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gglitch1dd · 2 years

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5. Coming Home (Midoriya x Reader Week)

Reader is genderneutral BUT IS AFAB!!

Omegaverse

Izuku’s had a rough day, but he realizes that no matter what, he has you and no matter how the future looks, it wouldn’t matter, since he has you by his side.

Alpha Izuku x Omega (GN) Reader

Warning: Omegaverse (duh), NSFW WARNING! SMUT WARNING!, Cunnilingus, oral receiving (m and f), presenting, breeding kink (Cause It's me writing this), mentions of pups in and out of smut (the horror), little degradation, some praise. And yah... Yall know. Oh yes! Biting.

Midoriya opened the front door to his home, trudging his feet inside along with his body. He turned around closing and locking the door behind him. With a heavy sigh, he messily took off his shoes, trying his best not to fall on the floor. He gripped his hero bag, securing it to stay on one shoulder as he trudged down the hallway.

Midoriya couldn’t register the smell of dinner nor the warmness of the house quite yet. His mind was on auto pilot and would be till he found his way to you. Midoriya made his way to a door, he placed his forehead against it as he tiredly scratched the door with a chuft. Despite years of being together he still knocked before entering.

“Izuku!” You chirped out happily, letting him know he could come in.

He opened the door to find you sitting on the huge bed that was more of your personal nest than a bed. Midoriya didn’t mind however, he preferred sleeping in your nests than a bed. They smelled comforting. You and him mixed into one safe space. It smelled like home. And that’s what led him straight to you. He dropped his bag on the floor out of the way. Without a care in the world, he fell forward onto the bed and into your wide and waiting arms.

You let out an oof at the big green haired Alpha in your arms. He shuffled a bit to stuff his face in your chest as he released a huge sigh. He wrapped his arms around you and let out content rumble. You chuckled at his behaviour. “Oh Izuku.” You stated with a sad smile. You threaded your hand through his soft green curls making him hold you tighter. His shoulders relaxed and his body went slack with exhaustion. “Rough day, hun-bun?” He nodded his head, his face still buried in your chest, inhaling your scent that always made him feel better. You rubbed his back comfortingly. “I’m sorry my love. Want to talk about it?” He shook his head. You frowned. It must have been real bad if he wasn’t talking. He was almost always talking about something in one way or another but with him being silent, you got worried. “How about we go eat dinner and then we can come back and cuddle? Hm? Is that okay?”

Midoriya lifted his head up, his chin resting over your sternum. He nodded his head. “Yah, that’s okay.”

You smiled down at him. “Great.” You started to push him off of you but there was a reason he was the number one Pro Hero. He’s heavy body weighed you down. “Time to get up, my big strong Alpha.” You grunted out, trying to get him to roll off of you. “We’ve got dinner to eat.” He buried his face back in your chest. He shook his head. You let out a laugh. “But you just said yes.” He made a negative sound. You looked down at him sternly. “Izuku, you have to eat dinner.” He let out a low growl annoyed at your words.

Your eyes shot wide open in surprise. Midoriya almost never growled or given you any negative alpha reaction unless he was really pissed, or it was in the heat of the moment (often followed or between passion and a good knotting). So him growling at you in annoyance was an odd thing.

“Izuku. You are going to get up and you are going to follow me to the kitchen or else I’ll…” You tried to think about something to threaten him with. How do you threaten the number one hero of Japan who had everything he could ever want or done for him? You thought for a moment and then got a bright idea. It might end up with you face down in the sheets later, but it would most definitely work. “Or else I’ll have to give all my amazing dinner to a certain Number Two explosive hero.” You spoke as if it wasn’t even a problem for you. Midoriya went stiff. You hummed. “Yup, maybe Dynamight would love my cooking and he wouldn’t waste it. A nice meal made by me, a sweet little Omega without an Alpha to feed.”

You felt the air around you shift the same way it would when Midoriya activated his quirk. The hairs at back of your neck would stand up and you could feel an energy in the air almost as though there was static in the air. Slowly Midoriya look up at you from his place on top of you. You swallowed hard as you looked into his jade green eyes. His pupils were big showing that he wasn’t in control at all.

He had fallen into a drop.

And you had most probably fucked up.

Midoriya looked at you with a hard gaze, something heated and primal in those eyes that made you freeze up but also instantly made your heart rate pick up. He let out a deep growl in annoyance and disapproval at your words. Long white canines gleaming at you. Before you could have any say, Midoriya had you pinned underneath him. He furiously went into scenting you, trying to get all thoughts of ProHero Dynamight out of his and your head. He wasn’t going to have it. You couldn’t possibly mean it and yet he was still not going to even entertain the thought.

You let out a giggle at the ticklish feeling of being scented. “Izu!” You squealed out with a laugh as he rubbed his cheek against your neck. He let out a grunt as he started to scent you down your body. He sniffed at your chest as he made his way down, rubbing his wrists at the side of your hips. He moved down your body, ticklish touches and warm lingering brushes making you smile down at the Alpha on top of you. That was until Midoriya found himself between your thighs. His face right over your clothed sex. He looked up at you with heated dark eyes and then back down at the shorts you wore.

Midoriya pushed them up even more, revealing your inner thighs more to him. He wanted the scent glands by your inner thighs. That’s what he wanted. But you couldn’t stop the tensing of your thighs nor the now longing feeling you wanted from him. With a little growl he moved lower, grabbing each thigh and sitting them on his shoulders. He placed his face into one of your thighs with a grunt, loving the soft skin and the smell of you. His eyes closed with a sigh. Then he smelled your slight arousal. His eyes slowly opened and flickered up to you. He moved his lips to one of your scent glands and licked your inner thigh.

You bit down on your bottom lip to stop the whimper that rippled out of you. Any and all of his actions on your body always left your heart beating quicker and your scent raging. Midoriya saw that as a sign to continue. He placed his mouth on it, sucking and nibbling on your skin. He groaned at the taste of your skin on his lips and tongue. You were heavenly to him and he never understood how somehow you couldn’t see that. But he was nevertheless going to attack your skin for all that he could.

You let out a quiet moan as you relaxed back against your nest. “Fuck…” You whispered. Then you felt his fingers start to prod near your entrance. You finally realized what that meant. You quickly sat up. “Oh no you don’t.” You pushed his face away from you with your foot, making him release a confused sound. Pushing him away from you with your legs adamantly, Midoriya looked up at you with wide green eyes, worried. “I did not work hard on making dinner for it to get cold and you to distract me, you mischievous green Alpha.” You pointed down at him sternly.

Midoriya gave you a pout as he looked up at you. “But honey…” He whined out.

You shook your head at your needy husband. “Nope.” You moved to get out of your nest. “Now get up or forget about your portion of food.” You told him sternly, climbing out of your nest.

Midoriya sighed as he lay down in your nest as you exited the room. He dragged his hands down his face as he grumbled. “Can’t an Alpha just rest?” He asked to himself annoyed.

“What did you say!”

He immediately sat up. “Nothing sweetheart!” He quickly said with a smile. Once he was sure you weren’t coming back to beat his ass with a wooden spoon he relaxed again. He shook his head exiting out of your nest. “Omegas.” He whispered more quietly this time. “You just want cuddles. They turn it horny. You indorse it? They kick you in the face.” He sighed.

You were both back in your nest, Midoriya had his arms around you as you lay on his chest, purring up a storm to help ease him. He lay back in your nest, tiredly watching you text some of your friends. Midoriya had been pretty quiet, just being content in watching you. That’s all he wanted right now. Just to be near you and with you. You always made him feel so at ease and so much better, even when you did nothing. Just by your presence alone, Midoriya felt as though he was more than he could ever be.

His fingers traced your skin thoughtlessly as he watched you. “Honey?” He said quietly.

You looked back up at him, you pulled a smile on your face. “Yes?” You put down your phone as you looked up at him.

“Can… can I tell you something?” He asked you, not looking you in the eye but just watching the way his fingers traced your skin. You furrowed your brows concerned but you nodded your head affirmatively. He was silent for a moment, not saying anything for a while. He was thinking of how best he could say it to you. “So…” he started. “This afternoon I had a meeting with Shoto, Kacchan and the commission as you know.” You nodded your head. “but after that when it was just the three of us we decided to have lunch together… and then we started talking about how Momo’s expecting her first litter and uh…” Midoriya’s eyebrows furrowed as he swallowed down hard. Whatever it was he wanted to tell you it seemed difficult for him to say. “So Kacchan said him and Eijiro were thinking of getting a surrogate or adopting, whichever they decided, but he then, jokingly…” He closed his eyes. “He asked when we have pups would they be just like me?”

You tilted your head confused at his statement. You scrunched up your face. “Well, of course. I want them to have your pretty hair and sparkly eyes.” You smiled at the thought. “Our little broccoli sprouts. Wouldn’t they be just the cutes-”

“No, not like that honey.” He said opening his eyes and finally looking at you. Your smile dropped when you noticed there was still more to it. Midoriya let out a shaky breath. “What Kacchan meant was… me before All Might.” He specified. Your eyes widened in realization of the implications of the statement. Midoriya leaned back looking away from you. You could see by his tense shoulders and furrowed brows how much this was bothering him already. His face then twisted up almost in disgust. “I used to be nothing special. A quirkless beta kid with nothing but a dream. My life was hell growing up. I hated it.” He spoke with genuine loathing dripping off his tongue. “I never want any pup to grow up that way, let alone my own.”

“But Izuku that wasn’t your fault.” You told him with a stern look of your own. You noticed he wasn’t looking at you. You reached your hands up to move his head down to face you. You made sure he was looking at you this time. “That wasn’t your fault.” You spoke adamantly. “You were bullied. It was other pups- other people that saw you as inadequate.”

He closed his eyes. “I know, but Y/N don’t you see?” He placed his hands over your smaller ones. “Even though One for All gave me a quirk, turned me into an Alpha with a fancy big build and a fancy knot…” He rolled his eyes. “I still have that quirkless beta inside me. Would you really be willing to risk our pups having that?”

Your face fell as you looked at Midoriya with a blank expression. “Izuku, you are acting as if being quirkless and a beta is a disease.” You snap your fingers in front of his face catching him by surprise. “Grow up!” You frowned with a quiet sigh looking down. “Do you really think so little of me and the possibility of me being a good Dam?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows.

Midoriya’s eyes widened drastically, sitting up. “What! No honey, I would never think that way.” He said as the two of you sat up, with you sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist.

You looked at him with an angry expression. “Then why the hell would you think I would care if my pup was like that?” You asked him loudly. He leaned his head back in surprise. You stared up at his face silent for a second. “Izuku, you are my mate.” You took his hands and joined them with your own. “You are my everything. Knot or not. Do you honestly think I chose you because you were some fancy Alpha with a great quirk? Because you were some prohero?” You asked with a scrunched-up face. “Izuku, the moment I let you court me, I knew that Deku would never be mine.” You shook your head. “Deku belonged to the people of Japan but Izuku? Izuku is all mine.” You told him. “I accepted him back when you introduced me to him with all of his past, and I accept him now just the same. When we have pups…” You told him, squeezing his hands with a soft smile. “I hope they end up just like their father. Heroic and beautiful. Quirks or no quirks. Betas or not. They’ll be ours and that’s all that matters.” You told him with a happy chirp.

Then you felt a drop fall onto your conjoined hands. You looked up and you saw your husband with his signature Midoriya tears in his eyes. Big, heavy flowing tears that you knew only came from one family. He bit down on his bottom lip trying to stop a sob from coming out. You chuckled, moving to pull him into a hug. “Aww my big Alpha. There’s no need to cry.” You assure him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling his head down to rest in the crook of your neck. You rubbed his back affectionately as he held onto you. You hushed his crying form with a sweet smile. You released a calming scent to try and help ease the big ball of tears and green hair that was your husband. “It’s okay, darling. I understand your concerns, but you don’t have to worry. We’re together and we’re amazing. Our pack will be amazing too.” You assured him.

“I don’t deserve you.” You heard him utter out brokenly.

You shook your head. “You deserve the world Izuku. We’re here together. In it for the long haul.” You informed him.

Midoriya held you in his arms, the feeling of your warm embrace and loving hold on him reminded him all of how much he loved you. How much he felt so lost and conflicted without you. You were so amazing to him. You deserved everything he could give you and more. If he could find a way to give the world to you, he would give it to you over and over again. You made his life so much better, turned everything he had into a loving home.

He loves you.

He loves you so much it makes him cry more times than he would ever admit to you.

But as much as he loved you, you also made him incredibly horny. You were just that amazing.

He lifted his head slightly, still keeping his head against yours. He placed a kiss on your mating mark making you chirp happily. He loved your chirps. They were like music to his ears and made him know that he was doing something right. His hold on you turned possessive as he held you tighter. “Let’s make a pup.” He whispered into your ear making a shiver run down your spine.

“Whoa!” You let out with a chuckle, moving to look up at him. You had a raised eyebrow and a smirk on your face. “What on earth has gotten into you all of a sudden?” You asked. “My heat isn’t for another month.”

He put a hand around your neck unexpectedly pulling you closer towards him. His jade eyes were dark, covered in a vail of lust, but he was being serious. The utmost serious. So serious it made you want to melt as your inner Omega happily celebrated at their mate wanting them. “I don’t care.” He stated clearly.

“But Izuku what about-”

“I don’t care.”

“But we agreed that we would choose another house befor-”

“I don’t care.”

“Izu, I-” You were cut off as he pinned you down to the nest.

A rumble rippled through his body as he kissed at your scent glands on your neck. He groaned, as he rutted down against you. His hips grinding down against your humming body, aching and needing you. “I don’t care.” He mumbled against your skin. He licked a long stripe over the mating mark he had placed on you, before biting down. You released a loud whimper, your sex now aching for friction. His reclaiming of you was harsher than he normally would but made all the more pleasure inducing. A wave of heat and pleasure blossomed from that scent gland, moving down your body to your aching sex. He removed his teeth from your scent gland, the taste of a hint of blood and your skin sitting on his lips. He licking over the mark. “I just want you.” He breathed out. “Please?” He asked stopping for a moment.

You couldn’t think, your thoughts already clouded. “Okay.” You nodded. “Okay, Izu. You can have me.”

He smiled and placed a peck to your lips. Midoriya slipped his shirt off easily before moving to rip your shorts off your body. You giggled at the way he pulled at your clothes with anger and determination. Deciding to just activate his quirk, Midoriya easily ripped everything below your waist, finding it a nuisance. He threw the remains away to who knows where and had his eyes trained down on your already glistening sex. Midoriya had this unexplainable way of always touching you in a way that you couldn’t explain. It lit a fire inside you. Made your body produce slick and your heart race.

He grabbed each one of your thighs as he lay down on the bed between your legs. Each thigh rested on his shoulder just like they did earlier that evening when he had just arrived from work. He squished his face between your thighs like earmuffs and licked straight up your slit. You released a whimper at the action. Midoriya began to eat you out, focusing on your clit trying to make you as wet as possible. You needed no help with that as you relaxed back into your nest, eyes closed in pleasure as you wiggled and writhed underneath him. Your heart started to pick up pace as you tensed your thighs.

Midoriya groaned at the taste of your slick on his tongue. You tasted even better than katsudon to him. If there was one way he preferred to die, he wanted to drown on your slick between your thighs. He knew he would die a happy man and often felt like he could see the gates of heaven whenever he was perched between your thighs focusing on bringing you pleasure. He couldn’t focus on anything else, not breathing, not his hands grasping and messaging your thighs and hips as he worked. Nothing, only you and your moans. Your tense thighs that started to quiver.

You keened pushing down against him harder, feeling the coil in your abdomen start to tighten. You whimpered out as you moved your hips against his face. “Izuku.” You moaned out. You bit down on your bottom lip but then a gasp was pulled out of you as he stuck a finger inside you. He started to scissor you open, his mouth now sucking your clit. Just like that you clamped your thighs around his head forcing him to stay there as you let out a loud moan. Midoriya didn’t fasten the pace nor slow down, he kept doing what he was doing, guiding you through your high.

You finally eased up releasing his head as you relaxed against your pillow, but unlucky/lucky for you, your man was a pussy-addict. Midoriya gasped out for air but still focused on working you open for him. He then curled his fingers. You gasped and that’s when he smirked. He found it. With a happy rumble from his chest he went back to focusing on your clit and your slicked up hole. You whimpered at the way he worked you open.

Midoriya noticed the way you were tightening around his fingers, feeling like being mean today, he forced himself to remove all contact from your sex. You let out a loud whine at the loss of pleasure. “Izu! That’s not nice.” You told him with a frown.

Midoriya chuckled as he moved up your body. “Sorry my love.” His body caged you underneath him. He bent down and placed a kiss on your lips, tasting yourself on him. He hummed moving back to stare down at you. “But I’ve got to pump my Omega full tonight,” he moved to rest on his knees, unbuckling his belt. He shrugged. “For practise.” He grinned down at you with a flawless grin, canines gleaming at you, as you chuckled.

“Can’t I just…” You sat up moving forward towards him as he tore his shirt off of him. You palmed at his restricted hard cock in his briefs. You looked up at him with wide eyes before looking back down. You kissed him over his briefs making him release a small breath. You moved closer, pulling his cock out of his briefs. Hard, heavy and flushed pink. You tapped a freckle just over where his knot was making him gasp slightly. You giggled. “Freckles.”

Midoriya rolled his eyes but smiled down at you. He moved his hand down to cup your chin, making you look up at him. His thumb moved to rest between your lips. You opened your mouth obediently, eyes always on him. His thumb pressed down into your mouth and onto your tongue forcing your mouth open and to hollow up. You relaxed your jaw knowing what was expected of you.

He smiled with a soft scoff. With his other hand he pat your head softly. “What a good Omega.” He praised you. “Look at what you do to me, honey. You make your Alpha always ready and aching for you.” He leaned down closer to your face. He held a patronizing smirk on his face. The dark glint in his eyes was apparent. His hands on you had grown to make your body pliant and at his mercy. “I really want my cock in your cunt, sweetheart. Is that what you want?” You nodded your head eagerly, his thumb still in your mouth, drool dribbling down your lower lip. “You want that? Then how come your eyes are telling me you want to suck my cock?” He asked you. Your Omega purred as you nodded your head just as eagerly. He chuckled, his one hand caressing your face. “What a greedy Omega. Always wanting so much from their Alpha, but that’s okay. That’s what Alphas are for. For you to have me as you wish right?” He glanced down at his cock and then back to you. “Go ahead. Suck this cock. Get it nice and wet for me.”

He finally removed his thumb from your mouth making you gasp. Your jaw ached slightly but you couldn’t care. You nodded your head, moving to hold his thick cock in your hands. “Yes, Alpha.” You told him bringing, the head of his cock to your lips.

Midoriya’s shoulders dropped as he released a sigh at the feeling of your warm mouth on his cock. It was almost as comforting as having it deep inside you. You went to swift work of licking and sucking his cock. You removed your mouth licking up his length. Midoriya let out a groan. He moved his hand so that he could hold your head steadily. You knew that as indication to ease up and loosen your throat for him. And just as you got comfortable, holding his thighs, Midoriya gripped you by the hair and started to softly fuck into your throat. The head of his cock nudged the back of your throat making you gag but you stayed in position letting him use you.

Midoriya used his other hand to caress your face and full cheeks. “Come on baby, drool all over this cock.” Your lower lip and chin glistened with saliva as he fucked into your throat. He looked down at you with adoring eyes. “Such a good Omega. You are so good for me.” He slowly removed your mouth from his cock. You whined. You could taste the precum that was dribbling from his cock and you wanted more of it. He tsked at your greediness forcing you down on the bed. He slapped your inner thigh making you gasp. “Stop whining and present.” He let out with a low growl.

You pouted but did as you were told. Midoriya knew he spoiled you sometimes, but it made seeing that wet pout of yours all worth it. You stuck your ass in the air, chest down in your nest. You looked back at him, eyes begging to be filled as you presented your sex to him. Midoriya let out a pleased rumble from his chest. He placed one hand on your ass while he held his cock to your entrance.

The moment he pushed in you both released shaky breaths. You gripped down on the base sheets of your nest as you felt him fill you up wit his cock. You whined at the pressure and stretch. Even after years of taking him in very similar situations like this, it never got any less amazing to you. Often than not it felt as though the two of you were made for each other. Sculpted and formed to be able to take one another perfectly. It was a suffocating feeling and it made your love for each other only grow even more. Once he was finally fully inside you, you relaxed down in your nest. Your Omega now more than happy with just having his cock inside you.

However, the Alpha who had said cock inside you was anything but relaxed. He was ravenous. Dark green eyes looking down at you with a need so great he wasn’t sure if just letting you cock warm him for a while would cut it. Your velvety walls were heavenly, and you squeezed around him so nicely he almost felt tempted to put his want aside and let you. But then he remembered just how much he loves you.

And because he loves you so much, he couldn’t do this half assed.

And besides, you’ll be knotted anyways.

It was a win-win situation in his mind.

Using your hips to move you with his hips, he moved back only leaving the tip inside you, before moving back in. You jolted forward a bit with a soft moan. You enjoyed the methodical and salivating movements of his cock inside you. You hummed looking back at him. Making sure you moved your ass to help him.

Midoriya let out a chuckle accompanied by a groan. The view of you moving your ass back against him was down-right sinful but it was addictive. “Y/N, you’re a vixen, you know that?” He asked you, with a raised eyebrow.

You hummed as your answer. You thought for a moment a response. Then you got the bright idea on trying to get yourself pushed down into the sheets. It would probably mean you would have to call in sick tomorrow if executed right, but who doesn’t deserve a day off? You looked back at him with a sly look, a smirk on your face. “Come on Izu, I thought you said you were practicing. Is this how you’re going to put your pup inside me?” You asked him with a raised eyebrow of your own and a devilish smirk.

You knew instantly by the way he stopped moving his hips, you had struck a nerve. Your body started to slightly tremble at the heavy silence between you. You had definitely done something wrong. You didn’t even want to look back at him because of how nerve-wrecking the situation turned out to be. You opened your mouth to say something, but you felt a hand come down to the back of your neck. You were forced face first into the mattress.

With a harsh jolt of his hips from Midoriya you let out a cry in pain and pleasure. You were being pinned down forced to take him rapidly as his thrusts were now cruel and ruthless. Midoriya growled down at you, from your whining. From your pornographic moans, he knew you were just complaining. He held your ass harshly, letting his Alpha take control of his actions. “You damn fucking brat.” He let out with a growl. He then let out a chuckle shaking his head. He dragged a hand through his hair not stopping despite your whines. He let go of your ass moving to grab onto one of your shoulders, his other hand moving to grip your jaw, forcing two fingers into your mouth. He bent down closer to your ear. “How about you shut up and take this cock yah?” He whispered. “Let your Alpha do all the work. You just sit pretty and take what I give you.”

Gripping you hard, and forcing you up, Midoriya continued to pound into you. You couldn’t think of anything other than him. His cock bullied your cervix, making sure every thrust inside you had purpose. Your body tensed as you came around his cock. Your eyes rolled. “Alpha!” He didn’t stop bullying his way in and out of you, which only lengthened your orgasm. Your body went slack at the mind-numbing glow of an orgasm. Your body was slack as Midoriya stayed focused on his pursuit of his own orgasm. You stayed down letting him use you, a fucked-out smile on your face. “Izuku. Alpha~” You chanted his name like a poem, a song. One you couldn’t get out of your head, stuck on repeat.

Midoriya growled his thrusts growing harder as his knot grew, catching only to let go. His hands gripped you with bruising strength. He couldn’t think of anything other than your slicked up sex and you so pliant for him. Happily, ready to accept anything and everything he gave you. With a finally slam, his thick knot locked the two of you together. Midoriya’s body shivered briefly at the euphoric feeling of being stuck inside you. He ground his hips inside you, fucking all his cum deep inside you.

His hands caged you on either side, keeping his weight off of you. Midoriya released a shaky breath his eyes closed in bliss, before looking down at you. Your body warm and sweaty underneath him, but a satisfied smile on your face. Midoriya smiled. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your mating mark. The action made you smile with a purr from your chest. You leaned back into his show of affection, placing your head next to his. “Are you okay, my beautiful Tsubaki flower?” He asked softly.

You giggled and nodded. “Made for you, Izu.”

He laughed too. “I’m made for you, my love.” He placed a kiss on your cheek. “My home. My everything. I’m so glad I get to come home to you.”

!!HAPPY BIRTHDAY IZUKU!!

-Glitch1d

A/N: Today is big man's birthday!! Izuku was a comfort character I never thought I would have because at first I was like… this man? The cry baby who just chooses endless self abuse? Then I realized that he is everything I wish I could be and everything I am. From middle school him who is strangely close to how I was in middle school (I was a cry baby. I cried at everything) till now. But Izuku is so much stronger. And even though he isn't perfect, he isn't the smartest or the strongest or the coolest or the richest, He's real. He loves his mother, his friends, he holds on to hope and helping others. Its odd cause there are many times I've given up and yet I'm sure if I was in his shoes I would have taken the next exit tbh. But he didn't. So… I love this man. He deserves the world. Okay. Sorry for the rant.

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moonkake-143 · 10 months

Text

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 - What's Said is Said

(Goblin King!Eddie X AFAB/Fem!Henderson Reader)

Edited by the lovely: Jen

(please go and check out her stuff its amazing and without her you wouldn't be reading this right now.)

Content: Slow-burn, one-sided pining from Eddie, love at first sight, angst, swearing, minor injury, blood, minimal to no use of Y/n

Summary: You never believed the story you told your little brother would end up becoming a reality, so when a mysterious man named Eddie claims to be the Goblin King after your brother goes missing, you can't help but be skeptical- but he's handsome, and you can't help but fall under his spell. One thing is for sure, though- you need to find Dustin, no matter the cost.

A/n: This will most likely be the only time I put one of these at the start of the fic. But the start of this is FINALLY here, I'm sorry it took so long to come out me and my editor have been busy and only recently have we gained some free time to finish this chapter. This idea has been on my mind for months and I can't wait for you all to dive into this 80s Labyrinth inspired fic!!

Chapter 1/? {wc: 3.8k}

Part 1

Hawkins, Indiana was no stranger to bats, especially around fall, so you paid no mind to the one that flew over your head, hanging from the very tree you relaxed under. Lover's Lake was always popular at sundown, but when the sky was still painted blue and the stars had yet to say hello, it was your secret spot, especially when you wanted to escape for a few hours to read. Your current interest was a red leather-bound book that comfortably rested between your hands.

The title had faded from the cover, but the first page named it The Labyrinth- it was a mysterious novel with no author listed. You had saved it from the depths of your local thrift store where it had collected dust, begging for you to take it home, beckoning you to uncover its secrets. In your free time, you had thrown yourself into the book, unaware of how long you had spent underneath the tree with Dart, your golden retriever, who lay quietly beside you.

“Give me the child.” Your words carried along the wind as you read, with theatrics fit for a proper dungeon master. At the sound of your voice, Dart’s ears perked up and he tilted his head. His wagging tail gently thumped against the dirt, mixing with the sound of small waves lapping against the bank.

“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to take back the child that you have stolen.”

