Celly," Discord crooned, nuzzling against his beloved. "And you're in my world now."

The former-alicorn seized up in fear, eyes darting about in confusion. "H- how did- why- how did you-"

Discord chuckled. "I'm much more powerful than you think, darling. The only reason I didn't do anything like this when you first banished me is because I had a soft spot for you and Lulu. I wanted to give you a fighting chance.

And now that I've changed, I wanted to be good. I wanted to reconnect naturally. I wanted to do it for you. But, no… Of course not. You don't want that. You wanted to leave me all over again!"

"Discord, please, I'm truly sorry, please, just listen-!"

"No... No more Mr. Nice Discord. Don't worry, love, you'll get your vacation. How does a few eons, just you and me, sound?"

117 notes · View notes

trashmenofmarvel · 4 years

Text

Bucky’s Game

Pairing: 1940′s Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Bucky knows how to test your limits, but when he brings Steve into his games, you may have bargained for too much.

Prompt: For @darkficsyouneveraskedfor ‘s a picture says a thousand words challenge.

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, light bondage, orgasm denial, multiple partners, choking, voyeurism, manipulation, dubcon (18+ only, this is dark Bucky and he’s not messing around)

Word Count: 8k

AO3

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You thought you were going to go mad. It had been at least two hours since Bucky left. You should have been cold, naked as you were in the bathtub, but the fine tremors that went through your body kept your skin hot and flushed.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You groaned as the drops of warm water hit your sensitive nub. You were flat on your back, your legs horizontal and slightly bent against the wall, laid bare just below the facet. It wasn’t enough to bring you to your peak, but just enough to keep you on the knife’s edge.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You heard the front door to the apartment open. Thank God. A few seconds later, Bucky appeared in the doorway, all dressed up from his day out with Steve. You shivered as he stood there, leaning against the frame as his eyes roved over your naked body. His pink tongue wet his lips, the gesture going straight between your legs. You whimpered. It hurt.

“I… was good,” you panted. Desperate for him to either turn the water off or open it to full blast. Anything to relieve the tormenting pressure. “I didn’t move. Didn’t even touch myself.”

“Is that right?” His smile was lazy and wicked. “I think I’ll take a look for myself.”

You could barely keep still as he strode over to the tub. He knelt by the side, bright blue eyes devouring you as they roamed over your skin. He reached over the edge and moved his hand teasingly between your legs. His forefinger swirled around your swollen bud and dipped down between your folds. You gasped and arched your neck, shivering as he teased at your entrance. You could feel how tight and slick you were for him. He could feel it, too.

“That’s my girl.” His slow smile was bright but his eyes were sharp as ever. He pulled his hand away, leaving you cold and empty. “Why don’t you come on out of there, sweetheart? You must be freezing.”

You almost whined, wanting him to touch you again. Reward you for being so good, but it was true; you didn’t want to spend another second in that chilly porcelain tub.

Bucky turned off the facet and stood, grabbing a towel from the rack. You gripped the side of the tub and pulled yourself into a sitting position. Your limbs felt heavy and your fingers and toes really were freezing. You should have turned up the radiator this morning.

You carefully stepped out of the tub, nearly slipping in the process, but Bucky was there with the towel, wrapping it around you and half-lifting you out of the tub and onto the bathroom rug. You sighed in relief as he rubbed your arms through the fabric, cheeks heating when he smiled at you. It was almost a smirk, and to any other gal it would have looked simply charming with all those pearly whites.

You shivered again, and not from the cold.

Bucky removed the towel and lightly swatted your rear with his hand.

“Go on. In the bedroom and on the bed. Hands and knees. I want that lovely ass up and ready for me.”

Your squeezed your thighs in anticipation.

“Yes, Sergeant.”

He made a noise of satisfaction, low in his throat as he watched you walk past, a fox eyeing the hen.

You walked forward into the bedroom, gooseflesh prickling your arms as your nipples peaked from the brisk air. You crawled onto the bed, waiting on your hands and knees as instructed. You wanted to look over your shoulder, hearing Bucky’s footsteps not far behind, but you knew that would earn another slap to your bottom.

Your patience was rewarded; calloused, warm hands caressed the curve of your flesh. Bucky took his time, his hands exploring the expanse of your thighs and the curve of your hips, never touching the place you needed.

Finally, after he was sure you could remain quiet and still, he placed his left hand on the small of your back. He applied light pressure with his palm, forcing your back to curve as his right hand dipped between your folds. You gasped and curled your fingers into the quilted bedsheet, arching your spine as he slid two fingers down your slick pussy all the way to your swollen bud.

“Such a good girl,” Bucky praised, voice a low rumble of approval. “You’re about to burst at the seams.”

“I… followed your orders, Sarge,” you panted out. You tried not to shiver from the exposure of cool air on your naked skin. “Down to the letter.”

“So you did,” he purred, moving his fingers back up to tease your entrance. “Such an obedient little soldier deserves a reward.”

He didn’t give you time to respond as he pressed his fingers into you, parting your swollen inner folds. You pressed your lips together but couldn’t stop the whimper.

“So fuckin’ tight.” He kept pushing forward until he was in all the way to the knuckles. Bucky curled his two fingers in that special spot that sent a ripple of pleasure through your pelvis. “Jesus, sweetheart. I might have to loosen you up a little. This pretty little cunt of yours is beggin’ to milk me dry, but I wanna take my sweet time. After all, you had your fun yesterday. Only fair I have mine.”

You shivered and bit back a moan, remembering the dance hall and the trouble you’d gotten into. He squeezed your hip in warning, clearly recalling the event as well.

“You gonna be a good girl and hold still while I get you ready for me?”

“Yes, sir,” you managed to somehow answer as he continued to slowly work his fingers into you. You weren’t sure which was making your body react more—his sensual fingers or his wily tongue. Lord knew he could undo you with both.

“That’s it,” he crooned as he continued to work his fingers, in and out, slow enough that you would never reach your peak. He knew that, too. He knew how all your pieces fit together and how to dismantle them with sweet precision. “Just relax. You’re gonna have to take something a lot bigger than my fingers real soon, and I don’t wanna hurt you. I want it to feel good for you, sweetheart, even with your recent misbehavior.”

“Thank you, Sarge,” you said in a broken whisper. You had to thank him, it was only polite. If you didn’t, you would be punished, which was sometimes fun in its own right. After all, that’s why you were in this situation to begin with.

Yesterday evening, Bucky had taken you dancing. You were one of those rare birds that didn’t care for dancing, but Bucky made it into magic. The way he had swept you across the dancefloor made you feel like a real-life queen of some faraway kingdom. Maybe that’s why, when he’d gone to gab with some of his old army buddies, you went and found another cute boy at the dancehall, dragged him to a supply closet and let him put his hands up your dress while he stuck his tongue in your mouth.

You didn’t let him go under your underwear, of course. Only one man got to ever touch you there.

When Bucky had found you (it hadn’t taken long, he was too good at finding you after you wandered off) the fire in his eyes had been so terrifying the man had snatched his hands away from you so fast you’d think you were made of flaming coals.

“You got a problem or somethin’?” the man had preened while trying to recover his dignity. “Can’t you see we’re busy? Scram, before I break that ugly mug of yours.”

Bucky had placed a hand to his chest and pushed him, very lightly, but it had been enough to knock him back into the wall. Before the man could do anything, Bucky had picked you up in his arms like his newly wedded bride.

“Trust me, pal,” Bucky had said in a growl, “you want nothin’ to do with this she-devil.”

He’d kissed you full on the mouth, bold as you please, and you’d returned the gesture eagerly, curling your fingers into his slicked-back hair. When you parted, the man’s mouth was open and his eyes wide.

“You seem like a nice fella,” you’d called over Bucky’s shoulder as you were carried away. “Keep practicing and maybe you can find a pretty girl of your own!”

By the dark look in Bucky’s eyes that night, you were sure he was going to toss you into the backseat of his car and have his way right then and there for the whole street to see. But he didn’t touch you or even spoke on the way home, the tension in his jaw a warning sign. When you got into bed, he had still kept his distance. Even though you’d play this game before, you began to genuinely worry he was mad. When he said you would get a proper punishment the next day, you knew everything was right on track.

He’d been true to his word. Claiming you needed to learn some self-control and “give that needy little cunt of yours a good cleanin’,” he’d ordered you into the tub, turned on the facet to a slow dribble that would soon feel like genuine torture, and told you to stay there until you were clean. He also said once that was done, he’d dirty you up again, make you roll in the filth to show you who you truly belonged to.

It was a game the two of you shared and no one else would ever understand. Seeing Bucky with hellfire in his eyes was asking for the worse kind of trouble, but he always made sure you were taken care of no matter how rough he got. You were truly a lucky gal.

And you were all his, to do with as he pleased, just like right now.

Your nails dug into the sheets and you tried to loosen your muscles, closing your eyes as you breathed steadily and focused on the tortuous rhythm he had set. You had nearly succeeded too when he decided to throw your progress out the window. His left hand on your hip, he squeezed and slightly pulled you back, and then forward again, and you quickly realized he was fucking you on his fingers.

It was entirely indecent, so it was little surprise when your walls began to tight around him. Bucky always knew how to shock reactions out of your body you never thought possible.

“Bucky,” you whined as the pressure built in your core, earning a slap to your ass. “S—sorry, sir, I’m sorry, but I…”

“Yes?” he asked with drawn amusement.

“May I come, sir?” Your arms were beginning to tremble from the strain of holding yourself up, but you didn’t dare move.

“No.” He increased his rhythm and you pressed your lips together to stifle a ragged gasp. “If you come you’re gonna be that much tighter, and the point of this exercise is to loosen you up, isn’t it?”

You nodded, then quickly answered, “Yes, sir.”

“That’s my girl.” He rubbed your hip with his hand as he continued to move you onto his fingers. “Don’t you dare come now. I can feel you tightening. Relax, I gotta slick you up first or else there’s gonna be wear and tear. Can’t start the engine until all the necessary parts are lubed and greased, yeah?”

Your cheeks heated at the humiliation of being spoken of as an object or a machine. It also made your walls clench tighter. God, he was truly getting his revenge on you today.

“That’s enough, I think.” He pulled his large fingers out of you and you sighed with relief. You immediately bit your lip and waited for his reprimand, but it never came. Instead, you felt his warmth as he leaned against your back and prodded your lips with his fingers. Without having to be told, you opened your mouth and took them into your mouth, sucking on them as you licked off your juices.

“That’s it, sweetheart, clean ‘em good.” Bucky’s lips trailed along the back of your neck and shoulders, murmuring praise as you closed your eyes and drowned in the taste of yourself on his fingers.

Bucky drew his fingers out of your mouth with a light pop. With a lingering kiss between your shoulder blades, he moved back off of you. You heard the musical clink of a belt unbuckling, followed by the sound of runners on a zipper being pulled. Like a trained dog, your body reacted to the sound. Your skin broke into gooseflesh and heat bloomed across your core in anticipation.

You nearly jumped when something warm prodded between your folds, but you remained perfectly still, too well-trained for such an amateurish mistake. Bucky held your hip tightly as he began to push into you, the head of his cock slipping past your entrance without difficulty. You were so slick you could feel the moisture on your thighs, a mortifying shame if you’d been with anyone else. With Bucky, the more obvious your arousal for him, the more it turned him into a wild tomcat.

You quietly whined at the intrusion. Noises were allowed, in fact he encouraged them, but you wanted to show you could control yourself.

He continued to push forward, stretching your walls with a strain that slightly burned despite him taking the time to loosen you. His hips met yours as he finally bottomed out, imbedded deep inside you as far as he could go.

“Fuck. So tight even after all that. Like a goddamn virgin.” He pulled halfway out and pushed back in, not too hard as he tested the waters. “I’m not gonna last long like this, sweetheart, not with you so snug and greedy around my cock.”

You gave a small whimper but said nothing, digging your nails into the blanket. He lightly slapped your ass and you flinched around him. He cursed again.

“Shit, it’s like you were made for me, baby doll.” He pulled out and thrust back into you, much harder this time. You cried out and hung your head, silently begging him to stop teasing and to give you the brutal rhythm you needed. But he continued toying with you, his hands tracing along your sides and hips as he kept you unmoving on his cock.

You knew this game. He would keep you like that for as long as he wanted, seating inside you if you were nothing more than a hole to keep him warm. Ordinarily, you could last a long time, sometimes even winning, but today after the torture in the bathtub you knew you were going to break much faster than usual.

“Please,” you begged. There was no dignity left in your voice.

“Please what?” he taunted as his hands stilled on your hips. “You think you’re in a position to ask for anything right now? You think you deserve it?”

“N—no. I just… please. Please, fuck me, Sarge.”

The force of his next thrust jostled you so hard you nearly lost your balance. Sparks shot up your core as you gave a muffled sob. It felt so good but it wasn’t enough, you needed more or you were going to collapse into a sobbing wreck. Wouldn’t have been the first time he’d left you like that, either.

Perhaps Bucky didn’t have patience for this game today either, because he didn’t stop this time; he picked up a rhythm, hot and wet as your juices squelched around his cock. You groaned at the sound of it and the sparks that shot through you each time he slammed into your hips.

He was still completely clothed and you were entirely naked. There was something about that too that was indecent, and it only increased the pressure between your thighs.

“Think that little shit at the dance hall would still want you if he could see you now?” he grunted. “Crying for it? Begging to be fucked? Knowing what a cock-slut you are?”

“No, s—sir,” you stuttered.

“Goddamn right he wouldn’t. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

His flesh pounded against yours, each thrust proving his point, each time he filled you a declaration that he owned you.

“Yes, sir, I—I’m yours.”

Apparently your words weren’t enough proof; a hand snaked around your neck, Bucky’s palm on the column of your throat as his fingers tightened under your jaw.

He began to squeeze. You gasped, back forced into an arch as he tilted your head upwards.

“I told you,” he growled, pounding into you so hard it stung. “I told you, next time I caught another man’s hands on you, I’d make sure you never forget. I said I’d fuckin’ wrap my hands around your neck as I fucked you from behind. I’d make you moan my name, baby girl, so you’d never forget who you belong to. And I keep my promises.”

