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lewmagoo · 2 months

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six summers | bob floyd

description: it's been six years. six years since you walked away from the man you loved. six years since the night that your own foolish actions led to the disappearance of sixteen-year-old melissa seresin. you’ve spent these last few years living with crippling guilt. and after everything that happened, the last thing you are expecting is an invite to return to the camp and reassume your role as counselor. but here you are, staring in disbelief at a letter asking you to do just that. providing you with the opportunity to make things right. will you be able to come to terms with the past and allow yourself to accept this second chance? or will you let your guilt consume you?

characters: bob floyd x reader, the dagger squad as their respective characters, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, a number of my own ocs

warnings: 18+ only, mentions of death, guilt, references to sex, mentions of anxiety

series status: ongoing

listen to the playlist here!

this story is inspired by @ryebecca and this fantastic moodboard she made ; i also drew some inspiration from riley sager's the last time i lied

*this is my own original work - i do not consent to having it reposted or redistributed in any way

July 30th, 1980

1:15 am

All you felt was terror. Icy cold, like someone had shoved their frigid fingers beneath your shirt, digits pressing harsh, angry bruises into the skin while they were at it. Your arms were wrapped around yourself as you stood in the damp morning air, your eyes flitting about nervously, your gut churning with nausea.

“You do realize that your negligence in this situation is going to come with consequences, right? How could you be so stupid?!” Penny Mitchell’s voice had a sharp edge to it, despite her lowered tone. Her eyes were piercing. You couldn’t look at her.

“Don’t try to pin this all on her. I’m just as much to blame.” That was Bobby’s voice, coming from beside you, an air of protectiveness emanating from him as he stepped closer, standing in solidarity with you.

“Oh, trust me, I’m holding you responsible, too. But she’s the one who was supposed to be in charge of that cabin. If she would have been at her post, this wouldn’t have happened. But no! The two of you were off doing God knows what, while one of our campers wandered off into the night!”

Penny got into your face, pointing her finger, her anger palpable, radiating off her in waves. “You had better pray that girl is still alive, because if she winds up dead, her blood is on your hands, counselor.”

May 18th, 1986

10:30 am

“Mail’s in!” The voice of your roommate carried through your apartment, pulling your attention from the rhythmic tapping of the antique typewriter you’d picked up from a yard sale. Without a second thought, you sprang from your chair, flinging open your bedroom door, bare feet quick against carpet as you hurried toward the kitchen, where Margie was just walking through the door with a stack of mail.

“Any of it addressed to me?” You asked, a hopeful inflection in your voice.

Margie nodded, tossing the envelopes onto the countertop. “Yeah, you’re popular, got two letters addressed to you.”

Eagerly, you shuffled through the stack before you located the letters she was talking about. One had no definitive markings, so you had no idea where it was from. But the other had a promising logo on the front– The Capital Gazette.

“The Gazette sent something back!” You exclaimed, flipping the envelope over, fingers trembling as you tore into the seal.

Margie gasped, her attention immediately zeroing in on the letter you held. “What did they say?!” She exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Gimme a minute!” You shot back as you rushed to unfold the paper. Your eyes hurriedly scanned the contents, but within moments, your shoulders fell, the thrill of hope fading away to heavy disappointment. The words we regret to inform you were all you needed to read to know what the letter was about.

“I didn’t get the job,” came your glum statement.

“What?” Margie snatched the paper off the counter when you let it drop, reading it for herself. “Oh, come on! You’re the best damn writer I know, how could they turn you down?!”

You shook your head, fighting the tears of disappointment that had gathered on your lash line. “They don’t need me. They’ve got better writers.”

“That’s bullshit!” She huffed, shaking her head, knocking some of her unkempt curls loose from her haphazard ponytail.

“Whatever,” you said, bitterly. “There are other newspapers I can apply to. Other magazines. People are hiring all over the place,” you said, hoping to instill hope in your own heart. But it did little to lift your spirits.

Your roommate sighed softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “I’m sorry. Really.”

“Thanks, Mar. So am I.”

Her attention shifted to the other, unopened letter on the counter. “What’s that one say?”

With a clueless shrug, you reached for it. All it bore was your address in handwriting that was oddly familiar. Tentatively, you tore into the envelope, brows furrowed as you unfolded the paper and began to read.

And then, “holy shit.”

“What is it?” Margie demanded, curious. When you looked at her, she noticed the expression of worry etched into your brow.

“Camp Mitchell,” you whispered.

At that, the woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God.” And then, she waved her hand, motioning you on. “What does it say?”

“They…they want me to come back as a counselor.”

I hope this letter finds you well. I am reaching out to you because I wanted to extend a formal invitation to return to camp as a counselor this summer. I know that things ended on a sour note for all of us involved, but Pete and I desire to breathe new life into this camp. We want to give other campers the chance to experience the wonder and magic of summertime at Camp Mitchell. I understand if you would prefer not to return, but it would be an honor to have you back with us again. Think we can agree to let bygones be bygones? I sure do hope so. Please give me a call at the number below and let me know if you would like to return and reassume your role as a camp counselor. Arrival deadline for counselors is May 24th. Hope to see you soon!

Best wishes,

Penny Mitchell

You stared at the words in absolute shock. They wanted you to come back? After everything that had happened? After your own foolishness had resulted in a girl going missing? You had to admit, it was a bold move on Penny’s part.

The police had heavily investigated you when young Melissa Seresin went missing six years prior. Penny had even blamed you for the girl’s disappearance. It was hard to imagine her wanting you to come anywhere near her camp ever again.

“I need to sit down,” you muttered, tossing the letter back onto the counter and stepping toward the kitchen table, where you hurriedly pulled out one of the chairs and lowered yourself into the seat. Two life-altering events had just taken place in the span of five minutes. You needed to process all of it.

As you tried to regain your wits, Margie scanned over the letter. Then, she sauntered over to you, letting out a sigh as she pulled out the chair across from you and flopped down into it, her legs parted, arms falling down to dangle over the sides. She blew a pesky curl away from her face.

Sympathetic brown eyes landed upon you, and the girl before you smiled softly. Understandingly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I really don’t know,” you said. “Since the job with The Gazette fell through…I might have no choice but to take up the offer to go back to camp. At least I’d be making some kind of income during the summer while I try to figure things out.”

Margie raised a dark brow. “Listen, you do what you think is best for you. But…after everything that happened there, are you sure you’re ready to go back? It’s only been six years.” She was not coming from a place of judgment. She was coming from a place of genuine concern for her friend.

You groaned softly, placing your head in your hands. “I dunno know what to do. Honestly, I’m not ready. But then again it might give me closure. And maybe that’s what Penny is thinking. If she wants to make things right with me after the way things ended…maybe I should go.”

The girl sighed. “Yeah, I guess closure might be something that comes outta this. I just don’t want you to have to go through all that shit again, though.”

Your mouth quirked into a grateful smile. “I know, Mar. I’ve gotta think about it, first. I’m not making any decisions yet.”

“Well, let me know what you decide. Whatever choice you make, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

As Margie left you at the table to be alone with your thoughts, you considered the weight of the situation. It had all happened so fast, and you felt as if you were caught up in a whirlwind. You only had a week to make a decision, because you had to be at camp on the 24th if you decided to go.

Were you ready to go back, after only six short years? The thought made your stomach turn. Camp Mitchell was a place that held a lot of trauma for you. Your life had fallen apart there.

You had been a first-year counselor in the summer of 1980. A job meant to get you through the summer, before you returned to college in the fall. You remembered being so hopeful and excited about what the summer held.

Camp Mitchell was a camp situated in Michigan’s wilderness. Secluded, surrounded by forests as far as the eye could see. Quaint little wooden cabins. A mess hall. A volleyball pit. A lake. All the other amenities that a typical summer camp would have.

You were put in charge of the junior/senior girls' cabin. Eleventh and twelfth graders. You were slightly intimidated because you were only a few years older than they were. You worried that they would not respect you. But much to your relief, the girls accepted you with open arms.

Throughout the many weeks of camp, you bonded with several different girls who passed through your cabin. But none of them connected as well with you as Melissa Seresin.

July 1980

She was the younger sister of one of the other counselors, Jake Seresin, and she was sweet as could be. She attended camp most of the summer, because her brother worked there, and she didn’t want to remain stuck at home alone while her parents traveled for the summer.

So, she tagged along with Jake. Unlike her brother, she was not cocky. She had a very kindhearted demeanor. A little spoiled, once in a while, due to being the youngest and only girl of rich parents and a doting older brother, but nothing you couldn’t tolerate.

Melissa remained a semi-permanent fixture in your cabin, even as groups of girls from different places — schools, church youth groups, family groups, so on and so forth — passed through all summer.

She knew the camp like the back of her hand, and had spent a few summers there already. You didn’t have to worry about her like you might other campers, because she was well aware of the camp’s procedures.

That was why it was so jarring when, one night in the middle of the summer, she disappeared without a trace.

Late one night, after lights out, the girls in your cabin noticed her absence. Melissa was always in bed come lights out. Not always asleep, but certainly always present. Her neatly made, unoccupied bed raised suspicions, but it was her missing backpack that made the girls think that she had left altogether.

You were not at your post like you were supposed to be. Earlier that night, you had enforced lights out, but soon after had slipped out into the night to meet someone. The girls ranged from fifteen to eighteen years old, so you were not particularly concerned about them getting up to mischief. But in your haste to leave, you neglected to double-check that Melissa was present.

To your utter shame, you had left to meet up with another counselor. The head counselor of the seventh and eighth-grade boys' cabin, Robert Floyd. Bob to his friends. Mr. Bob to the campers. Bobby to you, and only you.

It wasn’t in your nature to sneak around. Neither was it in Bob’s. But you had gotten tangled up in an impassioned summer fling, and you took advantage of every free moment you had to be together.

It was in that time span of you and Bob sneaking off to the lake, that Melissa had gone missing. And when you returned to the cabin an hour later, the girls were all awake, in a slight state of upheaval.