You turned the faded yellow page, a small smile gracing your features as Dart sat up, giving you his full attention.

“For my will is as strong as yours, and my heart as great.”

As if listening intently to your story, the bat hung silently overhead, its ears twitching.

“For you will never have power over me…”

Before you could finish the scene, a roar of thunder shook the ground, causing you to jump and shut the book with a loud thud. Dark grey clouds littered the once-blue sky, the air heavy and humid.

The bat which had hung over you flew away, and Dart gave chase, barking in its direction.

“Dart!” You shouted.

Shoving the book into your bag, you bolted up from your place under the tree, your fantasy fading as you brushed the dirt from your jeans. As if the rumbling thunder and barking dog weren’t enough, your wristwatch let out a beep that was all too familiar.

“Shit! Come on, Dart! Mom’s gonna be so pissed!”

You pulled your bike up from the side of the tree, hopping onto the seat and peddling away. Letting out one last howl as the bat disappeared into the branches, Dart turned to run after you, and before you could even curse the sky, the rain came pouring down.

Peddling as fast as your legs could manage, you made it into town, turning sharp corners and crossing streets, taking as many shortcuts between houses and through back-alleys as possible to avoid the downpour.

By the time you had made it to your street and turned into your driveway, you and Dart were thoroughly soaked. Ditching your bike, you followed Dart as he ran into the garage, furiously shaking the water from his fur. Trying to catch your breath, you wiped the rain from your face, your wet clothes clinging to you uncomfortably.

Closing the garage, you left Dart there to warm up, letting yourself inside to escape the dreary cold. Despite the warmth of the house, you shivered as your doting mother came to greet you, holding your fussy three-year-old little brother.

“Dustin, look who's here!" She chirped. "Only twenty minutes late!”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry, okay?” You huffed, kicking off your wet shoes and socks. “…Put him down so he can walk- you need to stop babying him.”

“You know I rarely get to go out with the girls…and he's still my little Dusty-Bun.”

“You go out all the time! I’m always stuck babysitting!”

“You know I only have you babysit when it doesn't interfere with your plans.” Your mother’s beloved ginger cat, Mews, rubbed against her leg as she held Dustin, who looked between the two of you with interest, his blue eyes staring you down.

“Well, you didn't even ask!”

“I assumed you would tell me if you did! I’d like you to have plans, really! You should be going out and having fun at your age- maybe meeting a boy!”

Pushing past her, you grabbed a towel from the bathroom and stalked to your room, slamming the door shut. Everything was so infuriating. When you pulled your book out, you found that it had gotten wet, and with a huff, you threw your bag into your desk chair. Shivering, you wrung the water from your hair, quickly changing out of your soaked jeans and sweater, and into something warm and more comfortable.

Wrapping the towel around your shoulders to catch the water still dripping from your hair, you flopped into bed, shutting your eyes and soaking in the rare quietness as raindrops pelted the window. It was nice to be left alone.

But good things don't last, and your illusion of silence shattered when your mother eventually pushed the door open, her honey blonde hair meticulously curled, with makeup swiped on with precision, and that dress. It sparkled and shined, catching your eye the moment she walked in. It was like you were four again and watching her get ready to go out, trying on different pairs of heels as your dad struggled with his necktie.

But you remember that you're almost nineteen now and your dad left- he left you and your pregnant mother for a woman half her age. You shook your head, trying to forget those memories, and when you finally tuned back in, your mother was at the end of her usual speech.

“-back by midnight, I already fed Dustin and put him in his playpen. Make sure to tuck him in, alright? You know he's still scared of thunder. I love you…both of you.”

The older woman was closer to you then you realized as she leaned down to kiss your forehead, though she left the room quickly, her high heels muffled by the carpeted halls. You heard her walk to the garage, start the car, and disappear into the evening, leaving you alone with your little brother.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you went looking for a hairdryer, laying your poor book across your desk and peeling the damp pages apart. Finding your mother's on the bathroom counter, you plugged it into the wall and with a whir, began wafting hot air over the wet book, hoping it wasn't too badly damaged.

A sudden clap of thunder shook the house, and as you jumped, Dustin shrieked at the top of his lungs. The cry was ear-piercing and nearly drowned out the roar of the hairdryer- you could hardly hear yourself think.

With a frustrated groan, you switched it off, stomping to the living room. Dustin's playpen sat in the corner, filled with colorful plastic toys and stuffed animals that had once been yours. He stood at the edge of the pen with outstretched arms, red-faced and wailing your name as tears poured down his cheeks, his blanket laying forgotten on the ground.

Clicking your tongue, you gently picked Dustin up and carried him to your mother's room, with Mews silently watching from the sofa. He clung to you for dear life, his cries shattering your eardrums as another crack of thunder rang out.

“Come on Dustin, stop crying! You're a big boy now, you can't be afraid of thunder!” Your voice was stern, which only seemed to make him wail louder, snot dripping from his nose.

Sitting him on his racecar bed, you grabbed a tissue box from your mother's nightstand. Wiping his face, you made him blow his nose, your patience wearing thin as the tears kept coming. After disposing of the tissues, you tucked him under his blanket, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Fine, do you want a story?!”

Sniffling, Dustin nodded, his small hands tightly gripping the blanket.

“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl whose mother always made her stay home with the baby. The baby was a spoiled child and had everything for himself, so the girl was practically forgotten.”

Thunder roared and a flash of lightning illuminated the room, making Dustin bolt upright, his eyes glassy and full of fear.

“But what no one knew was that the King of Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and she too had fallen for him, granting her certain powers.” You waved your hands for effect, trying to distract him.

A crash of thunder rang out, and Dustin whined fearfully, still sniffling.

“So one night, when the child had been left to his older sister, she called upon the goblins for help…”

“Listen!” The nest stirred- they were all awake now, eyes wide and ears pointed in her direction.

“Wha happen?” Dustin lisped in a small voice, his hand reaching for yours and gripping it tightly.

“'Say your right words,' the goblins said, 'and we shall take the baby to the Goblin City and you…will be free.'”

The goblins gasped, their crazed red eyes staring at you from their disgusting nest in the Goblin King’s manor. Some had horns, others had sharp teeth, and some were dressed in remnants of armor, but they all had malevolent eyes, their ears prickling with excitement. They could feel the words that you wished to say but could not voice, felt the meaning, the anger, in the desire.

“But the girl knew that the Goblin King would keep the baby in his castle forever and ever, turning him into a goblin- and so she suffered in silence.”

“Isth da king evil?”

“I don’t know, Dustin…but he loved the girl endlessly." You tucked him in again. "With a heavy heart, he watched the girl endure torture for months- until one day, after coming home from meeting with the Goblin King did she suffer cruel and harsh words from her mother. Ungrateful she was for raising her son, the young girl could bear it no longer...”

Your voice fell into a mere whisper, and Dustin's brown curls fell against the pillow, his eyelids struggling to stay open.

The rain pattered against the window, and you sighed when the boy finally let go of your hand, breathing softly and evenly as his arm fell to his side. Just as you had begun to stand, the silence disappeared with a sudden strike of thunder, and Dustin's eyes shot open in terror. He screamed, desperately clinging to you as tears welled up in his eyes again.

“Hey, it's okay!”

You could hear Dart barking from the garage as you stood up, wrapping your arms around Dustin. Pacing the room, you hummed a melody to try and calm his frustrating cries, but he dug his face into your shoulder, soaking it with tears.

“Come on Dustin, stop it!” Your words came out fierce, yet your actions showed otherwise.

“It’s scawy!”

“I know it's scary, but you're a big boy, aren't you? You need to fight the fear.”

You tried to shush him, rocking him back and forth just like you did when he was a newborn, only he was heavier now.

“Dustin, please be quiet…or I’ll say the words.” You looked away from him, your voice lowered.

“Wha words...?” He sniffled.

“I wish...no, I can't...I shouldn't..."

“Everyone, wake up! Listen!” Every eye, every ear and every goblin was awake now.

“Is she going to say it?!” An excited goblin asked.

“If you would shut up, I could find out!”

“Who are you telling to shut up?!”

“Both of you- quiet!” Another goblin smacked the bickering pair in the head.

Dustin hiccupped, and when another roar of thunder shook the house- the loudest of them all- did his wails reach the highest of decibels. He trembled frightfully, tears streaming down his bright red cheeks as he clung to you for dear life, burying his face in your shoulder. With a defeated demeanor, you cried out in mock sacrifice, quoting the story.

“I can bear it no longer! Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be, come and take this child far away from me!”

“No! Don take me! I be good! Pinky!” He promised.

“Oh, that's not it!” The goblins let out crestfallen sighs.

“It didn't even start with ‘I wish’...”

You clicked your tongue and cuddled him, shaking your head.

“Oh stop it, you little gremlin- nothing will come get you. But the girl cried…Oh, I wish…I wish...”

You knew the words but couldn't bear to say them. Anger, jealousy, and sadness filled your thoughts as you looked at your younger brother; the child which you raised, the one that stole the best years of your adolescence from you. His crying slowly ceased and his breath calmed as you held him, the weight on your shoulder heavy. He was some form of asleep, at least for now.

With a weary sigh, you put Dustin back to bed, gently tucking him under the blanket. As the downpour became a light rain, your mind wandered to your true thoughts- the ones the goblins could clearly see.

“I wish I could say the words to let the goblins take you away…” You muttered, grateful for the boy's soft snores that covered your frightful words.

One goblin let out an annoyed huff, trying to spell it out for you.

“‘I wish the goblins would take you away right now.’ Not so hard, now is it?”

Rubbing your temples, you headed towards the door.

The goblins watched tensely, biting their nails with chattering teeth.

“Did she say it?” A large, dense goblin suddenly asked.

“Shut up!" They yelled in unison.

A sudden clap of thunder rang out, causing you to jump. Behind you, Dustin screamed in fright, crying once more, wailing for you- all your hard work wasted.

Gripping the doorknob, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, saying the wish you had never thought you would utter aloud.

“I wish the goblins would come and take you away…” Standing in the doorway, you heard his wails hush once again.

The goblins were so quiet they could hear a pin drop in their nest.

“...Right now.”

The door shut behind you, the clouds letting out a final battle cry before plunging the house into complete silence. There were no more cracks of thunder, the rain had stopped, and you didn't hear Dustin anymore.

As you stood outside the room, you began to worry.

You flung open the door, eyes darting around your mother’s dark bedroom. It was silent. No whine, no cry, and no calling of your name in the midst of a frightful thunderstorm. You hurried into the room, panic overtaking your features as you pulled back Dustin’s bedsheets, your heart sinking.

Nothing. He was gone.

“Dustin?! Come out, this isn't funny!”

But there was no answer- not from your brother, at least.

The sound of laughter rang out as something scurried around the room, the closet door slamming open and shut. You spun in its direction. Nothing was there. From the corner of your eye, you saw something crawl under the sheets of your mother's bed, but when you turned to look, it had disappeared into the floor. Your fear only escalated.

“Dustin! Where are you?!”

The high-pitched laughter only grew louder as you panicked, anxiety coursing through your veins as you spun around the room, your heart racing in your chest. The wind raged outside as you searched for your little brother, head spinning and eyes whirling. The window panes shook and clattered, a bat slamming against the glass over and over again. You felt ready to pass out. There was too much going on.

With a roar of thunder, the window shattered. Gasping, you shielding your face from the burst of glass shards that now littered the carpet, the raging wind chilling you to your core. You heard the flapping of wings from somewhere in the room, and when you lowered your arms, you saw the bat. It dropped to the floor in a puff of thick smoke, growing and contorting into a towering figure. Your heart stopped.

“Jeez, took you long enough to call for me! I thought I would have to meddle a bit more.” The voice was manly, cheery, and full of mirth, the chuckle turning into a bodacious laugh.

Fear encompassed your body as you stumbled back, tripping over a giggling goblin and falling backwards onto the carpet. A stinging pain sliced through your hands as you landed on shards of glass, but all you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

The man was captivating, with round brown eyes that seemed almost hungry, and dark hair that framed his angular face, falling around his shoulders in loose curls. His outfit resembled something out of a Renaissance fair, with a flared poet shirt and corset, his dark pants tucked into tall lace-up boots. The long velvet cape over his shoulders sparkled and shined like the night, as if the very stars had been woven into it, extravagantly fluttering in the wind that blew through the broken window.

“...Where is he?” You found your voice, hands trembling slightly as they balled into bloody fists.

“Where is who?”

“My little brother!”

Stepping closer, the man leaned down to your level. On closer inspection, he had freckles and a fanged grin- his teeth were sharper than any human's. You glared and forced a fire to your eyes, but his held no malice as he looked you over, his gaze landing on your trembling hands.

“Who are you?! What have you done with Dustin?!” You demanded.

His hands seized yours and you hissed in pain, the smell of iron hitting you as he held them up, his intense eyes seeming to sparkle. You winced at the sight of the injury- glass bits were embedded into your palms and a large gash ran through the center of your left hand, blood oozing from it.

The man gently cupped your hands, passing his fingers over the wounds with dark, concentrated eyes. The throbbing pain dissipated as you recoiled, staring down at your injured palms. Before your very eyes, the glass in them crumbled into into sand, disappearing before the grains could hit the floor, and the blood seemed to flow back into your cuts, your skin sealing itself shut.

Shock, confusion, and panic overtook you as you began to hyperventilate, your heart pounding. How could this be? You felt the glass pierce your hands, you smelled the blood- but not even a scar had been left behind.

You quivered, hyperaware of how close this man was to you and how he definitely wasn't human.

“Who are you!? What are you?!”

“Me? I’m Eddie! You should already know that much, since you're the one who invited me here! I’ve been waiting ages for your call!”

“Invited? My call?” You stammered. “…No…you’re the Goblin King...?!”

“The one and only!”

“No! It was a mistake! I was only telling a story- I didn't mean it! Bring him back!” You scrambled to your feet, shoving Eddie with newfound courageous force. He stumbled, his eyebrows scrunched as he held his ground, dusting off his cape.

“My dear, what’s said is said- you're the one who wished him away. Story or not, it was in your heart.”

“But I didn’t mean it! Please give him back!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, but I brought you something better!”

Eddie plucked a crystal ball out of thin air, its glass catching the glimmering rays of the faded moonlight.

“Look into it, tell it your deepest wish, and your dreams will come true. Forget about the baby~” The crystal shimmered as it called you, beckoning for you to take it.

“All my dreams?” You reached out with a slight tremor, your voice soft.

“Yes, all of them.”

Blinking, you froze, fingers mere inches from the crystal- how could you forget Dustin? Dustin, your little brother, who was probably terrified, was all alone somewhere far, and here you were ready to forget him. How could you think such a thing?

“Where is he?! Tell me now!”

You slapped away his outstretched hand, and the crystal orb tumbled to the ground. It shattered, and you gasped as a snake sprung from the fragments. Threatening to strike at your toes, you jumped from it, and the serpent slithered away into the darkness behind you, disappearing under your mother’s dresser.

“Your brother is in my manor. If you wish to see him again, you will have to find your way through here.”

Eddie stepped aside, the scenery outside the window changing from the dreary darkness of Hawkins to a bright landscape with rolling hills, covered in a lush green hedge labyrinth, and at the center lay a grand manor- it was like nothing that you had ever seen before. You stepped towards the window, and your mother's bedroom disappeared from around you.

Where was this place?

“I'm in the mood for a little game..." Eddie leaned in, his voice like honey in your ears. "If you do not reach your brother in the next, let's say thirteen hours, he'll remain here for eternity..." An ornate clock appeared behind Eddie, the hands moving before your very eyes. "...But if you can solve my labyrinth before time runs out, then the both of you may return home.”

You flinched, your cheeks flushed from how close he had been.

“So, what will you do?” He whispered the question like a prayer, his sparkling chocolate eyes drawing you in, drowning you- but you had to look away, eyeing the manor from your place on top of a grassy hill.

“It doesn't look that far…” Your voice trailed off.

He let out a laugh that warmed your very soul, the sound deep and rich, his grin sharp and toothy.

“It’s farther than you think. But don’t fret- I shall benevolently monitor your progress, Miss Henderson- or should I call you…” He whispered your name as if it was a sin, his lips quipping into a smirk.

Your eyes widened- you had never told him your name.

“How did you-?”

His eyes twinkled mysteriously, the clock chiming as it disappeared from thin air.

“Good luck sweetheart, you're gonna need it!” With a gust of wind and the flutter of his cloak, Eddie vanished in a cloud of mist, his voice fading from your ears.

You stared down at the manor, the labyrinth seeming more enormous than it had at first glance.

But you had to get to the center and find Dustin- even if it meant encountering the peculiar Goblin King again.

Fighting off a blush, you started walking.

Taglist: (if you want to be added or removed from the list let me know!)

@sh0wthyself, @fracturedarkness

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ginwhitlock · 1 year

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9 for edward, 10 for emmett, 54 for jasper, and 65 for all the 3 boys if that's cool :)

Of course, thank you for getting back to me :)

9. (romantic) Favorite way to be touched? Edward's a big hand/face person. You see it with him and Bella, him and Carlisle, him and Esme (at least in my mind). I think maybe it comes from his musicality, the way he always is relying on his hands and his mouth (that sounds dirty I'm sorry) to get out whatever he's feeling, couped inside his head all day. From that comes this wish to be touched, the gentlest of slights, against his brow or his cheek or his knuckles. A soft whisper of a touch, but strong enough to monitor that they're there.

10. Something about their physical appearance they're embarrassed about Emmet's nose is crooked. See-- he's never cared about his size, he knows hes big, he likes that hes big, it makes him intimidating in a way thats entirely truthful from the way he fights to the way he dances, so size has never been an issue with him. Now his face is another story. He takes pride in a lot of things that may make other men pick at themselves, and most things show he's survived, the little marks that still haven't faded after decades of playing life with a rough hand, but when he was changed, everything "imperfect" about his human body washed away in the tide of venom spit and blood. Except his nose. The one he was born now, the off kilter attribute wasn't created by some force of fist but rather a handed down genetic bread basket from his mother, the only real feature he ever got from her, which only makes him a little guilty to admit that he wish the change would've knocked it straight to suit the rest of the "perfect" lines of bone.

54. Are there any emotions they struggle to experience? This might be an odd take, or just straight canon deviance, but I don't think Jasper feels guilt. Like. Well. I think he's felt it, of course, lets hope he has to an extent, but of all the emotions that staved him off from drinking from humans, guilt wasn't one. Fear, anger, hatred, terror, pissing pants emotion, sure. Guilt. No. He gets the sticky tacky treacle molasses syrup-y kind from Edward and Esme and Carlisle all the time, the kind that sticks in his throat and slides down his crystal stomach and tries to heave dryly into the sink. Its a sort of infection, a disease that takes over his whole being for long states, but its not his emotions. Its theirs. He did horrible things, in human and vampire life, but hes almost two hundred years old, he has no guilt for the faceless nameless things he was burdened by god (or the devil depends on his day) to drain for sustenance. It is regret instead, that plagues those days.

65. What does their laughter sound like? (this is my favorite of them I like thinking of my boys happy) Emmett's laugh is like the sound of a large tree limb falling in a full forest, every sound stopping in its abrupt wake. It is like the sound of a ball in an oak barrel, rumbling around each slat as it turns and turns and turns. Emmett's laugh is all consuming, trapping everyone and everything around it when it happens, and it happens often. Like your grandfathers laugh, like a father.

Edward's laugh is like a boat sail being drawn up, thin and white and brittle like rope swinging in the wind. It slices through people, through the air, like a note on his piano. It's almost always from a sharp intake of breath, as if it surprised him to hear it.

Jasper's laugh is a gristly thing full of fat and timber. Its like smoke through the air, soft and patterned, with no distinguishable path. Its warm, until its not, and then it feels like ice shaking around your skull, a tightness overtaking your bones. But most of the time, in the good hours, it is like a blanket of fog, with a compressed sigh, as if he is unimpressed with whatever he found funny in the first place.

#this is a good one thank you #ask game #shut up adrianna #emmett cullen #jasper hale #edward cullen

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magnorious · 4 months

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Percy Jackson and Why the Best Villains are Right (update)

I feel like this post needs an update after the first two long-awaited episodes aired so here goes. This is long and I am not sorry one bit, but I made it its own post anyway because it's so long).

This is the original, read at your leisure.

First, let me set the stage: Last Olympian came out when I was in 6th grade. I had the first four books in paperback and couldn’t wait for book 5 to make a perfectly matching set, I needed to read it the day it debuted. I, like many fans heard they were making a movie adaptation of TLT and we all collectively lost our minds. Finally! We would see our heroes on the big screen, and it was the guy who directed Sorcerer’s Stone. This dude knew how to make successful franchise-starting movies.

We. Were. Hyped.

Then… the rumors started. The actors weren’t the right age. Annabeth wouldn’t be blonde. Grover was this… unrecognizable slick, smooth-talking lady killer. Camp Half-Blood didn’t look like we pictured. Chiron looked okay? The special effects looked decent?

I didn’t get to see the movie when it came out. In fact, I remember being on a road trip and seeing it for $16 on demand at our hotel and my grandparents just couldn’t reconcile with that kind of price. I was crushed.

Turns out, they were unknowingly sparing me from disappointment. Everyone knows the two movie adaptations were awful. If you never read the books, they were tolerable, I suppose. If you never read them, you didn’t have the emotional investment we did, and you didn’t see why all the little details mattered so much. You didn’t care if it didn’t follow the book exactly because it was kind of funny and a little bit ridiculous but not *awful*.

Those movies are up there with the M. Knight Last Airbender as some of the worst kids’ fiction adaptations in history. Then the years pass. Harry Potter releases Deathly Hallows Pt. 2, the end of an era while the fandom money machine keeps on churning. Percy and co get new books, and some tangential spin-offs, the foundations of a much larger world of multi-pantheon fantasy, but after the failure of Sea of Monsters, an adaptation of Titan’s Curse would never be made.

We’d never see emo, angsty Nico and Bianca, never see the development of Percabeth, never meet Thalia or Fred or Artemis. The fandom was in limbo, forever tethered to just being a series of books that would never compete with the Boy Who Lived.

Then, years pass, and we hear rumblings of a new adaption. This time, Disney is handling it. This time, Rick is neck deep in development making damn sure they stay faithful. This time, it’ll be good.

But, if you’re like me, and so many other people unenthused by Disney’s releases over the last decade or so, you were more than a little afraid that Percy would be twice-doomed by another awful adaptation. You heard the rumors again about tiny minutiae that didn’t exactly match the book but still dared to hold out hope that they learned from their mistakes. They’d succeed where so many stories in recent years fell flat.

Then, finally, we get trailers, and we get episodes.

Just so everyone is aware of just how much pressure is riding on this show to succeed. It’s not just an adaptation probably ten years late for those of us who grew up with the books and Percy. It’s a redemption.

So, I’m not Uncle Rick, and if he signed off on the tiny detail changes, then so be it, but I want to explain to all those who rolled their eyes the last time at why we were so pissed Annabeth wasn’t blonde the first go around: It represents that if the director didn’t give a shit about making sure the simplest of details were correct, he wouldn’t care about the big details like themes and the characters’ personalities and the actual messages of the story (which, surprise surprise, he didn’t). One wig would have been a sign of good faith with zero excuse to fall short.

We’ll ignore Annabeth this time around because she has an equally valid reason for not being blonde this time (for anyone who doesn’t know, Annabeth was meant to break the “dumb blonde” stereotype. Having her played by a minority speaks to the same spirit. The books were also written a long ass time ago in terms of the evolution of pop culture and I appreciate that Rick is evolving with the times where it fits, as his books have increased in diversity across the board beyond three white, straight, cis protagonists).

I’ll ignore Percy not having a NY accent (not that it’s crucial or anything, but he’s got the sass and sarcasm of the born and bread New Yorker that he is and it would have been a nice touch). I’ll ignore Percy and Grover playing Mythomagic – even though that’s Nico’s game and matters because Nico was such a dorky little nerd before everything went to hell and Percy just. Wasn’t. He specifically liked skate parks and trying to be at least a little cool. I do like that the game was even there in the first place for all of us who recognized it on the spot. I also liked the nod to the Minotaur’s tighty-whities in the textbook (though strange).

Details do matter. Percy’s got black hair and sea green eyes for a reason. All the children of the Greek Big Three have the black hair, and only them. Apollo and Athena kids are blonde for a reason. Characters tell Percy over and over again how much he looks like his dad and it matters. If Potterheads get to complain about Harry and Lily’s eyes, so do we. But maybe the actor didn’t want to dye his hair or wear a wig. At the end of the day it doesn’t break the immersion and ruin the story.

All I’m trying to convey is that usually, the curtains aren’t just blue for kicks. Characters are designed with intent. Color choices matter. The Sith aren’t running around with blue lightsabers just ‘cause they ran out of red LEDs on set. And if this tiny detail was waved away, what else will be?

But hey, that was just my first impression. I saw this kid pop up on screen and my immediate thought was: That’s not Percy (though it is Percy’s eyes).

So, did the rest of the premier change my mind? Does the show still capture the spirit of the books, even it if can’t quite capture an exact reflection?

I made a list while I was watching of all the other minutiae that I noticed, for better or for worse and here’s the positives:

Chiron’s actor hits that “best teacher I ever had” vibes perfectly.

Baby Percy is fricken adorable.

12-year-old Percy’s thick-ass eyebrows just work for some reason?

Grover’s actor is good, no notes, fits him well.

They still hit a lot of the beats (Nancy, Yancy, Mrs. Dobbs, the cabin, the wreck, the matador fight, Sally vanishing, the minotaur horn, the Hermes Cabin, dinner at the pavilion, the bathroom scene, capture the flag, claiming) in order.

How often they dress him in shades of blue and/or green before the orange camp shirt.

Annabeth’s signature line.

Dionysus is on point, what a dick.

Percy’s sass and disrespect for authority!

CHB is solid, no notes.

The wood nymph makeup on whoever that lady was is fantastic.

The cloven council is four books early. Points for continuity?

The nightmares are different than the books but fit the same vibe.

Percy sucking ass at every skill was perfectly executed (but it would have been nice if they showed him excelling at canoeing because it was funny).

The physical acting, the fight choreography, was excellently executed.

But, for all the inexplicable changes, there were many that were a disservice.

As much as events being out of order and lines and explanations being spoken by the wrong characters at the wrong moments pains me (Sally never got the chance to tell Percy anything, her grave mistake was not saying anything sooner, trying to keep him close to her as long as she possibly could and that’s things went so wrong at the start of the book, they also didn’t fight), I get how adaptations work. Sometimes page-to-screen just can’t be done.

That said: Grover didn’t sell Percy out to Yancy, but he did try to gaslight him. Gabe was way meaner and fuglier in the book and first adaptation and wouldn’t dare let Sally talk back to him, or say “please”. Sally also didn’t look quite as world-weary as I’d hoped, for being trapped in an abusive relationship and a minimum wage job. As Percy’s first taste of combat, they really speedran the Mrs. Dobbs fight. He didn’t have Riptide during the Minotaur fight; he beat that bastard with his bare hands. Chiron worked up to his centaur reveal after all the exposition dropped. Not a single character has a NY accent and that Di Angelo name drop is… cheap and nonsensical. It’s only there because of how insanely popular Nico became (for better or for worse).