Bucky squeezed, cutting off your air, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You came with a crash, your body clenching up so tightly you thought you might snap in half, choking out his name as sparks filled your vision. You pulsed around him so tightly he could barely move.

Bucky cursed as he released your neck. He fucked you through the remainder of your orgasm but quickly pulled out, hot cum spilling onto your back immediately after.

Your arms sagged and you collapsed onto the bed. Permission be damned, your body was completely wrung out, limp with fatigue. You shivered as a result of the aftershocks still sparking through you. You were careful to stay on your side, feeling the cum cooling on your back. You didn’t want to get the sheets dirty.

The bed dipped beside you and Bucky’s lips pressed a kiss to your temple. You sighed and leaned into his touch but he pulled away too soon. You wanted him to touch you gently and hold you to his chest, but it seemed he wasn’t done with your punishment yet.

“Up.” He lightly tapped the side of your thigh. “Lie on your back, head on the pillows.”

Relieved you wouldn’t have to move from the bed, you crawled to the headboard and lied down as instructed. You made a face as your sticky back pressed into the covers but you remained silent as Bucky approached. There was a light blue ribbon in grip, vivid and bright in his tan, calloused hands.

“Hands above your head.”

He wrapped your wrists together and tied them to the headrail, tight but not painful. Bucky tugged at the makeshift restraint; satisfied, he went to the nightstand and pulled out another piece of cloth. This one was dark and velvety. Your heart raced. By the smirk on his face, Bucky knew exactly how you were responding.

“Relax, that’s a good girl. You’re going to like this, I promise. You were so good for me today, so I thought I’d surprise you.”

You licked your lips. “Thank you, sir.” You didn’t know what the surprise was but you had to thank him regardless.

Bucky placed the blindfold around your eyes, tying it off behind your head. Your bedroom vanished behind the fabric and you closed your eyes to complete the transition to total darkness. Almost instantly your body thrummed, skin oversensitive with anticipation. Your ears strained as you tried to figure out what he had planned, but you simply felt the bed shift and Bucky’s footsteps retreat toward the bedroom door.

“Stay just like that,” he said in a low warning. Without another word of explanation, Bucky shut the bedroom door.

You held your breath and listened but you could hear nothing behind the door. You would have heard the stubborn lock in the door if he had tried to leave the apartment, so you knew he was still there. You couldn’t imagine what he possibly had planned, and you grew nervous the more time ticked by.

Your juices had cooled between your legs and the soreness was starting to settle in. You knew it would be difficult to sit without wincing for the new few days, a reminder that would linger longer than his touches.

The front door shut, startling you awake. You hadn’t even realized you’d dozed off; Bucky had really worn you out.

Voices floated to you from the living room and your muscles tensing against your restraints. You hadn’t heard anyone knock, so who could possibly be here?

You turned your head toward the bedroom door when you heard footsteps approaching. There was a click and a squeak as the knob, needing to be oiled, turned on its hinges.

“There she is,” Bucky said. It was clear he was speaking to someone else. “A real beaut. You’re gonna say ‘yes’ now, aren’t ya, pal?”

You remained silent, trying to be obedient, but your limbs thrummed with nerves. You sensed someone else there and you swallowed with genuine anxiety. You’d never discussed bringing a third person into your bed before.

There was a touch on your thigh and you flinched.

“Bucky?”

The grip on your leg tightened. “You wanna try that again, sweetheart?”

You relaxed just knowing it was Bucky’s hand on your leg.

“I’m sorry, sir. Who… who’s with you?” you timidly voiced. You didn’t have to pretend to be demure; the feel of unknown eyes crawling across your skin made you want to hide under the covers.

“What do you think?” he asked, a grin in his voice. “Should she see your face before or after you start fuckin’ her?”

You sucked in a breath. The voice that spoke left you even more speechless.

“Buck…”

He sounded reluctant, even afraid, but it was unmistakable who the words belonged to.

“Steven?”

There was a tug on the back of your blindfold as someone pulled it away. You blinked at the sudden influx of light but managed to focus your eyes. Bucky was sitting on the bed next to you, his expression satisfied like the cat who caught the canary.

Steve Rogers stood near the bottom corner of the bed, his face beet-red beneath his fine blond hair. He didn’t seem to know where to look and settled for somewhere near your foot. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched, but your eyes immediately fastened on the slight tent in his trousers.

Oh. You never would have considered including anyone else in your games with Bucky, but if it had to be someone, you were glad it was Steve. He was so sensitive, one of those beautiful souls you could only experience in romance spy serials. You didn’t know why the other gals didn’t fancy him. If you weren’t with Bucky, and very happily so, you would have eaten him right up without a second thought.

Undoubtedly Bucky knew that, which was why Steve was here to begin with. It made you curious just how much his best friend knew about your bedroom trysts. He didn’t seem the type to partake, and you hoped Bucky hadn’t misled him. Steve was too sweet and wholesome for that.

“Hi,” Steve responded quietly, his head still ducked in shyness.

“C’mon, Steve,” Bucky chastised him, eyes bright with amusement. “Don’t be rude. Look at the lady when you’re talkin’ to her.”

Steve reluctantly dragged his eyes upward, which only gave him a better view as his gaze traveled up your legs, lingering on your pussy before darting up to your breasts. He hard-swallowed and finally met your eye, his jaw tight.

According to Bucky, Steve could face down an entire gang of hot heads and get pummeled bloody without so much as crying. Faced with a woman, tied up and naked on a bed, his courage seemed to flee him as if he were facing a dragon.

You traced your tongue across your bottom lip and watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed. Perhaps the analogy wasn’t inaccurate.

“Buck, I don’t think—“

“What’s wrong?” you asked with an innocent tilt of your head. “Don’t you like me, Steven?”

Bucky’s hand on your thigh twitched. Steve looked away again, somehow even more crimson than before.

“Course I like you, I—I mean, as a friend. You’re Bucky’s best gal, I can’t just…”

Bucky spoke when Steve trailed off. “You got that thing we talked about?”

The smaller man winced and rummaged in his pocket before pulling out a plastic square. He held the tip of it as if afraid it would bite him.

“So, what’s the problem?” Bucky rubbed circles into your thigh, keeping you slicked up even now with nothing more than a touch. “You came prepared, fully knowin’ what you wanted, so why does it matter that she’s my girl? I’m lettin’ you borrow her, aren’t I?”

“Jesus, Buck, she’s not a—“

Steve fell silent at Bucky’s warning glare. Satisfied, Bucky turned to you and the hardness on his brow softened with mischief.

“It’s gonna be Steve’s birthday next week. Twenty-seven years old and never touched a girl. Go on, sweetheart. Tell him how you feel about that.”

Steve’s frown was tight and unhappy, humiliated.

“You don’t gotta make fun of me—“

“Never,” you interrupted him.

Steve blinked and he looked up at you, surprise overcoming his shyness, at least temporarily. You had to take advantage of the moment and assuage his fears.

“I don’t think it’s funny at all. It’s not right, the way those girls ignore you. They’re idiots, Steven, they don’t know what they’re missing out on. Any girl should be thanking her lucky stars to have you, and I mean that. You know I’d never lie to you or play you for a fool.”

He looked down at the floor, shuffling as the flush returned to his cheeks. Bucky looked pleased but you didn’t miss the dark in his eyes. It was a sort of hunger you could recognize in the pitch black of night. It spurred you on.

“In fact, if I was your girl, you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere for your birthday. You know why?” You grinned as you slightly arched your back, pushing your breasts up shamelessly, like the girls did in the skin mags. “Because I wouldn’t let you out of bed. I’d ride you so long and so hard that your legs wouldn’t work anymore.”

Steve’s eyes, which had been fastened on his shoes as you’d been talking, went wide as dinner plates. The tent in his pants was erected higher now and he any denial of his interest would have been pointless.

You didn’t look at Bucky, pointedly ignoring him in favor of giving all your attention to Steve, but you could feel the electrifying focus of his gaze. Steve was in over his head, that was clear now, but you would ease the way for him where you could. If it tested Bucky’s restraint and control, which you knew it would, even better.

“Come on, Steven.” No one called him by Steven except you. You liked the way it made him hot under the collar, and you especially liked the way it made him blush now. “Let me give you something nice for your birthday. Please?”

“I…” He looked up at Bucky as if for confirmation but Bucky simply raised his eyebrows and remained silent. He was giving him the chance to back out and still save face.

Steve tensed his jaw in a way you’re sure many a Brooklynite had seen before. He looked like he was squaring up to go to war.

“If this is what you want.” He was looking at you, not at Bucky, and you thought it was further proof that he was braver than the gals gave him credit for.

“I want it, Steven,” you answered breathily. “I want it real bad.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky wet his lips with his tongue in that slow way you loved. Covetous with lust.

Steve nodded his head. “Okay. If you’re sure, then I’m onboard.”

“Course she’s sure.” Bucky gave your thigh a pat before standing up from the bed. “I trust you can figure this next part out by yourself.”

Steve flushed. “Yeah, Buck, I know how this works…” He watched as Bucky sat in the reading chair at the corner of the room. He spread his legs confidently, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. He was settling in for the show.

“You… you’re going to watch?” Steve asked nervously.

Bucky raised his brows in feigned surprise, though he couldn’t completely hide the slight curl of his lips. “You think I’m gonna leave the room while my best gal is fucked by another man? No offense, punk, but I gotta make sure you follow the rules.”

You perked up, curious. They had discussed rules?

Steve shook his head but didn’t protest. He unbuttoned his shirt and you followed the progression of his lithe fingers. Artist’s hands, you thought. Your mouth watered and you rubbed your thighs together.

Bucky caught the movement; he was watching you watch Steve undress. Your skin heated under his intense scrutiny but you kept your own focus on his best friend.

Once unbuttoned, Steve tugged his shirt out of his pants and pulled off his suspenders. He unzipped his pants and dropped them, along with his dress shirt, so only his undershirt and shorts remained. They were white with blue stripes, his legs thin and his knees knobby. He looked down and away, unable to meet your eye again.

“Come on now, don’t keep a girl waiting.”

Steve looked up at the sound of your lust-heavy voice. He studied your face and his eyes grew rounder as he saw your impatience was quite genuine. With steadier fingers and more confident movements, he pulled off his undershirt, and with only a second hesitation, pulled down his shorts.

His cock stood erect, released from its confines. He wasn’t as long or thick as Bucky, but that was hardly the point of this.

“I’m getting cold, Steven,” you complained softly, shifting on the bed. It was true, the air in the apartment was too cool, but mostly you were impatient to feel his long fingers all over your skin. “Come warm me up.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, but when he approached the bed Bucky drawled, “Forgettin’ the rules already? Good thing I stayed, huh?”

Steve came to a stop and blanched. He bent down and rummaged in his pants pocket, pulling out the square again. He tore off the top and pulled out the rolled rubber. Shooting Bucky a sour look, he turned away from him, giving you a front-seat view. Steve took the base of his cock in one hand and, after a moment of fumbling, rolled the rubber down his shaft covering it from tip to base.

You wished your hands were free—watching Steve’s expression as you rolled on the condom for him would have been wildly fun—but you didn’t ask. If Bucky had wanted you untied, he wouldn’t have left you trussed up on the bed like a holiday gift come Christmas morning.

Steve looked up at you again, his eyes dark as he took in every inch of you. The heat pooled in your belly like a liquid fire and you knew as soon as you were touched you would go up in flames.

He paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and got up onto the bed. He crawled over to you, golden strands of hair falling into his face as he kept his eyes firmly on where he was going, not the prize that lay before him. When he finally reached your side, he was breathing faster. You hoped Bucky took his asthma into account when he’d formed this devious scheme.

Steve seemed not to know where to start, or perhaps he had no idea what to do. You didn’t take pity on him so much as you couldn’t stand the slick growing between your thighs.

“Touch me,” you gently instructed.

“Where?” he asked.

“Anywhere you want.” You could guide be a more firm guide later, for now, you wanted to see what he did on his own.

Steve reached out a shaky hand and placed it against your stomach. He’d probably thought it was safe territory, neutral ground that wouldn’t instigate an ambush, but to you it was one of the more sensitive spots he could have picked.

You shivered and released a held breath. Your nipples were so hard they ached, begging to be touched. “Good, that’s good,” you mumbled when it seemed like he might pull away. You wanted him to understand these reactions were good and natural. You figured no one had bothered to even teach him this much, and it was a damned shame.

What wasn’t a shame was the way he began to draw circles across your stomach, little divots and swirls painting your skin with his fingertips. Bucky’s hands were rough and calloused from his work down at the warehouses, but Steve’s fingers were soft like silk.

You couldn’t wait; you needed those hands on you. Now.

“Touch me higher,” you breathed out. “Or lower. It feels good, Steven, really good. I want you to do it more.”

“I, yeah. Okay.”

His warm hands trailed upward, hesitating below the curve of your breasts. He swallowed and ran his tongue over his lips before proceeding. When his palms finally moved upwards and crested your nipples, you pushed your breasts upward into his hands. He squeezed reflexively and cursed quietly, in awe.

“Rub her nipples between your fingers. She loves it.”

You’d almost forgotten Bucky was in the room. You glanced down and saw he was still in the chair, his legs spread wide as he palmed the crotch of his pants. You couldn’t help recall your secret fantasy, the one where you took both Bucky and Steve to bed. You’d never voiced it to him, never dared, thinking that was too far for the games you played. To think, Bucky was already one step ahead of you. He knew you too well.

Steve said nothing but he did follow Bucky’s suggestion. He ran one nipple between the soft pads of his fingers, tweaking it gently. Your hips twitched and you groaned low in your throat.

He reached over and did it to the other nipple as well, and it wasn’t long before you were squirming on the bed. You pulled at the ribbon around your wrists but it held tight.

“Please,” you begged breathlessly. “Please touch me more.”

“Where?” Steve asked again, voice strained this time. You could see he was so hard he was leaking precum into the condom.

“Down there. Between my legs.”

Your pleas and breathy moans were apparently enough for him to overcome his shyness, because Steve’s hands were a lot more assured as they moved down the planes of your body. You opened your legs for him without thought, your body responding naturally as his hands splayed across your mound.