“Where have you been?!” Asked Claudia, one of the senior girls. “I was about to leave and go find Mrs. Mitchell!”

“I needed some air. Why, what’s up?” You cautiously asked.

Claudia motioned to Melissa’s empty bed. “Melissa never made it in for lights out.”

You stared at the bed, its covers untouched and meticulously tucked in, as a hotel bed would be. That was the way she made it every morning. She hadn’t been in that bed since last night. “No, she was here when I left!” You insisted.

“Um, no she wasn’t,” Marissa, another senior, piped up. “Plus, her backpack is gone.”

“Oh, God. Well, that’s my bad for sure. Okay, um, I’m sure she can’t have gotten far. She knows this camp well. Don’t worry, I’ll go take a look around. The rest of you, stay put. Lemme just do a count to make sure nobody else went off with her.”

After a headcount, you came up with fourteen girls. Melissa would make fifteen, so she was the only one missing. Huffing out a sigh, and attempting to keep yourself calm and neutral so the girls wouldn’t panic, you squared your shoulders.

“I’ll go grab another counselor and we’ll take a look. Claudia, you’re the oldest, so you’re in charge. Make sure no one leaves. The rest of you, try to get some sleep. I know you’re a little freaked right now but it’s gonna be okay.” The biggest lie you could have told them. It was, in fact, not going to be okay.

“What should we do if she comes back?” Claudia asked, running a nervous hand through her thick brunette locks. Her dark eyes were fearful, although she was trying to appear brave, just as you were trying to do.

“Just make sure she stays put. I’ll come back and check in a bit, if I don’t find her, and we can touch base then.”

Once you were certain the girls understood the plan, you excused yourself again, stepping out into the humid July night. Crickets sang as you ambled down the path that led to the boys’ cabins, but the pounding of your heart in your ears drowned out the sound.

Your hands shook, unsteady as you held your flashlight before you. Tears blurred your vision, and the heat of embarrassment washed over you. How could you be so stupid? Here you were, off getting laid while one of your girls was nowhere to be found.

You had to look for her, but you weren’t going to do it alone. Hurriedly, you ascended the steps of cabin 13, the first of the boys’ cabins. Light on your feet, so as not to step on any squeaky boards, you crept closer to the door.

Three soft raps, five seconds apart. That was your code. And sure enough, within moments, the door inched open, and there was your Bobby. You had just seen him twenty minutes prior, but he’d already changed into his sleep clothes. An old camp shirt and basketball shorts.

Brow furrowed, he quietly closed the door behind him, stepping out onto the porch. You reached for his hand and guided him off the porch, onto the soft, sandy ground. “What’s goin’ on, Kit?” He asked. The nickname he’d dubbed you for reasons so much more lighthearted than the situation you were facing.

“Melissa’s gone,” you whispered. “The girls said she was never there for lights out.”

“Huh? But you checked on them before you left.”

“I did, but I…I guess I just missed Melissa. I thought she was there, but tonight was so chaotic…God, I can’t believe I could be so stupid” You despaired.

“Shh,” Bob soothed, reaching out to run comforting hands down your arms. “Hey, she probably just went for a walk. I’m not close to her, but I know she likes to go and write in that journal of hers a lot. She’s probably doing that.”

“But that’s not like her. Yeah, she writes in her diary but she’s never done this before. Just…up and left like that. I’m scared, Bobby. I think something might’ve happened to her. And it’s all my fault.”

But he was already shaking his head. “No, don’t even let your mind go there. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” His hands had moved to cup your cheeks. “Tell you what, I’ll help you look for her. If we don’t find her in the next hour, we can tell Penny and get a search party goin’.”

You prayed it wouldn’t come to that, but the sick feeling in your gut told you otherwise. It was your fault, no matter how much Bobby tried to assure you it wasn’t. If Melissa was truly missing, then you were the one to blame. But you didn’t dare speak it into the air. You couldn’t.

“O-okay. We can look together, then.”

And so, the two of you set off on the search for Melissa Seresin. Missy, as her brother liked to call her. You thought of Jake, who was in charge of the senior boys’ cabin. You knew he’d be pissed that you didn’t wake him up immediately and tell him what was going on. He was very protective of his baby sister. But you didn’t want to involve him just yet. You had to try to find her yourself, first.

You set out to search all the places she frequented. Melissa wasn’t as outgoing as her brother. She had a vibrant personality, but also had introverted tendencies. She cherished her alone time, so it wasn’t odd for her to be at the lake, or the horse stables, writing. But she was always visible, and she had never sneaked off before. And certainly not after dark, either.

These woods were terrifying at night. It was easy to get lost in their vastness. Even a girl who knew her way around could get lost. But you prayed that wasn’t the case.

You took to searching her usual hangout spots. The lake, even though you and Bob had been there a half hour ago, and hadn’t seen her. Sure enough, she wasn’t there. Then, you took a peek in the horse stables. The camp had not yet obtained horses to occupy the stables, so it was just an empty building.

Hopeful, you followed Bob inside, holding your breath as he called out, “Melissa? You in here, honey? It’s Bob Floyd.”

But you were met with dead silence, so deafening it brought a shiver down your spine. “Oh, my God. She’s gone. She’s gone forever. This is all my fault!” You panicked, burying your face in your hands.

Bobby, ever the calm and steady one, gently soothed you. “Hey. Hey! Look at me.”

You lifted your tearful eyes to his face, illuminated by the yellow glow of your flashlight.

“It’s gon’ be okay, alright? We’ll find her. We just need to go get Penny and Pete and tell ‘em what happened. We can get a search party organized. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

Lovingly, he took your hand, and together, you made the trek back toward the main part of camp, where the office, mess hall, and staff quarters were. The entire walk, your mind was spiraling with all the possibilities of what could have happened to Melissa.

Something was wrong. You knew it.

And, as it would turn out, you were, unfortunately, right. Melissa Seresin never was found. Not when you and the other counselors organized a search party. Not when the police got involved. Not when Jake and Melissa’s dad, an agent in the FBI, got his team involved. It was as if she’d vanished into thin air. Gone without a trace.

Jake blamed you. But that was okay, because you blamed yourself, too.

Your own negligence was the reason Melissa was gone. And the police grilled you for it. Much to your utter relief, the Seresins chose not to press charges. But you were left to live with the guilt, and that was punishment enough.

And now, here you were. Six years later. Wounds from the past only partially healed. Presented with an opportunity to go back to the place where it all started, and ended. If you did return, would those wounds reopen, and drain the blood from your veins? Or would those wounds finally heal?

And most importantly, did you have the guts to find out?

One Week Later

A ticket reading Harper, Michigan was clutched tightly in your hand, the paper rumpling from your grip. Your suitcase and duffel bag were beside you, as you stood at the bus depot, waiting for the Greyhound to pull up and take you to your destination.

“I still think you’re crazy for this,” Margie spoke from beside you. She’d come to see you off.

You turned to her, taking in her soft smile, despite her disapproval of your choice. “I know,” you replied.

“But I also understand why you want to do this. I really hope it gives you the closure you’re looking for.”

You threw your arms around your friend’s shoulders, hugging her tight. “Thanks, Mar. I’ll try to give you a call at some point in the next few weeks, but the only phone on the property is the one in the main office and I doubt I’ll have time.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can tell me all about it when you get back,” she assured you.

You took one last good look at her, as you knew you wouldn’t see her for a few months, if you fulfilled your commitment to work the entire camp season. The late morning sun shone down from the sky, illuminating her dark curls. Always so unkempt, but the style suited her.

“I’ll be seeing ya,” you finally said.

She nodded, squeezing your hand. “Take care of yourself. And good luck.”

The bus pulled into the stop as you bid your final goodbyes, and then, you handed off your luggage to the attendant to pack away beneath the bus before you climbed the steps into the large vehicle, flashing your ticket to the driver. You took a seat toward the back, settling in and placing your purse beside you, hoping that you would get two of the tackily upholstered seats all to yourself.

As soon as you were settled, you fished your Walkman out of your bag, unraveling the headphones and placing them on your head. As soon as you hit play, the opening sound of the 1975 Eagles album, One of These Nights, filled your ears.

You had purposely chosen this tape to accompany you on your trip, because it held a lot of nostalgic memories for you. Namely, it had been a gift from your Bobby. He’d given it to you in the beginning stages of your romance, after you’d expressed to him that the album was one of your favorites.

“I want you to have it,” he insisted. “A memento that you can have all the time, to remind you of what a great time we had together here.”

And you did have a great time. But the trauma of Melissa’s disappearance had soured the whole thing. All you had left of Bobby was this tape, and a few braided jute bracelets he had made you, from plant fibers. You still wore them on your wrist to this day.

He had tried to keep in contact with you after the camp shut down. He’d sent letters. Called your home phone. But you never answered. As much as you loved him, the reminder of what had happened was too painful, and you let your connection to him fizzle out.

But as you listened to the familiar cords, a rush of memories flooded you, the wave so intense that it took your breath away. Flashes of Bob’s beautiful face. Twinkling eyes, blushing cheeks, a crinkled button nose. The prettiest laughter you’d ever heard.

Large, warm hands exploring. Lips trailing searing kisses down your sternum. Whispers of your name. Groans of pl–

With a gasp, you snatched the headphones off your head, eyes flickering about, as if someone around you could have heard your thoughts. But everyone else was in their own little world, completely oblivious to the salacious flashbacks you had just experienced.

But they made you warm with shame nonetheless.

You’d be foolish not to admit that you’d thought of Bobby over the years. Looked back on your encounters with fondness. With desire. You’d been sexually involved with a few other people since then, but the entire time, you could only think of him. It was why you’d stopped seeing other people. They weren’t your Bobby.

You wondered if he thought about you, too.

More importantly, you wondered if he’d be returning to Camp Mitchell like you were. Were you ready to face him again? The thought made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

You imagined he’d moved on. He had to. Hell, he probably had a wife and kids already. Imagining such a thing sent a queasy rush through you. You still weren’t over him, and you supposed you never would be. He was your first great love.