For episode 2: Percy’s conversation with Chiron and Mr. D was completely different, mostly because all his lines were given to Sally and Grover and it suffered some pacing issues because of it. Exposition and when they decided to do it felt like purposefully stepping on all the cracks in the sidewalk. It was written in the book that way, in that order, because it worked.

Where tf was Annabeth? She didn’t make a real appearance until ¾ of the way through the premier. All but her signature line was stolen by other characters and, because of this, she has almost zero rapport with Percy at the start of their quest. All her attitude is there, with none of what makes her sympathetic, and it’s very telling, not showing. Luke and Clarisse exist. I only know it’s Luke because of his scar and his unnamed friend that skulks around with him is… somebody. One of the Stolls, maybe? We were 0 for 3 on characters having the correct hair color. Grover’s tangent to the Council was a mess and we have the PJO equivalent of midichlorians with “kleos” as if Percy needed another motivation to succeed in tangible hero points and, finally, there was no hellhound fight (for rating issues, I assume?). Not sure yet if they’ll keep the hippie in the attic and the entire concept of prophecies that are so critical to the plot and themes (see my first post).

Overall, it’s a shame that the performances feel so stiff and robotic. I get that they’re all kids and this is probably all their first acting roles but if the fight choreographer trained them so well, the acting coaches could have stepped up their game. So many lines are delivered without emotion, or too much emotion (like Clarisse screaming bloody murder at her broken Maimer), which causes some very important scenes to feel bland.

When Percy has the chance to choose his companions, the choices TV Grover and Annabeth have made make them incredibly unappealing candidates. Annabeth has been nothing but rude, vague, and unkind, and was absent for her most important lines. Grover sold him out to the headmaster, gaslit him, revealed how much he’d lied about the world of the gods, agreed to keep lying to him about what he now knows about Sally, and Percy still hasn’t forgiven him.

So, is this a worthy adaptation?

Honestly… I wish it would have been animated, like Arcane or Dragon Prince. Animators would have saved the inexperienced actors from such stiff visual performances. They wouldn’t have had to deal with creating lifelike CGI and could have made some events much more kinetic without the laws of reality getting in the way as this is a story about mythology come to life. It’s a shame, too, that animation is still bound to the shackles of seeming inferior to live action when people absolutely adore Spiderverse and Arcane, and both would have been worse off in the constraints of reality.

The whole thing feels like it tried its best to follow the roadmap of the book, but lost the soul of the book. Changes to the source material are okay if they improve the story, but a lot of the reordering of events and exposition just makes it clunky.

It’s not bad. Gods know it’s already better than the movies in spirit. Maybe it didn’t have the budget or the time or the resources, or Covid caused problems, but this is Disney Money. There are ten whole books in this series and a fandom rabid for a good adaptation. There is zero excuse not to invest the proper time, money, and effort into hitting it out of the park when you can commit to ten entire seasons of a show in the era of eight-to-ten episode stints.

Maybe I’m being too hard on it, you decide. I’m tired of giving the Mouse the benefit of the doubt when they have All the Money at their disposal to hire the best people possible for the job and to get it right this time.

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #Percy Jackson review #disney+

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that1fangirrl · 3 months

Text

mother nature-chapter two

The room was definitely spinning. And the air in Melanie’s lungs was escaping at a rapid pace. The officers she had met 2 weeks ago were finally back with more information. Reese walked the shaking girl to the interrogation room, trying her best to calm the younger woman. Melanie felt like she was back in school, being called into the principal’s office. As she sat and waited for the officers to enter, she began to pick at the skin on her thumbs. Her mind was completely numb. “What if the blood really was someone else’s? What if I actually am a stone cold murderer? Oh god, I’m gonna be put on trial and get the death penalty.” “Sorry about the wait Ms Rivera. We had to discuss a few more things before we came here. How are you feeling today?” Officer Scott. Tall guy, dark brown hair, and bright blue eyes. He was the officer that found her the night of the “incident”. He was kind and soft-spoken when speaking to her. She found him oddly comforting, even with her mind feeling as if it were going to explode. “I’m fine, and you? It’s been a while since I heard from you and your partner.” “I’m doing alright, thank you. And I deeply apologize for having you wait here so long. We’ve been running a ton of tests and trying to find more evidence. Which has been nearly slim to none.” A shaky breath escaped Melanie’s lips. “How could that be possible? No one can just kill and clean it up within 5 minutes.” “Shocking, isn’t it?” Another man walks into the room. Officer Hal. The guy was a complete contrast to “Sweet, calm Scott.” He always had a strong smell of musky cologne that burned Melanie’s eyes when he’d walk by. His hair was a light brown, nearly a dirty blond, but not quite. He was extremely intimidating. Even his eyes looked like they could burn someone with one blink. Not to mention,he always seemed pissed off at Melanie for some reason. Last week, when she had a small check in with him, he had accused the small girl of doing drugs. Which was later corrected by a drug test he had done. She did admit to smoking weed, but only to calm her nerves and help her sleep. And even then, she told the two of them that she started sobering up at the beginning of the month.

“What’s shocking?” She asks, making direct eye contact with Hal. “No evidence. No blood in the area that matches the blood on your clothes. It’s almost like you weren’t even there. Care to explain that.” He pulls out his chair and takes a seat next to Officer Scott. “Let’s not talk about that just yet, Hal. We have to explain other things first.” He takes a deep breath, before continuing with a softness in his eyes. “So good news or bad news, first?” Melanie mutters quietly, “bad, I guess.” She always believed the bad news should come first because the good news can at least distract you for a little bit in the moment. “Well, like Officer Hal said, we weren’t able to find any evidence. And our tests have been completely unsuccessful.” “Hmm. And why is that? Is that something to do with me or something else?” “It means we’ll have to look even harder. Get more information out of others. I’m thinking, we even contact your friends and family to get “the real story.”” Hal’s eyes pierced into Melanie’s as he spat at her. “What “real story”? I told you everything. I don't even know how I got there in the first place. How can you just accuse me of something I know I never did. And you can’t say it was drugs, cause you sat there and watched me pull my pants down to give you the sample you needed. If I was gonna swap my pee for someone else’s, you would’ve seen me do it. So forgive me for being so damn confused as to what else I could possibly do for you here.” The table under the three of them began to rumble softly. Melanie’s pupils grew in size. Officer Scott clears his throat, bringing the girl’s attention back to the conversation. “Melanie, listen. I’m gonna be honest, your story does sound a bit like how you told it the first time. I- excuse me, we aren’t accusing you of anything. We want you to be free as well, but we can’t do that unless we have some type of evidence that would show you are indeed innocent.” Melanie nodded. “Okay, can I just get the good news now? All of this is a bit much.” Officer Scott nods as he gets up to walk towards the door. “I know you have been trying to call one of your friends to come and visit you. Reese said you weren’t able to get anyone on the line for you. So I went into our database and found your friend.” “What?”

Jessica Jones, Melanie’s best friend who she had only met 5 years ago. The two had bumped into each other when Melanie was out risking her life trying to help a woman who was being mugged. Jessica stepped in to help and since then the two kept in touch. You never know when you might need someone like Jessica. Jessica worked as a PI and it always came in handy for the both of them. Unfortunately, the two started to become a little distant when Jessica started taking up more “clients”. Melanie never questioned her choices in work. “If that’s how she wants to live, then she should do what feels right to her.”

“Hey Bubbles, long time no see.” Jessica turns to the officer by the door. “Your work here is done. Thanks for keeping her alive, but we’ve got this covered.” Officer Hal stands, “Excuse me. Unless you’re her lawyer, you can’t just take over this case.” “Exactly. That’s why I brought her lawyers with me. Now if you’ll excuse us.” She makes a ‘shoo’ motion with her hands. With a huff, Officer Hal pushes past her, not before sending a glare towards Melanie. Officer Scott turns to Melanie, “You’re in good hands now. If you need me, just ask Reese for my number. Stay out of jail and good luck, kid.” She sends him a smile and a nod. Jessica sits down next to Melanie. “Jail? Wow. I never thought I’d ever see you in a place like this.” “Cut the crap. What’s going on? Why’d you tell him I had a lawyer? Cause I can assure you I do not.” Two men walk into the room and take their seats across the women. “Well you do now. Nice to meet you Ms Rivera.” Melanie eyes the two of them. The one on the left has dirty blond hair and a smile that seemed genuine. The other one was noticeably blind, red shades and a walking stick making it blatantly obvious. Other than that his hair was dark and well kept, with a nice amount of stubble lining his jaw that stopped slightly before his adams apple. The two of them seemed like a bizzaro version of the two men who had just left the room, but nice nonetheless.“These are the guys I told you about that one time. Nelson and Murdock. They’re lawyers. When I got the call that you were in jail, I figured I’d give them a call to get you out of here. Cause knowing you, you’re in here for false reasons. Right?” Melanie nods. She remembers when Jessica had first told her about them. They helped take down Wilson Fisk, get Frank Castle out of the slammer and other stuff. She had never met them personally, but the things in the paper about them was a good enough reference to her. “So, where do we start?” Melanie leaned forward on the table. “Am I getting out of here?” Foggy nods his head, pulling out a folder. “We already spoke to the chief and he backs up that you can’t be held here for this long if they can’t find enough evidence on you. It’s unfair to have you here if they can’t. We also heard from Officer Scott that they did some tests on you as well. Which if we see here, only Officer Hal was in the room for that. Which makes it seem like he was looking for a reason to take you down. You also didn’t consent to that, so the whole operation was done illegally.” Melanie nods along to everything he says. Everything that Officer Hal had put her through felt like hell. He was constantly rough with her, unnecessarily rude, and the tests were just the cherry on top. “They took my blood too. Did he say that?” Matt’s ears perk at this statement. Why would they do that? Unless they were trying to see if the blood matched hers, they have no reason to do so. “Was that documented?” Melanie shakes her head, “Not that I know of. He told me it was normal protocol to do so. That in alleged homicides, they have to take blood samples every other day from everybody involved.” “Well that’s not entirely true. Unless they were scanning to see if the blood was a match to yours. But in this case, it should’ve been your fingerprints. Especially since you weren’t with anyone else.” Melanie nods. “That bastard did all those tests for nothing? How can someone just get away with that?” Melanie’s eyes pricked with tears. One falls down her cheek, hitting the floor with a loud thump in Matt’s ears. She was being given unfair treatment and no one even batted an eye at it.

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x reader #mother nature

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

Do you consider a possibility that c!Punz never betrayed c!Dream in the first place and whole "I'm sorry, Dream -- but you should have paid me more" thing was a facade and undercover for Punz? Like Dream said that Punz should not associated with him, so it was intentional-

staged disc finale theory my beloved !!! :D it’s definitely one of my favorite theories, though i’m still holding out (for now) as for believing super firmly in one direction or another (tho the staged finale is definitely the one i prefer for Many reasons, haha.) c!punz is so so fun no matter if the betrayal was intentional or not, but oh boyyyy if it was something planned ,,, man .

*c!dream voice, after quackity starts visiting*: the risk i took was calculated, but man am i bad at math.

anyway c!punz and c!dream interactions make me soft as heck so have this !!

tw: implied torture, abuse, violence, blood, injuries, emotional distress, panicking, dehumanization, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy mindsets, illness, trauma, flashbacks, starvation mention, suicide mention, death mentions, dark content, dark imagery, prison arc/pandora’s vault themes, c!quackity critical/dark portrayal of c!quackity

Dream comes to in vague moments and flashes.

There’s a hand brushing over his forehead, too gentle to be Quackity or the Warden, not Techno because Techno is Gone and he has Left and won’t come again, running through the sweat-soaked locks and pulling them back out of his forehead. He’s unbearably hot, shifting around on the ground, only barely registering it moving beneath him. Water, cool and clear, is tipped in between his lips, quenching his thirst and easing the dryness of his mouth. Someone speaks, voice low and rumbling, and even though he’s unable to make out the words, there’s something about the cadence of them and the specific rhythm in which they move and rise and dip that is bone-achingly familiar, enough to lull him into a fitful sleep. Through it all, there is always something, someone, lingering in the edges of his vision, a shadow standing near and watching over him; part of him remembers Quackity, remembers the Warden, and recoils in fright; another part of him remembers Techno, remembers the barest flashes of a life before obsidian and lava and pain and hell, and wants nothing more than to get closer.

When the fog in his head finally clears away enough to think, the first coherent thought he has is oh fuck, I need to piss.

Which, out of all possible things to think, is probably up there as one of the worst, and he’s sure that when his head feels a little less like it’s trying to actively kill him (ha, let it- it’s far from the first to try) the panic will settle in as it always does. As it is, he’s exhausted, and hungry, and he really really needs to pee- so he forces his eyes open to move away from where he’s probably still stuck in a puddle of dried blood in the middle of his cell.

The second coherent thought he has is this: this isn’t Pandora.

The realization has him thoroughly awake, eyes snapping open out of his previous fatigue to take in his surroundings, feet kicking out to the weight on top of them that he hadn’t even noticed was there, panicking against his restraints that end up not being restraints at all, giving way easily under his thrashing and resolving to what appears to be a thick blanket when he has the mind to look. With the covers gone off of whatever he’s lying on (a bed?) he’s suddenly, unbearably cold - the prison has always been hot, the lava baking into him and leaving his skin sticky with sweat, and he thinks that the room he’s in is probably not meant to feel like a fucking freezer, but after months of being one wrong step away from heatstroke, anything cooler than the goddamn Nether feels like literal ice against his skin. The room is wooden and cozy and oddly familiar, an open door leading to what appears to be a bathroom and a closed one going who knows where, window panes built into the opposite wall to let the sunlight in. It’s a nice room, all things considered, and Dream fucking hates it.

He pulls himself to his feet, cursing at the wobbly edge to his stance when he finally manages to stand, his vision wavering dangerously in time to the spinning of his head. His eyes flick between the two doors - he still needs to go to the bathroom, and using it now will lessen the amount of things to get in the way of his escape in the future - but at the same time, there's no knowing when people will come to (hurt him, beat him, starve him, punish him, leaving him bruised and bleeding and half-dead on the floor just as he deserves) him and he needs all the time he can get to get the hell away. In the end, he slinks into the bathroom, ignoring the thudding in his chest as he does so - at the very least, the cabinets in the thing might provide him with some manner of a weapon.

He’s only just past the door on the way out - a fucking broomstick in his hand because it’s all he could find - when his ears catch on the sound of metal clicking against each other and his eyes fall on the knob of the other door shaking as someone makes their way in. All at once, panic slams into him - goddammit, he should’ve just run when he had the chance - and he directs quick, desperate glances at the window. Maybe, if he’s fast enough, he can book it out of there and disappear into the trees; it’ll hurt, but it’ll be better than getting caught. Anything would be better than getting caught-

“Dream?”

Dream blinks. All at once, the same feeling of getting the air punched out of him returns, but combined with something warm and floaty wrapping around his chest, something almost a little like relief - and hell, if that isn’t something he’s not felt for a while.

“Punz?”

Punz is standing in the doorway, hoodie rumpled, expression more than a little frazzled; Dream’s breath hitches at the sight of the sword strapped to his side, but their face holds none of the harsh edges and cold-dark-hard hatred that had characterized the Warden and Quackity’s visits, mouth slightly parted and eyes shining with nothing but what appears to be shock and concern. The sight of them, again, nearly has Dream dizzy, a swell of tangled, unexplainable emotion rising to the back of his throat as he sways on his feet. He hadn’t thought that he would see Punz again, he realizes, had never thought he’d see his stupid gold chain and his stupid outfit he never bothered changing, ever, or that same lopsided smirk and pale blue eyes- the last time he’d seen them, it was in that vault, their mouth twisted up in the act the two of them had decided on and eyes shimmering with unease and regret; as far as goodbyes went, it wasn’t the worst, not when Punz was one of the few to never leave him, not really, not when something ached in their expression other than the hatred that had colored all of the other expressionless faces watching him die. Months later, alone in Pandora, he must’ve grown resigned, or something, the repeated reminders that he would die alone and afraid and it would be nothing more than he deserved settling into his skin and against his bones; Punz’s expression twists, visible even across the room, and- oh.

They must’ve thought the same thing, too.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Punz asks, finally, and Dream decides not to point out the way his voice cracks harshly in the middle, especially when the other man strides forward and starts to awkwardly herd him back in the direction of the bed - covers still thrown to the floor - in the middle of the room. Dream lets them, not replying because he doesn’t really know where to even begin describing the tangled knot of panic and shock that had strung his muscles tense when he woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, not knowing if he can really describe it all at all, trying his best not to flinch at the hands flitting in the corners of his vision as he falls back into a sitting position onto the bed. His fingers settle into the mattress, pressing into the bedsheets cautiously and marveling when they fall away under the pressure. Punz watches him, expression odd, gathers the blankets from the ground and presses them over and around him in a way that’s entirely awkward but does leave him warmer than he’d been before, before walking back on his heels with an odd expression that makes Dream’s insides twist.

“You,” Punz says after a long second, voice wavering, “are a fucking idiot,” and it’s all the warning Dream gets before a white-and-black blur is rushing towards him, arms wrapping around his chest and his vision whites out in alarm and panic. When the pain doesn’t come, he comes back to his senses enough to realize that Punz’s arms are still wrapped around him, shoulders shaking as he holds him close but not painfully, careful not to pull too much against the places on his ribs and back that leave him gasping with small shocks of pain, head pressed against the crook of Dream’s neck and hair tickling his face. Dream can feel his heart hammering in his chest, but as the panic dies something warm and long-neglected stirs in the middle of his chest, and he melts forward with a quiet hum. This is- nice. Really, really nice.

“What were you thinking?” Punz mutters, too quiet to really be directed at him, hands curling tighter into the folds of the hoodie - oh, he’s wearing one of those, not the same stiff, bloodstained material of the prison uniform that had chafed against his skin, another constant source of pain and discomfort of thousands in the hell that had been Pandora’s Vault - on him, and Dream doesn’t really know what to do except sit there and blink dumbly, listening to the heartbeat of the person leaning against him rumbling against his ears. It’s oddly calming, has the pressure on his chest lightening enough to take a full breath, and then another, the warmth of someone leaning against him almost too much but not enough at the same time - his eyes burn, and he ignores them.

“I-” he doesn’t really think that Punz was really asking a question, but just ignoring his question seems rude, too, and even despite the fuzzy warmth settling into his skin and into his bones from the pressure of Punz’s arms around his body and their head against his shoulder, he’s still unable to shake the anxiety of leaving a query unanswered, a constant murmur to listen obey do as you’re told or you’re going to regret it put on a damn good show or suffer the consequences remaining no matter how hard he tries to push it away. He wets his lips when his mouth feels too dry to keep speaking, eyes fluttering closed as he leans forward further, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You-” Punz cuts themselves off with a wet, incredulous-sounding laugh that has Dream jerking back despite himself, meeting their ice-cold eyes when they pull themselves back to look at him. He doesn’t really recognize the expression he wears, Dream realizes with a jolt, the way his lips are pressed together and the churning in his eyes, and his lungs seize in his chest.

“Sir-”

If anything, Punz’s expression only seems to harden, and the warmth disappears as Dream looks into their eyes - cold, two polished shards of ice, frosted over pools of water in the middle of the tundra, flinty and sharp and brilliant blue. His hands shake as he pulls them back to his chest, trembling from the chill that’s made its home in his muscles and frozen them in place - sir sorry sir please don’t hurt me im sorry please I didn’t mean to

“Fuck, Dream,” he shakes his head, and only then does Dream see the slight wobble to their bottom lip, the waver to their words like they’re struggling to keep themselves together, “why didn’t you say anything?”

What?

You almost died, you know,” he keeps going, not meeting his eyes as they direct their gaze out the window, “Several times, honestly. Fucking hell- when Techno brought you out- I didn’t think you would survive. I didn’t think anyone could survive that.”

Dream swallows. He doesn’t remember getting out, doesn’t really remember much at all if he’s being honest; there was the black of the cell, the heat of the lava, Techno promising to get him out before disappearing in a flash of purple, Quackity throwing him against the wall (Where the fuck did Techno go? You better have a fuckin’ answer, pal, if you want your death to be anything resemblin’ quick-) then nothing. Everything. His heart hammering in his chest and blood slick against his skin and the press of metal against his windpipe and pain, the only constant within it all, the only thing that made any goddamn sense when the room seemed to flip and turn and twist and his feelings knotted and frayed between anger-betrayal-distress-sadness-fear-grief, when reality swirled into a dizzying blur of colors and feelings and sounds carving themselves into the inside of his skull- then here. Dream flexes his hand experimentally, marveling at the feeling - the pain is almost gone.

He’d forgotten how it felt, really, to live and not hurt.

“Dream,” Punz calls again, voice low and worried, and Dream can’t help the way his head snaps up to meet their eyes and can’t help the flinch that twists his neck back when their frown deepens. It’d been a show, at least he tells himself, because Quackity would stop earlier if he screamed more, but- his hands tremble at his sides, twisted into the sheets of the bed, a near-constant litany of reminders and rules beating like they have a heart of their own in the back of his head. It was a show- he feels himself almost buckle, give in under the force of the stare leveled at him, and hates himself for how weak he feels, pinned under the eyes trained on his own. He’s not sure how much of a show it is anymore.

“Dream,” Punz repeats, words even softer, and the ugly feeling of shame and anger twists inside Dream’s chest again. Punz- ever unflappable, deadly with almost any weapon and never letting anyone see him as anything but deliberately apathetic - is watching him with an expression so uncharacteristically and unbearably gentle that it makes his breath catch in his throat. “You could’ve died,” he says once again, and the look that paints his face is so terribly vulnerable, feelings pouring over like a cup overfilled, bubbling forward and bleeding from every corner, and Dream- can’t. He doesn’t know what to do in the face of such stark emotion, doesn’t know how how to handle the way his eyes burn and his heart throbs like an exposed nerve, the way everything yawns wide in the middle of his chest into void and emptiness and pain so deeply carved in the space within his ribs that he half-thinks he’s been hollowed out entirely.

“But I didn’t.”

Punz pulls back, but Dream isn’t looking at him, is staring at the scarred surfaces of the backs of his hands and the knobs of his knuckles sticking out against the thinned-out skin and the yellowed nails he’s pushing against the blanket, the fourth and fifth ones of his right hand missing. They shake, no matter how long he looks at them and how hard he tries to make them stay still, and he can feel a voice whispering in the back of his mind, tone too familiar to ignore. Weak.

“I didn’t die,” he says when Punz doesn’t reply, looking at his scarred hands, weak hands, broken hands. “So it’s okay. We can keep- we can keep going.”

“Dream-” their voice is a blade scraping against an anvil, nails scraping over his ribs, his hands clamping over his ears before he’s realized he’s moved and his brain screaming at him for doing so once he realizes that he has, “-what the fuck are you talking about?”

Still, he hadn’t survived months of Quackity’s visits by bending over the second he was pushed, so he forces his tongue to move from where it’s fallen to the bottom of his mouth like lead, feels his eyes go steely even from under the way his vision has already begun to wobble.

“It’s not over yet,” he continues, trying to keep his words even, “‘cause I didn’t die, so we’re not done. I gotta- we have to reevaluate, of course,” he can’t stop, because the second he stops talking is the second he falls apart, so he ignores the way that Punz stiffens and stills and doesn’t let anything stop the flow of words spilling out of his mouth, “because the vault and the prison- um, obviously didn’t go as planned, but it’s fine. Just a minor- um, minor inconvenience. A setback- but it’s not- it’s not unsalvageable- we just have to-”

“Are you kidding me?” Punz cuts him off with a sharp laugh, disbelieving and just on the wrong side of desperate, and the air in Dream’s lungs freezes into a solid block of ice in the middle of his chest, “you- you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Punz?”

Dream’s voice comes out small, himself shrinking back into the bed, keenly aware, suddenly, of how there is nowhere he can go to run - Punz doesn’t seem to notice that he’s spoken at all, one of his hands moving up to tug through his hair, which is - now that Dream is looking - fluffier and messier than he remembers, sticking up in all directions like they didn’t bother to smooth it down.

“You think this is fine? You think that because you didn’t fucking die, that this is all okay?” Punz’s voice rises in volume slowly, not loud enough to be a shout but enough to go hard and unyielding like a threat, and with each word every remnant of the vault comes crawling, clawing back up to the front of his head, a pounding reminder to play his role, put on a show, behave behave behave-

“Goddammit, Dream,” Punz startles him out of his own thoughts, looking straight into his eyes with their ice-blue ones, “have you seen yourself?”

Have you seen yourself? Lying down in your own goddamn filth like a fucking mutt- prime, you disgust me.

“Your ribs were basically shattered. Your legs had fractures on both sides, and your back was so fucking torn up that it looked like more blood than skin. You’ve been starved- enough for me to see every goddamn bone in your body, it feels like. Your throat was bruised to hell- I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be able to speak again, fuck, and like a day after we got here you got fucking pneumonia.” Punz’s breath hitches, “Your skin was a literal fucking oven- I thought you’d bake yourself from the inside out. You could’ve died- you should’ve died.”

You should’ve died a hell of a long time ago, pal- should’ve saved us all the fucking trouble and offed yourself like Wilbur fucking Soot.

He flinches, and this, Punz seems to notice, eyes widening a fraction before they pitch their voce lower, clearly taking a few breaths to calm down and reaching forward to take one of Dream’s hands loosely in his own, thumb smoothing over the bumps of his knuckles.

“You’re not fine,” he says after a long while, shaking his head. “Hell- I’m not fine. But we’re not doing anything like- like the vault or the prison again, dude. I told you they were shit ideas- fuck. We never should’ve done that.”

“It was worth it,” Dream butts in, because he can’t imagine a world where it wasn’t, can’t imagine a world where all of that was for nothing, “it was worth it-”

“No it fucking wasn’t, are you out of your mind?” Punz replies immediately, voice overlapping over Dream’s own, “have you listened to a single thing I’ve said? You- look at you! How was that worth it?”

Dream shakes his head stubbornly, already feeling the way his jaw is trembling around the words he forces himself to speak. “The server- it was all for the server-”

“Fuck the server!”

Punz seems startled by their own shout, drawing back at the same time Dream does, breathing ragged. He takes a few seconds to compose himself, bringing his hand to his face as Dream sits stock still, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe.

“Fuck the fucking server, okay?” Punz says, finally, voice cracking in the middle, “You lost two damn lives for this server. You got fucking tortured for fucking months for this shitstain of a server. Just- fuck them. I’m not watching you tear yourself to fucking shreds for this- not again. I can’t sit around and watch you fucking die again, Dream, I can’t drag you out bleeding out in my fucking arms again- fuck-” Punz shakes their head, and oh. They’re crying.

“No more. Fuck the server. I’m done, Dream- we’re done with them.”

Dream blinks, so thoroughly surprised that he thinks the shock knocked him straight out of the building panic attack, leaving nothing but a slight thrumming of anxiety still simmering beneath his skin. Almost instinctually, in a motion he doesn’t really remember but still has the muscle memory for, he opens his arms- and in a similar, near-unconscious response, Punz tumbles into his arms.