“You wanna taste her? She’s sweet,” Bucky smugly stated.

You closed your eyes and took a breath as you fought to steady yourself. Between Steve’s worshipful touches and Bucky egging him on, you knew you weren’t going to last.

“I… I don’t know how…”

“It’s okay. Just keep touching me with your hands. You feel so good, Steve. Don’t stop.” You nearly whined in your desperation. Bucky made a noise in his throat.

“Begs pretty, doesn’t she?”

You opened your eyes and looked down to see Bucky’s hand in his pants as he stroked himself. You whined again. This truly was punishment.

“Don’t look at me, sweetheart. You’re all Steve’s right now, but only for as long as I want you to be. So enjoy it while it lasts, the both of you.”

You wet your lips and gave a hoarse, “Yes, sir.”

Steve continued touching you, his long fingers exploring your folds as if opening the petals of a flower. When his fingers brushed over your sensitive bud, you gasped.

“Right there,” Bucky said tightly. “You gotta rub right there. Not too hard or too soft. The rhythm is what’s most important. Keep it at a pace she likes and she’ll melt in your hands like butter.”

Steve took to the instructions as seriously as his craft He rubbed his thumb against you in a circular motion, pressing at different angles until he found one that left you writhing and panting. It wasn’t long before the pressure began to build.

Bucky purred, “She’s close. Keep goin’ just like that. See how her legs are shaking? That’s when you know to go a little faster, tip her over the edge, make her cry and beg for it—“

Listening to Bucky’s voice grow rougher as he instructed his best friend on the best way to pleasure you was too much. You cried out and arched your back, gripping the ribbon that tied your wrists together as tremors coursed through your limbs. You collapsed back onto the bed, panting and shivering from the aftershocks.

Steve pulled back, his cheeks flushed by his eyes no longer averted in shyness. His gaze was focused on you intently, his eyes dark and his lips pink from biting on them. He was scrumptious enough to eat, but you were the one laid out to be devoured.

“Get on with it or I’m gonna come over there and fuck her myself.”

Bucky had freed his cock from his pants and was giving it slow, languid strokes as he watched the entire affair. Your mouth instantly watered at the sight and you tugged at your bindings, frustrated.

He gave a pearly white grin. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? See if you could take us both at once?”

Oh, God. Now that the thought was in your head, you couldn’t get it out. The imagery of you riding Steve, hands splayed over his thin chest as Bucky took you from behind, the two men filling you in a way you’d never experienced before.

You tugged so hard on the ribbon you knew there would be bruises later. But he had asked you a question, so you had to respond. “Yes, sir. I would like to try.”

“I bet you would,” he answered with a shark’s grin. The tip of his tongue darted across his lower lip. “But that’s the advanced course. Right now, we’re in basic training. So hop to it, Steve, we don’t got all day.”

Steve’s scowl of frustration aimed in Bucky’s direction was endearing but it wouldn’t get you what you wanted.

“Look at me, Steve.”

Your words were commanding but your tone was tender. It drew his attention back immediately and his expression likewise softened.

Just focus on me, you hoped your expression said. It’s just us right now, ignore him.

Of course, you would never ignore Bucky; his presence was part of the fun, but you knew that wasn’t the case for Steve and wanted this to be a good experience for him.

Steve sighed through his nose but some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders as he watched you. He reached forward and stroked his deft hands up and down the inside of your thighs, taking his time to savor you as if you were one of his sketches. You hummed in the back of your throat and opened yourself to him again, wordlessly begging him forward. He obeyed, moving between your legs as he knelt between your thighs. You enjoyed the sight of him like that, looming over you with his cock in his hands.

You bit your lip as you watched him line himself up, fumbling a little as he pushed forward and went a bit too high for his target. You tipped your hips upward so he wasn’t pressing on your pelvic bone and guided him in between your folds to your slick entrance.

Steve began to push but paused, his brows furrowed as sweat beaded his forehead.

“I… I don’t want to hurt you,” he said so softly you almost couldn’t hear.

You smiled fondly. He really was sweet.

“You won’t, I promise. I’ll let you know if you do, all right?”

He nodded wordlessly, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He moved forward again, pressing the tip harder against your entrance. There was some resistance—you were still tight from your last orgasm—but he finally pushed inside. His face lightened in surprise and then immediately tightened as your walls clung to him greedily.

Steve continued to push until his hips met yours, fully embedded inside of you. He gave a shaky exhale and closed his eyes as if to steady himself.

“You’re doing great,” you said softly. “You feel so good, you know that? So good for me.”

He opened his eyes, and even though he was buried up to the hilt in you, his blue eyes still shone with uncertainty. He really did suspect you were just teasing him. It made you angry at all the girls who had made him feel less than worthy.

“You ever kiss a girl before?” you asked curiously. He frowned, certain you were teasing him now.

“And grade school doesn’t count,” Bucky added his own snarky commentary.

Steve’s burning cheeks telegraphed his answer.

“That’s all right,” you reassured him. “Come here.”

You wanted to touch Steve so badly but the damned bindings wouldn’t let you. When he didn’t move you said, very plainly, “Kiss me.”

You didn’t know if Bucky was too keen on you kissing other guys again after yesterday, but you didn’t care. He should have gagged you if lips were off-limits.

Steve’s eyes widened as his mouth hung open. You waited patiently for his answer. A part of you wanted to moan and writhe, beg him to move inside of you, but Bucky’s games had trained you well.

He finally closed the distance. When Steve’s lips met yours they were soft and tentative. You kissed him back with none of the nerves or hesitation, opening your mouth to him at the same moment you wrapped your legs around his hips.

He groaned into your mouth, surprised, but then kissed you back with growing fervor. His mouth was sloppy against yours and he began to push his hips forward in an uneven rhythm.

It felt good, really good, but you wished you could feel the raw contact of his cock. You had never liked using rubbers, and you suspected it was one of the reasons Bucky had insisted Steve use one. Only Bucky was allowed to fuck you with a bare cock, and it only made this whole event that much more depraved. He was allowing this to happen, and even with Steve deep inside of you, there was no forgetting who you belonged to.

Steve began to coach his pace into an even rhythm, pulling away from your mouth to lick and kiss against your neck. You pushed your head back against the pillow to give him more room, closing your eyes as you drowned in the feeling of him thrusting into you.

When something warm and solid pressed against your lisp you didn’t hesitate; you opened your mouth and took Bucky’s cock into your mouth, smelling his musk and tasting yourself on his skin. He curled his fingers into your hair, pulling your head up to better fuck into your mouth.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” Bucky rasped out. “Bein’ used by two men at once. Maybe now you won’t be the slut of the entire borough. Just gotta wear you out and use you up so you won’t act like a stray bitch in heat all the damn time.”

You groaned around Bucky’s’ cock, his tightening grip. Your tongue lapped against the underside of his cock, trying to taste every inch of him, unable to play and tease him how you wanted to with the speed he was plunging into your mouth.

You half-expected Steve jump in and defend your honor. But Steve was too focused, propping himself onto his hands and knees as he fucked you with more force than you would have thought possible for someone so slight.

You couldn’t stop it, the mounting pressure as both of them used your body for their own pleasure. You were bound up, unable to move, helpless and trapped between them. An object to be fucked and filled with cum.

The orgasm slammed into you with brutal force. Back arching off the bed, you sobbed pitifully as you were helpless before the overwhelming tide.

Steve gasped out an, “Oh, God,” and gripped your hips tightly, his entire body trembling as you felt a faint echo of his cock throbbing inside of you. He pulled out of you too soon and you whined at the sudden absence between your legs.

Bucky growled and suddenly his fingers were bruisingly tight in your hair. His pace became even more brutal and you were sure you would pass out soon from lack of air, but his rhythm stuttered and he cursed, holding your head completely still. Hot cum spilled down your throat, forcing you to swallow or choke on it. You did so, greedily milking him dry, unable to fully catch your breath with his cock so far in your mouth.

He pulled out finally and you gasped and coughed for air. There was drool on your chin and your lips burned from the rough friction. You were a mess, panting and flushed and well-used.

“Good girl,” he cooed while stroking your hair, almost tender. “Always so good, even when you’re bad.”

You leaned into his touch but he pulled back, leaving you cold and alone on the bed. Steve was already getting dressed, his face still flushed and his hair unkempt in a way that made you want to run your fingers through it.

But Bucky left you tied up on the bed, because of course he would. You fumbled with the ribbon portion tied to the headrail but it was pulled tight. Bucky knew his knots.

“I’ll, uh, see you later,” Steve said once he was fully clothed, barely able to meet your eye again. “Thank you for… It was nice.”

He looked like he wanted to say more and was gathering up his courage to do so, but Bucky was already herding him toward the bedroom door.

“Yeah, yeah, she gets it, Steve. Don’t go getting’ all sweet on her now, you wouldn’t survive it. There’s a reason I had her all tied up, pal. It was for your own good.”

You pouted but neither of the men could see you as they left the bedroom. You listened to their retreating footsteps, some muffled talking, and then finally the sound of the front door opening and shutting. You fidgeted again, trying to loosen your bonds one last time.

“Won’t do you any good, baby doll. Unless your aimin’ to make that ribbon tighter."

You jumped; you hadn’t heard Bucky come back down the hallway. His footsteps were silent across the carpet; he’d taken off his shoes.

You watched him, transfixed, as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled it off his shoulders, followed by his undershirt. His belt and pants came next, his movements fluid and graceful like a predator.

Once his erection was freed of his white shorts, he crawled onto the bed, moving slow and unhurried. He kneeled over you, caging you in. You couldn’t help but pull against your bindings, heart racing.

Bucky placed his large hand around your neck, forcing you to look up at him as he gazed down at you. His grin was gone; he no longer playing games. He hitched your leg up around his waist and gave no warning as he lined himself up and shoved inside, forcing you open.

Your cry was short and jagged. Bucky stretched you and filled you more than Steve had, and he was far less gentle. He embedded himself the rest of the way with a hard thrust.

Beyond words at this point, you whimpered. He brought his lips close to yours, brushing against them as he kept the back of your head firmly pressed against the pillow, fingers firm around your throat.

“We’re not done,” he warned, low and ominous. “I told you we wouldn’t stop until you were a complete mess. So settle in, sweetheart, because you’re not goin’ anywhere. For a long, long time.”

#athousandwords #darkficsyouneveraskedfor #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #1940s bucky barnes #pre-serum steve rogers #pre-serum steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #one shot

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ghostlyhamburger · 4 years

Text

Crazy

Prompt: Sweet Treats

Request: Adrigaminette

Rating: E

Read on Ao3

Marinette had settled into a comfortable friendship with Kagami and Adrien. The two girls both stopped pursuing Adrien—they’d both made their feelings as clear as they could, and if he was hung up on Mystery Coworker Girl, that was his problem.

The three were at Kagami’s house one afternoon, hanging out in her bedroom and going through a package of treats from an old friend of hers in Japan.

“Oh, Pocky!” Kagami exclaimed with a smile, picking up a box. “I have missed this.”

“Those look like Mikados,” Marinette commented. “You know you can get them here, right?”

“Not these flavors.” Kagami opened the box to reveal smaller boxes with different fruits featured on them. “They’re regional, and it can be hard to get a full set even in Japan. My favorite is the iyokan.”

She tore open a box and let the fragrant citrus scent of the candy coated biscuits fill the room.

“Have either of you ever played the pocky game?”

Adrien shook his head, and Marinette said, “No?”

Kagami smiled. “Adrien. Take this, put just the end in your mouth and hold it.”

He did as she said, letting the treat dangle from his mouth.

“Marinette. Bite the other end, and when I count to three, both of you eat as much as you can until one of you drops it.” Kagami’s smile turned downright wolfish as she counted, “One, two, three, go!”

Marinette took a small bite, careful to keep part of the pocky captured between her lips. The citrus taste was nice, definitely different than the chocolate coating she was used to. She took another bite, then realized just how close her face was to Adrien’s.

She pulled away abruptly, the last bit of the pocky falling on the floor between them. She couldn’t look at him, not with the way she was blushing.

Kagami sat beside Marinette, holding out another orange-coated stick. “Want to give it another try?”

Marinette nodded, biting the end of the sweet. She let her eyes close, knowing she wouldn’t turn away if she couldn’t see Adrien’s face coming close.

She bit down on the pocky, determined not to let it fall this time, until she felt soft lips pressed against hers. The kiss quickly became more demanding, a tongue brushing her lower lip, clearing away any stray crumbs before seeking entrance to her mouth. A hand stroked her cheek, pulling her closer, and she similarly reached to run her hands through silky, straight hair.

That…wasn’t Adrien’s hair. Marinette was suspicious, but the soft tongue in her mouth, gently sliding along her own, felt so nice—too nice to stop. Instead of opening her eyes, she let her other hand rest on her partner’s shoulder, sliding it down along their body, thumb brushing over what was definitely a breast.

Kagami pulled away, chuckling. “I’m glad you’re not hesitating anymore, Marinette.”

She blushed. “That was—I didn’t mean—I thought—” She glanced over at Adrien, whose jaw had dropped as he watched the two girls.

“Oh,” Kagami said, following Marinette’s gaze. “You thought…I-I understand.”

Marinette noticed the hurt in her voice, and suddenly it didn’t matter if Adrien was right there watching, or if Kagami was another girl—she’d liked kissing her and now Kagami was upset. So she leaned close to her friend and kissed her again, no pocky pretense to hide behind.

Adrien made some sort of strained noise, but Marinette barely noticed as she focused on Kagami’s gasp, her lips parting against her own as she welcomed the kiss.

Marinette was more forceful this time, wanting to prove to the other girl how much she mattered. She wrapped her arms around Kagami, pulling her close, too close as she fell back onto the carpeted floor, Kagami on top of her.

“Marinette,” Kagami murmured, tangling her hands in her hair, undoing her pigtails. “Ah, Marinette…”

This was absolutely not the way Marinette had expected the afternoon to go, but she felt Kagami’s torso pressed to hers, her breasts brushing hers, and she suddenly didn’t mind at all.

“Um,” Adrien said suddenly. “Sh-should I go?”