But he wasn’t the only person you would potentially face from your past.

Your mind went to the other counselors you’d worked with that fateful summer. Specifically, you thought of Jake Seresin. Surely he wouldn’t return to camp, right? Not after his baby sister had disappeared from that very place. It had to be too painful for him.

Little did you know, everyone you had worked with was also traveling from their own respective homes and cities, headed right for Camp Mitchell, just like you were.

The camp was founded by Pete and Penny Mitchell, a husband and wife duo. They had started it with the best of intentions. It was in its fifth successful year when you came on staff. And that just so happened to be the last year it was in operation.

Until now.

What had made the couple decide it was a good idea to reopen the camp, you had no idea. But you were going to give it a chance. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

But several hours later, as the Greyhound pulled into the station in Harper, a tiny town boasting of a general store, a bus depot, and a long, winding road that led up to the camp itself.

As you stepped off the bus, you realized one very important detail: you had no idea how you were even getting up to the camp. Would they send a driver down to retrieve everyone?

Your question was soon answered when you caught sight of a large white poster board propped against a nearby lamppost. CAMP MITCHELL STAFF WAIT HERE. A DRIVER WILL ESCORT YOU TO CAMP.

With a sigh, you rolled your suitcase over to the post, hoping you wouldn’t have to wait long. And you didn’t. About five minutes later, an old teal-colored truck came down the road, its engine obnoxiously loud. On the side, Camp Mitchell was printed in bold letters.

You straightened, smoothing out your travel-rumpled clothes as you grabbed your belongings, prepared to help load everything into the truck. It didn’t even occur to you that you might know the driver. You expected to meet someone entirely new.

As soon as the vehicle pulled to a stop at the curb, you were already moving to the truck bed, hoisting your duffel bag over the side, letting it land with a satisfying thump.

“Here, let me,” a familiar voice spoke up, and in moments, a pair of hands were stealing your suitcase away, heaving it into the bed.

You looked up at the man assisting you, and your blood ran cold. As he turned from putting your luggage in place, he froze, too. Wide blue eyes, no longer hidden beneath a pair of wireframes, locked with your own.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

But he did. In a voice as smooth and soft as butter, yet breathless with surprise. “Kit?”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Kit. The nickname he’d dubbed you six years ago. It was something so simple. So silly. You’d had an affinity for KitKat bars that summer. They were the only candy bars you liked from the camp store. As a joke, Bobby had said “I should call you KitKat, since you like those things so much.”

And thus, it was shortened to Kit. The name stuck.

Hearing it again made your head spin. You felt woozy on your feet. You swayed a little. A memory flashed in your mind. You and him. Sitting under the old weeping willow. His fingertips wiping chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

It sent a burning ache through your chest.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “B-Bobby.” The first words you’d spoken to him in six years.

He let out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

You gathered yourself, trying to regain your composure. “I didn’t either,” you whispered.

He offered a tentative smile. “That doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you, though.”

You lifted your head, brow furrowed in confusion. “You are?”

“Gosh, I am. It’s been too long. I didn’t…didn’t know what happened to you. You never responded to my calls or letters. I thought maybe…” He wouldn’t speak it out loud. He couldn’t.

But you inferred what he meant from his tone. He’d feared that the trauma of what had happened had been too much for you to handle. That you’d succumbed to it all.

“I was working on myself. Trying to heal.”

He nodded. “Understandable.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled again. “I really am glad to see you, though. You look well.”

You shrugged. “I’m workin’ on it. And I’m glad to see you too.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and you realized how much he’d changed, but also stayed the same. He’d filled out. His shoulders were more broad. Muscular. His glasses were gone, presumably replaced with contacts. His hair, once close-cropped, was longer now, curling at the nape of his neck, peeking out from beneath the baseball cap he wore. His jaw was shadowed with stubble.

He looked like a man.

But there was still that boyish glint in his eyes, and hiding behind his smile. Still that same gentleness reserved particularly for you. It was overwhelming, and you could feel your chest beginning to tighten.

“Are you, uh, are you ready to head up there? Or do ya need a minute?” Bobby asked, his voice low. Laced with concern.

You stepped back. “I thought I could do this. Maybe I can’t.”

He let you have your space. “Take all the time you need.”

The rush of memories flooding you was overwhelming. The last time you saw him. The last thing you said to him.

Six Years Ago

The day you left camp, it was raining. Pouring from the sky in sheets, washing everything in a gray hue that made the world look like a watercolor painting.

The sandy ground squashed beneath your feet as you walked toward that old truck, with the camp’s logo on the side. Your luggage was stuffed into the truck bed, wrapped in plastic garbage bags so it wouldn’t get wet in the downpour.

As you climbed into the cab, Bobby came running out of the main office, making a beeline for the truck. He scrambled to wrench open the door and join you inside, breathing labored as he settled into the seat.

For a few moments, it was silent, save for the sound of him moving to start the engine. He fiddled with the heat dial, hoping to reduce the fog on the windows, as the rain had made the air unseasonably chilly that morning.

You both sat there, staring out the windshield, watching the water trickle down the glass. He made no move to put the truck in gear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Bobby—”

“No, listen to me. I’m sorry it came to this. It shouldn’t have.”

“What’s done is done. Please, let’s just get out of here. I can’t stay in this place another minute.”

Bobby lingered for a moment, his eyes on you, even as you refused to look at him. You were afraid that if you did, you’d melt into a fit of tears. So, with a soft sigh, he put the truck in drive, and began the journey down the winding dirt road that led out of camp.

The trip was silent. You had nothing left to say, because you’d exhausted all your words these last few weeks. Countless hours of interrogation. Recounting that night over and over again. The conclusion was that a girl was missing, and it likely would not have happened if you’d been doing your job. That was a sense of guilt that you would have to live with for the rest of your life.

Bob pulled into the bus station fifteen minutes later, and you didn’t hesitate as you hurried to slide out of your seat, shoes colliding with wet asphalt. Your chest was tight, eyes blurring with tears as you rushed to grab your luggage.

“Would ya stop for a minute?!” Bobby exclaimed, reaching out to gently grab at your arm.

But you jerked away from him. “Please, don’t…don’t make this harder than it is,” you whispered.

He stared at you, brilliant blue eyes wide, filled with emotion. “So, what, you won’t even say goodbye?”

You feared that saying goodbye would break the dam, and you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together. You’d fall into his arms, sobbing your heart out, and you would never get on that bus. The man before you sighed, shaking his head before he moved to haul your suitcase out of the truck, placing the plastic-covered bag on the sidewalk.

“That’s it then?” He spoke, his tone grim.

Squaring your shoulders, you nodded, forcing yourself to hold it together. “Goodbye, Robert.”

You turned to leave, and he watched you go, his heart falling to pieces within him. He was losing you, perhaps forever, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wanted to go after you. Wanted to shake you and tell you to just listen. But you were so entrenched in the trauma of what had happened that he wasn’t sure you could listen to reason at all.

So he let you leave. He watched you climb onto that Greyhound, bound for home, all while he was left there with a wound in his heart, wishing that things could have ended differently. Wishing that your love for each other had been enough to keep you with him.

But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. And that was something he had to live with.

May 1986

Seeing you again was a lot for him. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. Even more so, now, if that was possible. He was also hit with a rush of emotions. He never thought he’d see you again. When he’d received the letter from Penny, inviting him back to camp, he had thought about you, and was sure you wouldn’t come back.

But here you were, standing before him, uncertain and anxious, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and comfort you. But he kept his distance, not wanting to invade your personal space. You weren’t his any longer. He could not touch you the way he used to.

You took a moment to pull yourself together, taking a deep breath, counting to ten, trying to ground yourself. Then, you fixed your posture, and nodded in Bob’s direction. “Alright. I think…I think I’m okay. We can, um, we can leave if you’re ready.”

“Okay. Let’s go then.” He opened the passenger door for you, and you climbed into that old truck once again, just as you had six years ago.

Everything had come full circle.

Bobby rounded the truck and settled into the driver’s seat, and soon, he’d started the engine, pulling away from the curb, turning onto the road that led up to camp. Your gut churned with anxiety. You were really doing this. There was no turning back now.

The radio played softly as Bob drove. Some old country song. Hank Williams, you thought. Its grainy, peaceful tune did well to calm your anxiety. Your hands had stopped trembling.

“It’s been a while,” the man beside you murmured. His accent seemed to have gotten thicker, a slight twang to it.

“I know,” you replied, staring down at your lap. Then, “God, I’m so sorry, Bobby. I shouldn’t have gone no contact like I did. I got the letters you sent. And I got every message you left on my answering machine. But I just…I couldn’t bring myself to respond.”

He shook his head. “No, I get it. I should’ve given you more space. I know everything that happened was a lot for you.”

“But that’s no excuse for me to just ignore you. It wasn’t right of me. I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted. It’s in the past, Kit. We can leave it there.”

It was that easy. A soothing sense of relief washed over you, warming you from head to toe. That exchange made you feel a little more at ease, and the conversation soon shifted.

“Did everyone come back this year?”

He nodded, humming lowly. “Most of ‘em, surprisingly. Bradley, Natasha, Mickey, Reuben, Javy. Half got here last night. The rest came earlier this mornin’.”

You hesitated, picking at a jagged nail on your right hand. “And…Jake?”

Bob was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, him too.”

You recoiled in confusion. “But…why would he come back?”

“Penny didn’t say it in her letter, but they’re doing a dedication ceremony for Melissa. There’s a new garden area they installed in the main part of camp. It’s gonna be called Melissa Jo’s Garden. They had a plaque made and everything. Jake agreed to come for the ceremony. I dunno if he’s staying all summer though.”

“Oh.” It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from your lungs. You had not left things on a good note with Jake. He harbored deep resentment toward you for neglecting to watch over your cabin. He blamed you for his sister’s disappearance.