He blinks, not moving his arms to curl around the other, feeling the weight of another person against his again and the sound of their breathing and relearning them both. This is- new, for both of them. Dream was never emotional, not before the prison, not that he wanted to be after it either- but Quackity always had a particular affinity for tearing him apart, shard by shard. And Punz- he’d never been like this, even back in the day, when things were easier and they didn’t bear the constant burden of netherite against their backs. They’d always been stoic, sharp, sarcastic, cool and dry in a way that chafed against Sapnap’s fire and always led to Dream laughing at them sooner or later. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, feeling the heat behind his eyes finally sear too hot and boil over, tears squeezing through his closed eyes and falling down his face.

“Okay,” he says, finally, and there’s nothing easy about the acquiescence, not when he had poured blood and sweat and the better half of himself into this place, salted the earth with his tears until no more would come and nothing else would grow. He thinks that he will have more to think and more to say and more to protest come the next days, that the binds between him and his goals have been weaved too deep with the fibers of his soul for him to tear them free without sacrificing what broken pieces of himself he has left, but all he can think right now is how fucking tired he is. He remembers Techno’s voice, going through myth after myth to pass time in the prison, and thinks with something like humor and something like grief - let someone else be Atlas for a day. The sky is too heavy right now. Punz’s arms tighten around his body, enough to remind him that they’re there but not enough to press at his still-healing ribs, and he thinks that they might understand. “Okay.”

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eideticmemory · 3 years

Text

TWO GHOSTS IV | MATTHEW GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Read PART 3.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.9k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Love Affair - UMI

Debt - Eliza McLamb

Sometimes Sunshine - Seasalt

A nonstop flight, from New York City to Los Angeles, is three hours long. On a good day. And May 16 was supposed to be a good day. A great day. The best day of Matthew’s life. He tries not to think about it, not to reminisce too often. About the way he walked through the airport with a little jog, a little pep in his step. And the way he smiled through security, and constantly checked behind him as if you would magically appear. The roses he bought for you in a gift shop near the terminal.

See, a nonstop flight from New York City to Los Angeles is three hours long. On a good day. But Matthew wasn’t looking for three hours. He wasn’t asking you for a few hours of your time, or even a good day. He was asking you for a lifetime.

And that day, he had booked you two a connecting flight that totaled over six hours, with a two hour layover in Colorado. There was a little ice cream shop in the Denver airport, and they served blueberry ice cream. Matthew remembered it was your favorite, and saved just enough money to get your tickets and an entire pint. He couldn’t shake the thought of flying across the country with you, seeing a few small parts of it at a time. A few small parts at a time, until someday, you two had seen the whole world together.

He bought a blanket for you and, while waiting at the terminal, he sat it in the seat beside him, keeping it warm for when you would arrive. He had a little itinerary written in his notes app, and so far everything was going to plan. He had a bouquet of roses in his lap, and he killed time by looking up engagement rings online.

He didn’t start to worry until maybe, an hour, an hour and a half before the plane was set to depart. He called you, just to check in, and it went straight to voicemail. But he was still hopeful. There was very little that could destroy his peace that day. His hope. His happiness.

He tries not to think about it. The way the seconds inched by like a caterpillar moving across the limb of a tree. Slowly, painfully. The way his hope dwindled, and dwindled, and the insane amount of times he heard,

Hey, it’s [y/n]! Leave a message!

He can’t think about it anymore. The way he spents those six hours alone. Bawling his way through flight after flight, and eating a pint of blueberry ice cream by himself. He spent hours on his own. And weeks, months, hell, he spent years thinking that maybe, just maybe, you would find your way back to him.That the universe would magically correct itself.

And you’d come home.

Fifteen.

It took him fifteen years to find you again. It took fifteen years for the universe to bring you back together, and Matthew spent the first five thinking it was all some really shitty nightmare. It took him fifteen years to get close to you, to hear you say his name again, to get inside of you again.

And he managed to fuck it all up in a matter of twenty-four hours.

His body is paralyzed. His mind is moving a mile a minute, and he can’t take his eyes off the ceiling. His chest feels tight, like he can’t breathe properly. He knows he should not feel sorry for himself. That he, alone, is responsible for this wreck. But he can’t seem to shake it. He can’t seem to move.

“What the hell did I do?”

A knock at your door wakes you up. You don’t remember falling asleep, you don’t know how you were able to. But now, it’s all you want to do. You want to stay in the bed, in a state of unconsciousness and dreariness where you can’t remember your mistakes. But someone is knocking. Incessantly, loudly. And they won’t stop.

You roll out of bed, and drag your body across the floor. Zombie like, your shoulders are slouched, your eyes are hooded. Your feet shuffle along the floor like they’re weighted to the hardwood. Your footsteps are slow, hesitant. You don’t know what you’ll do if Matthew is on the other side of that door. You just . . . you don’t know. The very thought of it is making your stomach churn, and you suddenly feel very, very nauseous. The banging continues, and it’s as someone is using all their force. Like they’d break the door down if they could.

“[y/n]!”

You instantly relax at the sound of her voice. You speed up, hurry to the door, “[y/n] [y/l/n]! I know you can hear me! Open up!”

The door swings open and you catch her with her fist in the air, ready to strike the door once again. She’s pissed, doesn’t try to hide it, couldn’t hide it even if she tried.

“Good morning,” you rasp.

“It’s one in the afternoon,” she corrects you, pushing her way into your home.

“Please,” you say, shutting the door behind her. “Come on in.”

“Y’know,” Everest starts, clasping her hands in front of her as a wild look graces her face. “You’ve always been one of the good ones . . . hell, you’ve been . . . great, if that’s the word. You’re better than the others. The ones that really write my checks. But, um, you’re testing me, [y/n].”

You don’t even have to ask.

“Now, if there’s is some magical relationship blooming, or a monumental disaster about to strike, then you need to tell me now, so I can fix it. I’m a fixer, you know, that’s what I do. So, why are you making this so hard for me?”

“If it . . .” you clear your throat, cross your arms as you stare at her feet. “If it makes you feel any better, um, this is hard for me, too.” You attempt to joke. But you just sound sad.

“Yeah?” she raises her eyebrows. “So hard that you come out of his hotel in tears? And what the hell were you doing over there anyway? Was there a plan? Did he call you to come over?”

“I don’t see how any of this matters.”

“It matters because I woke up at seven in the morning — on a saturday — to all sorts of choas and speculation, and picture evidence of you doing exactly what I told you not to do!”

“Yeah, well, I’m a idiot. Don’t worry, that’s been established.”

“The internet is undefeated. Okay? People are . . . great at making up stories, making assumptions. And as your publicist, I need to know the whole story, the real story, before it gets twisted even further.”

You sigh, and walk over to the couch. As you sit down, you pull a pillow into your lap for just a little bit of comfort. “What do you mean the whole story?”

“Wrong choice of words,” Everest says. “The important parts of the whole story. Like are you dating him? Are you fucking him? If so, how long has this been going on?”

You can’t make eye contact as you speak, “I . . . fucked . . . him . . . a few times, a long time ago . . .”

She nods. She motions at you to continue, “. . . And?”

“And . . .” you breathe out. “I fucked him, again. Recently.”

“Last night? At the hotel?”

“Last night . . . not at the hotel.”

“Sooo, when? — Oh, my God,” she lowers her eyebrows at you, purses her lips. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” you nod. It’s a shameful nod. “You know they say there’s no sex like sex in a dressing room.”

“They also say polka dots are making a comeback, you believe everything you hear?”

“Sorry.”

“So you fuck him in the dressing room, and?”

“And . . . we go our seperate ways . . . again. And, then I realize that’s a lot easier said then done, so I . . . I go for him. I go for him . . .” Everest can hear the way your voice is cracking, the way the weight on your shoulder is slowly pushing the air out of your lungs. “And, uh,” you clear your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it didn’t work out. Hence the . . . photos of me crying, I guess.”

“Mm,” she nods, crosses her arms. “And the other girl?”

You freeze, cut your head up at her. “What other girl?”

“What do you mean? The girls that came out right behind you. Same sad face? Kinda got a Natalie Portman look to her?”

“I . . .” you shake your head. “I didn’t know she came out after me, I must have left by then.”

“Who is she?”

You give her a shrug, “I don’t know.”

“His girlfriend?”

You huff, “Guess so.”

“Ah, so, some people online actually got it right. Huh, look at that.”

“Look, if the point of all of this is to keep me away from him, you can stop now. I don’t plan on seeing him ever again.”

The doorbell rings, as if on queue, and Everest instantly gives you a look. “What?” you ask. “I don’t know who it is. Your guess is as good as mine.”

She scoffs at you, and turns around, marching towards the door with a certain determination. She pulls it open, and immediately puts her hand on her hip. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Oh,” Matthew gasps. “Uh, oh . . . fuck . . . sorry, I must — I must have the wrong house.”

“You sure do, Romeo.”

You stand from the couch, your face laced with shock and anger and confusion, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t engage, [y/n], what the hell?” Everest interjects.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “How the hell did you find my house?” you direct at Matthew.

“Oh, what?” he scoffs. “Like you’re the only one around here who can play stalker?”

“Go home, Matthew.”

“Five minutes. I’m asking you for five minutes. You can time me if you want.”

“Go back to California, Matthew.”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I know, but —“

“Do you?” you snap. You take slow, calculated steps towards the front door, and your voice is lowering to a rumble. “Do you know that you fucked up? Because, if you did, if you truly knew just how badly you fucked up, then you would leave. You would get on a fucking plane and leave, and you would never come back!”

The way Matthew is looking at you right now.Like he can’t fathom what’s happening. Like he is trying his very best not to feel defeated. “Can I . . . can I just —“

“No.” Everest says. “You heard her. Fuck off, string bean.”

You walk away, retiring to your kitchen. You try to keep yourself busy, but you’re trembling like mad and you can barely breathe.

Matthew leaves. You know because you hear the door close. Everest comes into the kitchen, and you feel stuck. Frozen to the spot and position you’re in. Your back is to her, and you can’t begin to imagine or guess what look is on her face right now.

She’s quiet for a moment, eyeing you with her arms crossed at her chest. She leans against the entryway and sighs, “Tell me more.”

Ramona walks up your driveway, and it isn’t until she looks up from her phone that she sees Matthew. She notices him, and he notices her, and Ramona tries to act like it didn’t happen, But when Matthew opens his mouth to speak, she blows past him, “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“I know,” he says instantly. He is well aware, but it doesn’t stop him from running in front of her, blocking her from your front door. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, but . . . please, can you give this [y/n]?”

Matthew holds out an envelope. It’s bright red, your name is printed on the front of it in his handwriting.

Ramona glances at it, but she quickly glances back up, “Do I look like a mailman to you?”

“She won’t take it from me. She won’t talk to me. She might take it from you.”

“Yeah, or she might fire me for even taking it from you in the first place.”

“[y/n] wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s usually pretty amazing, except for when you’re around, or when you’re brought up, or when you’re fucking with her head. You make her a different person, dude. I want no part of it.”

He nods, looks down, “Fair enough . . . I’ll put it in her mailbox.”

“Yeah, why don’t you do that?” She shrugs, and she continues on by him.

“Damn . . .” Everest says. “You ghosted the guy at the airport?”

“Basically,” you shrug.

“Well, fuck,” she scoffs. “That is some serious great gatsby shit.”

“Yeah, we’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

The doorbell rings, and you both turn your heads sharply towards the entrance. “You don’t think he would come back, do you?” Everest asks as she walks to the door.

“Well, he never listens much to anything I say, but he’s probably a little scared of you.”

She laughs, and when she opens the door, she tells you it’s only Ramona, who walks in quickly, looking for you. She gives you a soft smile, and joins you in the kitchen as Everest follows close behind.

“So,” Ramona pips. “What’s the game plan?”

“You and [y/n] come to my office in the city and we’ll figure it out. Hey, did you pass him on your way out?” Everest asks her.

“Uh, who?”

“Matthew,” you tell her. “He was just here, you didn’t see him?”

“He was here?” Ramona questions, putting on a look of bewilderment. “When?”

“Just now. He left right before you got here.” Everest explains.

“Holy shit,” Ramona says. “What’d he want?”

“[y/n].”

“So,” you interrupt. “Your office? Now? We can go ahead and get going.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Everest stops you in your tracks, throwing her hands up. “Not so fast, you . . . you need to shower first.”

You look down at your outfit. You’re still dressed in Claire’s clothes and they’re completely disheveled. You haven’t showered or brushed your teeth since the last time you had sex, and the very thought makes you feel dirty. You look exactly how you feel. You sigh, “Fair enough.”

“We’ll wait in the car,” Everest nods, and motions to Ramona to follow her.

“What are we gonna do with her?” she says to Ramona as soon as they’re out of the house and walking down the driveway.

“I don’t know, she’s my boss . . . I can only help so much.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known [y/n] for a long time now, and she’s never needed saving. But, something tells me we’re going to have to keep her away from this one.”

“From Matthew?” Ramona stops in her tracks.

“Well,” Everest stops, turns around to look at her. “She’s a grown woman. She’ll do what she wants. But, that zombie in there,” she motions to the house. “Who walks around the city in her pajamas for a man, is not [y/n]. Atleast, not the world’s [y/n]. People love her. She’s one of the few celebrities that’s kind and passionate and isn’t problematic. I’m just being proactive here.”

“Proactive?”

“She says she’s done with him. She told him she’s done with him. Now, we will just keep her on that path. Few months later, she and the rest of the world forget this ever happened and everything is back to normal.”

“You sound very sure of all of this.”

“Yeah, well, I like my schedules and I happen to like [y/n] so I better be sure. Come on, our ride’s further down the driveway,” Everest continues walking. While Ramona is stuck in place.

“Hey! Uh,” Ramona stutters, suddenly, loudly, causing Everest to turn around once again. “I think I left my water bottle in the house. I’ll meet you in the car?”

“Okay,” Everest eyes her. “It’s just around the corner. And tell [y/n] to hurry up.”

“I will!”

Ramona waits for Everest to continue down the driveway, and when she’s just far enough, Ramona turns around and acts as if she’s walking back up to your front door. When she’s positive Everest has made it to the car, she runs over to your mailbox. She opens it slowly, so it doesn’t creak as loud. The bright red envelope is the only thing in there, and she takes it out quickly. She looks at it for a moment, asks herself what the hell she’s doing. But she doesn’t have time to think right now, you could walk out at any moment. She closes your mailbox, shoves the envelope in her bag, and walks down the driveway.

Matthew Gubler, himself, is a disruption in the space-time continuum.

When you start tallying up the days, it just doesn’t make sense. Some days, every second feels like it’s crawling by. You’ll be in class, at the head of the class, and you’re surprised when your lesson plan ends atleast ten minutes early. And some days, time moves too fast. You find yourself running late for things, events, important people or things, which isn’t like you.

You call it Matthew Brain, and you keep that term to yourself. It happened fifteen years ago. And it’s happening now. It’s a slow, steady descent back to earth, back to reality. Time isn’t real with him, and you think that’s the reason you can’t remember much of your senior year. It’s a rush, a high to even be near him, and it’s the ultimate collapse when he’s gone. Really gone. Out of the life, for the second time.

Time has reset.

And what feels like one month with Matthew Gubler, only turns out to be four days.

You’re on a journey back to earth, and you haven’t even reached the bottom yet. It’s coming, but not now, you thought. You have time to prepare. And this time you’ll be ready. Ready to hit rock bottom, and spend another fifteen years digging yourself out. You have time, you’re sure of it.

Then Ramona comes into your office. She notices you crying, and you have to twirl around in your chair while you wipe the tears away. “Shit, Ro,” you try to laugh. “What’s up?”

“Uh, your afternoon class?” she reminds you. “With the girls at the community center? . . . What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

A lot. Not anything that you can really talk to Ramona about. And each day is something different. Like today, you’re feeling like a fucking idiot. You feel unbelievably stupid and lost and question why anyone in their right mind would choose to learn anything from you. You feel defeated, and you can’t get the look on that girl’s face out of your head.

You turn to Ramona with a soft smile, “I’m fine. I forgot about the class, thank you for reminding me. I just have to grab a few things before I go.”

“Well,” she sets her bag down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of your desk. She takes a seat in the other, “You’ve got some time, I haven’t even called the ride yet.”

You eye her, suspicious furrowing your eyebrows, “Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she seems genuinely confused.

“Sit there and feel sorry for me. I don’t need pity. I’m alright.”

“I’ve never seen you cry before . . . I’m just worried.”

“And I appreciate that, kid, I really do. But you don’t have to be, alright?”

“. . . okay.” she shrugs.

“Anyways,” you change the subject. “How much time do I have until I’ve gotta be out of here?”

“Um, I can call you a ride now, it should be here in about, ten minutes?” Ramona pulls her phone from her pocket, and holds it up as she dials the number.

“Sounds good,” you nod.

She leaves the room to make the call, and when she closes the door, you release a big sigh. As if you’d been holding it in the whole time she was here. You get up from your chair, and walk around the desk. Not paying attention, you stub your toe into the adjacent chair, so hard that the chair falls to the ground.

“Ow! Son of a b—“ your yelp is cut off by a painful groan, and your reach down to hold your foot. You look out in front of you, and Ramona’s entire bag has spilled out across the floor. “Fuck,” you mumble and instantly begin to clean it up.

It’s bright red. And it sticks out like a sore thumb. You reach over to grab it, but only because you recognized his hand writing. You run your fingers over your name, and your head is starting to hurt from the amount of pure confusion.

The door swings open, “Okay, they’ll be here in fifteen, but you have some wiggle room —“ Ramona stops when she sees the item in your hand.

You stand up straight, look her in the eye. She’s shaking. She’s trembling, and there are already tears in her eyes.

“I . . . can explain,” she says.

“Then explain.”

“Matthew . . . wanted me to — to give that to you.”

“When?”

“When, um, when he was at your house on Saturday.”

“You said you didn’t see him. You acted like you didn’t even know he had been there. You took this from him?” your voice goes up at slight octave. Not by much, but it stills cuts Ramona like a knife.

“No! No, I didn’t take it from him. I told him to put it in the mailbox. Which he did, but then I . . .”

“You? You what? Went into my mailbox and took it? Are you kidding?”

“It was crazy! I know! It was absolutely insane of me! But—But Everest was saying all these things about protecting your image, and being proactive, I just wanted to help. I thought —“

“Everest? Everest knew about this?”

“No. No. I took it when she wasn’t looking, and I just, I thought maybe if you didn’t know about the letter, you would be able to move on, y’know? Heal.”

“That was not your decision to make.”

“I know. [y/n], I’m so sorry. I can’t — I can’t even begin —“

“You’re right,” you interrupt her. “You can’t.”

You look down at the envelope in your hands, and shake your head. “God, Ro, I can barely look at you right now.”

“I’m sorry . . .”

You nod.

“I’ll . . . go wait for the car,” she nods, sadly and apologetically exiting the room.

You close the door behind her, and press your back against it. You slide to the floor, and bring the evelope close to your face. The day is not over, and you may need all night to take this in. You are not mentally prepared for whatever is in your hands, but, you rip it open anyway.

There’s a thin piece of paper inside. You pick it up, and it feels so frail that you worry it might rip. You set it on top of the envelope, and examine it. Your eyes dot over the page, until you realize, it’s not a letter at all.

American Airlines

[y/n] [y/l/n]

Seat: 14A

May Sixteenth, 2002

It’s a plane ticket. From fifteen years ago.

One you’ve never seen.

One you’ve never touched.

And now that it’s in your hands, you wish you never knew it existed.

#mgg #esny #tg #mine

154 notes · View notes

niks-minion · 3 years

Text

Bnha 319

It’s been years since I wrote a chapter analysis but this chapter came to my door with “sup bro, the time has come, we’re having some good stuff here” so here we go!

Well, hello, I missed your faces so much, my precious boys!!! Welcome and pls stick around from now on.

Yeah, Baku tear this stupid letter. Bc letters are for losers, we all wait for bkdk 3 face to face!

So the whole class is having a 5 o’clock tea in a calm atmosphere and then boom the top 3 interns team is “well hello fellas, quit this sorry pity party we’re gonna go kick on nerd’s ass”

Iida, the serious guys he is goes “yeah ok, but we kinda need a plan or, you know, at least his location. If you’re saying Deku is with top three, maybe you can provide a bit more data here?” Good point Iida, keep it up.

“So guys how’s you mentors doing? Catching villains, kicking asses?” “Well fuck if we know, but Deku is probably with them” “well maybe you could you know, call them? Message in Line?”

Yeah boy, you’ve seen enough to comprehend the level of selfless recklessness. Was a main star of an action once.

I like how Bakugou is stepping up, ready to be the leader, taking responsibility. And how everyone in class a is ok with that. That guy’ vocabulary didn’t have “a team work” on its pages, and look at him now!

Shouto: my old man hasn’t been spamming my phone. Suspicious!

Ojirou: So the security system was upgraded and oh hey, have you seen AM around? No? Suspicious! 👀

Anyhow, Uraraka is just like “you know when someone is ghosting you, you just pick someone else phone,duh?”

So they’re asking the principal to summon Todoroki-kun. Nezu is ofc on board.

Surprise!!!!

BAKUGOU WEARING A TIE, omg!!!!!!!! That’s the content!💥

Seriously boy, who forced you? Who tied it for you? Who died for this to happen? I have so many questions 👀

My tdbk heart is screaming for this arm touching, thank Hori, I like seeing them being cozy and stuff.

Honestly I don’t get why Enji being an alumni means that he can’t not to show up. What, is it like “we were dealing with your sorry ass you owe this school till the end of times?”

Shouto: sorry guys, I’m gonna go first here, ok? Class 1A: be our guest, buddy.

Shouto “thanks. khm khm. WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU, OLD MAN?!!!AM I A JOKE TO YOU?”

You go boy!!

I’m so damn hyped that Shouto let his frustrations out, I missed pissed off Shouto. Because even after having heart to heart he was still left behind for the greater good. Not cool.

Bakugou, the bff he is, patting Todo on the shoulder “ok chill bro, I’ll take it from here, go get a strawberry milk or smth”

There is something really catching in this panel. Bakugou seems more mature, shoulders broader, figure more imposing.

So Kats tells Enji “ok, old man, you wanted to help but as always you screwed shit up. Nothing new here. Now as I have a “Deku 101” manual in my room, I’m telling you, AM plus that nerdy ass is the worst team ever.

Enji is listening, bc ofc why not. He can be a good listener when it’s not his son talking.

Todoroki kun gives his phone with GPS, he’s rich, he can afford it. If Sero didn’t catch it, he’d just throw one more.

Next let’s enjoy some profound friendship stuff. The whole class is ready to go and save their classmate now. Quite an upgrade since Baku kidnapping.

I like Iida. That’s it.

Also I’ve been hoping to see Shouto being disappointed about Mido lying to his face since that moment after jta arc. Pls give my boy a hug. While bkdk 3 is in the air, I want tddk talk to happen too.

Nezu: ok you can take Deku. Nezu a while later: ok actually after giving it some thought bring him back. Slipped from my mind that out security system is actually a thing now.

Permission granted, class 1 a is ready to drag one nerdy ass back.

Baaaaaam

I like the parallel with AM monument. The class is standing right in front of it, declaring “WE ARE HERE”

And now, the fight of the year, Broccoli boy vs Feral gremlin and co. !!!

Bakugou is mocking Deku, calling him out on his bullshit. Nothing new here.

Can I quickly say, how beautiful Kacchan is? Sorry not sorry.

Kudos to the boy, he’s ready to go all the way to bring his frenemy back.

Kudos to Iida for that supporting hand on the back. I anticipate a badass combo attack.

Honestly I was bitter Shouto is not on the last frame but then I gave it some thought and it’s ok. They have a plan and act accordingly. Precious friendo time will come in a bit.

Anyhow, I really enjoyed this chapter. And I’m looking forward to the next one. I have speculations on what’s gonna happen, but I already rumbled about it in my yesterday shit posting. Basically I’m just happy to see class 1A faces. Iida plus some tdbk warmed my heart for the next 7 days. And gifted me tons of new hcs. Thanks sensei.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #manga spoilers #todoroki shouto #katsuki bakugou #kacchan #bnha 319 #mha 319 #bnha speculation #mha speculation #endeavor #class 1A

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

I’m Still Hurting (F!Reader/M!Orc)

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: (Almost) Infidelity

Word Count: 3376 words

Summary: Your boyfriend does something he’d never thought he’d do, and you’re left to try and pick up the pieces.

Request: can I make a request? About an angst story between an m!orc and f!human. I like the idea of like maybe the orc sorta misses being with other orc women or like she can't fulfill his needs and she hears this. I like the idea of almost infidelity

A/N: Surprise bitches! I’m alive! And back with some delicious angst for y’all!! I really loved doing this request, as I don’t often write full on angst. I am also working on a fluffy request at the moment, if some of you would like some nice comfort after this haha. Hope y’all enjoy!

Honey ❤️: Babe

Honey ❤️: Babe please answer the phone I need to talk to you

Honey ❤️: I know you’re angry, you should be angry, but please talk to me

Honey ❤️: Baby please

“____? Is that my phone?” Brynn yells from the kitchen, already mixing another cocktail for you to down. Her bright red horns peek over the living room divider, bouncing back as she grabs the alcohol from the fridge. Still looking at your bright screen, you don’t even have the energy to respond.

“____?” You throw your phone away as she peaks her head over, giving her a shameful look. Brynn furrows her brow, pulling away from the kitchen island and putting one hand on her hip. “Was that him?” With your eyes darting back and forth from the pillow you shoved your phone under and Brynn’s face, you nod.

“Y-yeah, it was him.”

Brynn sighs, fiddling with her hands.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do, especially not tonight, but I just think-”

“No, no, it’s alright. You’re right, you’re right.” A jolt hits you as your phone vibrates, the vibrations rumbling through the fabric and stabbing right into your stomach. You force yourself to look away, fiddling with your fingers. Brynn shoots you a pitiful look, you’re sure of it, even as your efuse to meet her gaze. “I shouldn’t talk to him tonight. Not right now, not when I’m like….this.” A slow, tired breath escapes you. “I’ll make him wait, just like he did.”

The coach cushion bends as Brynn sits next to you, rubbing your shoulder as she leans in for a side each. You accept it, your body like a deadweight as you let yourself go slack in her arms.

“Do you want anything? Chocolate, maybe a movie? I’ve got some leftover cheesecake?”

“A movie sounds nice.” You murmur, nodding against her chest. Brynn hums, her tail coming up and massaging your lower back as she kisses you on the forward.

“Of course, your choice. Do you want me to get your drink?”

You nod once more, letting Brynn untangle herself from the hug and laying back on the couch, grabbing the comfiest blanket and the remote. You quickly flick through you and Brynn’s ‘most watched’ section on Netflix. You need something new tonight, something to get your mind off.

All your regular comfort movies are romances, after all.

By the time Brynn comes back, a rum and coke and a carton of ice cream in hand, you’re already snuggled into a blanket burrito. She hands you a spoon and the glass, which you wordlessly accept. She sits down and throws a hand over your shoulder, trying her best to massage the left over tension in your neck. You sink into the feeling, pressing on your movie of choice.