“Stay,” Kagami said, moving off of Marinette, blushing as she reached for another box of pocky. “There’s enough here for all of us to share.”

She glanced at Marinette, a silent question in her eyes, and Marinette gave a slight nod in reply. Sharing sounded…good.

Kagami opened the pocky, a green coated one, and placed it between her lips. Adrien glanced at Marinette.

“Go ahead,” she said softly. “I don’t mind.”

The two bit down on the pocky, moving closer, until their lips were pressed together. Marinette didn’t know what she was feeling as she watched them, but she couldn’t turn away. She knew Adrien had to be enjoying Kagami’s soft lips, the taste of whatever pocky lingering against her tongue, the way Kagami’s hand softly cupped his face. She wanted to know what it was like to feel Adrien’s arms around her, the way he held Kagami, hands splayed against her back.

She grabbed another package, one with cherries on the cover, and pulled out another stick of pocky, mindlessly tapping the end of it against her lips as she waited for the two to part. When they did part, the smile they shared made her wildly happy, and wildly jealous at the same time.

Adrien turned back to Marinette, scooting close to her. “May I?” he asked, taking the other end of the pocky she held.

She barely registered the subtle cherry flavor before Adrien was kissing her. Her heart must have skipped several beats as his arms were warm around her, pulling her body close against his, making it clear that he wanted this. He wanted her.

He tasted like cherry and green tea and toothpaste, and she couldn’t get enough. She carefully slid her tongue into his mouth, and moaned as he sucked, the new sensation sending tingles down her body.

The kiss had to end eventually, and Marinette couldn’t help the wide, almost delirious smile that crossed her face as Adrien gave her another quick peck before he pulled away entirely.

“You know,” Kagami mused, “as good as this pocky is…I believe Marinette tastes far better.”

Adrien nodded. “She really is as sweet as she looks.”

“Would you care to share another delicious treat with me, Adrien?” Kagami asked, moving to sit on the other side of Marinette.

“I’d be honored to,” he replied with a grin, before capturing Marinette’s lips with his once more. She softly groaned against his mouth, only for the sound to grow louder as Kagami swept some hair aside from her neck and kissed her there.

Marinette turned her head slowly, kissing one of them, then the other, enjoying the softness and sweetness that came with being so wanted and admired. Two sets of hands were on her body, one pair resting on her waist and one pair just below her breasts. She felt like her body was a live wire, and she needed to be touched, let out all the energy storing up within her.

She pulled back from Adrien’s kiss and grabbed Kagami’s hand, guiding it up to her breast. “You can touch me. B-both of you.”

“Are you sure?” Adrien asked, slipping his fingers just under the hem of her shirt, his fingertips seeming to burn against bare skin.

“Please,” she moaned. “Please…”

Adrien kissed her neck again as he grabbed her shirt and pulled, lifting it off her body. Kagami moved her hands back, quickly undoing Marinette’s bra and guiding the straps off her shoulders, before her hands cupped her bare breasts.

“Is this what you wanted?” Kagami asked, her lips against the shell of Marinette’s ear, her fingers caressing her breasts. “Us touching you like this?”

Adrien’s hands were on her bare stomach, softly exploring expanses of bare skin as he kissed her neck, her jaw.

“N-not exactly,” Marinette murmured. She turned her head to face Kagami, finding it easier to be direct with the smirking Japanese girl. “You two think I’m so delicious? Then taste me.”

Kagami smiled in response. “Adrien. You’re in a better position for this…” She moved her hands to cup under Marinette’s breasts, as if presenting her.

Adrien smiled before dipping his head and pressing his lips to her breast, his tongue dragging against her skin before his mouth closed around her nipple, softly sucking. Kagami’s hand on her other breast mimicked the action, fingers pinching her nipple gently.

“I feel overdressed,” Adrien said with a laugh, his lips against Marinette’s skin. He shifted his gaze up to look her in the eye. “It’s up to you where this goes.”

“Take off your shirt,” she said abruptly, before blushing scarlet, the red flush spreading down her body. “I—I mean…” She took a deep breath. “I want you to both strip…each other. I-if that’s okay!”

She felt suddenly cold as Adrien and Kagami shifted away from her, leaning towards each other to meet in a soft kiss, hands resting at each others’ shirts. Kagami stripped Adrien first, tugging the shirt he wore up over his head. Her hands traced the contours of his muscles as she leaned close to kiss him again, and Marinette realized all her jealousy had morphed to pure arousal.

Adrien’s hands pulled off Kagami’s shirt, then unhooked her bra. He moved his hands to cover her breasts, thumbs brushing against her nipples.

Marinette felt hot, almost dizzy, as she watched them, her whole body screaming to touch them both. But instead, she stood, drawing both of their attention as she walked over to Kagami’s bed. She paused for a moment, then undid her pants and pushed them down her legs, along with her underwear. She sat completely nude on her friend’s bed, watching as the two hungrily looked at her.

Kagami was the first to move, stripping herself nude and moving to practically tackle Marinette onto the bed, pinning her down and kissing her roughly. Her hips pressed to Marinette’s, making both girls moan.

“You really don’t hesitate, do you?” Marinette teased, smiling at the girl on top of her, letting her hand press against her breast.

“Not when it matters,” she responded, grinding her hips down again, mound pressing directly against Marinette’s, who groaned and shifted her hips up in response. “I have wanted you in my bed for a while.”

“Gami,” Marinette groaned before kissing her again. She then gasped suddenly as she felt the bed dip and felt soft fingers brush between her legs.

“Don’t mind me,” Adrien murmured, his hand at her slit, fingers slowly pushing inside. She could practically hear the smirk in his voice, but was far, far more concerned with the fact that he was touching her so intimately. “I’m just fulfilling some fantasies I’ve had since lycee…”

Kagami moaned. “I-is he touching you too?”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette replied. “He’s—oh, god, Adrien!”

He’d started kissing her inner thighs, and Kagami’s, moving closer to their cores until finally he licked them, his tongue gliding along Marinette’s folds up until his mouth met Kagami. He eagerly pressed himself into the two wet and wanting pussies before him, his lips and tongue finding Marinette’s clit while his nose pressed up against Kagami’s. He pleasured the two girls as best as he could, enjoying the sweet sounds of their moans, lost against each other’s lips and muffled by the thighs around his head.

“Marinette,” Kagami murmured, pulling back from the girl beneath her to meet her blue, blue eyes. “It’s—ahh—not fair he’s the only one tasting us, is it?”

Marinette smirked. “Gami, I would love to share something tasty with you.”

“Adrien,” Kagami said, lightly tapping him with her foot. “You’re doing—so good, but please move?”

He drew back, peppering both girls’ inner thighs with kisses as he moved. “Anything,” he said, his lips still wet, his eyes dark, his pants long discarded. “Anything you want.”

“Lie back,” Kagami said, shifting to kneel beside him. “Next to Marinette.”

He did, lying on his back, turning his head to meet Marinette’s eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied, feeling suddenly embarrassed again. She knew it was ridiculous—his mouth was still dewy with her arousal, and she couldn’t even be face to face with him?

He chased away her fears by shifting closer and gently kissing her. “I’m really happy you’re here,” he murmured. “You mean so much to me—to Kagami too. I’ve dreamed of just kissing you…”

She kissed him again, her hand pressed against his chest, fingers tracing lines along his skin. She practically melted against him, giving in to the overwhelming feeling of love.

Adrien suddenly pulled back with a cry of pleasure. “Ah! Kagami!”

Marinette sat up to see Kagami kneeling beside Adrien, bent over to wrap her hand and her mouth around his hard cock. She lifted her head enough to murmur, “Marinette, I thought we were going to share.”

Marinette nodded, moving onto her knees, mirroring Kagami’s position on Adrien’s other side. She moved one hand around his cock, just overlapping Kagami’s fingers. She licked her lips, then lowered her head to taste Adrien, letting her tongue slide against the head of his cock.

“Marinette,” he groaned, letting his hand rest on her hip. “That’s—nnngh—that’s nice…”

She pulled back slightly, locking eyes with Kagami before both girls pressed their mouths against him in unison, meeting in a kiss over the head of his cock. Their tongues met each other as they coiled around him, providing a sensation that had Adrien groaning loudly.

Marinette suddenly cried out in pleasure as Adrien’s hand was back on her, fingers pressing into her pussy. He moved his hand slowly, two fingers thrusting in and out of her, and when she lifted her head, she could see he was doing the same to Kagami.

She let herself give over to the complete depravity, the pleasure of their impromptu threesome. She licked and sucked at Adrien’s cock, Kagami’s hand on the back of her head encouraging her to take him in deeper until she pulled back to kiss her around his cock.

Adrien fucked both of them with his hands, encouraging them with soft groans of, “Fuck, so good, so—Marinette, Kagami…fuck I’m gonna—”

He came as they both kissed his cock, cum landing on both their tongues before they met in a kiss again, both savoring the salty, musky flavor of him. His cock slipped past both their lips as they leaned across him to touch each other, Kagami’s hand sliding along Marinette’s body until her fingers met Adrien’s at Marinette’s pussy.

Marinette imitated the move, her fingers interlacing with Adrien’s before sliding inside Kagami, a hot, wet sensation that encouraged her to crook her fingers, press herself against Kagami.

“Fuck, fuck, Kagami,” Marinette moaned, her hips rocking as Adrien and Kagami touched her together. Adrien sat up so he could kiss Marinette as she whimpered against his lips, her release rocking through her like a tidal wave.

Kagami groaned as her orgasm hit. She ground her hips against her lovers’ hands, kissing Adrien, then Marinette.

The three of them pulled slightly apart, and Adrien was the first to start laughing as he flopped back onto the mattress. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Yeah,” agreed Marinette, moving to nestle into his side. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

“God, no, never,” he replied, turning to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “Wait—do I need to choose between you two now? Because I couldn’t do that before, I really couldn’t choose now…”

“Of course not,” Kagami said, lying down beside the two of them. “I don’t want to make a choice between you either.”

Marinette couldn’t help but laugh. “I—I didn’t even know I was an option for either of you! And now…I—you—”

“Don’t worry, Marinette,” Adrien murmured, squeezing her hand. “We love you too.”

#ml smut #mlnsfw #ml fanfiction #miraculust #miracusin #smutember 2020 #ghostly writes

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ashleyswrittenwords · 4 years

Text

How to be a Queen [Part 25]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Part 1

How To Be A Queen

I’m afraid your apologies fall upon blind eyes. The fact that you were able to sneak three letters was a surprise in itself. Please do not believe you have the power to bring your queen to her knees by missing your imaginary quota. We have a mutual understanding of priorities.

Remember, your safety is my everything.

No matter how you prefer it not to be.

Days folded into weeks and I was tied fast to the rolling waves.

The goddesses willed today to be kind. The skies were clear and though summer was coming to an end, the breeze that rustled the trees was still warm. Hyrule Castle’s grounds are expansive and stretch into densely wooded forests owned exclusively by the Crown. Birds chirped sweet songs from the tall branches alongside the distant hum of the royal apiaries.

I shrieked. A clank of metal cut through the peacefulness.

My thin blade raked against the ground before its little momentum made it favor one side and hit the clay lamely. The backside of my hand burned an angry red and I pressed my lips together to hold a curse. The attacker, who I tossed an evil glare at, laughed gutturally.

“Infirmi vehvi.”

The passing glance turned into a scowl. I straightened, shooting a pointed accusation at Urbosa. “I am not weak.”

The corner of her mouth hiked upward. She even bent down to grab my weapon for me, tossing it my way instead of handing it over. I let out a short gasp as my fumbling hands took hold of the hilt.

“Oh, you’ve been studying!” Urbosa clapped mockingly with her own blade. “A shame your swordplay doesn’t match your academia.”

The sword was heavy in my hand, almost weighty enough that I needed to use both arms. My biceps burned and breath didn’t come to me easily. I let the weapon droop, a particularly undignified stance. “Impa, I implore you to reconsider.”

A tea table with two petite chairs sat at the edge of the copse. It didn’t belong with the scenery and had been drug from the castle several weeks ago. Impa looked up, languish in her movements as she pulled down her spectacles – another quality to her that made her seem so much older than she was. Odd rocks acted as paperweights to hold down the documents before her.

“Certainly, Your Majesty,” she said, dryly. “Inform me of which physical activity you prefer.”

I almost whined. “None. This is counterintuitive.”

“And wasting away in your office is better? No, don’t say your bedchambers because I have caught you time and time against sneaking letters out in the middle of the night,” Urbosa leaned on one hip.

Honestly? Even when I stamped my foot on the dirt and made a child of myself in front of the royal guard, I couldn’t completely disagree. It was mid-August in central Hyrule and for weeks at a time I would go without seeing the sun. Urbosa and Impa had been scheming for this together; forcing me outdoors to play petty games and when I vehemently worked against them under the guise of productivity, they played a hand I hadn’t seen coming.

“Ah, well,” my advisor sat back in her garden chair, towards her work. “I ponder how I should word a castle report to General Forester now that our Queen has given up swordplay.”

“Impa!” I met Anju who nervously shrugged from across the table.

As much as I hated it, Link didn’t need another disappointment. No matter how inferior, especially as of late. The supply line had been established by the time any skirmishes began. Though, from the coming reports, it was a project that was started far too late. Our strength out bested Gerudo forces as they were largely unorganized – at first. The following battles showed their adaptiveness and exposed our own faults.

It seemed that no matter how fortified the supply line grew, there would always be an attempted attack. Seasoned travelers were growing rightfully paranoid and provisions couldn’t be sent in large quantities, which burdened both the army and Gerudo Town.

And worse, the usurper was gaining ground.

Refugees were pouring from the Gerudo capital and, to my horror, learned that they attacked groups with small children. In our correspondences, I had to plead with Link to force one of his admirals to send men to sponsor their treks. There wasn’t opposition in his letters, but the strain in sparing troops was evident.

If they take the capital, then it will give reason to fear they will be able to travel north, Link had written. Fierlin has already proposed to establish a temporary camp by the Great Plateau, but I can’t do that to them now. Not this early on.