“He seems to be handling everything alright. He might actually be okay with seeing you again.”

But you weren’t so sure. There was that nervousness again, roiling in your gut. Did you have the nerve to face him? And how would he react? You doubted he’d welcome you back with open arms.

You’d soon find out, because just up ahead, the Camp Mitchell sign could be seen. Large, deep green in color, with white lettering. So familiar, yet so foreign all at once.

You couldn’t believe you were back. What if this turned out to be the most foolish decision you’d ever made?

You didn’t have time to consider that, because Bobby was pulling into the common area in no time, and killing the engine. It was time to face the past you’d been running like hell to get away from.

As Bob got out to gather your luggage, you pushed the old, squeaky passenger door open and let your feet land in the soft sand.

The scent of pine and honeysuckle filled your nose. It sent an intense wave of nostalgia through you. So much had changed, and yet nothing had, all at the same time.

The layout was still the same. Clinic. Main office. Mess hall. Common area. But in the middle of the main entrance was a small garden. Stone paths weaved throughout. Spindly bushes, multicolored flowers, and other plants decorated the soil. Right in the middle of the garden was what appeared to be a large stone, covered with a tarp. You assumed the plaque for Melissa was hidden beneath the tarp.

And then, a voice caught your attention. You looked up to find Penny Mitchell approaching you. Blue cotton shorts, accessorized with a belt. A blue and white striped t-shirt tucked into them. A pair of hiking boots were on her feet. Practical, that one was. Always ready for an outdoor excursion at a moment’s notice.

You braced yourself, unsure of how she would behave toward you. She had rightfully held you responsible for Melissa’s disappearance, and you weren’t sure if she’d moved on from that. But, if she’d invited you back, she had to have at least found it in her heart to forgive you. You hoped so, anyway.

“Welcome!” She said, sweeping her arms out in greeting. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Oh, um, thanks. Me…me too,” you said, unsure of the proper response.

Bobby sidled up beside you. You didn’t feel so alone with him there.

“Did Bob fill you in on everything on the drive up?”

“Kinda, yeah,” came your answer.

Penny nodded. “Once everyone is settled, Pete and I will take you on a tour. We’ve made a lot of changes these last few months.” Then she looked at Bob. “Would you show her to her cabin? We’ll put her in cabin five.”

“Sure thing,” he replied.

“We’ll have a little orientation meeting after dinner. There’s a whole itinerary we have to go over. I put a schedule in your cabin. Any questions?”

Yeah, lots. You stared at her for a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you invite me back? After everything that happened?”

She regarded you silently, her expression neutral. Then, she said, “Because I believe in second chances. Or, rather, my husband does. He wanted to bring all of you back and start with a clean slate. Whether or not you’ve earned that second chance remains to be seen. But I hope you have.” Her words sent a painful ache through your chest. You didn’t blame her for being wary of you, but it still hurt.

As she excused herself, you were once again left alone with Bobby. “Y’alright?” He gently asked, cadence low and comforting.

You processed his words for a moment. “Yeah…yeah. I’m okay.”

“You need a minute?”

“No. Let’s just get my stuff to my cabin.”

With a single nod, he grabbed your suitcase and duffel bag, moving to walk up the hill. You followed closely behind, letting the rush of memories ebb through you. The cabins were small, build from dark wood, with green paint detailing the shutters and doors. They looked like they’d received fresh coats of paint, but otherwise, everything was still the same.

It didn’t take long to reach cabin five. Bob carried your things inside, and you slowly followed, your heart quickening as you stepped through the door. The scent of cedar and pine was familiar and painful all at once.

This wasn’t the cabin you’d been in when you were here last. You were in cabin two then, just one over from this one. Even so, it looked so eerily similar that for a moment, you were transported back to the summer of 1980.

Funnily enough, Bob had been the one to show you to your cabin for the first time that year, too.

“You’ve still got ‘em.”

Your eyes flickered to him, and your brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“The bracelets I made you.”

Oh. You looked down, eyeing your wrist, where the two braided jute bracelets remained, from when he’d made them for you that year. Dyed faintly with berry juice. Fraying at the edges, but still intact. “Um, yeah…I do. Guess I just could never bring myself to take them off.”

He stepped forward, reaching his hand out. You let him gingerly take your wrist into his palm. His fingers brushed against the braided rope, and his touch sent goosebumps across your skin. “After all these years,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his voice would fail him.

All at once, you were floored with an intense wave of emotion, so powerful it nearly drove you to your knees. It hit you out of nowhere, like a gut punch. “Bobby,” you whimpered.

Shocking blue flickered to meet your wide-eyed gaze, and his face crumpled, bottom lip quivering. “Kit.”

You weren’t sure who moved first, but you were in each other’s arms then, holding on tightly, as if the other would float away if you loosened your grip. The sound of soft sobs reached your ears, and you realized that they were coming from you.

“I never should have walked away from you. Never, ever!” You cried against his chest. “I’m sorry!”

“No, shhh,” he soothed, cradling your head against him. “Don’t do this to yourself. It’s okay, you’re forgiven.”

You pulled back to look at him, shaking your head. “It’s not okay!”

Two large hands came up to hold your face. “It hurt me, alright? I’ll admit that. Broke my heart in two. But I never held it against you, because…because I knew everything you’d been through. I know that summer was the worst time of your life. It made sense to me if you didn’t want to speak to me ever again. I would’ve just been a reminder of everything that happened.”

“But I did want to talk to you, Bobby. I did. I just couldn’t get past the goddamn trauma.”

He shook his head, his face kind. “I know. But we’re here now, together. That’s gotta count for something.” Maybe we’ve been given a second chance, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to move too fast. He was well aware that your romance might never be rekindled. However, he was content to just remain friends with you if it meant that you would be in his life again.

You went quiet, letting your head fall against his chest again. You couldn’t believe you were here, standing in the middle of a cabin at the place where you had lost everything. It felt so surreal. It was as if a million years had passed since you saw him here last, and yet, it also felt like no time had passed at all.

There was so much that needed to be discussed. But there was no hurry. For now, you were just relieved to know that you had not burned a bridge with your first great love. If nothing else went right for you this summer, he was the one good thing that would come out of it.

“I’m glad…I’m glad it was you who picked me up at the station,” you admitted.

Bobby smiled softly. “So am I.” He searched your face, as if memorizing it. “I really thought I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

You hummed in agreement. “Me too. But I guess fate wanted us to meet again.”

“She’s a tricky one, that Fate.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Finally, he parted from you, though the absence of his body made yours feel cold. He didn’t want to overstep. “Well…I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He moved toward the door, but your voice gave him pause.

“Actually, wait for me. I don’t want to face everyone alone. I’d prefer it if we walked together.” Bobby might be the only person in this damn place to accept you again. You wanted to cling to that, and the security it provided.

He gave a single nod. “Alright. You want any help getting settled, then?”

Together, you set about getting everything situated. Bob went around and checked the cabin for spiders, because he knew you weren’t a fan of the little (and sometimes big) guys. He found one, which he very gently coaxed into his hand (murmuring “c’mon, little buddy” as he did) and released it outside.

Once you had your stuff organized, and did a quick clean sweep of the cabin, you were ready to join everyone else. There was a paper posted on the wall just beside the door, detailing the itinerary for counselors and other camp staff. In about fifteen minutes, dinner would be served in the mess hall.

Directly following that, there would be an orientation meeting in the meeting hall, a place where staff meetings usually took place. Assemblies with the campers were also held there. It ws in that hall that you would be forced to face people from your past. Namely, you’d have to face Jake again.

The thought made your stomach churn, and your hands tremble. But then, Bob’s gentle presence brought you back to the presence, and your racing heart calmed down a little.

He offered you a kind smile. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod.

Together, you walked out of that cabin and into the camp grounds, falling into silence as your steps synced up. There were so many things Bobby wanted to say, but he didn’t want to inundate you with questions and confessions, so he left it. He knew you had to be terribly overwhelmed as it was. He didn’t want to be the cause of more stress.

So, silence it was, all the way until you got to the mess hall. He stopped to open the door for you, and you hesitated.

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

You liked the sound of that.

So, with a deep breath and squared shoulders, you stepped through that door, entering the room. Dark wood stretched out before you. The mess hall was a similar design to the cabins, just much bigger. High ceilings with unfinished wooden beams. Wooden floors and walls. Dark green paint detailing. Windows on each wall to let in natural light. A large stone fireplace in the middle of the room.

It was very cozy, but as your gaze shifted to the table of faces to your left, you felt a chill run over you. Here goes nothing.

You appraoched the table, taking in each person seated there. At the head of the table was Pete Mitchell, Penny’s husband. He lifted his head and offered a smile, but you couldn’t quite place the look in his eyes. Beside him, Penny glanced up at you.

Then, to her right, you saw Natasha Trace. Another person you had once had a connection with. She was good friends with Bobby before you met him. The two of them had gone to school, and eventually college, together. Beside her was a woman you’d never seen before, but judging by the way Natasha held her hand, you inferred that they were in a relationship. It was no surprise to you. Nat had always made it clear that she only had eyes for women.

Then, on the other side of the woman was Mickey Garcia, another one of Bob’s good friends. His best friend, in fact. Mickey offered you a smile, and you took that as acceptance of you. He always had been rooting for you, all those summers ago.

Beside Mickey was Javy Machado. You couldn’t get a read on him. His face bore a neutral expression as he regarded you. Back then, he’d been best friends with Jake, and had therefore been completely on his side. You assumed the sentiment was still the same.

Then, of course, there was Bradley Bradshaw. He was Pete and Penny’s surrogate son, in a way. After Bradley’s mother died when he was a teenager, Pete had brought him on to learn how to run the camp. One day, he would take charge of the place, after the husband and wife duo retired.

All of them were seated around that table, but you noticed that one was missing. You had no idea where Jake was. Maybe he wasn’t joining everyone for dinner. Maybe he’d left. A part of you hoped so.

“Wanna sit here?” Bobby asked, motioning to two seats next to Bradley.