“Mad Max: Fury Road, huh? I’ve heard this movie’s great.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, “It is.”

And chocked full of shitty men getting what they deserve.

As the opening title plays, the deep voice of Tom Hardy kicking the movie off, you snuggle into Brynn’s side. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s drowned out by screaming men and loud engines. Just how you like it.

Honey ❤️: Could you call me in the morning?

Honey ❤️: I’ll leave you alone for the night, I’m sorry

Honey ❤️: I love you

--------

Waruck sighs, his fingers shaking as another small ‘message delivered’ shows up on his screen. No response, just like the last 15 texts. He finds himself typing out another anyway.

I love you so fucking much

It reads, but is quickly deleted. Waruck clicks off his phone, but it stays in his hand, taunting him. The black mirror shows a sad, pathetic boyfriend, getting the silent treatment.

He falls back onto his bed, exhausted from a day of doing nothing. Nothing but worrying and feeling guilty, with the occasional flicking through TV channels and texting his girlfriend.

It’s getting late, his bedside clock cutting through the dark of his room to remind him he’s been up for almost 16 hours now. Waruck slides a hand through his hair and gets up. He’s going to have to camp out in front of the TV, because he knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight.

Not after what he did.

--------

He had gone out with friends. Friends from highschool who he still occasionally chatted with, friends he didn’t even really like anymore. But the past two weeks had him feeling oddly...nostalgic, like something was out of place. So when his buddy Simon had invited him to the bar, he had eagerly accepted.

He remembers grabbing his coat, you sending him a text to have fun, and him not replying. He didn’t know why he didn’t respond, he still doesn’t. The two of you had been going strong for almost 8 months now, with only the occasional hiccup that most couples have. So why didn’t he respond? What made him casually throw your sweet remark to the side like that?

Waruck shakes his head, trying to focus on the movie in front of him. Now isn’t the time to get existential over tiny shit like that, not with how the rest of the night went.

When he met up with the group, Waruck immediately knew that tonight was going to be different. His current group of friends are quite different, less rowdy, than his old posse. At only 10 PM, three of the guys we’re already halfway drunk, saving a spot in line from him outside the noisy bar. The electronic music that thrummed through the concrete and out onto the street reminded him of how much time has passed, how different his usual party-scene is now, and he revels in that feeling of former good-times.

Simon greets him with a hug, the guys shouting his name as he joins them. From the corner of his eye, he sees a gaggle of girls giggling.

And that's where it started.

An orc woman, dressed in a beautiful black dress, winks as she passes him at the bar. Simon nudges his side as Waruck takes a drink.

“Dude, that chick is totally sending you the look”

Waruck furrows his brow, stirring his drink.

“What’s ‘the look’?” He says, taking another sip of his scotch.

Simon rolls his eyes. “The ‘come hit on me’ look dude! That’s the sign you need to go for it!”

“I have a girlfriend, Simon.”

Simon scoffs, throwing his hand out dramatically. “What, that human chick?”

Waruck has half of mind to set down his drink and ask Simon what he means with that sarcastic tone of voice. It pisses him off, but he says nothing, just rolls his eyes.

“No offense, bro, she looks cute and all. But is she really worth missing out on some great ass?”

Waruck grimaces and shoots Simon a dirty look. “Jesus, Simon, are you serious?”

“I’m serious! When was the last time you had fun, y’know? Everyone knows an orc chick can throw down, wild-style.” Simon nudges him in his side, playfully, but it only serves to make Waruck more annoyed. “C’mon, you seriously don’t miss it?”

Waruck should tell him a firm ‘No’, finish his drink, and leave. He should call a cab and go home, call you and rant about his gross misogynistic friend from high school.

But he doesn’t.

The part of him, the part of him that feels slightly off, wonders if this is it. It had been a long time since he had been with another orc. You were a great girlfriend, but so different from in so many ways. Is that it?

Maybe relieving the old days will satisfy whatever longing he has, and then it will leave forever. Would that be so bad, to let loose for one night?

Waruck feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see the orc girl from earlier; The one who sent him ‘the look’.

“Hey handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

Between the boosted bass of the music and the orc woman pressing up against him, Waruck doesn’t notice Simon slip away, giving him a pat on the back.

Leave, say no, tell her she’s got the wrong guy, you fucking idiot. His consciousness yells.

“U-uh, sure.” He stutters.

She introduces herself as Naz and says she noticed him the minute he walked in.

“Hard not to notice the best-dressed guy in the room.” She flirts, pressing herself closer and up against him.

He has a thousand little moments like that, to say something; To pull back and apologize, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he slips into a corner booth with her, purposely ignoring the texts you send to check up on him. You had remembered that he wasn’t sure how much fun this night would be, and routinely checked in if he needed a convenient excuse to leave early. You’re sweet like that.

Naz is sweet too. She's a great conversationalist, with a good head on her shoulders and an interesting career in zoology. Waruck could see the two of you being good friends.

Is that why she seems so alluring? Because she’s so similar to you? Waruck’s mind does mental gymnastics to try and justify his hesitance, his compliance in believing that maybe she has something different after all, even though he knows that isn’t true.

The two of them talk for a solid hour and a half, Naz slowly inching herself closer and putting a hand on his knee. His body screams in resistance, his stomach tying up into knots, but he doesn’t push her away.

“So, I’ve got a room not too far from here. What do you say we go make ourselves a bit more comfortable?”

This is his final chance to find an excuse and say goodnight. To run back home and forget this ever happened. But the words are caught in his throat and he’s further silenced by the nearby whooping of his asshole friends.

“Yeah, Waruck! Get some!”

Naz chuckles and mistakenly reads his seething anger at himself with embarrassment for his friends. She leans in, grabbing his jaw, and whispers.

“Let's give them a show, huh?” Then, she kisses him.

The noises of the bar, his friends, and Naz all drown away as her lips mold into his. Waruck’s body goes rigid, terrified as time seems to freeze as he kisses someone who is not his girlfriend.

But all of that stops when your ringtone begins to blast in his pocket. It should be near silent when compared to the pounding bar music, but that familiar jingle seems to cut deep into his skin and skewer his heart. Waruck pulls away with a quick jerk, Naz almost falling over as he pushes himself into his seat and away from her body-heat. Every nerve is a light with tension as he quickly pulls out his phone.

There on the screen is a picture of you, your contact name, “Sweetie❤️”, shining through the dimmed light of that bar. Waruck breathes heavily, feeling like he’s just run an emotional marathon, stuck in his own head until Naz slides away from him.

“Wait, hold on, do you have a girlfriend?”

Waruck looks at her, then looks at his still-ringing phone, then back to Naz. He nods.

Naz's face curls up into obvious disgust, quickly directing her body to be as far away from him as possible. “Fucking hell, dude. What the fuck?” She grabs her handbag and stomps out of the booth, not before throwing her drink in his face and telling him to go to hell.

He almost watches her move across the bar, most likely to go complain to her friends about the asshole she just wasted the last 2 hours chatting up, but all he can focus on is your picture on his phone.

--------

Waruck practically runs out of the bar, his whole body covered in sweat and his mind racing a mile a minute.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He felt like a 15 year old, goaded into another shitty prank just because he wanted to look cool in front of his friends, buying into their weird bullshit about humans. Was he seriously going to throw away your wonderful relationship over one night, over one urge?

Naz had been strikingly beautiful, in all the ways he was taught an orc like himself should look for. She could probably get any guy in that club tonight, but she wasn’t you. You’re different, but in so many cool, inconsequential, uniquely-you ways.

Waruck doesn’t know how long he walks before he sits down outside a cafe, trying to collect his racing emotions. He feels gross, sticky with the kind of sweat you only get after too much alcohol and too many people. The screen of his phone seems to reflect every smudge and finger-print as he swipes it to unlock it, finally getting the courage to read your text messages.

They start off normal, spread out over several hours. The occasional “How are the guys?” and “Hope you are having fun! Just let me know when you get home safe.” before dropping off into nothing. Right up until 20 minutes ago, where you send a short and curt text that has his heart dropping to his stomach.

Sweetie❤️: Can you call me right now?

Sweetie❤️: Waruck, I need to talk to you

Sweetie❤️: Are you still at the bar?

After that is a notification of your missed call from earlier and Waruck can’t help but feel guilt stir in his gut.

It could be nothing, something unrelated to what he almost did tonight. But the notification he gets from his Instagram says otherwise. It says a mutual of his tagged him in a photo 30 minutes ago.

Waruck feels like vomiting when he opens up Simon’s story and sees a shaky picture of Naz, draped over him in the corner booth, with him looking all too happy to have her there. The caption reads

“At least someone’s getting lucky tonight 🤣🤣 #BoysNight20XX”

But what comes next is even worse; An even blurrier photo of Naz kissing him, both of their eyes closed as she almost sits in his lap.

Waruck can’t even look at the caption, quickly exiting out of the app and calling you.

He needs to explain himself.

But what will he say?

The phone rings, rings, rings….

Waruck waits with bated breath, thinking you’re going to let it go to voicemail, but you answer. There is no cheerful “Hi Babe” or even a tired and drawn-out “Hey.” Instead all Waruck hears is a shaky sigh, waiting for an explanation.

The words stay caught in Warucks throat, trying to find a way to maneuver and swing around to a solid excuse, a lie he hopes you won’t catch.

But he can’t, he can’t. Not to you.

So you make it easy for him, like you always do, and start the conversation off instead.

“Were you flirting with that girl?”

Waruck’s mind doesn’t give him a choice, the truth already spilling out like a tidal wave.

“Yes.”

Waruck hears you suck in a breath, before you shakily ask once more,

“Did you kiss her? Did you kiss her back?”

“Yes.”

There's 15 seconds of brutal silence as Waruck sits with his confession. In the moment, Waruck feels like he can hear your pounding heartbeat through the receiver.

You hang up.

---------

You hate the weather outside for two reasons.

One: You had far too much rum last night to enjoy any amount of sunlight. And,

Two: On a terrible morning like this one, it feels unfair that there aren't any dramatic thunder storms.

The bell rings on the cafe door as you walk in, causing you to wince as you pull down your sunglasses.

Thank god for the low lighting of these cafes.

You rub your brow, eyes scanning the menu above the bar. Some caffeine should do you good, at least with your headache.

But when you spot him, tucked away at a table, tapping his foot, all that aching pain seems to fall to your subconscious. Before you can meet eyes, you look away, forcing yourself to re-read the menu and blink away your tears.

You face the inevitable when you put in your order, turning to walk towards Waruck. He’s locked his gaze into the wood grain of the table, his large body hunched up and small, like he wants to sink into the shadows. He looks like shit, with large bags under his eyes and a nervous tension in his face.

He startles when you pull out a chair, sitting down across from him, but quickly curls back into his ball of shame. He looks so guilty, a small part of you wants to comfort him and tell him it’ll be alright.

You punch away that part of you with a baseball bat.

“Why did you flirt with her?”

Waruck says nothing. He looks at you with his tired eyes, big and racked with guilt.

I don’t know. They whisper.

Your fingers dig into your jeans, anger boiling up and through your nerves.

That’s not a good enough answer.

“Were you,” You suck in a breath, trying to control your volume, “Were you going to sleep with her? If I hadn’t called you, would you have-”

“No!” Waruck nearly shouts, shaking the table as his knees bang against the bottom, but he recoils once he sees the way you flinch. “No, I wasn’t going to.”

Those pesky tears press against your eyelids once more. You can feel your nails digging indents into your thighs.

“I don’t know if I can believe that.” You whisper, failing to catch the crack in your voice.

Waruck’s brow furrows as he nervously chews his bottom lip. He tries to meet your gaze, but you seem to look right through him.

“I know.” Waruck sighs, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

There's a tenuous silence; Waruck tries to find the words to fix things while you focus on the details of the cafe walls, examining every nook and cranny as you try not to sob.

“I-I understand if you don’t trust me. I understand if you hate me, or you want to break up. But please, please know that I love you, and that I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I’ve been kicking myself over flirting with that girl because I love you so fucking much. I-”

You hold up your hand, stopping Waruck in his tracks. He realizes how loud he’s been talking and that people are beginning to stare. He huddles back into his corner, tucking his hands into his lap. You let out a long breath. Waruck takes the risk and looks up.

When his eyes finally meet yours, he realizes just how sad you look. A treacherous tear has begun falling down your cheek, sending a lightning bolt of remorse into Waruck’s chest.

You take in another deep breath, wiping away the tear with the back of your hand. You look at Waruck, exhausted.

“I don’t,” You falter, but catch yourself, “I don’t want to break up with you. I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you yet.”

Waruck nods, fiddling with his fingers.

“Of course, I get it-”

“I’m not done.” Waruck quickly shuts his mouth. “You hurt me, Waruck. Hurt me in a way I don’t think I’ll ever forget. So I need time. Time before I can even see you again without thinking,” You hiccup, but this time you let the wave of emotion hit you, full force. “Without thinking about that night.”

A lady calls out your order, but neither of you makes a move. You sit in each other's presence, trying to wrap yourselves around the mess of emotions, trying to read the others mind without seeming too obvious.

You both sit here, in the presence of something that's been broken, damaged in a way that’s cut the heart of your chest and slams them on the table. There’s a crack that runs down between you two, inching open more and more with each breath.

But somehow, somehow, you both think you have a chance of fixing it.

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #female reader #monster romance #orc x reader #angst #orc

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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

Best of friends

Peter Parker x reader, Jason Todd x reader

Summary: You and Jason watch a movie and get closer but what happens when its interrupted?

Finally arriving home, you and the Wayne boys walk into the common room loud as hell. You laugh as you and Tim listen to Damian and Jason bicker about whatever they’re fighting about this time. Something about Batman or whatever.

If you were to be honest, you weren’t really paying attention. Your mind was on the incident you had with Peter at the Museum. You didn’t understand why he was so cold to you. Never has he ever treated you so cruelly. It pissed you off because he was the one who decided he wanted to ignore you for Liz. Hell, if you really think about it, he basically led you on. Flirting with you and making you believe that he wanted to be with you, only to turn around and fawn over Liz Allen the second he had a chance.

Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Jason cut Damian off and turned to you. Seeing that you were frowning, off in your own world. He sighed, knowing it was because of that Peter kid.

“Hey babe.” Jason says suddenly, “ Weren’t you gonna order some food or something?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you turn to Jason with a smirk on your face, “ You know, for a Wayne, you really have no manners Jaybird.”

And before he can make a quick retort, you sauntered into the kitchen, looking for the take out menus that seemed endless. Leaving behind a lovestruck Jason and his two smirking brothers.

“You know” Tim says as soon as your out of hearing range, “Staring at her isn’t going to do anything.”

“Except frighten her.” Damian mutters looking up at Jason with a roll of his eyes.

Jason glances at the kitchen, making sure you weren’t able to hear him and them turns to his brothers.

“I need you two to go away as soon as the food gets here” Jason whispers harshly at the two

“What?” “No way, Todd” The two boys protest, wanting to stay in your company (Damian) and finally eat some food (Tim).

“ Look, we leave tomorrow, I want to spend some time alone with Y/n”

Damian looks put out, frowning before opening his mouth to say something and getting cut off by Tim.

“Say if we do this for you...what do we get in return?” Tom says smugly

“Wha- you little shit, can’t you just do me this favor?” Jason says exsaperatly, looking to make sure you weren’t coming back.

“Nope, sorry Jaybird, we’re not Dick.” Tim smirks, “Take over our patrol for two weeks.”

“Two weeks?! No way, three days.”

“Five days and any cookies Alfred makes goes directly to us.” Damian adds in spite.

“A week.” Jason says sternly

“A week...and the cookies.” Tim finally agrees.

“Ugh fine, you terrorists.” Jason sighs, making the deal as soon as you walk in the room.

“Who’s a terrorist?” You ask putting your phone in your back pocket.

“Uhh Bruce, he uh, needs these two for some business thing or whatever.” Jason says not so smoothly.

“Business? I thought he was still in that meeting with my father?” You question. tilting your head in confusion.

“What Todd is trying to say, is that because Drake and I will be taking over the business after Father retires, he requires us to sit in on some of his meetings. Unfortunately, that means we have to excuse ourselves.” Damian chimes in, before nudging Tim and standing.

“Aww, but I already ordered the food, you two can’t wait a couple of minutes?”

“My apologies Y/n, it seems like father is quite insistent, perhaps you can save us some leftovers?” Damian replies, not letting Tim talk.

“Sure Dami” You say sweetly, “ Ill make sure this one doesn’t devour everything”

“Hey!”

Damian ignores Jasons cries. blushing at your smile and nickname before promptly saying goodbye and leading an amused Tim into the elevator.

“Well,” You sigh, “ I guess its just the two of us again.”

“Well, don’t sound too excited,” Jason huffs, “ You wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Sure! Hey, maybe I can finally show you Twilight?”

“Not a chance doll.”

You ended up watching Twilight. And after the food got here, you both ended up watching New Moon and Eclipse. Jason finally getting into it.

“Why did he kiss her?!” Jason shouts at the screen, jostling you from where you lay on his shoulder. “Jacob has no sense of boundary's.”

“oh but i thought--” “ I don’t wanna hear it.” Jason cuts you off, leaving you smirking.

The two of you sit in silence, watching the screen. Jason adjusts his body so you’re laying on his chest rather than his shoulder. You shudder as he starts to rub your back in soothing circles. Blushing as you have never been this close to another person. No one other than your family...and Peter.

You curse yourself for think about him again, still peeved off at his behavior at the museum and the carnival.

“Hey Y/n” Jason suddenly say, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?” You reply, moving to look up at his face.

“I...I uh, I had fun with you...these past few days.” Jason stutters, refusing to look in your eyes.

“I had fun too Jaybird.. I didn’t know you have a personality outside of moping and glaring at rich people.” You jest, listening to the deep rumbles of his chuckles from your place on his chest.

“Yeah..you bring out the best in me...I guess.” Jason finally looks at you in your eyes, taking your breath away.

“Y/n I-”

“Why is it so dark in here.” Your father says, suddenly appearing in the living room, startling the two of you away from each other.

“Hey is that chinese?” Steve says

“Yeah, Y/n ordered some earlier” Tim

“Would you turn on the lights?” Bruce Wayne asks.

“Yeah its dark” Bruce Banner adds, flicking on the lights.

“Oh hey kids, whatcha up to” Tony says, finally noticing the two of you on the couch.

“Um...watching a movie” You stutter, your heart racing and face burning for some reason. You feel like you just got caught making out or something.

“Uh huh..” Tony says suspiciously, taking in both of your embarrassed faces, clothes lines on your face, and flat hair from where you were laying.

“A movie huh?” Bruce Wayne says, walking beside Tony, “ Jason, I thought you hated Twilight.”

“It’s not so bad.” Jason says glancing at you. You on the other hand are making silent conversation with your father, as he fights to hold back a laugh and tries not to attack Jason.

“Hey Mr. Stark, you left your phone in the meeting room-- why is everyone staring at the couches?” Peter asks as he walks in, he turns to see you and Jason, disheveled and embarrassed. He makes a conclusion and for some reason...his heart breaks, “Oh.”

“Oh great” You think to yourself, “I wonder how he’s gonna react to this.”

You roll your eyes, “ So, we saved you some food if your hungry.”

“Thank you darling, my sweet daughter that wouldn’t hide anything from me.” Tony says sweetly

“Oh can it dad” You reply with a laugh, “Foods on the counter, we’re watching Breaking Dawn in a few minutes.”

You can hear the adults groan as they make their way into the kitchen, you smirk and settle back down next to Jason, slinging your legs up in his lap.

“Hey, what where you gonna tell me before my dad came in?” You ask looking at Jason.

“Uhh, nothing, it wasn’t that important.” Jason says quickly

“Okayy” You reply, not really believing him but leaving it alone.

The adults, plus Damian, Tim, and Peter all come back into the living room, filling the couches and floors as they wait for you to press play. You see Peter look at you and your feet in Jason's lap, before he decides to sit next to Tim and Damian. You frown, Peter always sat with you during movie nights,

“Alright kiddo, lets get this movie night going.” Tony says, gesturing you to press play.

You start the movie and ask FRIDAY to shut off the light. The previous mood being broken, you feel awkward as Jason fiddles with a string on your pants. You can’t settle down as you feel eyes on you.

You take a quick look around, seeing that everyone is occupied with the movie. Then you make eye contact with Peter. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but you almost see sadness in his eyes, but as soon as you make eye contact he glares and turns his head, watching the movie.

Boy what a weird day.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker imagine #jason todd x reader #Jason Todd #marvel and dc #marvel x reader #dc comics x reader #CrossOver #black!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #stark!daughter

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vampiredecay · 3 years

Note

Hey dear, i have a weird request but could you do a Lost boys X reader or Marko x reader Where all the boys (Marko Dwayne David paul Micheal all of them or just marko Dwayne David paul) see the reader re put bandages on his scar but the scars would be like carls in the walking dead and they see the scar ( i wonder how they would react to it?)

thank you so much for the request, sorry it took me a hot second to post! its longer than my other stories on here so far, so i hope that makes up for it. i also hope that you like what i did with it!! its angsty in the beginning but it gets fluffier <3

Scar Tissue

rating: teen

word count: 2,908

tags/warnings: swearing, mentions of being in pain, mentions of scars, mentions of being in the hospital, harassment, fluff, the boys being sweet, the lost boys x male!reader, male pronouns used, poly!lost boys

You could have never predicted how your life had gone so sideways. Not in a million years- before the accident, you were pretty much an average joe. Decent family, decent friends, decent existence. Nothing was ever really exciting, but you were okay with that. Life didn’t need to be crazy or unpredictable to be fulfilling.

But, you supposed, the price of being a living being on this Earth was that life could never truly be predictable at all. It couldn’t be, with the events that followed you losing your eye, and pretty much all normalcy you grew to live with.

It was extremely painful at first, physically and emotionally. You had lost a vital part of your body, and you could never get it back. It was disorienting, and uncomfortable, like an itch you could never scratch. The skin around your eye was incredibly sensitive, the lightest movement or touch sending shockwaves of burning pain through your nerves. Tears were always on the brink of spilling over anytime you or a doctor had to replace medicine and bandages to keep the wound clean.

In the end, the pain wasn’t the worst part about it. No, you could deal with the pain. The people in your life, however, suddenly changing and disappearing was way, way worse.

Friends slowly stop coming to visit you at the hospital, calls go unanswered, gazes averted. Your parents supported you, of course. They still loved you, and you knew nothing could change that. But sometimes even they got this look in their eyes, something a little too close to pity.

It was an incredibly lonely first couple of months.

But the loneliness and the heartache slowly healed, along with your eye. The scarring lightened and stopped bleeding, and your skin no longer felt as if it was on fire every time you turned your head. You still had to keep it under wraps, to keep out infection, and to keep other people from seeing how bad it was. You knew that people seeing the bandages would cause looks and questions, but it was better than people actually seeing the wound, which would surely cause reactions that you didn’t have the patience to deal with.

As you were healing, you were also relearning how to do things in your daily life. Your sight and depth perception drastically changed, so things like walking and doing simple tasks had to be practiced all over again. You had to take things slow, which you hated, you couldn’t leave the house very often until you got used to walking without bumping into things.

The first place you wanted to go once you were able to was the boardwalk. It was one of your favorite places in the world, so loud and full of life and happiness. It was absolutely what you needed after all of the hardship you had to deal with lately.

So one night, when it got late and your parents turned in for the night, you went out and caught a bus to the nearest stop to the boardwalk. From there you walked until you saw the bright lights and heard loud screaming and chatter and laughter. You smiled as you took in the sight of the people and the games and the rides, it felt like you were breathing for the first time in months.

The first thing you did was buy a big thing of cotton candy and a soda, roaming the boardwalk and consuming sugary goodness. As you walked, you noticed that some people were giving you looks, but you ignored them, focused on just having a good time and living your best life.

Walking around for long periods of time still gave you a bit of trouble, you were starting to get a little dizzy, so after a bit you sat down on a bench to give your brain time to catch up with the rest of your body. This was nice too, you got to relax and just watch people for a bit. There were all sorts of people out tonight, families and tourists and couples, teenagers and surf nazis and locals, all in one spot, the heart of Santa Carla, enjoying the wonders it had to offer.

There was a group of guys that caught your eye, though. You didn’t mean to stare at them; in fact, you knew not to, you’ve seen them around the boardwalk in the past, and heard the rumors surrounding them. But, in your defense, it has been a while since you’ve been there, and you forgot how magnetic they can be.

They were milling near their motorbikes, smoking and talking and lightly harassing anyone that happened to walk by. Three blondes and two brunettes- had there always been five of them? You could have sworn there was only four- all dressed in black and leather, looking dangerous and infuriatingly hot. You would have noticed more, but by accident you make eye contact with one of the guys and you rip your attention away from them.

Shit, god damnit, you’ve been spotted now. There’s only one thing to do, and it’s to walk quickly away and hope you don’t run into them later.

You get up too quickly though, and you stumble straight into a man walking with who you assume to be his girlfriend.

“Hey! Watch it-” He starts to say, pissed off that someone ran into him, but then he takes a good look at you and lets out a laugh. “Oh, I guess you really can’t, huh?”

The girlfriend lets out a giggle, smirking behind a hand over her lips. You mumble out an apology and try to go around them, but the man blocks your path. “What was that? C’mon man I can’t hear you, you mute too or something?”

You look up at him and scoff, anger building inside you. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? Without thinking, you say “Yeah, real funny and original. Bet lines like that really score you in bed.”

There’s some laughter around you, making you realize that a crowd has been drawn. The man’s face turned bright red, his mouth curved downward into a frown and he got up in your space. “Oh, so you’re a tough guy now, huh?” He pushed you in the chest, making you stumble back. You get dizzy and almost fall, but you don’t hit the ground. Instead, your back hits someone's chest. You freeze, then slowly turn your head, to see a guy with spiky platinum blond hair staring at the man who pushed you. The four other guys with him were also there, glaring at the crowd of people just watching.

You turned to look back at the man who pushed you, all the color was drained from his face. His girlfriend was clutching his arm, trying to pull the man away but his feet were glued in place. The blond behind you smirked.

“There a problem here?”

The silence that swept over was deafening and unnatural, it was like all of the boardwalk was holding its breath waiting for an answer. The man swallowed, eyes gliding over the gang behind you, not focusing on one spot. “N-No, man. No problem.”

You let out a breath as you watch the man and his girlfriend back up, and the crowd starts to disperse. The man behind you gives a shark-like grin and chuckles deep. “Wonderful.” He says, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you away. You can hear your heart thundering in your chest as you walk away with them, listening as they laugh and push each other.

“N-No m-man, n-no p-problem!” One of the blonds says in a mocking wavering tone, “What a fuckin pussy!” The gang starts laughing again, it feels like the ground underneath your feet is rumbling from the force of it. After a little more walking, they stop in front of a different bench and gesture for you to sit down.