By them he meant his admirals, his captains, his men. I understood why Whitehurst had stopped me one day in the halls, admitting something he would never tell his counterpart.

“If you ever doubt our choice,” he had said with an uncharacteristically sound smile. “Nathaniel spoke of him several times after he pushed for replacement hearings.”

Urbosa attempted to bait me into swinging blindly again by lightly touching her blade to mine. Instead of loosening myself to anticipate her attacks, I tensed at the threat of suffering another rude smack to my wrist. The sight made her reprimand me.

“Feet parted!” she shouted, swiping at my feet. I gave a pathetic hop out of an irrational fear that my ankles would be cut through. She would never do anything to hurt me and the action was mostly born of annoyance: I haven’t been the ideal student she had been hoping for.

“Truly, Urbosa.” My voice was shaking more than I needed it to. “This is very harsh on a beginner!”

“Forgive me, my Queen,” Urbosa said without a drop of sorrow. Then, she smiled with a measure of mischievous. “Although you did have the advantage of Hyrule’s most renowned swordsman as your knight attendant.”

“Renowned?” I yelped as her sword clashed against mine. She was holding back, I knew, but my arm wavered under the kickback. “I had no idea that standing beside a person warrants a personal gain of their skill.”

Her response was in Gerudo and I paused our circling to process the words. I had been studying the language during my downtime. Since the Gerudo aristocracy was being housed within the castle, there was no shortage of conversation partners. Some words I couldn’t make out yet the little I could made my face catch a rosy red beyond the sweat that caught my forehead.

“That is entirely unwarranted!”

I swung back against her sword with the strength she had been vying for. It made me curse myself when the pride in her face swelled. Urbosa harked out her triumph, “Translate your emotions into force. Even the most beautiful of desert flowers bare thorns.”

A strand of hair had loosened from my braid and in grew matted against my damp forehead. “Some find my words to be prickly, but my bite has no comparison.”

“Depending on your opponent,” Urbosa nodded as I mirrored her footwork. I was a little shaky, my feet stuttering to match her own while keeping in mind where her eyes were. “Words with a sharp tongue can strike deeper than any blade. However, I think we can both agree that action has more immediate results.”

Our sparring went on until my muscles trembled and the soles of my feet were sore. We weren’t alone either. The notion of a group of noblewomen seeking solitude amidst wartime was laughable at best, outright reckless at worse. The ten men that surrounded us were once apart of my father’s personnel, an inner circle of knights who were both experienced and battle hardened. They were at ease, much to my preference, taking turns scouting the area and sharing a basket of foodstuffs. At one point I had suggested they be allowed to join in the war effort but I was told that my general wouldn’t even entertain the notion when it presented itself.

Still, I did my best to converse with those within the King’s Guard (a name I hadn’t had the energy to bother with changing). They were typically older men with families of their own presiding within the capital; each a story of their own that I would think of in the night when news trickled in riddled with death and carnage.

The victories, despite being so sparse, hadn’t allowed me any reprieve. My whereabouts were a constant reminder of my privileges, luxuries I didn’t feel fit for. Guilt – or was it shame? – made a home in the back of my mind when I would yearn for more than what my power could afford. As with my materials, I was rich in company to dine with. Platters that would never grow scant and goblets that would never run dry.

My father, Impa, Urbosa, and an army of advisors were dazzled by my smiles and ability to save face in adversary. There would always be those against war and my court was not without; all I could do was take it in strides with each evening I entertained the court.

“Any news?” I said to Impa as I maintained a neutral expression. Courtiers twirled about the floor, most were newly returned from the summer harvests and ready to gain favor with their still-new Queen. Little factions of particular lords and ladies clung to the borders of the throne room, gossiping or scheming, I couldn’t tell. But, really, was there a difference?

It almost made me regret not socializing with these people in my youth. Not that Father would permit such free time.

Without turning my head, I heard her make a noise of acknowledgment. “Nothing of consequence, dear.”

Exhaustion was heavy in her murmur. The real question was if that exhaustion was born of current events and from me. I kept the inquiry on my tongue.

“If there is,” I kept my voice low. “Please send them to my room.”

She didn’t need to respond. I stood, acting indifferent to the hundreds of eyes watching me and made my own way to the door. The upside to power was the lack of need to request an exit. Outside the doors was a man of the Knight’s Guard taking leave of another who he was talking to. I nearly felt bad for abruptly ending their conversation.

The knight bowed to someone behind me and Urbosa made herself known in a formal Gerudo fitting; glittering gold that would look odd on anyone that wasn’t her.

“Do you need accompaniment?”

I didn’t need to downplay the tiredness in my movements for her. “No, enjoy the reveling without me. I know how much you like the festivities and all too well of our aristocratic visitor’s tendencies to celebrate nothing until dawn.”

There was a critical look in her eye before it fell to a degree of understanding. We bid one another an uneventful goodnight with a short hug and I made my way towards the spiraling staircases without a care if there was anyone following.

My rooms were a bit tidier than I had left them. The bed was made with fresh linen and my night dress was spread over the covers neatly. Silently, I thanked myself for having Anju teach me how to lace a front-facing corset and let the drapes of fabric fall around my feet. Not long after, I was between the covers already half-way into sleep.

My mind clung onto the little consciousness I had left and I began to feel as if I were missing something. I tensed, the attempt to fall asleep slightly dashed.

He’s not here, I told myself, he’s not here and there is nothing I can do in this moment nor the next. The thought swirled like a mantra, but even then the coldness of the pillow beside me left no aid. A silly notion to miss a moment you felt only once in your life.

Step… two-three. Step.. two-three. Step… two-three.

A waltz, or at least a whisper of one, danced through me and into the movements that were both mine and not. My recollection didn’t come from seeing but knowing that I was in the throne room. It was much different from tonight, emptied and desolate.

“Do I humor you?”

The man with striking eyes was here, the charm of before now replaced with an intimidating seriousness. I wanted to spit venom at this nightmare and tell him he hadn’t broken me after all, but just like last time I wasn’t here to do that. His gaze was glowering, heated with all intentions that dream me ignored.

We took a turn about the room. I tilted my head and blinked up at him, “Only in the ways you hate.”

The words were backed by the knowledge of who he was. Knowledge I desperately tried to learn as I searched his vague outline.

Who are you? Tell me.

There was little response to my utterance aside from the slight pressure on my waist, which only caused a smile to form on my lips – barely there at all. I was teasing.

The pressure disappeared instantly. “You have met him.”

I watched him carefully now, feeling suspicious of his tone.

“We will always meet.”

The man’s chest heaved in laughter. “Yes,” he harked, “Indeed we will, but that was not in the way you and I shall. Never in the manner that he dallies in. We have an… inclination to put aside petty discrepancies, wouldn’t you agree?”

Confusion soured me. It was odd to feel like a third wheel in a conversation I was meant to be partaking in. Words bubbled in my chest yet I seemed to decide otherwise. He made a sound.

“Alas, you need not to tell me. Your ways speak clear that the mortal walks in your steps. Worshipping you like the dog you’ve made him.”

“You have come to mock me. Nothing more? As my children starve under your thumb?” I scowled, itching to say more but biting down on my urge. Already, I had said to much.

“Oh, no, my love,” he spat, “I have come to sing you sweet songs of our future.”

Suddenly, I was taken by scenes from far places. The heat was stifling, so hot I could hardly breath under the blaring sun. There was commotion around me and noise of huffing horses as wagons of supplies were being carried away. A quick glance at myself in my night gown said that no one could see me when they walked passed.

I breathed in the dry air, turning when I heard a particular conversation.

“The transport cases are too heavy for the mules to pull at once.”

It came from a large tent, the opening flap fluttering in a breeze that was just as hot as the air around it. This was unmistakably the Gerudo Desert and my chest grew wanton at the thought of who was inside. The business around me toned down and I took my first steps towards the tent.

My breath rattled uneven in my chest as my thoughts were spoken without the shapes of my lips.

“Why are you showing me this?”

Soft dissuasions beat vaguely against my urge to continue on, but my newfound control of my body and piqued curiosity were overwhelming. I pushed back the tent opening to see a dimmer setting. Light filtered through the canvas and persisted enough to void the need for lanterns. A large table sat in the middle of the space, littered with books and loose papers. Unpacked boxes coincided with the miscellaneous items and at the table, bending over to speak, was a man in uniform.

However, I didn’t pay much attention to him. The one in the chair held me rapt. I was unable to feel the carpet under my feet as I walked further within the tent, not particularly caring about much else.

“Then let’s pull them one by one.”

He was seated with his back to me and now I could make out the unmistakable wheat-blond hair. The man, officer, he spoke to sagged slightly in posture. “But, sir, by then-”

“Burn them,” my general said chastely, “Unless you plan to leave them as a gift to the our Gerudo friends, we either take our supplies with us or burn it. I have no intention of assisting in even the smallest stick of firewood. Is that clear, Captain?”

The tone he employed was foreign to me. Link sat up, looking at him where I could a glimpse of his side profile. My heart ached in a way I hadn’t expected. The man gave a silent sigh.

“Yes sir.”

Without another word, the captain stood straight and walked by me without an ounce of awareness. I swallowed, watching Link lean over what he was working on. Warily, I approached him and studied the way his appearance had changed.

How many months has it been already? Four, almost five months since his departure.

More importantly, how was this possible?

His hair was hardly tamed and seemed to had been shorn with a blunt tool – probably a knife. Ruminants from the vast sands clung from his cheeks to his hands, a testament to his time out here. It was obvious that he wasn’t happy and studied the pages of a book with heavy eyes that hadn’t closed for sleep in far longer than I cared to examine. One of his hands thumbed the next page while the other braced the side of his face as he slumped over the table, a straight seat long abandoned after the captain left.

Link looked far older than he was.

I watched his eyes skim the words and whispered uselessly, “I wish I could help you.”

Blue eyes wandered astray in my direction. I thought they would see right through me as all the others but instead…

“Zelda?”

A breath caught in my throat as his expression of distress morphed from shock to disbelief to a certain relief. “Goddess, Zelda… what are you… what are you doing here?”

Link stood to his full height, clad in uniform and every emotion flashing over him.

“This is a dream,” I immediately said, staggering back. His confusion followed me.

“What do you mean?”

He began taking steps toward me.

“This is a dream,” I repeated, this time more persistent.

It barely occurred to me that we weren’t in the tent anymore. We weren’t anywhere. Link didn’t seem to care. He smiled, reaching towards me.

“I don’t understand,” he shook his head. “I don’t understand, but I don’t have to. I missed you, Zelda. More than anything.”

Link’s eyes held an adoration that I had always yearned for… and yet it was out of place. His hands shook as they closed around my shoulders. “I thought about you every night, Zelda. I crave only you and your light. Your love and pity. I have prayed for a moment like this and here you are!”

“Link-”

“Don’t you get it?” his volume raised sharply. “I do this all for you. I slave for you, I plead for you, I kill for you!”

Then a sickening wet sound cut through his speech. He looked down first and I followed to where his gaze stopped.

Red coated his uniform, staining the midnight blue darker around the tear. Protruding from his abdomen was a silver blade tinged in his blood. I think I might have screamed. He looked back up at me with blank eyes and made a choking sound. Link’s lips formed a word.

I wasn’t in a tent with my dying general. I wasn’t anywhere, but I could still see the image of him dying in my arms with overpouring blood running from his stomach. I wanted to scream. I wanted to sob. Only tears ran from my eyes as the man of my nightmares swung me through our dance.

“A reminder of what I’ve done in the past. A warning of what I’ll do in the future.”

---

I had awoken in a sheet of sweat and tears. My throat was scratchy from the sobs of my sleep and I didn’t move to begin my day immediately. I spent the early morning hours curled in a ball on my bed without the energy to cry more nor the exhaustion to fall back to slumber.

Anju found me staring into the shadows of my room and decided to fetch my breakfast from the kitchen for me. While she sat with me, stirring a cup of strong tea in her hands, I didn’t talk about my dream and allowed her to tell me all the silly rumors the castle maids push around. Gratefulness ebbed at me with every smile she pulled from my lips. I still don’t think I deserve her loyalty and friendship.

“Any decent ones about me?”

She took a long sip of her tea, rolling her eyes. “Some ladies of the court fancy a royal wedding. They don’t have much care for wars.”

I hummed my understanding and took my time spreading strawberry jam on toast. “Predictable. I don’t blame them for looking for distraction. I’m sure the bordering lands have heightened concerns with quartering troops.”

My maid paused. “Quartering troops?”

I blinked. It was a dream, I thought harshly. It was a dream and nothing more. Why am I scaring her by thinking it was true?

“I meant for the injured,” I mended hastily. “Transport isn’t so secure until you cross Lake Hylia and some feel more comfortable healing in the towns than traveling all the way here.”

“Ah,” she nodded, “I suppose they aren’t as patriotic as I thought. I get it, though, I would be uncomfortable by the idea too. You know how Kafei and my father feel about taking holiday away from here.”

I breathed a breath of relief.

The remainder of the morning went without a hitch. I hadn’t received any intel overnight and despite my increased pestering, my inbox lacked anything regarding the war to the southwest. It seemed that my mind had fled any sense of reason regarding the mythos of premonitions. I jumped at any counsel about the conflict or how Admiral Byron’s spies should proceed.

I frowned at the sound of another unsuccessful mission. “I want eyes on him.”

“We have been monitoring their encampments for months,” Byron gestured to the war room’s map. “All aspects of their movements are accurate to the square footage.”

Half of the admirals, including Whitehurst and Fierlin, had taken leave early this month while the other end of the cabinet returned to Hyrule Castle.

“That’s not what I meant,” I watched the short man carefully. “General Forester has written that the war prisoners regard him with a reverence of a king. Please recall to me one specification he has recalled for us.”

He rustled through his papers before coming upon one and folded his arms over it. “The one true King of the Gerudo, Your Majesty,” he exhaled, then looked at me with tired eyes. “He is nothing but a usurper, a traitor, of the aristocracy.”

“How am I to react when I have no description of this man? When our men only hear of him as this… fabled legend? I will not accept the prolonging of that,” I sighed. “Do you see where my plight is coming from, Admiral Byron? I realize you’re without a doubt an accomplished man and leader within my army, however this problem still pesters me.”