You nodded, and he pulled out your chair for you. Once you were seated, he took his own seat beside you, between Bradley and you. The other man leaned over the table, and you got a look at his face for the first time in six years. He’d lost his baby face, and was now sporting a defined jaw. A neatly kept mustache shadowed his upper lip. You thought it suited him. “Good to see you again,” he said.

Bradley’s statement seemed to break the ice, and a few murmurs of greeting echoed around the table. Even still, an air of awkwardness hovered over the group. You wanted to crawl out of your own skin. But you were here now, and there was no turning back.

The food was set up around the table like a regular family dinner. Simple foods. Sandwiches. Veggies and dip. Chips. You grabbed a sandwich, but you found your stomach in knots, and the thought of eating anything nauseated you.

“Well, Penny, you did it. Got us all to come back. Good on you,” Natasha spoke up.

Penny shrugged. “Pete and I have been talking about it for a while. I know the way things ended back in ‘80 was…bad, to say the least. But we really feel that this place has potential, and we could breathe new life into it.”

“What do the Seresins think about that?” Javy asked, his brow raised.

“We think it’s an okay idea,” a voice spoke up from across the room.

The group looked up all at once to see the man stepping through the door. You tensed, taking in a breath. Your heart rate picked up, thudding against your chest as the chill of anxiety crawled along your spine.

“Really?” Natasha piped up.

Jake nodded as he approached the group. “Yeah. Seeing as how Penny wants to dedicate this place to Missy. We all remember how much she loved it here. I firmly believe she’d want it to keep going.”

Penny smiled. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Jake.”

He stopped at the empty end of the table, hands coming up to rest upon the back of the chair there. “But I do have one question.”

“What’s that?” The woman asked.

Jake smiled, but you could tell is wasn’t a real smile. In fact, when you looked at his eyes, the pale green was filled with snake’s venom. “What the fuck is she doing here?” He jabbed his finger in your direction, and you froze, your eyes growing wide.

That was more like the reaction you’d been expecting.

Penny faltered, her smile fading. Beside you, you felt Bob stiffen. But you didn’t dare pull your eyes away from Jake’s accusatory glare.

“I-I just thought that–”

“I don’t care. Look, Penny; I really appreciate you putting this all together, but in what world did you think it was okay to invite the person who had a hand in my sister’s disappearance?”

“She isn’t the one who wanted to invite her. I am.” Pete stood from his seat, his eyes narrow. “I thought that she deserved a second chance. And I wanted you to find it in yourself to allow her that chance.”

“Oh, really? What, is she gonna bring my sister back? Hm?” Jake’s gaze was so cold. You wished the ground would swallow you up. How on earth could you have thought this was a good idea?

“No, but–”

“If she stays, I’m refusing the dedication. She’s the reason I lost Missy. She doesn’t get to just stand there and pretend she’s sorry, while my parents and I are still grieving.”

Your eyes had blurred with tears, and your chest was tight. You should never have come.

But then, “leave ‘er alone, Jake.” Bobby stood up, facing the other man.

“Oh, you coming to her rescue is rich, Baby on Board. Wasn’t it your dick she was sucking when my kid sister went missing?”

The room went dead silent.

Bob took a breath. Then two. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. She’s here, whether you like it or not. And she deserves another chance, just as much as anybody.”

“No, you know what? You’re right. This was a mistake. I should never have come,” you spoke up, rising from your chair.

But Bobby grabbed your arm. “No. Don’t let him drive you away.” His eyes were pleading.

You pulled away from his grasp, sadly shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Then you turned to Jake. “I wish I could bring your sister back. But I can’t. You need to know that I cared about her. And I should have been more thorough when I did bed check that night. I regret it every day, and I’ve lived with that guilt for the last six years. But my guilt is nothing compared to the loss you and your parents have had to endure. And for that, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll leave, if that’s what you’d prefer. I never should have come in the first place.”

With that, you ducked your head, pushing your chair out of the way as you scrambled toward the exit. You could hear Bob calling your name, but you ignored him, your legs carrying you quickly toward the door. Your vision had tunneled, and your chest was heavy. You had to get out of that building. You felt like you were suffocating. Like someone had pulled a plastic bag over your face.

You threw your arms out in front of you and shoved the door open, letting out a great heaving sob as you stumbled down the front steps. You made it a few feet from the stairs before you leaned forward, hands braced on your knees as you fell apart.

“Oh, God!” You cried. You heard footsteps quickly approaching. It made you whirl around. “Just leave me the fuck alone!” Came your wail.

“No! I don’t care what he says, you deserve to be here!”

It was Bob, you realized.

“What do you want me to do, then?! He doesn’t want me here, Bob! And I never should’ve come. So just…just pull the truck around and I’ll get my luggage and get the fuck out of here.”

“No.”

“Either you take me back to the station, or I’ll get someone else to do it!”

“No other buses are running until tomorrow morning, so you can’t leave anyway! You’re stuck here for the night.”

“Goddammit!” You yelled. “I just want to leave!”

He grabbed you by the shoulders. “You’re not listening to me! I can’t handle watching you walk away from me again. I lost you once, and I’ll be damned if I let Jake Seresin be the reason I lose you again!”

And then, silence.

“Oh.”

He released your shoulders suddenly, his face stricken. “I-I’m sorry. I’m coming on way too strong. This is probably super overwhelming for you and I’m just making it worse.”

“No. No, you…you aren’t.” A pause. And then, “I don’t want to walk away from you again, either.”

“If you want to leave, then I’ll take you to the station tomorrow morning. But I just want you to try and stay. I know Jake doesn’t want you here, but I’m sure Pete can convince him to at least give you a chance.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

However, back inside the mess hall, a discussion was happening. “I’m sorry, Jake. I know we should have told you we invited her back. I take full responsibility for that oversight. But your parents…they knew she was coming. We checked with them beforehand. Your mom is of the belief that we should give her another chance.”

“What?” Jake asked, incredulous.

“Yeah. So, I know it’s hard for you, but if your mom is willing to forgive, then I’m going to respect that, and give this girl a chance. You know she’s lived with this guilt for so long. I think that’s punishment enough.”

The blonde sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t like it. If it was up to me, she’d be on the next Greyhound outta here. But if my mom wants her here…” He looked out the window, eyeing you and Bob as you spoke to each other. “It boggles my damn mind, but I’ll respect my mom’s wishes. That doesn’t mean I forgive her, though. I don’t think I ever will. But you go ahead and keep her on staff. Something tells me it ain’t gonna end well, but what do I know?”

And with that, Jake stalked off in a huff.

He swung the screen door open, and your head shot up, your eyes widening as you saw him coming down the steps. Bobby took a protective step toward you.

“You can stay,” Jake said as he walked past. “But only because my mom is the one who wanted you here.” Then he leaned in close. Well, as close as Bob would allow him to get. “But just know this. If you fuck up in any way, shape, or form, I’ll ship you back home myself. We clear?”

“Y-yes,” you responded with a curt nod.

“Good.”

And with that, Jake Seresin walked away.

You let out an unsteady breath, your shoulders slumping. Bobby looked at you, his gaze questioning. “What are you gonna do?”

You shook your head. “I…I don’t…”

“You don’t need to decide now. Just sleep on it. Make your decision with a fresh mind, alright?”

“Yeah,” came your whispered reply. “Yeah, that’s–that’s what I’ll do.”

He took his baseball cap off, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot for you. Do ya wanna just turn in early? I’m sure they’d understand if you skipped orientation.”

You considered his words, and finally, you shook your head. “No. I’ll, uh, I’ll try to go, and see how I do. But I think I’m going to just go and lay down for a while until then.”

“Want me to walk you back?”

“I’d like that.”

With a soft smile and a nod, Bobby began to guide you back toward the cabins. Your hands were shaking, and your head was spinning. It felt like someone had shoved their hands into your chest and taken hold of your lungs, squeezing them with all their might.

It was a painfully uncomfortable feeling, and you hoped that it would pass soon. But as long as you were here, in this place that held so many memories, it would probably remain a permanent fixture in your body. The only thing that soothed it was Bobby’s presence.

Even after all these years, and after the sour note you’d left him on, being near him still felt so comforting and peaceful. It was an odd, but welcome, sensation. You hadn’t expected it to be this way. When you thought of seeing him again, you imagined it would be painfully awkward, or that maybe he would refuse to speak to you.

But this was Robert Floyd you were talking about. He didn’t hold grudges. And if he did, then he’d been deeply hurt beyond repair. It was a relief to know that things were not beyond mending between you. At the moment, you were too overwhelmed and emotional to even consider what it might mean for you in the future. You were just grateful that he was near you again.

So much had changed. When you’d left him, he’d been more gangly. Twenty-two years old. Large wireframes perched atop his nose. All round cheeks and softer features. Now, he seemed a little taller. Or maybe, his slight bulk made him appear so. Gone were those gangly limbs, replaced with muscle that had been defined by physical labor.

His hands, though. His hands had stayed the same. They’d always been big, but he’d grown into them. They suited him now. Strong and steady. Farmer’s hands.

“You want me to come get you when it’s time for orientation?” The low cadence of his voice jarred you from your daydream.

“If you would? I forgot to pack my battery alarm clock, so have no way of keeping time.”

He nodded. “Sure. I can get ya one of those clocks. I actually have two, you can have one of mine.”

“You sure?”

“Yep, I don’t need two anyway. I’ll bring it to you later tonight.”

You shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Together, you stopped just outside your cabin, lingering at the foot of the stairs. Bob’s face was gentle, his eyes kind. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s a for you lot to be back here. And Jake didn’t help anythin’ by reacting the way he did. But if no one else is happy to see you, I want you to know that I am. I’ll respect whatever decision you make, but I really do hope you’ll stay.”

You considered his words, mulling them over in your mind. He didn’t expect you to decide at that very moment, and you knew your brain was too overworked to make that decision then as it was. So, the best you could do was nod your head. “I’ll see you in a bit, Bobby.”