“Take a load off, little man!” You snorted as you sat down, grinning despite the slight lightheadedness. Two of the blonds sat next to you, one with a wild mane of hair and a smile to match swinging an arm behind you. You look at all of them, nodding your head a little bit. “Thank you,” You said softly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The spiky blond shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N” You said, and he nodded. “I’m David. This is Dwayne, Michael,” He gestured to the two brunettes, one with curly hair and sunglasses hanging off his shirt, the other with longer straight hair and not wearing a shirt at all. “And that’s Paul and Marko.” The two blonds next to you do little waves, the one that wasn’t right next to you has curly hair and a jacket so cluttered with patches it must be heavy.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N!” Paul says, nudging his knee against yours, making you smile more. “It’s good to meet you guys, too.”

After the introductions were out of the way, David offered for you to hang out with them, but you declined, saying you needed to get home. At that David offered a ride instead. You hesitated, but accepted in the end. Riding behind him on his bike was terrifying and exhilarating, you clutched his middle tightly the whole way home, but the blond didn’t seem to mind.

“You should come to the boardwalk more often,” David said as you got off his bike, now at your house. He smiled at you like he was letting you in on a secret, “We’re there all night.”

From that point on, you couldn’t ignore the boy's siren call. The next couple days you would take the bus over, wander until you found them, and then do stupid shit with them all night. A lot of it consisted of them terrorizing people who even looked at them funny, but you didn’t find it scary anymore. You found it powerful. It was the best you’ve felt in a long time.

It wasn’t long, though, until the questions started. You supposed you should have seen it coming, but hanging out with them honestly made you forget.

“So Y/N,” Paul said one night, it was just you and him and Marko. You were leaning against the railing in front of the carousel, waiting for the others to get back from getting food. When you looked over at Paul, he asked “What’s up with the eye?”

Marko punched Paul's shoulder, giving him a look, and Paul threw his hands up dramatically. “What? I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just curious.”

You sighed a little bit, mulling over what to say. You weren’t mad that he asked, you just hated talking about it. “There’s nothing much to say.” You said after a couple seconds of silence. “I was in an accident. Got fucked up. End of story.” Paul and Marko both nodded, taking the hint not to ask anymore. The taller blond wrapped an arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head. A silent apology. You smiled a little and leaned into him, letting him know it was okay.

After that, David, Dwayne and Michael arrived back with food, and once everyone settled down at a nearby table to eat, David proposed that they go back to their place after eating. You were nervous to accept, but they were cool guys so far, so you didn’t see the harm in it.

Before you could voice your opinion, however, a sudden cold, wet substance suddenly splashed all over your face. You yelped and got up, trying to shake off whatever the fuck it was, when you heard laughter getting distant. Suddenly, the boys were all getting up and shouting, someone was holding onto your shoulders, and when you wiped at your eye you could see it was Dwayne. He looked absolutely livid.

“What the fuck just happened?” You asked, looking down at yourself, disgusted to find that your clothes were soaked now too. The brunette gripped your shoulders a little tighter, not enough to hurt but the pressure was there, “Some people have a death wish.”

You would have asked him to elaborate, but then something dawned on you. “Oh shit!” You exclaim, hand going up to your bandaged eye. “Fuck, I have to get home, I have to change this, fuck!” Dwayne's eyes widened a little, and he nodded, calling attention to the other boys, who were all talking angrily to each other. They all looked over, and when they heard that you needed to change your bandage, they all hurried over. “Our place is closer. Michael, take Y/N to get the supplies he needs. We’ll meet back up at the hotel.” David all but commanded, and everyone seemed to be in agreement. The rest of the boys took off on their bikes while Michael steered you in the direction of a small convenience store on the edge of the boardwalk.

“You okay?” Michael asked, worry written all over his face. You nodded at him, though in reality you were feeling gross, sticky and anxious as hell. You thought it was so nice of them to help you out, really, but you knew this meant that they would probably end up seeing your eye. Seeing your scars. The thought alone was enough to make you slightly nauseous. The brunette could tell that something more was going on with you, so he gently took your hand as you approached the shop. You looked at him, and he smiled at you, squeezing your hand gently. You gave a light smile back and looked away.

After buying the necessary wrap, tape and some bottles of water, you both get on Michaels bike and ride off to their place. You were just thinking about it now, David had said the word “hotel”. Did they stay at an actual hotel?

It didn’t take you long to figure out. When you arrived at the hotel, that was really more of a cave, you were in absolute awe of the place. It was massive and beautiful, you couldn’t believe these guys actually lived here. You had so many questions, but now that you were here, they would have to come after.

Michael led you over to a slightly dusty couch and you sat down, holding the items in your hands nervously. Everyone was sitting around you, you had a very attentive audience that you didn’t really want.

“Is there, uh, a private place I could do this?” You asked, and your heart sank when they shook their heads. “Most of the rooms collapsed when the earthquake hit. There’s not much left, and the parts that remain are too dangerous to go into.” Marko explained, and you sighed. You supposed there was no getting around it.

“Okay, well. Just, don’t say anything, okay?” You got out the bandage wrap from its packaging and took a deep breath. Slowly, you unwrapped the dirty bandage from around your face, revealing your eye to the boys.

All of their facial expressions changed, some more surprised than others. David looked the least shocked, eyes of steel trained on your face, just looking. Dwayne and Michael looked a little more concerned, Michael especially, but otherwise they tried to keep their expressions neutral. Paul and Marko looked intrigued, if anything. Like they wanted to ask questions but were reigning themselves in.

Overall, they kept quiet, and they didn’t shy away from your appearance, so you counted your blessings as you cleaned and dressed your eye as quickly as possible. When you were all finished, Marko and Paul launched themselves at you, sitting next to you with wide smiles on their faces.

“Dude! You’re so badass!” Paul shouted, and Marko was quick to agree. “You should get an eyepatch or something. Crank up the badass factor.”

You laughed at their antics, blushing a bit at their words. You could tell that they really thought you were actually cool. It warmed your chest and you smiled as they went on about eyepatch ideas.

Eventually, David dragged the two away, saying it's getting late and they should probably take you home now. You nodded in agreement, letting out a yawn. You didn’t realize just how tired you were.

Dwayne was the one who ended up taking you home, the ride was a lot gentler and smoother than it usually was, which you were grateful for. When you arrived at your house, and you got off his bike, Dwayne pulled on your arm before you could leave. You looked at him, confused, but then he got off his bike, and he stood in front of you, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You froze, heart pounding. Dwayne pulled away and let go, giving you a small smile. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard as he got back on his bike. “Yeah- you too.” You stumbled out, making him chuckle. He then rode back off into the night, and you were left stunned on your front lawn.

You didn’t know what would happen now, you had absolutely no clue when it came to the gang of bikers. But you found yourself at peace with it.

Life could never be predictable anymore. And you were more than okay with that.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #the lost boys paul #david x reader #dwayne x reader #marko x reader #paul x reader #male!reader #poly!lostboys #lost boys fics #decay fic tag #requested

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buttsmasher · 3 years

Text

This story is for @tyohlerrr. I think you'll really enjoy this one. He submitted a fucking sexy photo to go along with this story. Take a peak here.

Warnings/Tags: Face Farting, Farting, Gay Farting, Farting on Tongue, Willing Victim, Teasing, Musk, Musk Play

Today has been one of the roughest days since you’ve joined the army. You and Booker somehow pissed off your commanding officer again and were made to run until he told you stop.

“Yo Books.” You say as you jog next to your partner.

“Sup?” He keeps looking ahead, following the track with ease.

“Is your ass sweating as bad as mine right now?” Booker looks over at you and laughs.

“It’s probably worse man. That shit in the canteen is fucking with my guts.” Booker stops and lifts his leg up.

PFFFFFFFFFTTTT

Your heartbeat quickens, as you watch Booker get back to his previous speed. “Fuck man, sounds rough.” You joke trying not to let your mind wander.

“I’d hate to be behind me right now, the Booker brew is toxic.”

“I know, that’s why our barracks smells like shit all the time.”

PSSSSSSSSSSS

An airy fart hisses from him as he continues his jogging. “Fuck.” Booker huffs. “I’m telling ya man, once I’m on leave, I’m finding myself a pig slut and letting him go to town.”

“What?” You laugh confused.

“You ever had a fag eat out your hole?”

“I ain’t gay man.”

“I ain’t either. I’m just saying though, you get one of those piggy fags, hoo-wee. They know how to make you come just by using their tongues.” You stare at him briefly wondering if he knows your secret. When you’re about to pass Sarge you hear Booker let out another loud fart.

“God dammit Booker!” Sarge yells and you can’t help burst out in laughter. Booker reaches out for a fist bump, which you oblige.

“Good timing man!”

“You know I’m a pro.”

You go back to focus on your breathing and how fast you're moving when Booker surprises you: “I saw you sniffing my boxers.” You nearly trip over yourself as the realization of what he just said hits you.

“What are you talking about?” You feign.

“Two nights ago, when I went to shower.” Fuck he really did see you. “I saw you pick em off the ground and huff on them.”

“Sorry man, I-I don’t-”

“It’s no biggie man, I ain’t judging.”

“It’s just-”

“You’re a little piggy and you need to get my stink in you.” He interrupts again.

“Shut up.” You go to push him but he deflects you easily.

“Look if you want to sniff my drawers it’s cool. But I can probably offer you something better.” His mischievous smile intrigues you.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s just say, when we get back-”

“Keep running maggots! Don’t slow down!” Sarge yells as you pass him again.

“I swear to god if I just had one day with him.” Booker balls his hands into a fist.

“When we get back what?” You can’t contain your excitement which makes Booker give you a smug smile. “Fuck.” You say realizing how you sound.

“So you horny-horny.” Booker laughs.

“Fuck off man! I like what I like.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be under my fat ass in no time. Hope you like rotten eggs.”

“I-I.” You stutter as you watch Booker pick up his pace and runs ahead of you. That’s when the scent hits you. You swear it smells like a skunk just sprayed someone and you cough as you fail to catch back up to him. “Fuckin’ hell man!” You yell and he gives his ass a smack while he keeps running.

After an hour and half of running, Sarge finally tells you to stop running and sends you back to your barracks where you find Booker. He’s standing there shirtless, sweat glistening off his body, and his ass is hanging out from his shorts. “Nice outfit.” You joke as you throw off your sweaty shirt.

“You think so? Thought I could wear it out tonight.” He quips as he uses his hands to jiggle his ass. You shake your head as you pull off your boots. “You think you can handle this?”

“Hell yeah, your ass ain’t anything special.”

“Oh we’ll see about that.” He pushes you onto your bed and sits down on your stomach. “I kept it nice and ripe for you piggy.” He drags his bare ass up your body and then slowly back down.

“I ain’t no piggy.” You use your hands to grab ahold of his buttcheeks.

“You will be after I’m done.” You pull his cheeks apart to be gifted with a short airy fart.

PFFFFFFFFFTTTTTT

The warm gust of air escapes from his ass blowing across your exposed stomach, making you shiver. “You like that?” He gives you the cockiest grin you’ve ever seen.

“Stop teasing man.” You groan.

“Just warnin’ ya, I’m gassy as fuck!”

“Like I just said, your ass ain’t special.”

“Aight then.” He laughs as he twists around to plant his bubble butt right on your face. It’s musky as hell and much, much better than his boxers. You take some deep breaths as he squirms around to get comfortable. “Just remember you wanted this.” His hole gets into place right against your waiting.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

An airy fart gets blown against your nose smelling like that rotten fart he let earlier. It’s extremely overwhelming and you’re immediately seeing stars.

“Fuck man!” You cough out. “That’s rank!” You pull away slightly but he uses the opportunity to push your head so it’s trapped between his ass and the bed.

“I told ya! Didn’t wanna listen.” He pulls off his shorts completely to let his dick free. Your mind goes to the same place and you attempt to pull your sweats down over your now hard cock.

PFFFFFFFFFFFF

Another quiet and airy fart gets blown across your ready face and you let out a loud moan as you take a large inhale. It smells like rotten eggs and old meat. “Lunch ain’t sittin’ right, all the better for you huh?” Booker jokes as he shakes his ass on your face.

PFFFFBBBBRBRBRBRRRRR

“See, that was wet as fuck.” Booker laughs as you cough the wet fart down. You groan, but continue to keep sniffing loudly as you slowly stroke your hard cock.

“It smells great down here.” You struggle to get out. “This ain’t nothing.”

“You’re disgusting. To think I was holding all these in for you.” He hikes his leg a little higher.

PFFFFFFFBBFFFFFFTTT

“I mean, who actually enjoys this shit?” He laughs as you can feel him stroking his hard cock. The toxic fumes assault all of your senses making your eyes water and your nose burn. “Fuck that stinks.” He waves a hand in front of his face. “That’s worse than normal.”

“Yeah.” You agree as you struggle to hold back the bile that’s burning it’s way up your throat. “I love it.”

“You sound like you’re struggling down there. Need me to stop?” Booker says, concern in his voice. You remove your hand from your cock to wrap your arms around him so he doesn’t move.

“I’m fine. Give me more.”

“If you say so.” You move one of your hands back to your cock as the other pulls and squeezes his massive ass. A silent fart graces your nose making your eyes flutter as you take the rotten smell into your lungs.

“Fuck Books, you smell so good.” You can hear him laughing above you but he doesn’t say anything. And by the way he’s shaking he’s getting off on this as well. “Seriously man,” You take another large inhale. “You’re addicting.”

“Just admit it dude, you’re a piggy.”

“Not…*sniff* a piggy.” He laughs.

PFFFFFF PFFFFFFFF PFFFF

He breathes out a sigh of relief. “Can’t lie, feels good gettin’ all this out.”

“I bet.” You smack his large ass. “Let me eat you out.”

“Run that by me one more time.”

“Let me, eat your, oh so beautiful ass out.” You say mockingly.

“I don’t know piggy. It’s kinda dangerous down there, you sure you want your tongue near that?” You don’t even respond, you just swipe your tongue against his musky ass. “Oh fuck.” Booker moans above you as he grabs onto the bed for support. “Do that again.” You do as he says and his back arches even further.

PFFFFFFF

“Fuuck.” He groans as you struggle with the terrible taste he left on your tongue. “Okay, yeah, keep doin’ that.” You don’t argue, you just keep swiping your tongue on his dirty hole and every few swipes you poke your tongue into his ass. “Shit, we should’ve been doing this, uhhh, sooner.” His body is twitching above you. “I got a big one coming piggy. Fuck, get your tongue out” You can hear his stomach rumbling, but you refuse to pull your tongue out eager to get a taste.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTFFFTTTTTTT

The loud 15 second fart gets ripped right against your tongue and your mind goes haywire. The taste is god awful, making your thrash and attempting to push him off you. At the same time you can hear him groaning loudly as you feel him shooting his load all over your chest and stomach. You’re not far behind him cumming in your hands, shooting the largest load you think you’ve ever shot.

Immediately as you finish shooting everywhere, you start thrashing about again to get him off you. He gyrates his hips for a few moments until he notices that you’re not moving as much. He pulls off you and takes a look at you.

“Shit, are you okay?” You give him a thumbs up as you cough. “I think you’ve had enough.” He says helping you sit up from the bed.

“Fuck.” You manage to get out as you look at him. He just shakes his head and pulls his shorts back up.

“You’re fucked up man.”

“Yeah, probably.” His scent is lingering and you know you’re going to be tasting that ass for at least another day.

“You need a shower more than I do.” You punch his arm but he’s probably right.

“Told you I can take it.” You brag.

“Don’t push it. I have more in my tank.” Booker gives you a hard pat on the back.

PFFFBBBRRRRR

He makes an effort to fan the fart towards you and you just laugh. “See you in the shower?” You nod and follow him, where you get to play with his ass just a little more.

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hansoulo · 3 years

Text

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver. “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

“Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting. “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x you #boba fett fic #boba fett oneshot #boba fett imagine

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jinned · 3 years

Text

payback’s a bliss | taehyung | m

snippet: “This is going to sound so cliché,” Taehyung starts after too many seconds of awkward silence pass between the four of you, “but this is not what it looks like.”

pairing: taehyung x female reader, seokjin x jeon soyeon from (g)-idle

genre: smut, slight angst, slight fluff

au: coworker, office, valentine’s day, strangers to lovers to friends (s2l2f)

rating: explicit/18+

word count: 9.6k

warnings: y/n and taehyung get dumped :(, seokjin and soyeon are heckin annoying, gross pda, no one does any work in this office, dirty dancing, trash talk, sabotage :)

sexual warnings: voyerism!! sex without orgasming, uncompleted sex, office sex, public sex!, protected sex, lots of hand roaming wink wink, taehyung dig bick gang, lots of makin out!, table sex, slight choking, scratching, smol strip tease, dirty talk, they both question if they really want to do this for the right reason, the sex is kinda short tbh so not much actually happens,

a/n: banner made by @kimtaehyunq!!! thank you so much maggie!! and thank you for asking me to be a part of your collab! i’ve had so much fun writing this! thank you to @feliix and @ughseoks for the endless amount of support from both of you

this is mostly unedited :( i’m sorry

this is a part of the be my bangtanvine collab! make sure to check out all of the other amazing stories!

The sharp edges of the invitation card threaten to prick through your skin as you grip it too tightly. Seokjin and Soyeon are currently skipping about the office, merrily handing out an invitation to every co-worker insight to their fabulous Valentine's Day party they'll be throwing.

"And we got it approved by the big man to host it here! Everyone must come!" Soyeon’s shrill voice echoes throughout the padded cubicles.

A groan slips past your lips before you can stop it. Normally you'd be down for office parties and festivities, you're a fun gal after all. But the idea of attending a Valentine's Day party that your ex-boyfriend is hosting with his "newer and better other half" just doesn't sound as appealing as one might think.

You desperately want to crumple the invitation in your fist and you outwardly seethe as Soyeon clutches onto Seokjin's chest as she leans into him with laughter, him naturally moving with her, chest rumbling before placing a passionate kiss on the top of her head. In a gross quirky fashion, Soyeon kicks up one of her feet, giggling with each second Seokjin’s lips are on her skin.

Her stupid gorgeous skin that glows when the sun shines through the windows.

You hate her stupid skin, the sun should burn her, not make her look like an angel descending upon this earth.

Which, she totally acts like on a daily basis, sunshine or not.

All you can do is remind yourself that you are a better person than your hostile instincts and negative thoughts want you to be.

Taking in a deep breath, you slowly exhale through your nose, lowering the invitation painstakingly slow and delicately placing it to the side of your desk. You will show no weaknesses. They will not get to you.

A loud huff of breath behind you breaks your concentration, and you turn around to see your co-worker Taehyung failing at being the better person; his jaw is clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face are twitching. His invitation is in pieces scattered across his lap and desk, some bits still stuck to his clenched fists in between his fingers. His entire body reads fire-angry and pissed off, but there's something in his eyes that tells you there's more going on deep within his mind. The way his eyes shake and glisten, it's clear as day he's just as hurt as you are about this situation.

Taehyung is one of the handful of coworkers you’ve worked beside for years but have never exchanged more than ten words with. He’s quiet, tends to his work, and keeps to himself. Even when he and Soyeon were together he shied away from the PDA and loud declarations of love. The few times you cared to spare a glance in their direction, it always seemed that Taehyung was uncomfortable having all eyes on him with a bright red face paired with fidgeting hands. It was enough to make anyone feel bad for the guy.

Glancing around, you make sure the coast is clear, (AKA: all the attention is still on Seokjin and Soyeon), and you scoot your chair across the short way to Taehyung's desk.

"Hey, Hellboy,” you whisper just loud enough for him to hear, “extinguish your flames will ya?"

Taehyung's jaw relaxes as he looks at you for a moment before turning back to the mess around him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a more tender sigh, carefully picking up each piece one by one before sprinkling them into the garbage.

"Thanks," he says weakly. "I didn't realize I was expressing outwardly. Nuts isn't it?" He forces a chuckle, shaking his head as he goes back to watching the couple of the year receive their compliments and adoration from the other office sheep.

"Completely nuts." You agree, scooching closer until your chairs touch and you’re sitting side by side.

"She's acting like we weren't ever even together. Seokjin seems to be doing that to you too. It's crazy! Weren't you guys together for like three years?-"

"-Three years."

Sighing together, you both lean back into your chairs.

"Soyeon and I were together for four."

The pout in his voice breaks your heart, even more than it's already broken. That feeling alone surprises you. It's not like you're an overly compassionate person, not saying you're exactly heartless, but you and Taehyung have barely interacted. Ever. Even amongst your years and years of working together, nothing more than a simple head nod or raised coffee in acknowledgment has passed between you two. Now, you feel like you need to reach out, rub his arm comfortingly, maybe even offer to take him out on lunch where the two of you can freely be irrationally angry and bitter together. Really, it's just that if you were him, (and you basically are in this situation), you'd want someone to be there for you. Being alone in the midst of a breakup this painful just doesn't seem like a comforting option.

So, stepping out of your comfort zone, you decide to do just what you'd want someone to do for you.

"Let's get lunch together," you blurt out.

Albeit slightly confused, Taehyung smiles and kindly accepts your lunch offer.

"And then he said, 'You're a little too much to handle sometimes.' Who fucking says that!" You yell over the bustle and noise of the restaurant, voice muffled by the decent amount of food still in your mouth.

"He said that? About you?" Taehyung scoffs, throwing his fork down onto his plate and throwing his body back against the seat cushion. "You definitely don't seem like the type to be described as "too much to handle". I'm insulted on your behalf!"

"Thank! You!" You can't help but raise your voice as you throw down your fork as well, the utensil clattering against the now clean plate. "I can't believe Soyeon gave you such a stupid reason for dumping you. Who just says, 'We were too attached and I need to learn how to be my own person.' then goes around and is immediately in a super clingy relationship? I don't get it. Plus, in my own personal opinion, I wouldn’t have described you guys as too attached. I don’t think I even saw you guys kiss in public. Which makes this thing with Seokjin even more absurd!"

Expecting a fiery response, Taehyung surprises you by staying silent. His shoulders drop as he stares into his half-eaten chocolate cheesecake. The intense, angry emotions surging in your own veins quickly simmers down seeing how truly upset he looks in front of you.

"Hey," you dip your head down, trying to make eye contact, your hand naturally falling on top of one of his own, "don't worry about them. What she told you was bullshit and does not define who you are as a person. What she did was low and was clearly not the real reason she broke up with you. You seem like a great guy and she's going to have to live the rest of her life knowing she let you go." You see a faint smile finally grow on his face, making you smile in return.

"Thanks, Y/n. I wish I was as strong as you are. I wish I could just be angry and secure with myself." He sighs and leans one elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand as he breaks up pieces of his cake, not making any motions to actually eat it.

You think about what to say and how honest you want to be. You've only just really started talking with him and talking about your feelings and insecurities has never been easy for you to do. Which was exactly one of the reasons Seokjin claimed during his breakup speech.

And fuck that guy. You can be emotionally vulnerable anytime you want!

"I'm not as tough as I'm making it seem," you admit slowly, "It honestly hurts so much it feels like I can't breathe sometimes, you know? I really thought I had opened up to him, really thought I had someone who loved me truly for who I was. I thought he saw the real me. A part of me almost feels violated knowing how much he knows about me." You can't help but chuckle softly to yourself. "Don't give them the power to determine your self-worth, okay? We'll get through this together. You're stuck with me now!"

Taehyung looks up and smiles warmly at you. Genuinely, you believe that you'll be able to make it through this. And it doesn't hurt having someone else here to understand what you're going through.

Finally going back to eating his cake, Taehyung thinks thoughtfully for a moment, his head tilted in a curious fashion.

"Do you think-," he starts but pauses, scrunching up his mouth to one side as he ponders over what to say. Sighing and looking down once again, he softly says, "Do you think they cheated on us?"

It's a sentence that instantly gives you chills, freezing you in place for a moment because no, you didn't think that, the thought never occurred to you in the first place. Despite how mad you were at Seokjin, he didn't seem like the type to cheat. Now that the thought is in your head, you can't help but rethink situations you may have looked over.

Like the late nights leading up to the breakup, Seokjin stepping out of the room when he got phone calls- something he never used to do before. These things were out of character- yes. But you didn't think twice about it because it just seemed like something everyone did in the midst of a rough patch in a relationship.

Or maybe your subconscious just couldn't handle it at the time.

"She acted differently...in the end. I just wasn't sure if you knew or not."

"No," you shake your head, "the thought honestly never crossed my mind. But now that you mention it, he acted differently in the end too."

For a good, heart-bursting moment, you both sit there and silence and you let yourself feel truly sad about your breakup for the first time. You're not sure what's worse: the blinding anger or the heart-wrenching poignancy.

"This is stupid!" Taehyung finally breaks the silence, his fists firmly planting onto the table as he stands. "We didn't do anything wrong! Why are we the ones who have to be sad and cry into delicious cheesecake? They should be the ones crying into a creamy dessert!"

You can't help but laugh. And once you start, it's hard to stop. The entire situation still doesn't feel real to you, so what else can you do except clutch at your ribs as all the air in your body is used to laugh? Taehyung laughs with you, sitting back down and scooping up the remaining bites of his cheesecake.

"It really is dumb." You finally manage to choke out the words, the laughter slowly dying out between you two. "I wish there was some way to make them feel what we're feeling right now."

Mouth full of food, Taehyung offers a muddled: "Isn’t revenge...ya know...bad?"

Reaching for a napkin, you pause and stare at the lines in the fabric, an idea sparking in your mind. Slowly sliding the napkin over to your new friend, you decide to continue to be bold today and think out loud.

"What if we went to that Valentine's Day party they're hosting?"

Gasping on instinct, Taehyung accidentally inhales part of his cake, spiraling him into a coughing fit. "You want to what? I thought we agreed it would be a terrible idea!"

Smiling devilishly, you wait for Taehyung to notice the mischief in your eyes, wait for him to see that you wouldn't just simply be attending.

"What have you got planned?" He asks carefully.

"Let's go...together." Quirking up one of your shoulders, you play with your fork, spinning the utensil slowly against the point of your finger. It was hard trying to appear so casual, mysterious, and nonchalant when all you wanted to do was shout out your idea.

"I'm honestly such a bad guesser and I'm way too intrigued, but at the same time I'm not stupid enough to fall for the casual 'let's go together' so please tell me what you have brewing in that devilish mind of yours, Y/n, please I'm DYING!"

Taehyung's flair for the dramatics will definitely make this idea of yours even more pleasurable.

Dropping the fork, you look around the restaurant before leaning in, beckoning Taehyung to do the same until you can see the tiny flakes of freckles painted across his cheekbones.

"Okay. So, here's the plan..."

The next few days go by so fast it's been hard to enjoy the festivities.

And by festivities, you mean the fun going on between you and Taehyung.

The office has become so much more enjoyable having Taehyung in your life. Every day you come into work wearing one of his sports jackets, graciously draping it on the back of your chair after he politely pulls out your seat for you. And every day, after pushing in your chair, Taehyung leaves you a quick, yet passionate kiss on the top of your head, to which you always end up looking up at him with pure joy.

It didn't take long for you two to become the talk of the office.