The man pressed his mouth into a fine line, looking down. “I do. Moving forward I will follow through with this issue and provide you with results. Though I assure you that this Ganondorf is only below you, I will unmask him all the same.”

I bent my head towards him with a smile. “You are will met, sir. Thank you.”

The meeting in the war room was productive and filled appropriate guidelines to send Link’s way. I was pleased to see a familiar face.

“Sir Elian!” I grinned when he approached me after the meeting. “What a pleasant surprise!”

The knight took a short bow with a muddied helmet cradled under the crook of his arm. He must have just arrived in time for the next set of deliverables. I had seen him every now and again lately; his visitations becoming scarce as the war drew on and more precautions were put into place on the road.

“Queen Zelda,” Elian acknowledged kindly. “It seems the news hadn’t arrived yet. I was recently handed down a promotion.”

A conservative smile graced him as he sat on his heels, making the extra stripe on his uniform more pronounced. I clapped my hands together at his bravado.

“My apologies, Captain,” I laughed and voiced my congratulations. He deserved it, after all. There weren’t many that are up to the task of supervising shipments in this climate. “I must attend to Lady Urbosa in the gardens, however you’re more than welcome to accompany me.”

“Why, I could never turn you down,” he acquiesced.

The path from the war room was winding if one wanted to go to the gardens and I was happy to have a companion. I learned from our conversation that the roads were steadily becoming less fraught with ambush but it did little to calm the nerves of anyone who travelled.

“The Rito are slowly warming up to the idea of aerial surveyance. Especially now that we’ve proven to uphold our trade agreements,” I told him. “Their ambassador and Lady Urbosa butt heads constantly during court. It hardly helps.”

Elian chuckled. “I wonder if the threat is the reason why they’re barely trying to thwart us.”

That made me turn to him with concern. “Do you think they monitor that?”

“If the walls have ears, I wonder how they use our secrets?”

I was about to ask him to elaborate when a strangled noise of a shout cut me off. The gardens were around the corner when we heard it.

“Where is she?” a voice boomed down the hall. “Relinquish me and tell me where she is!”

When I realized that Urbosa was shouting over the demanding voice, I gathered my skirts to avoid falling on my face and ignored Elian’s warnings. Once I rounded the corner I saw Lord Ibauna staring down Urbosa’s sword. Guards stood around them, unsure of what to do.

“What is the meaning of this?” I said about their shouting match. Ibauna twisted to me with eyes full of malice.

His fists clenched tightly. “It’s your fault! My brother is dead and it is your fault!”

Lord Ibauna began towards me with a heavy foot, fury red in his face and step. Elian blocked his path with a heavy pull of his sword from its sheath. Two guards wrangled him to a stop before he made it to us and made him kneel. One of the man looked up with question.

“Lady Urbosa?” I asked, looking between her and Ibauna with growing worry.

“He approached me in the gardens looking for you,” she sniffed in his direction, “I wouldn’t tell him where you were because I’ve heard tales of his insolence… then he began insulting your honor, Your Grace.”

“Because you are leading a losing war!” Ibauna yelled, struggling against his binds. “We’re being slaughtered. Don’t pretend, Princess! I have seen the reports and the dead eyes of my family. Give up the aristocracy to Ganondorf!”

I stared, words refusing to surface on my lips.

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” a guard said, pulling the lord harshly back to his feet. “We should lead him to the dungeons for his sharp tongue. At your word, of course.”

I pulled at my fingers and couldn’t look away from his anger. Thankfully, my voice found me. “Who is it you speak of? How do you know that name?”

Lord Ibauna seemed to sober up and watched me with suspicion. “Consider it, Zelda. The very basis of this war is within an area that does not affect us. Send the aristocracy back and let them handle their own mess.”

I considered him coldly and nodded at the guards. He struggled against their hold, “I know who you are, girl! You’re meant to be a goddess among men yet you lead us towards tyranny and death!”

His screams haunted down the hall and I startled when Urbosa sheathed her sword. She gave me a look of concern.

“I suppose our teatime is cancelled?”

“Yes, I – um – I feel a little faint and I should retire,” I said, frowning. My mind worked through his words and felt a feeling I hadn’t since I was a girl. An impossible responsibility setting itself on my shoulders. A crown too heavy to bear. I turned to Elian, “I have another message for you if you wouldn’t mind.”

How did he know that name? The same way Link had learned of it?

Lord Ibauna came from money nearly older than the Crown. His silver spoon kept him from any type of military service that may be passed to an ordinary man. Very much like his family, he sought to gain favor in court circles through ways of blackmail and empty promises; a prime example was his attempted seduction of me at the ball. Everything he did was a double edged sword and when his first plan is rejected, another more devious execution settles into place – that being my subsequent judgement from my father.

The only regret I have now was not wearing more rings on my fingers when I hit him.

My hands were shaking when I reached my quarters. Despite my reassurances that I was fine, both the captain and Urbosa followed me. I asked them to wait outside as I scrambled through my desk drawers for my ink pot and pen.

I was going to write to Link to go through with moving resources back behind our lines. If he didn’t want to transition his men there immediately, fine, but I wasn’t about to let pride put anyone at risk. He wasn’t going to be happy… though there would be a good chance he would understand.

A flash of yellow out of the corner of my eye made me freeze. My desk was cluttered already but the yellow yarn was unmistakable. I forced myself to look at the black button eyes and the mouth the formed a slight frown. My mind tried to process when I had taken it from my drawers. Surely, I hadn’t forgotten. In reality, I had gone out of my way not to see it at all and briefly contemplated discarding it. I rose to my feet and swallowed my nerves, almost completely collected when I saw what the doll laid upon.

An envelope, sealed by red wax, was positioned on the side of my desk. It was in a place I knew for certain had been empty this morning.

Tentatively, I skipped the letter opener and ripped an opening with my hands. The doll fell to the floor. My movements were frantic, shaking, as I scanned the words within.

Someone had broken into the castle to place this in my room.

Someone had access to this wing of the grounds and placed this in my room.

Someone had been in my room.

With my introduction having been made, I patiently await yours.

Ganondorf, King of the Gerudo

#sorry this took so long #i was making money #and crying bc i wanted to fight my boss but i can't bc assault is illegal #anyway #htbaq #how to be a queen #loz #zelink #zelda #link #ashleyswrittenwords #zelink fanfiction

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sailorshadzter · 4 years

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a stranger’s eyes that somehow look familiar. chapter 4.

The Vale is utterly transformed.

Halls gleam with light- hanging lanterns are strung up through every corridor, blazing silver and gold from the high ceilings. It would seem that Baelish and Lord Manderly spared no expense for this wedding. There are people everywhere, guests upon guests in clusters around the main floor of the palace and from the great hall comes music played upon the harps and strings.

She stands at the top of the stairs, waiting for Lord Baelish to appear, for it is only appropriate for her to walk into the hall on the arm of her father. He's there a few moments later, coming from the eastern staircase, approaching her with a smile. "You look beautiful, the gown is most becoming." His stare is not only for her face and she colors, enduring his stare as she always has. It leaves her with a sick feeling in her stomach, but she only smiles her thanks for his compliments, taking his arm when he offers it. "If you were truly peasant born, you could make a fortune from your dress making." This is perhaps the first compliment he's given her that does not leave a foul taste in her mouth and she smiles again, thanking him for the fabric he had provided her with to make it at all.

For the wedding feast, she had chosen to use the yellow silk, pulling together a gown she was truly proud of. The skirts were long, bustled in the back at her waist, a fashionable trend she had gathered from her time in the South. She had embroidered a white floral pattern along the gown's long, sweeping sleeves, doing the same along the trailing hem of the skirts. The bodice fit snugly, the cut not nearly as deep as Margaery might have worn, but deeper than any of her other gowns might have had. Her hair was a pulled back into a coil of curls, pinned into place with jeweled pins she had brought with her from King's Landing. Around her neck hangs a simple gold pendant, something her mother had given to her many years ago. "I still wonder what your plan is," she says, rather than respond to his previous comments. The look Baelish shoots her is one of surprise, a brow raised. "With the Manderly girl, I mean. This wedding was made in such haste. Surely, there is motive behind your arranging this whole thing."

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Once again, he's struck by her understanding.

"She is quite the wealthy heiress," he says by way of explanation, but from the look she gives him, Baelish can tell she hasn't accepted that answer. He should have known she wouldn't. "And her father, though young enough, surely will have no sons follow him." He goes on, patting her arm tenderly as if they are sharing a sweet moment between father and daughter, their quietly spoken words unheard by those around them. They both know how to play this game.

"So it is power in White Harbor you're after," she replies with a slight shrug, eyes staring ahead as they make their way down the hall, passing by dozens of guests who smile and nod as they go by. When Lord Manderly dies, power will pass to his oldest daughter who has only just hours ago married Robin. Together, they will have a claim over quite an expanse of territory, and considering young Robin's mental capacity... It means Baelish will have true control. "You should watch your step," she speaks quietly as they approach the doors that will lead them into the main hall. Baelish cannot help but to smirk at her warning, though she's not wrong to give it; but he knows the risks, he knows them well.

He does not reply as they step through the doorway and into the hall, it is not a conversation to be had among so many people. Instead, he watches as she transforms into someone else entirely, her smile bright as she allows him to lead her up to the head table, where Robin and his Manderly bride already sit in the spots of honor at the center.

From where he stands in the back of the room, Jon watches her come in, a radiant dream in yellow silk. She's smiling, her cheeks fulls of color as she sinks into the chair beside the young bride, pouring the pale faced girl a goblet of spiced wine. Her dark hair is twisted back in the most elegant of ways and the pendant at her throat catches the light as she moves. He's mesmerized by the sight of her and it isn't until he overhears hushed whispers to his side that his trance is broken.

"... Quite like the Tully's, wouldn't you say?"

It's two men, well dressed lords from various houses, tucked into the corner near where Jon still stands. "Aye, there is a look of Lady Arryn," the second man agrees, casting a glance to where Alayne sits at the head table. "Though more like a young Cat Tully, you remember her as a girl, down in Riverrun, with hair so red it was like fire."

"If not for the hair, I would take her for a Tully bastard. You think she was Lysa's?" The first man says as the call for dinner comes, the pair making their way towards the tables so they might find their place to sit. Jon follows, his place just a little further down from where they sit, though he lingers as long as he dares, hoping to catch even just a moment more of their conversation. But he's ushered into his place by palace staff and so he must settle into his chair that's opposite of a man he knows to be called Royce. Alayne has yet to mention her mother to him so he wonders if she, like himself, does not know even just her mother's name. He looks up to where she sits and he realizes she's already looking his way; their eyes meet and she smiles, causing Jon's pulse to quicken it's pace. He thinks back to what the men had been saying, about her having the look of a Tully, known for having hair like golden fire and that's when it hits him... Her hair color. He had thought it strangely unfitting for her, though when he pictures her with auburn locks, it's perfect... He can see her with fire kissed hair and those big blue eyes, a combination of beauty that would bring any man to his knees. And more than anything else...

It's the girl from his dreams.

Red hair bathed in moonlight, blue eyes a reflection of the stars... It's all coming back to him, the memory of the dream, of a soft snow falling around them as they meet in the frozen gardens. I'm waiting, she had whispered to him this time, I know you'll come for me. A strange feeling is welling up within him, as if he knows things are going to change, as if fate is giving him an advantage of knowing that somehow, someway, things were never going to be the same again.

[ x x x ]

The music begins when the tables have been cleared away, leaving space for dancing.

From where she stands, she watches Robin and his bride awkwardly meet in the center of the room, to share a first dance together as the room around them erupts in cheers and claps. When they have begun, other couples begin to pair up and soon, the room is full of dancing and laughter, a true celebration in full swing.

To her surprise, it takes only a few moments for Jon to find her.

"My lady," he greets before she can speak, bowing to her as if were queen and he just a simple lord. "Dance with me, won't you?" He asks when he straightens his spine, his smile quick as he holds out her hand for him to take. Slipping her hand into his, she nods, allowing him to lead her out onto the floor, joining the other couples who dance around them.

"I didn't know the King of the Free Folk would know how to dance," she teases as they fall into perfect step, his grace surprising her. "But you do it well."

Jon grins as he swings her out and back in, unsurprised by his partner's nimble feet, rather he's more focused on the way her yellow gown clings to her lithe frame, wondering for the briefest of moments what it might look like on the floor of his chamber instead. "Thank you," he forces himself away from such thoughts, though there's something about the way she looks at him that tells Jon she might wonder the same thing. "Your dress is lovely, your father mentioned you're a talented dressmaker." It's her turn to grin as she twirls away and back again, yellow skirts swirling with her movements. When she's back in his arms, they both feel it, the warm spark of contact as his hand falls back into place at her waist, as their other hands meet, skin to skin. "Alayne..." Her name is a whisper on his lips, suddenly, he's quite forgotten that they're in a room full of people.

But she hasn't.

"Your grace..." She prompts softly and Jon jumps, returning to the present as the music slows, the dance ending as people around them erupt in cheers. "Thank you for the dance," she says before she dips him a curtsy and hurries off, well aware of both her beating heart and the intense heat of his gaze upon her retreating back.

From where he stands across the room, Lord Baelish watches, a grin toying with his lips.

[ x x x ]

He's drunk.

For the better part of three hours, he's done little else but drink. He watches her most of the night- he watches when Ramsay Bolton offers her a dance, his cold eyes hungry when they fall upon her. As if she's little more than a horse he's selecting for his stable. He watches as she dances with her father, with the young groom, with several other men throughout the night. She doesn't seek him out again, though their eyes meet throughout the evening. Every time her eyes catch his, Jon feels his heart skip a beat.

Now, he finds himself in his chambers, shed of his outer layers of clothes, left behind just his breeches and undershirt. The fire burns in his hearth, casting the room into a hazy glow; he knows he should sleep, but something compels him to remain where he was.

Knock, knock, knock.