He hummed, mouth quirking into a smile. “See you in a bit, Kit.”

You watched him walk away, his footsteps sure, his stance confident. He had a swagger to him that he didn’t have six years ago. It suited him well.

With a soft sigh, you finally turned and made your way into the cabin. As soon as the screen slammed behind you, you surged forward, collapsing into your bed, which was right near the door. Immediately, you buried your face in the pillow, and everything you’d been keeping inside came spilling out of you in bitter waves.

What had you gotten yourself into?

to be continued...

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#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd smut #bob floyd angst #story: six summers

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lincolndjarin · 9 months

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ride cowgirl! ★ (agent whiskey x reader)

(18+ mdni) pairings : agent whiskey x afab!reader summary : you like to make bets with your coworker for simple things, what happens when he decides he wants to raise the stakes? warnings & tags : no use of y/n, smut, sort of dubcon there's reluctance but everything is consensual, porn with plot, this ended up actually being mostly plot lmao, p in v sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, light bondage, use of restraints, fully clothed sex, pet names, size kink, praise, whiskey big dick truther word count : 2.3k a/n : first new fic post on the new blog!!! I had so much fun with this thank you so much to the person who requested it !! one of my google forms anon requests was for anything whiskey!! (I put the request at the end) this was the direction I went in >:) this was meant to be a drabble but I got carried away immediately. enjoy!! (this was edited super fast bc i'm tired after work lmao, so apologies for any mistakes)

It was a stupid deal.

And you never should have made it.

Of course it’s a little late for that now, when he’s already tying your hands behind your back with his ridiculous flask belt.

“This wasn’t a part of the original agreement.” You grumble as he pulls the leather tight. That smug smile on his face.

“You said, anyway I wanted it. This is how I want it.” He leans back against the headboard to admire his work. His eyes focused on the way your chest pushes out now with your arms forced behind you until you cough to get his attention. He takes his time before letting his eyes crawl back up to your face, still grinning ear to ear.

“Can we just get this over with?” You groan.

“Oh come on, gorgeous.” He’s loosening his tie, his smile never falters. “I already told you we don’t have to do this. I’ve offered you several outs and you keep turning them down. Besides,” He flashes his teeth at you in a toothy grin. “it’s no fun for me if you don’t want it.”

That’s exactly what he’d said when you’d made this deal a week ago.

“I think I want your hat.” You said rather confidently. The two of you had a long standing rivalry. You were placing bets nearly every week at this point. The winner was whoever had the most successful missions. It had started off simple. The loser has to take the other out to dinner, or pay for drinks after a night out.

After a few months of that you’d gone out with Whiskey more times then you’d gone on any dates.

Then you decided to raise the stakes.

The other person's paycheck that week, a piece of tech the other had, at one point your mothers phone number was on the line. (Thankfully that week you had won.)

This week you were feeling lucky. So you pointed at his cowboy hat, he was never seen without.

“If I win I want your hat.” You cock your head to the side, smirking.

“You have a hat already.” He was typing up a mission report, you had come in as you always did on Monday mornings.

“Nice observation agent, how’d you figure that out?” You took a pen from the mug on his desk, rapidly clicking it in an attempt to get under his skin. “That doesn’t change my mind, I don’t want my hat. I want yours.”

He sighs in irritation, taking the pen from you and moving the mug to the other side of his computer.

“And if you win you can have mine.” You flick the rin of his hat as you say it and he finally turns to glare at you.

“I don’t want your hat, I already have a hat.”

“Someone’s in a bad mood today.” You whisper theatrically as he turns back to his work.

“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to get through darlin’ so let’s hurry this up.”

“I already told you. I want your hat, if you don’t want mine then pick something else.”

He turns in his desk chair completely to face you now. Annoyance visible on his face.

“If I win, then you wear my hat.” As he speaks he cracks the first smile you’ve seen on him all morning.

“You aren’t making any sense, are you still waking up? Do you want me to go get you some coffee?” You laugh but he leans forward. Even though you were up on the desk and he was in his chair he was still nearly face to face with you.

“Darlin’ you can be so cute sometimes.” You have no idea what he means but his voice has a condescending tone that makes you scowl.

“Stop being coy and just clarify.” His first signs of a smile turn into a full blown grin.

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” He whispers, you’re about to slap him for making such a crass joke but he looks completely serious.

“That’s not funny. What do you really want?” You pray he doesn’t see the goosebumps on your arms at his words, you spend so much time with him yet he’s never made a pass at you. You’ve watched him hit on countless women these last few months but he’s never turned his attention towards you quite like this.

“I told you. You win, you get my hat. I win, you wear it.” He has to be messing with you. You want to believe that he’s just trying to push your buttons but you know purely based on the way he looks at you that he couldn’t be more serious.

It’s an insane offer. But it’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Who wouldn’t be curious about what he must whisper to get women to come home with him, what he must promise them.

Stop. You can’t seriously be considering this.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously I’m not doing that.” You get up to leave. Embarrassed by the entire situation.

“You win, you get my hat and the Bronco. I win, you wear the hat.” You’re already walking out when he says it and you stumble a bit before turning back to stare at him slack jawed.

“You’d give me your car?” The disbelief in your tone is palpable.

“If you won.”

And you just couldn’t say no. It was too good of an offer.

So you set up ground rules.

You wanted your clothes to stay on, at least as much as possible for the situation. Which he agreed to, so long as the two of you did it “how ever he wanted.” You didn’t realize until much later what that entailed. And of course there was the fact that he wanted you to enjoy it. An odd request all things considered, but he said it was important to him that you had a good time.

“It's no fun for me if you don’t want it.”

He had insisted that if you weren’t into it that he would stop, especially if he thought you were faking it.

Once everything was decided the two of you shook hands.

And then, by some cruel trick of fate, you had fumbled not one, not two, not even three, but all of your missions that week. A feat that has never happened to you in the entire history of your employment with Statesman.

So that’s how you ended up like this.

Fully clothed other than your discarded panties, straddling your most annoying coworker, who’s sitting underneath you, dressed the same as always except his pants are unzipped, with his belt around your wrists.

“Just let me know when you’re ready darlin’, take your time. I can wait all night, I've got nothing else planned.”

You could tell him no. You should. You just don't want to.

The second you did he would take the belt off your wrists, hand you your panties (the ones you pretended you didn’t see him shove in his pocket when you threw them on the bed,) and send you on your way. And he’d do it all with a smile.

Of course you can’t let that happen, that would just mean that he’s won, again.

He wouldn’t even tell anyone, not that anyone knew about the deal to begin with. But he’d never tease you for bailing, he’d just make you live with the knowledge that you bit off more than you could chew.

And worst of all, if you had won, you know for a fact that he would have handed over the keys to his car with zero hesitation.

So you roll your eyes and nod.

He clicks his tongue, leaning forward, his hands rub your thighs, pushing your skirt up further.

“Tell me you want it sweetheart.” He taunts, making you sigh loudly.

It’s not that you don’t want it. God knows you want it. You crave it. But you can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I want it.” You say, almost comically emotionless which has him frowning, sitting up straighter.

“Let’s just call it. You clearly don’t, and I’m not interested in an unenthusiastic partner.” He begins to lift you off of his hips but you push against him, properly sitting yourself in his lap.

“Give me a second, Jesus. I’m not even warmed up, just- I need a minute. We’re doing this.” There’s a determination in your voice that stops his efforts.

There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again.

“Do you want me to… warm you up?” It’s the first time he’s dropped the cocky facade since you started this ordeal.

“No. I think I’m okay. Let’s do this.” You nod a few times, almost like you’re hyping yourself up. The two of you hadn’t factored in a lot of the logistical details of this deal, more specifically foreplay.

As he pulls himself out of his jeans you’re starting to wish that you had. He isn’t even completely hard yet and you aren’t entirely sure how you’re going to take all of it.

He unceremoniously spits into his hand before gripping himself at the base, steadily stroking himself.

It’s like he’s a porn star and you’ve got front row seats to a private show.

You’re close enough that when he leans forward, softly grunting, his face brushes against yours. His cock becoming fully erect in his hand, you hope he doesn’t hear you gulp.

As he jerks himself off, his free hand reaches up, removing his hat before placing it onto your head. It’s a little too big for you so it tilts to one side. He gives you a lopsided grin before picking up his pace. You watch with wide eyes.

He’s too big.

In every way possible.

He’s too long, he’s too thick, he’s simply too much.

And you can’t tell him that. He’s smug enough as is, if you say “actually nevermind. you’re dick’s too big I couldn’t possibly fuck you.” he’ll be even more insufferable than he already is. But much to your chagrin he already knows what you’re thinking.

“You still sure you don’t want me to warm you up?” His nerves are clearly gone as he chuckles before hissing through his teeth. His thumb brushes over his pink, weeping tip.

“I’m fine. Ready when you are.” Not true.

“Maybe I could free your wrists. You can do it yourself if you don’t want me to do it.” He’s reaching behind you and you once again halt his efforts.

“No. We’re doing this your way.”

You’re certainly overestimating your abilities, but he doesn’t need to know that.

You scoot forward in his lap until his cock is resting between your thighs. You sit up on your knees and he lines himself up at your entrance.

“Last chance to back out, sugar.” With that final taunt from him you sink down onto him without warning. Barely taking more than an inch before you drop your chin to your chest so he can’t see your face as he simultaneously leans back to rest against the headboard once more.

It feels like he’s splitting you in half.

His hands return to your thighs. His palms splayed against you as his thumbs rub comforting circles against your flesh.

The sting is all you can think of but buried beneath it all is a heat that threatens to consume you.

You lift your head to look at him. He’s lost a bit of his bravado as he runs his fingers through his hair. You don’t give him (or yourself to be fair) a chance to adjust. You have a desperate need to watch him unravel despite the ache between your legs.