Like a wave of wildfire, everyone began wondering just when you and Taehyung got together, if it was serious, a playful situation, just how far things have gone. You never paid much attention to office gossip before, but you never would have dreamed it was as juicy as this. Being in the spotlight was never your thing, but this was completely different. It felt different at least. Speaking of, you were usually the type of person to shy away from being the center of attention or the talk of the town. You liked that, in this instance, this spotlight was controlled by you and aimed at you just the way you wanted it. Walking around the office with a new wave of confidence felt empowering. Seeing Seokjin's jaw drop to the floor when he saw you, even more delicious.

It's true. Along with the new relationship, you switched up your wardrobe as well. Oh, and getting a new haircut after a million years of avoiding the salon definitely gives you that extra umph that you needed. And, let’s face it, moving on after being mercilessly dumped isn’t official until you do something different with your hair.

"You look..." Taehyung whistles as he not so discreetly eyes you up and down, biting his bottom lip as he does so. "Amazing." Very quickly you see some heads pop out from their cubicles out of your peripheral vision. It makes your smile all the more genuine.

Acting like you think the two of you are all alone in the office lobby, you giggle and lean into Taehyung. "Thank you for buying this outfit for me. It fits me in all the right places." You wink and pull at his tie slightly, turning around and walking away with it slipping through your fingers.

All of the heads quickly return to their computer screens, pretending to not have heard or seen a single thing.

It’s almost too easy.

Seokjin's cubicle is near the front of the lobby with yours and Taehyungs near the middle of the floorplan. Without a doubt, Seokjin's head had to have been one of the ones who was watching you just now.

Gliding across the floor with Taehyung quickly following behind you, your heels click delightfully against the tile floor. In a split minute decision, instead of trying to discreetly glance into Seokjin's cubicle, you decide to turn back towards Taehyung and reach for his hand, giggling all along the way.

Taehyung grasps your hand in his, the other hand pocketed in his tightly fit slacks. You weren't the only one with the wardrobe upgrade. If you're being completely honest, he won the makeover competition.

Your partner retired the contacts and went for a classy chic pair of black glasses that fit his facial frame so well, he could be the poster boy for all eye doctors across the nation. He made you want to have poor eyesight so you could sport some fancy eyewear. The two of you also found some new hair product for him and found that curling those chestnut locks made him go from Average Joe to chiseled supermodel. It still baffles you that this was the same Taehyung who's sat behind you for all these years.

Throwing out the cheap button up collared shirts, Taehyung now sports some fancy looking sweaters, sporks jackets, and silk button-ups. He looks like a million bucks and ever since the makeover he's been getting the attention from strangers from all sorts of people, rightfully so. You’ve also gotten your fair share of head turns and whistles from folks on the street and each one only adds more fuel to your steps.

It's been a confidence boost for the both of you, to say the least.

Once you're near your own office spaces, Taehyung holds onto your fingers instead of letting you go, pulling you quickly back into him so fast that your hand automatically flutters against the swell of his chest.

"I'll miss you," he mutters softly for only you to hear, kissing your knuckles before guiding you to your chair to do his usual routine. Chills dance across your skin as your mind panics for a moment, briefly forgetting that this is all for show.

"I'll miss you more," you recover with a purr. Then, for good measure, ditching the nervousness echoing in the back of your mind, you let out a louder Shhh! noise, resulting in immediate whispers surrounding your not so private cubicle space. You let your finger linger over Taehyung’s lips before sashaying to your desk, leaving him standing in the middle of the hallway staring after you.

This was going all too smoothly.

Throughout the days you and Taehyung manage to find ample time to grossly flirt with one another. One of your favorite hobbies now was deciding where exactly you wanted to meet up and get a little frisky.

Your favorite spot by far is easily the copy room, however cliché it may be. Having Taehyung pressed up against your body as his lips roam your neck, your back either against the copy machine itself or the counter just adjacent to it, it was all too much fun.

Like today, for instance, things might have gotten out of hand.

Taehyung's hands roam your body from your hips all the way up to your shoulders as he murmurs things too quietly for you to even understand. Well, let’s be honest, it’s definitely not necessarily because they were too quiet, but because you were so distracted by just how electrifying his touch feels. It never meant to be this serious. A touch here, a kiss there, outward flirting and such. But now you're starting to think it's becoming more of a game between the two of you instead of an office game you set up to make your ex's jealous. Technically, you didn't need to start this game so early before the party: it's only a week away now. You were way too eager to put your plan into action, and that meant sacrificing the workplace and those that worked around you.

You don't even remember why you were in the copy room to begin with. Usually, you try to plan it so either Seokjin or Soyeon walk in. Lately, it's been everyone but.

Your breath becomes heavier as Taehyung's tongue swipes up along the backside of your ear, a little spot he quickly found brings out some not so innocent sounds from you.

Wanting so desperately to enjoy the attention your body is getting, you can't help but fight against the bliss. You're losing sight of the plan ahead. And you can't help but notice just how naturally you're responding to Taehyung's antics.

"Taehyung!" You gasp, glancing at the clock above his head, not realizing just how hot and heavy it was getting between you two. "I think we need to cool it a little bit. We've been in here for fifteen minutes now and no one has even come close to this room."

He chuckles under his breath, a slow, deep raspy sound that hums like a string quartet on a fine and breezy summer day. "Sorry. Seems I got carried away."

Without hesitation, he backs away from you and you can't deny that your first thought is how much you want him back up against you.

"I'm thinking we came on too strong. Now everyone is afraid of being around us." Taehyung ponders outwardly, a finger slowly tapping against his chin. How the hell is he able to be so sexy and passionate one minute and easily go back to acting like nothing happened?

Gulping, you clutch your arms to your chest, suddenly feeling cold without Taehyung’s warmth. “What do we do now?”

“I guess we can get back to work, there’s plenty of time for more shenanigans later.” He winks and walks out of the room wondering just when he became so carefree and confident.

A spur of the moment shopping spree sprung at you and Taehyung the night before the Valentine's Day party at the most opportune of times. After all the scheming and planning, the one thing you forgot to plan for was what you would be wearing for the event which blossomed said scheming and planning. Even when you both upgraded your wardrobe before, it was all simple business casual outfits, not a night out attire.

Taehyung calls you in a panic, words blurring together through the phone as you try to make out what he's trying to say. Eventually, you're able to put two and two together.

"Holy shit we forgot our party outfits." You exclaim dumbfoundedly.

So, that's how you got here. Sprinting down isles with your hands out batting against the edges of the clothes. Some of the fabrics feel soft against your fingertips as the wind blows through your hair. As you look over to Taehyung, you can't help but to smile, not even noticing the gross feeling of old velvet pants going against the groove of your fingertips. Any other day, your body would have recoiled in disgust. But somehow, staring into Taehyung's earthy brown eyes, it's all become manageable.

As the night continues and fashion show after fashion show occurs, you start to think about how you look at and feel around Taehyung. He's doing everything he can to stay positive in this terrible situation you've both been thrown into, and yet, you find yourself comforted in his presence. While comforting is the best word to describe it, it's also starting to become confusing. Are you starting to look at him romantically? Is he thinking the same about you? It's definitely not an appropriate time for you to jump back into a relationship. Come to think of it, you barely know much about the guy other than what you two share in relationship baggage.

The rest of the night you seem to move in slow motion, caught up in your thoughts and not really feeling present in the moment. You catch Taehyung sneaking glances at you and it seems he's trying extra hard to be funny with all the ridiculous outfits he's put together.

"How about this!" He jumps out of the dressing room with arms wide open; a bright green feathered boa, red and yellow vertical striped pants, and a shirt that definitely could have belonged to a middle-aged man who loved to go fishing every weekend. There's a certain disconnection you feel with yourself even though it feels like you should be happy.

"You didn't even try to smile," Taehyung’s entire demeaning softens instantly. He walks towards the cushion you're sitting on and joins you, his shoulder lightly bumping against yours, "what's on your mind?"

Not exactly ready to admit your confused feelings about him, if they’re even feelings there at all, you decide to talk about the other thing that’s been disturbing your thoughts: Seokjin.

“I just wish it were easier, you know? Moving on?”

Taehyung huffs and juts out his bottom lip, quickly coming to your rescue by wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You let him consul you, lowering your head onto his chest as he rubs comforting circles on the side of your arm.

“It’s okay. I’ve been having a hard time getting over Soyeon too. It seems that no matter how hard I try my mind always drifts back to her. I still don’t really understand how she could just jump into a relationship with Seokjin and be in love so quickly. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Do you think they could be faking too? Like us?” The thought honestly makes your stomach turn and twist into all sorts of complicated knots. Why would you and Taehyung get dumped only for them to rub it in your face on purpose?

“I’m not sure,” Taehyung sighs, “I honestly wouldn’t put it past Soyeon to do it. There were more than a handful of times when we’d be around a bunch of people and she’d be all over me, couldn’t leave my side. Then, when we’d get home, she’d want her space and do her own thing. Super weird. I think she just needs everyone to see how loved she is. I don’t know. She has her own insecurities she still needs to deal with.”

Nodding your head into Taehyung’s chest, you also reflect on the way Seokjin treated you when you were in front of other people vs. how he treated you at home. And you can’t really think of an obvious difference. He was an amazing boyfriend who just couldn’t seem to fully commit to you.

“Sometimes it’s nice to think that they want to see us upset, doesn’t it?” Taehyung smiles and pats your head, standing up and offering a hand out to you. “Kinda shows us that we mean a whole lot more to them than they’re willing to admit. C’mon. Let’s find you a killer outfit and show Seokjin exactly what he’s missing.”

“Taehyung. Has anyone ever told you that you could have a future in fashion design?”

You keep staring at yourself in the mirror, looking at every angle possible of the attire you have on. Taehyung picked out everything himself, more than proving that his taste is far beyond more exquisite than all of your project runway knowledge combined. Right away in the store, he commands that blue is the only color he wants to see you in, none of that typical pink or red Valentine’s Day bullshit. “We need to stand out in all the best and worst of ways. Plus, blue is one thousand percent your color.” He had said to you, reassuring you along the way that he’ll find something for you both to match in.s

And he was a thousand percent right. Blue is most definitely your color. The way it brings out the natural highlights in your hair and even that small spark in your eyes, you’ve never been so confident with just a shade before.

The style of the dress itself is something you would expect to see in an over the top beauty pageant with just enough elegance to make it red carpet-worthy; pools of tool and fabric cascade down your legs, a long slit going up until your mid-thigh. The top half of the dress is strapless and slightly exposing the best of what you have to offer. You protested heavily on the attire in the store, it needed more than a little TLC with some rips and tears in the squirt and some stains on the front. But Taehyung had insisted and told you he had a plan in mind.

In less than two hours Taehyung had successfully stitched and sewed his way to a beautiful masterpiece. You couldn’t even tell this was the same dress he had picked out in the thrift store.

Fondly, he smiles at you as he looks at what he’s created, a hint of shyness overtaking him as he softly admits that his mother and older sister would make their own clothes to save some money. Naturally, Taehyung picked up on what they had learned and actively partook in it as well.

“One year, for my mother’s birthday, my sister and I both worked on this really grand dress. It took us nearly two months to make. I used to be made fun of for this stuff, but nothing feels as good as seeing someone’s face light up when they put on something you’ve made. It’s the same face you have on right now actually.”

You turn and smile back at him, feeling a sense of comfort between the two of you. The warmth from his words is something you’re not quite used to; your connection seems to run deeper than you were ultimately expecting it to be. And you like the feeling of it.

“I’ll kick anyone’s ass if they make fun of you,” you say boldly, hands on your hips for emphasis.

Taehyung throws a pillow at your back, the both of you laughing like high school best friends.

Pacing back and forth in your driveway, you can’t help but think you might have been stood up. Taehyung said he would be at your apartment a good hour or two before the party so you could help each other get ready and hyped.

You are definitely not ready. You are definitely not hyped.

Glancing at the clock on your phone only makes you more anxious as you fight the urge to call him for the fourteenth time. The party has started by now.

This didn’t seem in character for Taehyung. Unless, you dreadfully think, you said something that offended him. Maybe he caught a whiff of your little crush on him. Or maybe he just couldn’t bear to see Soyeon on such a romantic holiday night. Your thoughts are spiraling out of control, you take off your heels in a defeated huff, tempting the idea of shucking them into the neighbor's shrubs.

You take a seat on the front porch, heels still in one hand, and laugh to yourself. This is what you get, huh? You wanted revenge and karma did not feel like taking its time in giving you exactly what you deserve.

Thoughts of Seokjin and Soyeon slow dancing under paper hearts spinning on a string from the ceiling leaves you feeling emptier than ever before.

As a large teardrop drips down your cheek, a car turns into your driveway.

“Y/n?” Taehyung slams his door shut and rushes over to you. He’s wearing his blue suit, the one he picked out to match yours. His hair is styled so that part of his forehead is showing. Emotions overtake you and the tears flow more consistently before you’re able to even attempt to compose yourself.

“What’s wrong? Oh, Y/n what’s wrong?” Taehyung sits next to you and pulls your head to his chest, wrapping one arm around the back of your shoulders while the other one wraps around the front of your body. You clutch your hands to your face, embarrassed beyond belief that you’re sobbing on your front porch on Valentine’s Day to your fake date of the night.

You think about mentioning Seokjin and Soyeon, or the fact that you really don’t want to go to this party anymore. Instead, what comes out is, “I thought you weren’t going to show up!”

Pushing you back so he can see your face, Taehyung takes your hands gently, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles while he looks into your eyes. “I could never leave you behind.”

It feels like your heart plummets down a ten-story building and you want to melt into him.

Continuing before you can get ahead of yourself, Taehyung says, “Did my texts not go through? I said we got the time mixed up. The party starts at eight, not seven. I also stopped by to get you this-” He looks around at the ground beside him for a moment, then motions for you to hold on while he trots over to his car.

“Close your eyes!” He yells while laughing. You wipe your eyes one last time before placing your hands over them.

You hear his footsteps on the pavement as he gets closer. It’s probably some flowers, a corsage even.

There’s movement on the top of your head and you flinch, nearly opening your eyes before being stopped by Taehyung. “It’s just me, hold on.” He places something on your head, adjusting it and fixing your hair.

“Perfect!” He steps back. “Go ahead. Open your eyes.”

Slowly, you remove your hands from your face and look around. Taehyung is standing in front of you holding a small compact mirror. Leaning forward, you look until you can see your reflection and the small tiara on your head.

“I saw it on my way over here in some small shop window. I just had to get it for you. It really brings your whole outfit together!” Taehyung’s smile is big and warm, rendering you speechless.

“No need to thank me!” Taehyung puts the compact mirror in his pant pocket, reaching for you to pull you up. “Seeing everyone’s reaction to how amazing you look is all the thanks I need.”

He walks you to the passenger side of his car and opens the door for you, assisting with your dress to make sure not a single string of fabric gets caught.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you whisper just before he closes the door. There’s a shine behind his eyes as he nods his head softly, his smile still not wavering.

A nice intense pep talk goes down in Taehyung’s car before you’re both able to walk up to the office hand in hand. You had thought you would be the shaking mess of nerves, but instead, it’s Taehyung’s hand that clutches yours tightly, a slight murmur disrupting his cool demeanor.

All of the office desks have been pushed against one wall with cupid cutouts and (as you predicted earlier) paper hearts hanging from the ceiling. A red light is cast throughout the room giving it a nice sultry feel as light music plays over the speakers. You never realized just how big this floor is. Easily seventy or so people could fit in here for a party. Instead, there’s only about twenty of you.

Everything looked so magical, and yet, it felt oddly prom-like.

You and Taehyung were fashionably late, so as soon as the front door opened with a loud sha-shunk sound, all eyes were on you two.

“Game on.” You smirk, feeling as ready as ever.

“Taehyung! Y/n!” Soyeon’s usual peppy voice wavers over the music. “You’re here!”

The crowd parts slightly, leaving a space so Seokjin and Soyeon could greet you at the front door.

“Oh, we just couldn’t miss the party of the century!” You laugh, clinging to Taehyung’s upper arm.

“The chance to show off this beautiful lady? Wouldn’t pass that up for anything!” Taehyung is saying this in response to Soyeon, but his eyes are only on you. He gives you a wink for good measure, leaning in slightly until the tips of your noses touch.

“Yeah, like anyone would describe Y/n as a party person,” Seokjin quips. Your eyes narrow, looking over to your ex for the first time.

You can’t deny how great he looks in his pastel pink suit that perfectly matches Soyeon’s party dress. It accents every curve of his muscles in his arms, his suit jacket practically draping on his wide shoulders.

This might be harder than you were expecting.

“You never really were the type of person to think on their feet, huh, Seokjin?” You chuckle knowing that he really was trying to hurt your feelings in front of everyone. Seokjin glowers at you, his lips a fine, thin line.

Soyeon looks like she wants to say something, but instead grabs Seokjin’s elbow and turns him around, heading back to the middle of the dance floor.

Without looking, you and Taehyung give each other a satisfactory low-five.

“So, snacks? Or dance floor?” Taehyung asks.

“Oh, definitely snacks. I see a bowl of chips calling my name!” You not so graciously speed walk over to said bowl and pick it up, cradling it the same way one would a newborn baby.

Taehyung picks up a large pink cupcake and runs his finger around the frosting, sucking on the digit slowly as he observes the crowd before him.

Soyeon is bent forward slightly, wiggling her butt against Seokjin’s lower regions. The co-workers around them cheer, raising their glasses as they continue to jump to the music. Seokjin doesn’t even look slightly embarrassed.

“You know, if I would have even dropped low like that to pick up a can of soup or something that fell on the floor, he’d hide his face in shame,” you say with a mouthful of chips.

Taehyung scoffs, shoving the remainder of the cupcake into his mouth. “Ehdgeeut.”

“I bet we could out dance them,” you say more confidently than you actually feel. Without waiting for Taehyung’s response, you grab his greasy cupcake hand and drag him to the dance floor.

Relaxing as much as you can, you try to empty your mind of all fears and anxieties and mimic what you’ve seen in movies and music videos, using Taehyung more as a prop than an actual dance partner.

At first, no one notices you two. But as more co-workers break to grab refreshments, they come back and form a crowd around you two instead of mindlessly migrating back to Seokjin and Soyeon.

And eventually, that left the pair without an audience to flaunt their love in front of.

Taehyung is getting more and more into the movements, and you bet he’s also blocking out the nerves like you are. It’s beautiful watching him smile and enjoy himself, not even noticing the people around him. It definitely helps you feel more comfortable in the spotlight as well.

Pulling you closer, Taehyung lifts up one of your legs and hooks it as his hip, one of his hands roaming up your thigh. Your heart races as his face gets closer to your own, both your foreheads connecting and it feels like you’re breathing the same air.

At this point, you know Seokjin and Soyeon are watching you.

The song ends right as Taehyung pulls you closer and kisses you. It isn’t like any of the fake kisses you’ve exchanged in the office previously. This one is laced with something sweet and spicy, a want you can’t even begin to explain.

And you don’t want to stop kissing him. You don’t want this feeling to end.

“Get a room!” Someone yells from the back, the crowd erupting into laughter as some shield their eyes away from you.

“Maybe we will!” Taehyung yells, grabbing your hand and running with you out of the room and into one of the office hallways.

And as you run, you see Seokjin’s wide, regretful eyes, his shoulders sagging into his suit jacket.

Quite the victory if you’ve ever seen one.

Giggles and shuffling feet is all you can hear throughout the hallway. The cool breeze is barely noticeable against the warm touches from Taehyung's hands around your body. Each time his skin presses against yours, it leaves a ripple of warmth throughout your body, so much so that it feels like you'll never be cold again.

Your hands grasp the edges of his suit firmly as you momentarily take control, pushing him carefully against the wall so you can kiss him again. Taehyung smiles into the kiss, chuckling deep from his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. His lips are soft and familiar now and it's become a little too easy to get lost in them.

At times like this, you forget this is supposed to be pretend.

Pushing those thoughts away, you continue to dive in.

These kisses start to feel different than the ones from before. Originally, they were nothing more than quick pecks, not even five seconds long at their most intense. Now, they're slow, both of your lips molding together in slow motion, giving you plenty of time to let your hands roam with minds of their own. Your bodies start to connect like puzzle pieces, like the way your hip naturally leans into his or the way your chest rises up flush against his own. Every time Taehyung's tongue barely sneaks past the edges of his mouth sends a warm chill that blooms deep in your chest, rippling until you feel it in the tips of your fingers. You almost want to sigh in relief the way one would sigh when sinking into a nice warm bath after a long day.

Seokjin never kissed you like this.

Slow and steady turns into fast and furious. All of a sudden what you're getting is just not enough. Taehyung pulls at the fabric of your dress, guiding you away from the wall so he can lead you into one of the conference rooms, the very conference room Seokjin and Soyeon will be coming up to in order to exchange Valentine's Day gifts.

You can't help but wonder if this was done on purpose.

Maybe it's an extreme coincidence that this conference room just so happens to be the closest one for you guys to tumble into.

Once you're past the threshold, Taehyung's in control. He breaks apart the kiss and turns you around, lightly pushing against the small of your back until the front of your body can't go any further: you're now flushed against the conference table. His hands find your hips, moving up and down for a moment, hesitating before boldly moving up to your breasts.

"Is this okay?" He murmurs with a kiss on the back of your neck, just under your ear as he massages your chest.

It's never felt more okay. Your mind is turning into white static with the built-up attraction.

"Oh yeah, this is okay." Chuckling, you let your eyes flutter shut, somehow making the experience even more enjoyable this way.

Wasting no time, Taehyung shucks off his suit jacket in one clean motion, tossing it aside carelessly and diving back into your lips.

“Nuh-uh,” you moan against his lips, indicating to his shirt, “off.”

Chuckling, Taehyung breaks away and slowly starts to unbutton his shirt.

“Are you punishing me now?” You laugh, already missing the feeling of him on your skin.

“I can go slower than this,” he plays, the tip of his tongue poking past the side of his lips. Normally you wouldn’t mind a little strip tease or the build of anticipation. But right now, you’re anxious to get him inside of you.

Sauntering over, Taehyung is only halfway down his shirt when he’s close enough for you to grab.

And so you do.

You take his tie into your fist and pull him close, his face now inches from yours. Taehyung’s breathing is heavy, his chest moving up and down almost as quick as your heart is beating.

You move in like you’re about to kiss him, but stop short just as your lips barely brush against his.

“I don’t play games,” you whisper, showing your teeth as you smile.

“Funny,” Taehyung murmurs back, grabbing onto your hips and flipping you around until your ass is flushed against his crotch area, his tie still laced between your fingers, “Didn’t seem that way when you asked me to play along with your little scheme.”

All you can manage is a soft sigh, allowing yourself to relax against his body and letting his tie slip past your fingers.

This is all a game, you remind yourself. Or, at least, it started out as one.

Taehyung unzips the back of your dress, leaving a trail of kisses along the way. If there is a world record for the most amount of times a person has shuddered with chills in the span of ten minutes, well, you would have beaten that record by a mile.

And although you enjoy each kiss and each touch, it’s all going far too slow.

Using what goods you have in the back, you push out with enough force to back Taehyung a step. It was just enough for you to be able to spin around to face him and drop your dress to your feet.

“Wow,” Taehyung gasps, “you are absolutely beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you raise an eyebrow confidently, “I showed you mine, now show me yours.”

Without question, Taehyung moves to undo his belt, still moving rather slowly as he unbuttons his pants.

Your eyes follow his hands as they move back up his legs. Eyeing his frontal area, you’re surprised to see that he isn’t hard yet.

You try not to show your disappointment, but Taehyung notices right away.

Bashfully, he grips the back of his neck with one hand, looking down and apologizing. “I’m just kind of nervous is all.”

“No, no! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I was just a little surprised! If you’re not ready we don’t have to do anything.” It suddenly feels very cold in this room.

Taehyung smiles again, this time more innocently than before, “I want to. Trust me.”

Closing the distance between you two, you kiss him on the lips slowly, waiting for him to take the lead.

It doesn’t take him nearly as long as you had anticipated.

Taehyung’s mouth moves feverishly against yours, that fire instantly igniting back between your two bodies. His hand grips the side of your neck gently, his thumb resting just behind your jawline. It isn’t until your fingernails trail the edge of his spine that his grip hardens slightly, taking your breath away.

Taehyung’s free hand moves to your back to unclasp your bra, doing so in an impressive one try. His hand is instantly on one of your breasts, massaging it roughly.

That is all the touch you need before you’re ready for him.

Your thumb slips past the hem of his boxers, pulling them down and away from his skin. Taehyung steps out of them now completely naked before you. As you continue to kiss, you can’t help but chance a peek at what he has lying below.

And what he has does not disappoint.

“Wow!” You gasp, “Soyeon left you for Seokjin? No wonder she seems more high strung than usual.”

Laughing, Taehyung stops his ministrations and rests his head on your shoulder in embarrassment.

“And then you,” he returns, “Soyeon may be pretty, but she’s also flatter than a piece of cardboard. You?” He whistles and manages to bring his head back up, eyeing you up and down while biting his bottom lip.

“He’s stupid,” Taehyung concludes.

“And she’s an idiot.” You smile.

“Enough about them,” Taehyung takes both of his hands and grasps your panties. With one swift motion, he rips the fabric in two and is moving you back to the table, back to the original position you were in, “this is about us.”

In his hand, Taehyung shows a condom he must have pulled out of his pocket before. You honestly don’t remember seeing him do it, but you nod your head quickly up and down. Taking it between his teeth, Taehyung rips the fabric and promptly places the condom on the tip of his cock, unrolling it carefully. Your thighs tingle with anticipation, your vagina yearning to be filled by him.

Spreading your legs out so that your feet rest on the tops of the neighboring chairs, you nod your head once more for Taehyung.

Slowly, he inches the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Taehyung’s arms are placed on either side of your hips and you use his stance to grip his biceps, holding on for dear life as you try to mentally prepare for the massiveness that’s about to enter your body.

Taehyung guides his cock up and down your folds just once before diving right in.

The stretch is absolutely delicious, immediately your eyes roll back with bliss. He’s only able to get inside of you a quarter of the way before he slides back out, repeating the process until he’s able to inch further and further. For a moment it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to bottom out in you. But if you’ve learned anything from this time you’ve spent with Taehyung, it’s that this man is determined.

One final thrust and it feels like he’s pushing straight through your G-spot.

You’re out of breath as you cling to him more aggressively, not able to even comprehend what it would feel like for him to pound into you with everything he’s got.

Taehyung searches for your mouth, planting a long, deep kiss on your lips as he slowly starts to rock his hips back and forth. There’s a tense hunger from his lips that you try to match, but the pleasure you’re feeling down below is distracting your every thought.

After a few moments pass and the strong build-up, you initially felt seems to simmer out.

Despite the intense need for one another, there's something between you and Taehyung that's different than what you had with Seokjin: spark.

The thought hits you. Hard. So much so that it stuns you into a motionless blob. In retrospect, it isn't even that big of a revelation, but it's enough to put some ease on your mind.

"Y/n. Are you okay?" Tentatively, Taehyung stops for a moment and makes sure to meet your eyes.