It's a soft knock, perhaps somewhat hesitant, but it catches his attention all the same. At once, he springs across the room, somehow knowing who it is that stands at his door. It's her, it's Alayne, looking timid in her yellow gown. Her dark hair is free from its pins and braids, left long and loose down her back, enticing him where he stands, wishing to slide his hands into it, to feel the softness of the strands between his fingers. "I'm sorry, it's late but I..." She's wringing her hands, looking down at her feet as if she's embarrassed by being there at his door. But Jon shakes his head, stepping aside to allow her the space to step inside. When the door falls closed behind them, he leads her towards the hearth, where he had only just been standing. "I had to see you." She's thinking about what Baelish had told her that night, just after the feast, about the choosing of her husband. "I...-"

She's cut off by his kiss, slow and warm. It's a kiss that spreads warmth through her entire being. A kiss that weakens her knees, that steals the breath from her very lungs. "I've wanted to do that from the moment I met you," he whispers when he pulls his lips from hers, if only to catch his breath. Her lips curve with a smile; he can feel it. "It's like I've known you all my life," he goes on, a hand slides into her hair. It is as soft as he had thought it would be. "Like I've been waiting for you all my life." Alcohol gives him the courage to speak the truth of his heart.

"I feel it, too," she murmurs back, finger tips tracing the curve of his jaw, stubble rough against the soft skin of her hand. There's so many things she wants to tell him, so many things there on the tip of her tongue. But she kisses him instead, knowing if nothing else, she would have this one single night.

When Jon takes her by the hand and leads her towards his bed, she does not hesitate.

[ x x x ]

In the morning, she wakes just before the morning call.

Jon snores in the bed beside her, one of his arms still draped protectively over her hips. Smiling, she leans over him and presses a kiss against his temple, wishing with all of her heart that she could stay there with him forever. But fate has sent her in another direction now, one that will allow her to reclaim not just her home, but her family. And so she carefully, quietly, slides out from beneath his touch and shimmies back into her discarded yellow gown. She pauses for only a moment more, at the door, to turn back and cast him one last glance. Thinking back to their night together, she smiles and tip toes back towards the bed, pulling from around her neck the pendant she had been wearing, the one from her mother. It's a simple pendant- wrought in gold and set with a single gleaming stone, something her mother had given her the morning she left for King's Landing so long ago. She swallows and sets the pendant down on the table at his bedside, leaving it behind for him, hoping he might keep it and think of her, think of Alayne. And then she is gone, slipping into the darkened hall and disappearing around the corner.

Reaching her own rooms, she slips inside, naturally greeted by Shae.

"I was worried!" Her handmaiden admonishes, though her tone is harsh, her eyes are soft and thankful when they meet. Shae takes in the sight of her then; rumpled gown, half hanging from her, laces loose at her back. Hair wild, as if hands had been tangled in its length for most of the night. No, Shae isn't ignorant, she knows where her charge has been and she can't say that she blames her. "It was him, wasn't it? The King Beyond the Wall." When her young lady blushes, Shae smiles. "Did you tell him?" The young woman sobers and heaves a sigh, shaking her head.

"I couldn't," she admits, slipping past Shae towards the hearth, stepping out of the yellow gown and laying it across the back of the nearest chair. Shae has already brought her robe, helping her arms into the sleeves before she ties the sash at her waist, though she's told her dozens of times she need not dress her as she used to in King's Landing. Anytime she brought it up, Shae would just smile and nod, but would appear again to help her dress and was, without a single doubt, the only person she knew she could fully trust in the world. "Besides, it's not as if I'll see him again... Not once I'm back at Winterfell, that is."

Though everything in her screamed that this was a mistake, she's going to marry Ramsay Bolton in less than a fortnight. She would return home, back to Winterfell, back to her little brothers that the Bolton's hold in their keep. Ramsay and his father promised to help her find Arya as well and that Winterfell would still be hers, always hers. Though she knew not if she could trust them on any of their promises, she has try, she has to find her family again. And so she agreed to the marriage and on this very day, her real name would be revealed to the world.

"I must wash," she says, turning back to face Shae; finally she would wash Alayne Stone away.

[ x x x ]

When Jon wakes, he finds himself alone.

Not that he blames her for leaving without waking him- he knows there was danger in what they did the night before for her. In his world among the Free Folk, there was no distaste for casual relationships as there was in Westeros, especially among the nobility. If she had been found in his bed by anyone... It would have been a scandal. And so, her being gone before the morning call doesn't really surprise him.

Slipping from the bed, he means to reach for his discarded breeches, but realizes only then that there is something on his bedside table that wasn't there before. Reaching for it, he realizes it was the pendant necklace Alayne had been wearing the night before. Something odd strikes him about that realization, so he hangs it around his own neck, tucking it carefully beneath his shirt, intent on returning it to her later that day.

Jon dresses then and leaves his rooms, heading down towards the great hall where the morning meal would begin in just a few minutes. The room is as full as always, though Jon notices the tell tale signs of men who had drank far too much the night before. At the head table, Jon notices Lord Baelish sits, the chair beside him empty, indicating that Alayne had not yet arrived downstairs for the meal. As the last of the guests trickle in from the hall, Baelish stands up, that sick grin on his face once more. "Thank you, my lords, my ladies, for joining us again this morning." He stares out at the many faces, catching eyes with Lord Bolton for a moment before he continues on. "I have something of an announcement to make to you all, the great families of the North that sit here in my hall." A murmur ripples along the room and Baelish waits until silence falls again to continue speaking. "It was not that long ago that our liege lord Ned Stark was taken so violently from us." Another ripple and Jon knows at once who Lord Baelish speaks of, the old Warden of the North, Ned Stark had been executed by Cersei and Joffrey Lannister, the rest of his family dead or disappeared. "The roots of his family... His beloved children... All dead or assumed so..." Baelish says and Jon can see the sadness on many faces in the room. "Until now." Dark eyes dart across the room, reading the faces, knowing this was going exactly how he had hoped it with. "Sansa Stark is alive." Outright shouts erupt now, shocked cries from many in the room as this news settles upon them. Jon has heard that name mentioned before, even just during his stay in the Vale. Sansa Stark had been the oldest daughter of Ned Stark who disappeared after Joffrey's death, supposedly she was even the murderer. "I brought her from King's Landing the day Joffrey Lannister was poisoned and I have hid her here, among you, all this time." He turns back and knocks on the door behind him, alerting whoever is on the other side.

A collective gasp goes up as the opens and a young woman steps out.

Jon knows her, without a doubt, he knows it's her. She comes to stand beside Baelish, her long red hair a stark contrast to the black gown she wears, a nervous smile on her rosy lips. Even from where he sits in the crowd, Jon knows that it's the maiden from his dreams, the one he's known for his whole life. And what's more than that... She's Alayne. All this time, she's been right there under his nose, he'd just been too thick to see it. His heart hammers hard in his chest and beneath the table, a hand curls into a fist. Something inside of him already knows he won't like whatever comes next.

"Lady Stark is to return home," Baelish is grinning once more, turning to face someone among those who look up at him. "She has agreed to marry the son of our new Warden in the North, Roose Bolton." Some in the room clap and cheer for the man as he rises up to his feet to acknowledge their praise, though Jon notices there are many dark faces at the mention of this Roose Bolton. "Ramsay, if you would." The man rises up, acknowledging not the crowd, but Sansa where she stands, by approaching the table and reaching for her hand, leaning over to kiss it as a courtier might. Though she smiles, Jon can see it does not reach her eyes, and something cold twists in his heart. Reaching for his goblet of ale, Baelish holds it into the air and smiles. "A toast, to our future Warden in the North and his bride."

As the crowd cheers, Sansa finds Jon's eyes; she hopes he forgives her for this. She had used him, mostly for her own selfish desires, to know what it would be like to be loved by a man that loved her and not her name nor her title. For just one night of her life, she wanted to be loved for her and nothing else. Truth be told, she found herself to be falling in love with the King Beyond the Wall, but it didn't matter now. This was her new path, whether she wanted it to be or not. This was so she could go home, this was so she could see Bran and Rickon. Nothing mattered more than them.

Not even her own happiness.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #wildling jon x sansa #jonsa wildling au #i wrote this #my writing

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bittysvalentines · 4 years

Text

Going for Gold

To @allmylittleflaws

From @effyeahzimbits

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dex/Nursey

“Will you fucking quit typing? I’m trying to sleep here.”

Nursey glanced up from the white glare of his laptop screen. The plane was mostly in darkness, but he could see his teammate’s golden eyes glaring at him from across the aisle. They were surrounded by the soft snores of other members of the United States Men’s Hockey team, and none of them had been disturbed by the clacking of Nursey’s plastic keys. He was pretty sure Poindexter just had it in for him.

Nursey couldn’t blame him. Ever since that match a few months ago where the Rangers played the Islanders, the budding rivalry between the two teams exploded to new heights, and Poindexter seemed to carry that grudge off the ice too. Nursey still wasn’t entirely sure what had kicked it off - something about the Rangers’ goalie and a wayward puck sent by an Islander’s D-man. Either way, a fight of epic proportions ensued, resulting in both teams nearly sacrificing their entire benches to the sin bin.

Nursey had been on the other side of the rink at the time, but he soon pelted over to defend his goalie. He’d only gotten halfway when he was suddenly tackled by Poindexter and sent colliding with the ice. It was a defensive tactic used to keep the pair of them out of the scuffle, but it was enough to raise Nursey’s hackles. He only managed to throw a couple of haphazard punches to Poindexter’s face before he was being dragged away by an official and that was that.

Or so Nursey had thought. Fans of both teams expressed their delight at the spectacle all over social media, and it wasn’t long before videos of the match went viral. ESPN highlighted his little brawl with Poindexter, and before Nursey knew it, his Twitter account blew up with notifications. False stories about some feud between the two of them spread like wildfire across the Internet, even though Nursey had never even said two words to the guy. Still, it felt harmless enough to Nursey, and he even joined in on the fun a little, pinging a few chirpy tweets Poindexter’s way. The other D-man didn’t seem to appreciate it though, even going so far as to tell one reporter brave enough to ask about it that Nursey needed to “grow the fuck up and start playing decent hockey.”

Nursey took offence at that. He took pride in his game and loved playing for the Rangers. However, he was strongly urged by PR to refrain from retaliating and the spat was left as it was. The two teams weren’t due to meet for another month or two, but that was the least of Nursey’s concerns. Not long after the fight he’d received confirmation that he had been chosen to play for the United States in the 2022 Winter Olympics in Beijing. He’d been ecstatic, that was, until he saw the name of another defenceman on that list. William Poindexter.

He’d tried not to worry about it too much. That was easier said than done though when practice sessions finally rolled around. It was a tight team, containing top players from all over the country and captained by none other than Kent fucking Parson, and Nursey was honoured to be a part of it. But working with Poindexter was tough. There was none of the smoothness Nursey had with his defence partner at the Rangers. Poindexter seemed to play by his own agenda, working against Nursey rather than with him. No words were spoken between them, but Nursey could see the contempt in his partner’s eyes every time they passed each other. If nothing else, it at least brought out Nursey’s competitive streak and made him play harder. And they must have been doing something right, because the Coach had placed them on the starting line together.

And now came a couple of weeks of hardcore hockey with the possibility of medals resting on his broad shoulders. He was excited, genuinely over the moon crazy kind of excited. But he was also worried. He didn’t want this weird spat to affect his game, and he also didn’t want people to make out it was worse than it actually was. He never had anything against Poindexter before all of this kicked off, but if he wanted to cause trouble while they were out here representing their country, then Nursey wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen. But for now, he was going to keep his head down and play good hockey.

“I can’t sleep,” he murmured in response to Poindexter’s snapped words. “I never can on planes.”

“So do something else. I can’t sleep with that racket in my ear,” Poindexter argued, nodding towards the laptop.

“Put earphones in then or something,” Nursey suggested. He couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. Poindexter’s tone was starting to get his back up.

“What are you even writing?” Poindexter demanded, leaning in his plush seat to try and get a glimpse of Nursey’s screen.

Nursey glowered and tilted it away from him, instantly on the defensive.

“None of your fucking business.”

“Are you writing poetry?” Poindexter asked in what definitely sounded like a sneer.

“I said it’s none of your fucking business!” Nursey snapped, slamming the laptop lid down harder than he meant to.

“Hey!” A voice thick with sleep called over from a few rows away. “Both of you cut it out or I’ll have you run burpees ‘til you puke.”

Nursey bristled. The Coach was pissed now, and it was all because Poindexter was too precious to try and sleep with a bit of noise. Nursey clenched his jaw and physically turned away from the other defenceman. If he had to look at his stupid freckly face any longer, he’d punch it. He folded his arms in a huff and glared out of the window instead. There wasn’t much to see except expanses of thick, fluffy dark clouds but he concentrated hard on them, counting the rare glimmers of stars that glinted through. Thankfully, he managed to fall asleep.

He didn’t know how, but he was signed up to share a room with Kent Parson. He’d met the guy once at a benefit before practices started, and other than a suave “hey how’re you doing?” (to which Nursey blushed and stammered over his words like a dork), they hadn’t spoken. At practice Nursey could say with confidence that Parson was a solid captain. He took initiative, looked out for his team members on the ice and got shit done. But off the ice and in a dorm room in the Olympic village? Nursey didn’t know what to expect.

“Hey. You wanna see pictures of my cat?”

Okay, so it wasn’t that. But hell fucking yes Nursey wanted to see pictures of Kent Parson’s cat. He huddled next to Parson on his squeaky, scratchy mattress and peered over his shoulder at his Instagram. The cat was a huge fluffball of a thing with massive green eyes and a sparkly collar. If it was pink it would probably look like candyfloss with ears. Nursey wasn’t usually a cat person, but he thought he’d make exceptions for that one.

Parson didn’t stick around long. After ten minutes of cooing over the cat pictures, he announced he was meeting a friend and sauntered off, the epitome of cool carelessness. Even the way his hair flopped seemed effortlessly nonchalant. Nursey thought he had wandered off in the direction of the Canadian athletes’ dorm, but he couldn’t be sure. As long as Parson was back before the game tomorrow, it really wasn’t any of his business.