You take a deep breath before you take nearly half of him in one rock of your hips.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, the heat in your stomach is bubbling over as you let out a moan you’ve never heard from yourself before. His grip on your thighs is tight enough now that you’re certain you’ll have to wear a longer skirt tomorrow.

“Christ darlin’.” He stutters out, his eyes are squeezed shut and you couldn’t be more proud.

“Is this enthusiastic enough for you?” You manage to grunt out between your small gasps.

He mumbles something that sounds like a yes.

You have to wait longer this time before moving again, you wait until the pain eases itself away and is replaced with that heat you’ve been pursuing. Only then do you try taking more of him, you don’t manage all of it but you take most of him after a bit of effort. The entire time his eyes are trained on you, a look of admiration on his face.

“You are something else, gorgeous.” He whispers.

His low drawl shoots straight to your core and god you’re sure he knows it. He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

You haven’t even started properly riding him and you’re close.

The way he fills you has you seeing stars. You would love to try and banter with him right now, tease him, but you’re too far gone. Too focused on the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he lets out a soft whine before squeezing your hips.

“Let me touch you, please.” He mutters breathlessly.

You aren’t one to deny good southern manners.

You give him a nod and he wastes no time as he rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers frantically, like he’s trying to make you cum as fast as possible. You’re confused as to why for only a moment because your climax approaches so rapidly it nearly knocks the wind out of you. Your hips stutter as you sit, finally fully impaled on his length, in an instant your vision is a searing hot white. His hat tilts forward on your head, briefly covering your eyes. You’re left breathless in his lap, when you come down from your high he’s grinning at you.

“I win again darlin’.”

You groan as you recall the conversation you’d had right before he had tied your hands behind your back.

“If I finish first you can have my hat, if you do, then I get to finish inside you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If I finish first you can have the Bronco.”

“...Fine.”

a/n : requester ily, thank youuu

#lincolndjarin #agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey / reader

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wrathofrats · 3 months

Note

WRATH YOUR TAGS ON THE SWISSALPS??? HOW DARE YOUUUU IM IN SHAMBLES FUCKKKKK IM GONNA KMS IF U DONT WRITE IT PLEASEEEEEEE

LMAO HI DONT DO THAT I GOT U BESTIE

Original post

I got carried away and blacked out and it became 2k, idk what happened either.

Swiss is so inexperienced and very anxious and mountain is the sweetest actually. This is so awkward because these two are dorks so good luck.

Small small mentions of blood but it’s taken as a joke.

It wasn’t long after Swiss was summoned that he truly started to understand the bands dynamic. Day in and day out of watching his pack mates eye each other like a piece of meat, constant touching and flirting and there was many parts of Swiss that yearned to be included in it.

He didn’t feel ready. Half split between feeling left out as the two ghoulettes he came with have been bonded and together since summon, and the other ghouls really seemed to take to them after a couple days anyways. It wasn’t like no one took to him, but he’s never propositioned, desired, at least not in his line of sight. He feels like he would be intruding if he were to say anything. So he waits.

The other half worries partially about being inexperienced. Never used a human body, barely has even touched himself and god he’s probably embarrassing, no one wants to be with someone so inexperienced right?

He continues to think about it. Fuck he practically studies the other ghouls and sex and whatever the fuck they’re doing together because when the time comes he doesn’t want to embarrass himself. He’s genuinely afraid he will just get laughed out of the room if he’s not ready though he’s sure he’s probably acting insane.

Truly Swiss has no clue what to think.

He sits on his bed, tosses a toy around in his hands. Nothing insane, something normal sized since he’s a beginner but he worries about it anyways. Hypothetically he knows where it’s supposed to go but

How?

He has no clue.

“I’ve seen dew take two before” rain smirks “shouldve seen him around me and aether, didn’t know the tight whore could do it!”

Does Swiss need to be able to take two?

He rolls the dildo in his hands again and gulps.

Maybe that’s a lesson for another day.

“Rain talks a big game but you should see how whiny he gets when he’s got a drop of blood in front of his nose. Had him drinking from my wrist the other day, he’d do anything for it” aether laughs

He almost winced hearing about it the first time. Never really considered… that being a part of things but ….. he can accept it if he has to, if that’s what the others want.

Swiss is probably getting ahead of himself.

He takes a deep breath and lays down in his bed, just stares at the toy in question because he really isn’t sure what to do with it. There’s no question of what he has to do but he doesn’t understand.

There’s a point where Swiss just decides to rip the bandaid off, reaches between his hiked up legs and pushes it into the tight ring of muscle.

It hurts, burns, doesn’t go in more than a millimeter and he thinks he’s probably fucked it up somehow or maybe he’s just awful or whatever other reason but he decides to simply give up for the night. The worries left to eat at him for the next day.

The morning is really no better for his mind. Stands at the kitchen counter lost in thought before anyone else comes in, the boisterous laughter breaking him out of his anxiety induced trance.

“Feeling ok sunbeam?” Mountain gives him a worried look, standing next to him to lean on the marble.

“Yeah! Didn’t sleep well, I’m fine”

“Well if you ever want help sleeping just let me know” mountain winks at him.

Was that?

It couldn’t be. Right?

Did mountain just finally proposition to fuck him?

He can’t say no. He’s come too far and wanted it too bad so he has to go to his room tonight right?

Questions race around Swiss’ brain. He’s the bottom right? Mountain is like a foot taller than him so that has to be it? But what if he that’s not correct and mountain gets offended? What if the rest of the pack hears and hates him? What if-

He desperately needs his brain to shut the fuck up.

The hours pass like molasses. Swiss swears every time he checks his watch after he’s sure it’s been an hour it’s really only been 10 minutes.

What time is he even supposed to go up there?

God he wishes more than anything he could stop this anxiety.

Swiss decides around 10 pm is good. Late enough for a reasonable bedtime but early enough he knows mountain won’t actually be asleep.

Mountain is shirtless, wearing low grey sweatpants when he answers the door. Swiss thinks he may be drooling but attempts to collect himself enough to speak.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come up here, been waiting for you to come to one of us sunbeam” mountain chuckles and motions through the open door to invite him in.

“Been waiting for you myself, hard to ignore such a big guy like you” Swiss pushes himself against mountain. He’s heard in pornos that men like to be called big. That was right to say, right?

“Didn’t know you were so eager” mountain smiles and lightly shoves Swiss onto the bed, straddling his small waist against the sheets.

“Course I’m eager, been waiting for this for ages, want to drink the blood from your wrist” Swiss winks.

Mountain sits up, “what?” He looks at him confused.

Did Swiss do it wrong? Aether made it seem like that was normal….

“I- um …. Yeah, want you to fuck me stupid, make me your whore?” He loses all confidence to his voice, looks scared to even say it and the concerned expression on mountains faces turns to laughter. So he really did fuck it up huh.

“Swiss…… have you done this before?” Mountain gets out between laughs.

Swiss should probably get up, leave with his tail between his legs and god he’s going to be laughed of the band for this,

“No… I’m sorry I ruined it I’ll go-“

“No! You don’t have to do that. Didn’t expect you to know.” Mountain smiles at him “come here, can I teach you? You sure you want this?”

A large hand caresses Swiss’s waist. Mountain moves him against the pillows, studying his language for any sign of hesitation or regret.

“Please” Swiss mumbles

It’s cute to watch him suddenly so shy, came in like a speeding bullet but now can’t look mountain in the eye.

“How much do you know? Have you ever touched yourself sunbeam?” Oh the tone to mountains voice should not be turning Swiss on but god it’s deep and gravely and yeah Swiss definitely may be desperate.

“No.. I tried but I don’t … know how? I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize, you’re ok, you’re safe here”

Swiss does feel safe. Safe enough to let mountain undress him, gently lift his shirt over his head and unbutton his pants.

“I’m going to touch you, alright? Tell me immediately if you start to feel strange” mountain caresses his cheek, staring into his warm brown eyes before reaching down for his hardening cock. It doesn’t take much for it to stiffen up fully, just a couple of touches and Swiss is hard against his stomach, still watching for mountains next move.

“There we go, gonna move your knees up. Is it ok if I put my fingers in you? Need to stretch you out if you still want me to fuck you”

Swiss just nods in agreement, bites his lip in favor of speaking and watches as mountain pours some kind of thick liquid onto his fingers.

“Just lube, it’s going to help”

It feels weird at first, more like some kind of intrusion than any mind numbing pleasure he’s heard about it. Swiss moans anyways, doesn’t want to hurt mountains feelings if it’s really supposed to feel good.

“Swiss…. It’s ok it’s not supposed to feel good yet, you don’t have to fake it for me” mountain laughs at the multi ghouls rapidly reddening face

“Besides, you won’t have to fake it here soon”

It’s embarrassing that a drop of pre bubbles at his tip just from that sentence. Mountains smile doesn’t drop, only a little cocky from the situation.

After three fingers mountain starts to push deeper, rolling them up instead of scissoring and-

Oh.

Swiss nearly yelps, vision blurs and jumps off the bed when mountain hits something inside of him.

“There you go, did you like that?” He laughs. God he needs mountain to stop laughing at him, needs his cock to stop jumping at his laughter too.

“Think you’re ready? Still ok?”

“Please” Swiss whines

The first inch feels wrong again. Nothing like when he did it the other night but mountain is much bigger than his toy and it honestly feels like it may be too much. He holds his breath, the stretch knocking the air from his lungs anyways but he grips the sheets and waits for mountain to sink the rest of the way in.

It’s overly slow, mountain being overly caring as always but he can feel every inch carve its way into him and he just waist for mountain to be down so he can collect himself.

“You’re ok, promise I’ll make you feel so good alright? You’re doing so well”

Swiss mentally notes the way his words make him see stars. That’s a kink to deal with another day.

“Gonna move ok?”

The outward thrust feels like it takes years, before mountain quickly moves back in him, trying to loosen him up before really taking him and mountain deserves an award in patience for being able to control himself for so long with Swiss so hot and tight around him.