Opening your mouth to respond, instead of words an eruption of laughter takes over you growing gradually until your entire body shakes with it. You clasp your hands over your mouth to try to contain it, but it only seems to worsen the giggles.

"I'm so sorry, Taehyung," you finally manage, "I just realized— I don't think…” you take a deep breath, ignoring the screaming voice in your head telling you to shut up, “I don’t think I like you in this way."

There's a moment where Taehyung and you both look down at where your body's currently intertwined and for a second you're afraid that you've possibly hurt his feelings.

He inhales slowly, releasing the air quickly soon after with an 'ahhh' sound. "Oh thank goodness! I wasn't sure if it was just me, but I started to realize the same thing about two minutes ago."

Laughter bubbles from your throat naturally, your lips vibrating as you try to hold it in. But, it’s no use. Taehyung sees you laughing and he can’t help but do the same.

“We should probably get out of here before we make an even bigger fool of ourselves. We can get Chinese? Hang out at my place and talk and watch a movie? I feel like we should talk.”

You’re about to verbally agree when a blinding light interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh my god!” A squeaky voice trills by the doorway, echoing throughout the room.

You and Taehyung freeze in place; he hasn’t even had the chance to remove his cock from your pussy.

The intense feeling of drowning consumes you as your vision finally comes to focus. At the doorway are Seokjin and Soyeon.

“Y/N?” Seokjin’s voice cracks in disbelief at the sight in front of him.

Panic sets in. How stupid was this idea? Who thought you should go to a work party, strip naked, and start having sex with one of your coworkers on the table in one of the conference rooms?

If it were just Seokjin and Soyeon, your embarrassment would still be there, but at a much more containable and manageable amount.

The entire office staff on the other hand...you were not prepared for that.

“Everyone leave!” Seokjin yells, turning his back to you and ushering the other coworkers away. As he’s doing so, Taehyung slips out of you, running over to where your clothes were discarded and throwing them at you with haste as he rushes to dress the lower half of himself.

Your arms feel numb as you pull your dress over your head, not even bothering with your bra or panties.

Seokjin returns and closes the door. Soyeon is covering her eyes, her back turned to you and Taehyung slightly as she’s muttering something to herself. Her perfect black hair cascades into a perfect curtain to shield her eyes from your nakedness.

“This is going to sound so cliche,” Taehyung starts after too many seconds of awkward silence pass between the four of you, “but this is not what it looks like.”

Soyeon makes an abundance of gibberish sounds with an aghast look on her face before finally blurting out, “Look like what? Like you weren’t caught having sex with each other?! Jesus, Taehyung! We knew you guys were all over each other but I thought you had enough decency to keep that stuff in the bedroom!” She puts her palms out towards you both and shakes them before turning away once again with her head down, shaking it in disbelief.

“That’s the thing! It’s complicated!” You shout, desperately trying to zip up the back of your dress by yourself.

“Were you or were you not just having sex?” Seokjin says sternly, looking directly at you like a disappointed father. You give up the fight with the zipper and sit down in one of the chairs behind you. It’s you he wants the response from, you can tell by fact that he hasn’t given Taehyung a single glance.

“Yes, but-”

“Then that’s the answer, Y/n. We get it!” Seokjin turns to Soyeon and gives her a gross affectionate kiss on the cheek. “You guys are jealous of the love we found and you didn’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day. So, naturally, you turned to each other!”

Taehyung looks at you, and you at him, once again neither of you being able to look at each other seriously and you both start to laugh, yet again.

“We aren’t actually seeing each other!” Taehyung leans against the wall so casually, you wonder where this confidence has come from. It looks good on him.

If it weren’t Taehyung, you wouldn’t be so calm about confessing your conniving plans of fake dating. The way he’s so casually laughing and accepting the fact that you were both caught helps ease the anxieties you know you would have felt. And in this moment you realize why he’s not upset and why he’s not embarrassed: he’s finally moving on from Soyeon.

And, you guess, the same thing is happening with you with Seokjin.

“We faked it all,” you smile genuinely, “Of course we were upset when you guys got together, but honestly for myself, I would have had an easier time moving on if you two weren’t constantly shoving your love down everyone’s throats.”

“We’re surprised you haven’t been in a hallmark movie yet,” Taehyung adds.

“Exactly!” Pointing at Taehyung as he nods his head, you relax even more.

Seokjin and Soyeon stare at the two of you, stunned on an entirely new level. Looks like you and Taehyung are the first to tell them how gross and obnoxious their PDA has been.

Soyeon looks at Taehyung with a weird glint in her eyes, one that makes you instantly suspicious of what she’s about to say.

“Taehyung, let’s get out of here,” you suggest. “I may not be in love with you romantically, but I think it’s safe to say we’re pretty great friends. And as your new great friend, I suggest we quit our jobs and run off together into this sunset!” You jump up quickly and hold out your arm for him to take.

“I agree completely, Y/n!” Taehyung jumps with just as much fervor as you and gladly takes your arm.

As the two of you start to skip past a dumbstruck pair of exes, you pause before Seokjin and boop the tip of his nose playfully. “You’ll tell the boss for us, won’t you?” You wink and continue on with Taehyung.

Deep down, you’d give anything to go back in there and explain the situation entirely with your ex, to have one last heart to heart and really see just what’s going through his head and to get some sort of closure. But you know it’s not healthy to act that way anymore. It’s better to move on and enjoy the day with your newfound friend. So what if you’re single this Valentine’s Day. At least you get to be single with Taehyung.

Later that night, as Spongebob plays in the background of Taehyung’s living room, you look around at all the empty Chinese takeout boxes and at Taehyung passed out on his side of the couch, and you realize for the first time you feel genuinely at peace. Sure, you know it’s going to take some time to fully get over Seokjin.

With a friend like Taehyung by your side through it all, though, you know it won’t be so bad.

let me know what you think! :)

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

SERENDIPITY.

(n), beautiful accidents turning out in beautiful journeys.

Nothing to explain, just Vampire!harry.

Smut, Smut and Smut.

Masterlist , Let's talk about more vampire H!

Author's Note: This's me just testing waters with my fantasy writing skills. It got deleted at first and I had to write everything again with fat sad tears. Tried my best hope ya'll like it. Reblogs are always appreciated and I kinda deserve it for this one *sheepishly*

She ignores whatever he's saying craving the overwhelming feel of stars and flowers when he bites her, "Can you bite me, please?" He startles at that brows skyrocketing.

Y/N interrupts Harry amidst his meal and ends up him clinging to her.

Kittens. One hell of the beasty creatures they're. You'd give them your heart but they'll prefer their two hours sleep over it. Such type of beasty wee landed Y/N into such situation. She's been searching for Meowsie her cat for fifteen minutes now when she heard a feeble cry of an animal. The tall trees with it's roots snatching at soil - the moon at it's peek. Gasping she crouches down for the rescue of a deer with it's fur wrenched in blood.

When she does so her eyes struck at the sleekness of a pair of loafers stubbing yellow leaves under it. A groan of annoyance whirling in air and gulping she rakes her eyes to find a tall, swiney man staring down at her in offence like she disturbed him.

He's gorgeous. Features that of greek sculpture with silk kissing it, eyes –well she can't figure them out in her fear. "Who're ye'!?" He snarls and she toppled back on her bum with a squeak, "Aish. should be asking you the same." She shuts her eyelids. He thinks she's very stupid for leisuring in an abnomished forest at this hour of night when every creature's ready to strangle her alive.

"Who're you?" She emphasizes each word grabbing the broken branch and pointing it towards him mustering some courage not letting her brave cascade waver.

His first instinct was to say that he's vegan. But, why should he when he's not. He doesn't like lying.

He steps from under the shadows of trees rims glimmering under the beautiful moonlight, "Could be anythin' ye'r little brain's been thinkin' of." He smirks towering her and scrambles back. Her facial expressions blown out more from the fright he's causing.

Poor little thing.

Before, he could fill in her curiosity his prey escapes into darkness gaining his attention. He growls throwing his head at his shoulders — Harry isn't that of tantrum throwing person (a practice of one hundred year has taught him that bitterness brings you nothing) but he's been devastatingly hungry and the feeding clubs grossed him out.

The smell of grinding bodies, sweat and the combination of different human's blood makes him sick to core rubbing his appetite away. He's bored of them.

Her sweet glazing auroma calls him to trap her and take a succulent bite out of her but before that she benefited the opportunity running away from him exiting the dark forest only to find Meowsie snuggling inside her bed.

"You batty creature!" She huffs, "No wonder I'd be found – dead one day because of you."

With whoever; she bumped in the forest wasn't human at all Y/N thinks.

. . .

She's been fighting her sweet tooth for so long but it's not helping her. She muttered a fuck it before lecturing Meowsie, "No sneaking." When Meowsie meowed bobbing her head she cheered, "Good baby." Like a proud momma.

It was success. Reaching the nearest store and buying the oreo yogurt to savour it immediately. When she strolled outside gloomy vibe hit her causing her nerves to shudder winter chillness freezing her toes.

The cup hits the pavement and she emits a loud scream as a brutal force rams her in a brick wall.

A groan of pain rumbling in her chest and she shuts her eyes as a shadowy demon creeps up her calves agonisingly trying to pop her in two.

Counting on her death when it screeches in horrifying noises being ripped into bits and pieces mercilessly. When she squints her eyes open she finds the mossy jade eyes peering down at her more pissed than he was in the forest, "do ya humans don't sleep at night? Or are ye' a mouse that steals good-ys at night?" He traps her head with his hands on either side of wall and she grumbles at his insult of calling her human. But isn't it what she is? A human?

"I -- don't be mean." She pouts hissing at the dull ache in her legs and he sighs voice getting gentler, "Can ye' walk?" When she nods he scoffs with a thick accent lips quirking and nose scrunching. He wanted to leave her at it but the scared look on her tightened his chest and he felt his responsibility to walk her home safe and invest if she got hurt.

"No you can't!" He winds his arms around her encouraging her to put all of her weight on his side as he walks her. "Who're you. And how did ya do that?" She asks with a timid voice. He doesn't want to scare her away but the truth's he's been keeping an eye on her for days. Muttering a curse to himself whenever she'd have her nightly visits without a care for herself. Silly human.

"Harry." He replies without a care and if it wouldn't be for the pain she's feeling she'd have never let him inside her home. "I can't even eat my yogurt in peace 'cos of you Harry." She reproaches as he sits her on sofa taking her ankles and putting them over his knees.

[That's how I felt when you interrupted my meal you little pesty thing he wanted to mutter but held back.]

Taking out the potion Nana gave him that heals painful scars.

"It'll hurt a bit little mouse." He murmurs pulling out the cork of bubble shaped bottle she flinches, "Don't call me that!" Staring at the way her ripened gnashes disappears in beautiful spirals. "Then stop acting like a coward-y mouse." He stands up looking down at her slumpy with sleep. He shushed her, "'s okay. . ." with each dab feeling sorry for exposing her to his world and now the demon who was manifested without a precise spell thought they're co-related kept lingering around her and well he couldn't leave such an innocent girl to be harmed by evils.

"Not gonna tuck ye' in bed, now." He stands up chin doubling raising his hands in defence albeit he's privy for such actions. Too domestically affectionate for him.

"Please." She doesn't want to be here on uncomfortable sofa and wants to snuggle inside her blankets. "Fine." He rolls his eyes not giving heed to the angelic details of her home for that it'll create a soft spot in his heart for her.

His body swimming in her scent once stepping inside her room and he tucks her under quilts grabbing Meowsie akwardly and putting her beside Y/N so she could cuddle with her. He stares her for time and Y/N doesn't hear door shutting and he's out of her bleary vision in a tick

. . .

White swarms over the crimson in hues with yummy smell spreading everywhere along with the waves of Y/N melodic hum. Meowsie tries to rip the muffin batter and Y/N smacks her paw away ending up having a standoff stare competition with her in the kitchen.

She literally heard her saying mean mommy.

Y/N thoughts are all over the place. All she could think of is his's stupid beautiful face and they way his gentle touch made her feel floffy from muscles. He shouldn't pesk her like that. The white chocolate chip pops and she was about to see if they were done when a rasp crawled in her ear making her jump and causing the pyrx bowl to hit the oak counter, "Been thinkin' of meh, lil mouse?"

"What the fuck. Harry!" She spins sending him into fits of laughter with squeaky scream.

"Not funny. Don't you guys not go somewhere unless invited?" She gasps putting her hand atop her heart and Harry's eyes follows her commotion, "'course we do. Got some manners 'n shite." He scoffs with cupid bow quirked up and nose scrunched.

"Then where are your manners now?" He smirks at that leaning at her level, "You manifested me s' hard it broke rules." Heat splashes on her cheeks and she notices the intricate details of his features finding them dull and sick than his prior glow. She gasps in shock taking his hands leading him to sofa and sitting him with a push to his shoulders.

"God. You look terrible what happened?" He gives out a smile at her care throwing his head into headboard cushions, as she scrambles back to kitchen to take out muffins from oven she asks worriedly proper concerned for his health, "Would you like something?"

A warm mug of delicious bubbling blood thank you very much.

He wanted to mutter but his throat went dry from the headache making him all dizzy. He's been death starving for days now cause his appetite seems to vanish and tongue wouldn't accept any kind of blood since the day he smelled the gush of crimson running inside her veins.

"Can I bite you?" He regrets the moment it slipped from his tongue. Y/N doesn't seem to mind instead mulls about it for a moment putting two warm hot cocoa milk and red velvet muffins on the lil coffee table.

"Will it keep you alive?" When Harry closed his eyes in gentle affirmation she cranes her neck to side like she has seen in many movies. "Okay. Go then." He smiles weakly taking her fingers ever so tenderly in his hold and ushering her in his lap.

"If you wouldn't mind — it'll be more comfortable like this. ." She just nods knees bended on either side of his thighs and his mouth waters at her appetizing sweet smell. He rakes his nose along the curve of her neck swearing that she's made of puddle of how soft her skin's. His senses wrecking havoc as his fangs glistens at the surface grazing against the barrier of her sensitive spot.

"Aa-a!" She cries out and He pulls her back anxiously brows kinking, "Didn't even bit yet."

"Surprised is all." She confesses shyly and Harry shakes his head with a silly smile letting her fist the hem of his shirt tight as he wrapped his arm around her waist smushing her closer to him and keeping her head in one place stopping her from squirming..

"Ticklish baby mouse ye're." Saying this he pushes his fangs into her flesh and she created a mousey noise head lulling. He gives out a moan-y growl at the taste of first droplet hitting his tongue. He doesn't think he could stop from now on. She tastes like the nectar birds of heaven could feed on.

His body coming to life. Inners feeling fresh as ever again.

She feels float-y. Like taking a nap over clouds and letting the zephyr cocoon her and she stuffs her face in the crook of his neck breathing him happily with a loopy smile.

This's oddly satisfying and calming. He wants to take care of her. She's a beacon he always wants to keep protected from the storm. He gasps feeling himself nourished all over again after days of starvation. Lapping at the shiny drops of what's left making her giggle and he could easily recognize that smell. Of her arousal.

She's all worked up in his embrace snuggling closer to him. He has been in this position with many people before but once they serve his purpose they'd been walked away to take care of.

"Don't go lost on me little mouse y'need to eat somethin'." He settles her over his thigh taking the mug and muffins.

Tearing it in two and bringing it to her mouth as she lays her head against his shoulder. He sighs happily feeling full as she nibbled slowly, "Thank you." He wipes the crumbs from the corner of her lips feeling the petalness of them and wondering what he shouldn't be wondering at all. "'S okay." She quips with cracky voice making Harry chuckle and sipping onto his own warm milk.

. . .

Harry didn't know a human could attract him like a magnet to metal. She manifested him once and now he's always at her cosy home, he likes the radiance of sunshine that promises from her presence. They watch movies till the clock doesn't strike six in the morning, have secret rendezvous hidden from the eye of normal people at the places Y/N has never been, he has his weekly bites from her and in return brings her every Oscar Wilde's books from his shelf.

Biting her's the most pleasing yet excruciating part because the way she melts like a honey over him like she depends on him and the sweet smell of her wetness that billows in the room makes Harry gripe at her sides, sometimes drinking more than her petite body could handle. He feels awful after that.

Cuddles her to sleep and makes the walnut pie he learned from his Nana which apparently is a witch (she isn't actually his grandma — he has long forgotten about his real family).

Harry took her to the vampires museum and when her marshmallow lips baubled in astonishment at the wings of Angels displaying on the burgundy wall. He kept his arms wrapped around her waist the whole time eyeing anyone that would look towards her weirdly (humans aren't allowed at vampire premises, but who dares to point a finger at Harry? No one.) One of the reasons he hugged her in a smushing coddling suffocating way to lather his scent all over her leaving her flustered and confused. Y/N has finally met someone that shares the same sleeping schedule as her insomniac ass. "We better leave before they hang me angel here too." His breath was hot against her neck running shivers down her spine.

His words carrying amiability and seductivity causing Y/N to gape at him. Did he just call her his Angel? He definitely did. Annoying leech that's fucking up with Y/N's emotions.

They didn't talk about it at all after that.

Harry did with Nana. Freaking out to her how his emotions are always spiraling for her. That he wants her all to himself. Wants to feel her in ways that's beyond just the touch. Nana just laughed it off and made him eat his coconut pie. He almost choked on his bite. Adam apple bobbing in pain when she cleared to him – that; The they indeed have bonded to eachother.

Her blood runs inside him. His marks are on the most precious spot of her body. Where lovers claim their affection — how could he not feel like that towards her? She's sure that Y/N also feels the same for Harry.

Harry was getting done with some cluster of work when a stab of pain invaded his whole body prickling uncomfortably against his skin. Something's up. He could feel in his bones that his little mouse's not okay. When he goes her home he's met by pure silence making him more anxious than he already is.

He picks Meowsie from the floor rubbing her crown as he steps inside her bedroom. She's layered under many fold blankets in her bed shrinked into a pea and her head perks up when Harry's voice reaches her, "Angel. . ." She throws everything aside tackling him to mattress making him squeak.

He smiles petting her hair as she purrs against his chest fisting the hem of his shirt tightly. "One of those days?" He asks genuinely not stopping his gentle action and she bobs her head vigorously bottom lip wobbling, "Oh my little mouse – c'mere what happened?" His gaze flitting between her's as he cups her cheeks squishing them adorably.

She ignores whatever he's saying craving the overwhelming feel of stars and flowers when he bites her, "Can you bite me, please?" He startles at that brows skyrocketing.

Giddiness stirring in his stomach and how bad he feels to brush her off, he has to do it for her sake. "Now, that's not an escape ye' should seek fo' right?" He gives her a stern look when she whines throwing her head back, "Then can I bite you?" She just wants to distract herself from the unbearable headche of her history course.

He chuckles breathily at that sighing because could he say no to her? No. He smiles down at her dimples denting in his cheeks, "Kay. Go then." She stuffs her face in the dip of his neck sniffing the marbled beach fragrance of him that of summers I'm December's cosiness. Her teeth grazing at the curve of his pale skin and Harry closes his eyes in anticipation. He feels intimidated by this little human being like no other. His little human.

Her teeth grazing against his cold skin and Harry almost whined letting a moan slip his eyes rolling back into his sockets as she bites him. His hands on her ass twitching to grope at the flesh when his cock stirred with her heat leaking against it. She creates sweet filthy noises succling the mark and "Enough." Harry cleared his throat and the haze in his head bounding her wrists between them pulling pulling her away looking at her sternly when she whines.

"Baby. . talk to me." He caresses her cheek with his knuckles but she ignores his words floating in her all headspace staring the mark she created. Tracing the beautiful hue of love bite with her fingers, "How did it feel?" Harry's eyes flutter with charming smile as he kissed the hand which's not busy memorizing him.

"Like a lil mouse ticklin'" She leans at that kissing her work of art, giving wet little sweet kisses up his jaw palms running down his midriff as she whispered.

"This?" Her hips stuttering with his swell sitting delicious between her panty clad pussy lips, she peers up at him from her under her lashes as her lips rested against the corner of his pillowy full mouth.

"And this?" Test of his patience. "Like I've never felt before." Saying. He smudges his lips against her's in a succulent, sweet and affectionate kiss. Lapping tenderly with his pink wet tongue at her mouth to deepen the kiss squishing her cheeks in the process. Swallowing her whimpers and whines down his throat like she's most precious. She humps his bulging cock with erotic swivels of her hips and Harry griped at her sides to leave blue blemishes in some hours.

He closes his eyes still smiling foolishly resting his temple against her's – noses doing eskimo kisses.

"Can we talk now, what's disturbing my angel?" He tucks her hair back kissing her forehead and she bobs her head embarrassed at her tantrums. "It's silly. 'M gonna fail my history exam." His eyes twinkle, "Just havocin' your brain for this?"

"No worries. I gotcha."

. . .

This's how they ended up like this surrounded by notes and papers. Harry complaining with an unbelievable scuff, "What do they teach ye' kids now days? That didn't happen at all in history." Still ending up helping her with learning which ended up him giving her his slender fingers fucking her with them to let her work for her reward.

"No pet. Wrong answer." He tutted eyes still on the quiz card and it's the sight for sore eyes. She cramps her thighs around his wrist and he curled his fingers rubbing her walls in return as a warning, "Come on lil mouse ye' right there." He leans from the edge of his chair to snatch a chaste kiss from her parted ones.

"189-5?" She mewls not sure of her answer and Harry again pressed his lips against her's murmuring against them driving a third finger inside her and rubbing her clit in circles with his thumb, "such an intelligent girl. doin' s' good fo' me – wanna cum?" He bites at her earlobe gripping the quiz cards tightly.

"Yes. Please‐" He cuts her off taking his digits out making her whine and squirm loudly. Sage coloured panties clearly drenched in her slickness as Harry licks her sweet juices like a hungry kitten from his fingers wrapping his magenta lips till his knuckles — if it's a lollipop humming around them vulgarly.

"Harry No!" She huffs making grabby hands at him and he squeezes her bossom thigh to push her down, "Harry yes. Now -- tell me babe where Buddhism originated from?" He wets the pad of his thumb nonchalantly eyeing her playfully and Y/N just wants to kiss that pink pretty tongue as he turned the page around.

She grabs his hand moving them closer to her swollen pussy head falling at his mere graze, "Please." He gives love nibbles at her cheek flickering her clit to tease her.

"What baby?" He murmurs gliding them up and down her slit causing her to rock her pelvis against his touch his freezing fingers adding upto sensation. "Want your fingers." She gasped breathily because before her request Harry was stuffing her back with his fingers massaging the sweet shell of her g-spot.

Her tummy coiling with pleasure and she threw her arms around his neck parted lips pressing against his throat, "Last quiz and then ye' can come all over me fingers." He tells her pinching her thighs. His cock weeping in his pants. The world around them deafening to glitter noises and Harry puts his chin atop her shoulder raising the card infront of her shoulder as she thrashed in his arms.

It was for his last criss-cross of swipe when she gushed all over him with noises that stroked Harry's ego and this time he gave her a hickey coaxing her orgasm from her high, "Hmh. S' warm I could stay inside ye' forever." A sugary smooching voice echoes in room when he kissed the spot between her ear and neck.

Y/N thinks Harry has successfully made a nest in her heart.

. . .

They were flopped over quilts in her bed moon glowing happily in love with them together and Y/N turned in his arms admiring each glimmer of his skin with an awestruck puppy eyes, "You're such an Angel. . .so pretty." He chuckles softly bringing her closer to her chest to hear her heartbeats.

"People think otherwise my mouse." He gives out a 'oof' sound giggling when she climbed up his torso heels of palms pressing against his pecks. "You're for me resting in the depths of ye'r skin — that went through love and sorrows, nourishment and pains until god decided you were meant to be mine. . ." She sucks in a breath cupping his beautiful face to lull it side to side. Harry could bite her whole made of petals and honeycomb she is. He stares her zoning out for a moment.

"Sorry. But seeing ye' with my bites makes me s' hard. . ." He whispers. "Bite me again then." She nuzzles in the crook of his neck pressing her wet crotch down against his hard dick pressing against his zipper.

"So polite and carin'." He grins smacking kisses against the thin skin of her shoulder reaching the mark that's still pudgy and purple. She moans getting him out with shaky fingers and kissing him heatedly in full vigour making slick filthy noises. He slaps her bottom ripping her panties to throw them carefully rubbing his weeping blushed head in between her clenching pussy lips to smudge their arousals.

Whimpers of bliss whirling in air when he slipped inside her slick cunt filling her to brim his balls pressed against her bum, "Fuck. Just how I imagined — tight 'n snug. I love ye'r cunt baby." He gritted grinding his pelvis against her's in slow teasing motion hitting one spot continuously.

"Feels good. . ." She cries softly thighs quivering by his sides and he wrapped his hand around the nape of her to bring her down for another passionate kiss, "Would ye' bond to meh? Huh - lemme cum inside ye'r pretty pussy? Make it mine?" He mumbled wet-ly against her lips sucking her lower one to make it all plump and pinkish.

"Make me yours." She gives out a squeaky whimperish moan when at her words he licked his mark biting it. Her walls creamping around his cock to feel each, ridge and thick vein and she turned a loopy butterfly in his arms.

"Ye' can't cum unless I give ye' permission and I've had plenty to drink. . ." He growls grabbing her jaw eyes turning oyrx and she wipes her own blood from his mouth to press her thumb against his tongue letting him suck. Now, she doesn't have one mark only it's plenty that of flowers scattered on canvas.

He stretches his legs wide toes curling holding her down from her hips to fuck into her with rough mind forging thrusts, "Yes!" Y/N whispers with hoarse throat that she hasn't spoken from months.

"Cum fo' me. Over me cock baby wants to feel ye' Angel." He moans fondling her breasts in his large calloused palms smauching kisses at very skin he could find to shower his love to. Y/N comes a wave of shiver running from her soles to head as she just created noises straight out of porn.

Her creaming around him. Warm and slick cum dribbling down his balls didn't last Harry too. He came inside her in thick spurts of ribbons leaving blueprints at her arse.

They remained like this for some moments. Cacooned into eachother breathing eachother Harry memorizing her to memorize the memory he could never forget and caresses her cheek with the back of his hand.

He lays her on bed gently slipping out of her shushing her with pecks on mouth when she whined from sensitivity, "Gonna take care of ye' little mouse." He bends her knees kissing them stroking the insides of her shivering thighs to calm her down taking his discarded boxer from side.

"Want you to squeeze baby -— I came alot." She does as he said and he cleans her with his clothe showering her in kisses and praises.

Running a steamy bath with essential lavender and rose oils and bathe salts. Resting her between his legs to feel her skin everytime against his skin.

"I love you. Gonna keep ye' forever." He whispers in the silence of night and she smiled with fuzzy heart. Feeling good and fluttery. "I love you too."

Shrugging she retorts playfully, "I'd be all old and wrinkly but you'd be still this gorgeous now that's unfairrrrr." He just laughs at her cuteness creating obnoxious kissing noises while kissing her face.

"Gross." She mutters bashfully eyeing him and he fake offends tickling her sides causing the water splash from rims, "Wasn't gross when I was fucking your brains out—" She tries to smack him in between laughters.

"Heyyyy."

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