The dorm room seemed depressingly empty after that. It wasn’t very inviting to begin with, and after half an hour the dull, beige walls and stark sheets were suffocating. He shoved his boots back on and stowed his laptop under his arm, hoping there would be somewhere with a decent Wi-Fi signal and a good cup of coffee he could hang out at until team dinner. Most of the guys on his team had announced plans to nap, and Nursey didn’t want to disturb them in the hopes of finding a companion. In the immortal words of his Rangers captain – never wake a sleeping hockey player.

The Village was huge. He wandered past buildings that all looked the same, half following the multi-lingual signs and half following other athletes. It was an icy February, and he was grateful for the thick, padded duffel coats they’d been provided with. He hoped they could keep all the clothes they’d been given. It was pretty awesome wandering around with “Team USA” embroidered on everything. His mom was keeping a scrapbook too and he knew she’d love the Team USA dressing robe folded up on his bed.

He turned a corner and halted in his tracks at the sight of the recreation centre domineering the horizon. Banners adorning its walls boasted a theatre and a cinema, plus sports halls and exercise facilities and even a spa. Making a mental note to check that out after dinner, he went on the hunt for coffee and Wi-Fi. It was like a maze inside. He bypassed the McDonalds and instead headed for the official athletes’ cafeteria.

It was already bustling with people, all of them prattling loudly over the sound of scraping chairs and clattering dishes. Nursey had to take a minute to absorb it all and stop himself from getting overwhelmed. Breathing in check, he strode into the crowd. He emerged clutching the biggest takeaway mug of coffee he could find and a slice of cake the nutritionist definitely wouldn’t have agreed with. It was a bit harder to find a table, but eventually he located an empty one in a quieter corner of the room.

He people watched and nibbled his cake while he waited for his laptop to load up. It was incredible really, seeing the sheer amount of people gathered to play a few sports. The atmosphere was electric though. Everyone was clearly super excited to be there and play for their countries. Inspired by their enthusiasm, Nursey’s hands were soon speeding over his keyboard.

“More poetry?”

Nursey’s fingers froze. Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, he raised his eyes to see Poindexter standing in front of him, clutching his own bucket of coffee. No cake though. He was wearing the same Team USA tracksuit they’d all been issued, but Nursey couldn’t help noticing just how well it seemed to sit on Poindexter’s broad shoulders.

“Blog post, actually,” Nursey replied, fighting to keep his voice cool. Poindexter’s tone hadn’t been snippy, but Nursey was still on the defensive.

“Oh. Cool.”

Nursey lifted a well-groomed eyebrow at him. Cool? Out of all the words that could have possibly tumbled out of Poindexter’s mouth, that certainly wasn’t what he expected. He wanted to document the entire Olympics process for his online blog to accompany his Instagram and Twitter reports, but he doubted it was anything Poindexter would be interested in.

Poindexter shrugged, and if Nursey didn’t know better, he could have sworn he saw the faint tint of a blush underneath those freckles.

“I saw your Twitter. You seem to write a lot.”

Nursey blinked. Was Poindexter actually attempting to have a conversation with him? It was a bit awkward with the other defenceman hovering over the table like that, but seeing how nervous he looked was kind of cute.

“Yeah. I majored in literature at college,” Nursey replied, taking a swallow of his coffee so he could do something with his hands. He couldn’t help bragging a bit. “Had a few poems and short stories published.”

“Oh. That’s awesome,” Poindexter replied, his voice quiet but sincere. “I uh, I did computer science. A bit different.”

Nursey nodded, managing a half smile. He was still a bit freaked out. Just this morning Poindexter had been snapping at him for typing and now he was striking up a conversation, albeit a slightly awkward one. Nursey didn’t quite know what to say to that though, and there was a minute or two of weird silence until Poindexter plucked up the courage to open his mouth again.

“I wanted to apologise. For this morning. I was tired, and a bit nervous, and took it out on you. So uh, yeah. Sorry.”

Well that was a turn up for the books. Poindexter was definitely blushing now, and Nursey wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself that it was a good look on him. Still, Nursey wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and if Poindexter wanted to make peace then Nursey was going to take it.

“It’s okay. It’s my fault too. I should have been a bit more considerate.” Nursey gave him another smile that was a bit more genuine this time. Poindexter seemed to grasp the mutual apology by both hands and nodded eagerly, his stiff shoulders relaxing with relief.

“Okay. Cool. No problem. Well, I’ll uh, leave you to your writing then. And I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Nursey watched him retreat, still a little bit dazed about the whole thing. He wasn’t sure what had made the guy change his mind, but he wasn’t going to question it. Maybe all Poindexter needed was a cup of coffee and a couple of hours sleep. He hoped the wary truce would extend onto the ice too, but he’d have to wait until tomorrow to find out. Their first game was against the Chinese hosts in the early afternoon, and Nursey was keen to get his skates on and win some matches.

Dinner was a quiet affair. The whole team was still exhausted from their long plane trip and exploring the Village. Nursey spent it sat next to a couple of vets who seemed to take him under their wing. He was grateful for their dogged insight and listened avidly to their stories playing for the USA over the years. He couldn’t help his eyes drifting over to Poindexter from time to time, but the man kept his head down and ate in the corner. Nursey was starting to think he was just a quiet kind of guy.

After they’d eaten the team split up again. Parson was the first to suggest hanging out at the bar, proposing they met up with a few of the Canadian and Russian team members. Nursey found it a bit weird to think he’d be playing against a couple of guys from the Rangers who just happened to be Canadian. He could easily imagine all the chirps that were going to be shared back in their home locker room in a few weeks’ time.

He declined the offer in favour of hunting for the spa he’d seen advertised. He was a sucker for a good steam room and a massage and hoped a little swim might help him sleep well. He returned to his room a couple of hours later feeling sleepy and content. Parson wasn’t back yet, but Nursey didn’t expect him to be. He stripped to his underwear and climbed into bed, flicking off the lights as he went. His hair was still damp, and he teased the curls with his fingers as he squashed a yawn and scrolled through his phone all at the same time.

He’d published his first Olympic blog post earlier that day. It had already been liked and retweeted hundreds of times by his loyal fans and his mom. Since the whole Rangers v Islanders fiasco, he’d turned off his social media notifications, but he still liked peering through the comments and mentions. Occasionally he would come across a heartfelt message or something that would make him laugh and he liked letting fans know they’d touched him in some way.

He trawled through the well wishes and memes, liking a few tweets and responding to a couple. A little banner appeared on the top of his phone to let him know WillDex96 has liked his most recent tweet. Nursey paused. Poindexter never liked his tweets. And his most recent tweet was the link to his blog post. Before his brain could even process it properly, his phone pinged with a direct message.

WillDex96 I liked the coffee too

Well, that wasn’t much of a conversation starter. Nursey had barely even mentioned the coffee in his blog, but it meant more that Poindexter had actually read it. Nursey smiled to himself and settled into his cushions a little more. He hesitated over the keys, then thought fuck it.

DerekDoesDefence Do you want to grab one together after the game tomorrow?

It was a bold move, and Nursey wasn’t sure it was the right one, especially as it seemed to take Poindexter an age to reply. Nursey just knew that he liked Poindexter’s awkward yet endearing demeanour and wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little more off the ice. His attractiveness was just an added bonus. Just when he was about to give up hope, a reply popped into his inbox.

WillDex96 Yeah okay. See you tomorrow.

DerekDoesDefence Goodnight

He didn’t get a reply, but he didn’t really expect one after that. Poindexter seemed to be a man of few words. Nursey put his phone aside and settled down, curling up and pulling the sheets around him. He couldn’t help the big, cheesy grin. It wasn’t a date, but he felt like he always did when he’d arranged one. It was probably a bit silly to even consider these things with the Olympic games right on top of them, but the thought made him giddy nonetheless. He fell asleep thinking of freckles and auburn hair and big hands.

The game was incredible. Nursey couldn’t remember the finer details, but he remembered the fanatic roar of the crowd, the bite of wind on his cheeks, the burning in his lungs and his calves as he raced across the ice. Every player in both teams seemed wired, like they had caffeine in their veins as they powered through each period. Playing with the Rangers was one thing but playing for his country set his blood on fire.

They won. It was a tight match and China played incredibly well, but USA just seemed to dominate the punk that little bit more and it made all the difference. Nursey’s team left the arena elated, cheering with the fans and rough housing as they made their way back to the Village. Most of the team headed to the recreation centre to burn off energy. Nursey followed them, feeling giddy all over again. Poindexter walked beside him, though he only greeted him with a subtle nod.

The team went their separate ways inside. A few of them headed towards the sports halls while others went to the spa for a post-game massage. Nursey watched Parson spearhead a small group into the bar where he could see a few of the Russian hockey players. Parson seemed to be friends with everyone, and Nursey didn’t know how he had the energy for it all. He and Poindexter headed towards the cafeteria, which was a lot quieter than yesterday.

They were silent as they retrieved their coffee. Nursey was pulsing with pent up excitement, but he couldn’t bring himself to string a sentence together. Poindexter had looked damn good out on the ice. His flushed, freckled cheeks and determined brow had made Nursey’s knees weak. It felt a bit weird looking him in the face now. They managed to grab a table by one of the huge windows, and it was a while before either of them found the courage to say something.

“That was a good game,” Poindexter eventually said, dragging his eyes away from the plastic tabletop and onto Nursey’s face. The half grin he managed made Nursey’s stomach churn.

It had been an awesome game, and Nursey wasn’t sure how it had happened, but something had finally clicked between them. They had worked in tandem out on the ice, analysing each other’s movements and tactics to form an unpassable duo. Their breathless teammates had slapped them both on the shoulder with each successful blockade, and the coach had been singing their praises in the locker room. The budding partnership had left Nursey as ecstatic as the win had.

“Yeah, it was. I think we finally played well together, Poindexter,” Nursey grinned at him over his cup.

“Finally,” Poindexter agreed with a snort of amusement. “And call me Dex. Anything else just sounds a bit weird.”

Nursey hid his grin behind his cup. He was probably making more of it than necessary, but the permission to call Dex by his hockey nickname just proved they’d made some progress. Fuck, Nursey wanted to kiss him. He took a big swallow of coffee instead and burned his tongue.

“You think we have a decent shot?” He asked to mask his pained grimace.

“Too early to tell,” Dex replied with half a shrug. “Especially with Canada’s line up. Zimmermann’s been on fire lately.”

Nursey hummed his agreement and licked the foam off his latte, only just avoiding making a mess. He looked up to find Dex’s eyes on him, his face bearing an odd expression. He swallowed and looked away quickly, hoping he hadn’t just made a fool of himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d humiliated himself in front of a pretty boy. He scrambled for something to say.

“You read my blog,” he said after a moment, figuring that was a safe enough topic.

“Oh. Yeah. It was fun to read. I wanted to make sure you were telling the truth about everything,” Dex grinned.

Nursey blinked. Was Dex…flirting with him? Or was it just a chirp? Though he’d once heard somewhere that flirting and chirping were just variants of the same thing.

“Um. Yep. Total truth,” Nursey replied eloquently. “No lies here.”

Fuck, he was such a dork. It made Dex snicker though, and he counted that as a win.

“I uh, I ended up going through your stuff,” Dex admitted, his eyes flitting away to a poster announcing the daily specials. “I really liked it. Especially the articles you did for your college magazine.”

Nursey lifted an eyebrow at him and tilted his head slightly in confusion.

“Those are all about bi erasure and hetero bullshit in the locker room,” he said slowly. To his surprise, Dex blushed so hard even his ears went red.

“Um, yep. They uh, really resonated with me. Especially the…especially the bits on internalised homophobia.”

Oh.

Nursey wasn’t quite sure how he managed to keep his mouth shut and his face straight. It wasn’t quite an admission, but it was as good as. Following Jack Zimmermann’s epic reveal of his sexuality after the Providence Falconers’ Stanley Cup win three years ago, only a few other NHL players had been forthcoming with their own. Parson had been one of them, and Nursey had been open regarding his as soon as he was signed with the Rangers last year. Things weren’t perfect, far from it, but the sport had been making progress and that was good enough for him. He could understand Dex’s reasons for being tight-lipped though, and he took a minute to think of something that would affirm everything without being too direct, for Dex’s sake.

“Well I’m glad they helped some people. That’s what I wanted, you know? To help bring a little peace and support.”

Dex nodded and a silence fell between them again. Oddly enough it wasn’t awkward, and Nursey allowed his tentative friend the time to process it. He wondered if he should ask if Dex wanted to talk about it. It sounded like he had a couple of issues that caused a little friction and Nursey hoped he could shed light on a few things. Before he could open his mouth though, Dex looked up and caught his eyes.

The look Dex gave him made Nursey’s heart leap into his throat. There was a spark of something between them that wasn’t there before, a spark that made the hair on Nursey’s forearms stand on end. He swallowed slowly, his mouth suddenly dry. He wanted to do more than kiss him. For a long, agonising moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Nursey threw caution to the wind.

“Do you…want to come back to my room?”

Dex nodded so fast his neck creaked. Nursey’s face split into a huge grin, the arousal already pooling in his gut. He shot to his feet in an instant, knocking his coffee cup flying. The lukewarm liquid splattered the table and both their clothes like watery paint.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Nurse.”

Dex’s laugh was quiet but carefree and obviously entertained. He threw a wad of paper napkins over the puddle and left it at that, leading the way towards the dorms. Nursey scrambled to catch up, nearly tripping up over his own feet. He ached to grab his hand as they powerwalked out of the centre, but he held himself back. They bumped shoulders along the way and the heat from that alone tented Nursey’s loose tracksuit pants.

The sex was mind-blowing. It was messy and hot and frenzied and had Nursey howling like an animal. Dex was an attentive lover, his mouth and fingers desperate to explore every inch of him. Nursey learned more about Dex in those couple of hours than he had in the few days they’d known each other. It left him wanting to know more, wanting to know everything. They lay curled up in bed together afterwards, flushed, breathless and blinking away stars. Nursey was suddenly very grateful they both lived in New York. It made the possibility of finding out just what made William Poindexter tick all the more enticing.

“I think I’ll write a poem about this,” he announced, his voice loud in the thick, sex-laden air.

Dex smacked him with a pillow.

#bv2020 #bitty's valentines #dexnursey #omg check please!

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