“Fuck mount- feels- mountain-” Swiss gasps once mountain gets to pace. Eyes closed tight and mouth agape. Soft moans and whimpers escaping his lips and Swiss throws his hand over his mouth to attempt to silence himself.

Mountain quickly grabs his wrists, holding them above his head, “wanna hear you, wanna hear what I’m doing to you, fuck- Swiss want you to be loud for me”

A hot pit forms in Swiss’s stomach, burns in his abdomen and has his eyes crossing with the feeling,

“Mountain- I think I’m getting close I- please i think I’m going to-“ Swiss doesn’t even get the sentence out before he’s spilling hot and thick all over his stomach.

“There you go, fuck Swiss, so good feel so fucking good wrapped around me”

Mountain cums not moments later, pulls out and jacks himself onto the sheets as to not be ungentleman like for Swiss’s first time.

“Feeling alright Swiss?”

“Holy fucking shit I get it now”

#I hope this is everything you dreamed of LMAO #sorry I made it def more humorous than it needed to be #there’s def something to be said for insanely cute and fluffy Swiss alps #but I thought it would be funny if he was kind of an awkward idiot #anyways #hope you enjoy!#the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul

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hellfiresmaster · 1 year

Note

I’m here to ask for Mr Grant smut. Please give me the smuttiest, filthiest, kinkiest, toe-curling smut ma’am. I’m a hole for Tom Grant.

Not as smutty as I originally wanted but I got carried away and I keep going back and forth on it ajajsfhjfhh but i have snippets I edited out that I may post as a series based on this duo so 👀

Tom Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: friends to lovers, no mention of y/n, dry humping, groping, making out, oral sex (f receiving), a little body marking, p in v sex, bit of cum play at the end (and a hint of breeding kink if you squint)

Word Count: 3.1K

The evening cast long shadows along the ground. A warm orange light casts from the sky into your quaint trailer as you set down the last of your belongings on the counter and looked around. Recalling the fond memories that tainted each square inch of this place you once called home, now empty and cold to the touch. You never truly felt like you belonged anywhere, always an outcast searching for a home. But this place was pretty damn close. Half of your things were already settled in, and the other half scattered in boxes along the hallway; you decided enough had gotten done today, and plopping yourself down on the couch with a cup of tea was more than deserved. Just as you were about to grab a book from the shelf and let it whisk you away into a world far away from the depressing reality you now sulked in, a knock rumbled at your door. Tom.

"Ya told me to come at 6; I can come back if ya-" You quickly cut him off, assuring him it was okay and motioning him to come inside. You nearly forgot you'd invited him over after running into him earlier that day as you arrived at the park. Tom gave you a grateful smile before entering and shutting the door. You recalled the day you met Tom all those years ago. There were no facades, no preconceptions, no expectations. It was as if you'd known each other forever; time constantly blurred when you were around him. He had a way of making you forget everything wrong in the world while consuming your every thought. " 's a bit of a mess in here, eh? Need some help?"

"Oh, because your trailers all neat and tidy?" You teased, and he let out a small chuckle.

"I'll get round to it dreckly. 'M sure of it." You scuffed while setting down some clothes from your bag into the small dresser and walking back into the living room.

Tom took a seat on the couch, stretching one arm out on the backrest. He tried to distract himself from the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach from being around you after so long by glancing around your trailer. Your books were stacked neatly on a small shelf, tabs, and stickies poking out from all the notes you inevitably jotted down as you became encompassed in each story. He didn't even notice he was fiddling with a cream blanket beside him, the scent of you still so prevalent on it; he wanted nothing more than to wrap himself in it. Being surrounded by you was unsettling and comforting in the best possible way. His mind couldn't help but wonder what evenings with you would look like, laying with you on the couch with your favorite book in hand while he stroked your hair and soothed you after a long day at work. He yearned for it more than anything.

"Why do you always look at me like that?" You questioned as he sat up and leaned his head back towards the couch.

"Like what?"

"Like that." You gestured toward his face hoping he'd get the point.

"Don't think I can look at ya and not smile, birdie." His words made your heart swell. It was true. Tom couldn't remember a moment he looked at you and didn't have a smile painted on his face; he couldn't help it. He missed this; the way he felt when he was around you was like nothing else. Like the aching void inside of him, he didn't even realize was there had been finally filled after all this time.

Tom sank back into the couch, getting more comfortable and eyeing an old polaroid stashed in a small box on your coffee table with photos of an old flame he faintly recalled peeking out from the side.

"Still on about that emmet, eh?" He teased and pointed towards the box, but you physically cringed at the memories of regrets from three summers ago, trying to lodge themselves in your head again.

"That was a long time ago, Tom. Plus, think I learned my lesson, hm?" You snapped, your back now turned to him. Tom's smile faded, and regret washed over him. The memory coming back to him now, how you looked that night you showed up at his trailer, heartbroken and tears streaming down your face over a summer fling with a slimy tourist you barely knew. He recalled the anger he felt and how he pushed it to the side in order to be there for you, to hold you through it. He vowed never to let anyone hurt you that way again; he would've stuck to his word too if you hadn't picked up and left in pursuit of that so-called better job without warning all those years ago. Who knows what he's failed to protect you from now. You cleared your throat, making Tom snap out of it, not letting himself dwell on what could've been any longer.

"'M sorry, bird." He muttered almost to himself. You turned towards him with a bewildered look. "I know I been a bit of twat. Didn't mean to upset ya an' all."

"It's fine, Tommy." -- "Did ya have something you wanted to talk about? You asked to come over and all..."

"Yeah, well, I-I guess I-Shit." Tom's mouth opened, but the words ceased. He was ready; he told himself he was the second he saw you waltz into that trailer park again. He couldn't let you slip through his fingers again without telling you how he felt about you; he wouldn't. "After Ruth-after I realized-I jus'" His mouth went dry, and he forgot everything he craved to tell you as soon as he felt your eyes on him. But now you were here, in front of him in all your glory, looking as pretty as you always did, and he was stuck.

You could tell he wanted to say something important by the way he fiddled and chewed on the inside of his cheek. His breathing seemed to quicken, and by his adoring gaze, a slither of hope bloomed in your chest at the possibility that maybe he felt the same way you did after so long. You moved to sit by him on the couch, waiting for him to say something, anything, but there was just silence as your eyes explored his. "Jus' wanted to tell ya about tonight; everyone's headin' to the bar from work, 's all."

"You're full of shit, you know that, Tom?" You spit venom in your words, and your voice raised higher than you realized, which made him wince at your words.

"What's that supposed to mean? 'M full of shit?" Tom's demeanor immediately shifted as he moved a little further from you on the couch. "Maybe if ya didn't snap at me, I'd be able to finish..." He muttered under his breath, barely audible enough for you to hear.

"Well, go on then, hm? Ruth's not here clouding up that head of yours anymore, so what is it, Tommy?" You didn't mean for it to come out as enraged as it did, but you couldn't help it. It had been years of bottled-up 'what ifs' and 'what could have been,' and you were sick of it. This isn't how you pictured it. It's supposed to be easy. Comparable to lulling to sleep. This was hard. You took one last pleading look at him before speaking. "You were gonna say something else. I know you were...please."

"Bleddy, ya not gonna make me say it, eh?" He rubbed a hand on his jaw in frustration. You noticed how his jaw clenched and his breath caught in his throat. "Birdy..." You stepped closer toward him until you could feel his breath fanning your face. Tom's deep chestnut eyes bore into yours as you took him in. Your fingers craved to trace the small lines that had appeared on his face since you last saw him, no doubt traces of how the time you had been away from each other having taken a toll on him. His curls had grown slightly longer, unruly, and practically dangling over his face; you had to physically fight the urge to run your fingers through them. You took his hand in yours, giving him space and allowing him to continue if he felt the need to do so. "Worried I’ll be shit at it 's all. 'Cause of the whole Ruth stuff, ya know." Tom mumbled. "Jus' fancied ya for ages, never thought I was good enough. Then ya left, and I dunno." He paused briefly, catching himself in his own ramblings. "I love ya, bird...think I always 'ave." You beamed, but something told him your response was half appreciation and half disbelief.

Before you knew it, your mouth was on his. Tom's lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside and deepen the kiss. Your breath quickened when you felt his hands slide across your waist and cup your face on one side as he sighed into the kiss. It didn't take long for Tom's hunger for you to become apparent, with feverish hands bringing you closer until you were straddling his lap. Your hands finally tangled in his curls, breathing in as much of him as possible before he pulled away slightly.

But you couldn't stop. Not now. Not when you had him withering away into a blubbering mewling mess right under you. You snapped back into it when you felt the straps of your top fall below your shoulders, exposing your tits to him. Large palms began to knead them, pinching one already stiff nipple while his mouth worked on the other. His hips bucked towards yours, desperate for any friction you were willing to give him while he placed wet kisses on every piece of skin he could get to and soothed every bite with the warmth of his tongue, a promise of what was about to happen if you let him in. Your moans echoed off the far walls of the trailer, unable to regain control of yourself once he began to roll his hips in sync with yours. His bulge hitting your clit every time had the both of you desperate for release. You felt your wetness seeping past the thin seam of your panties and onto your inner thigh as his fingers dug into your hips to guide you.

Tom's head is thrown back onto the couch, giving you access to bring your lips to his neck, making him choke back a moan, squeezing his eyes shut, trying his best to gather thoughts. "Fuck bird, ya keep that up, and 'M not gon' last much longer." He practically mewled as you picked up your pace while his lips went back to tasting your skin. The sensation of his hands roaming your body and your swollen clit, getting precisely the pressure and friction it craved. Soft heat flushed through your veins as you pressed yourself closer to him. Tom's lips never left yours, taking every whimper and guiding your hips to grind on him steadily.

Tom cradled your face in his hands, his lingering stare and blissed-out look making you shiver against his touch. His eyes were still burning with lust as he pulled himself from the kiss and glanced up at you. His face flushed and lips swollen pink. Your eyes diverted to where you had been grinding on his lap, the obvious tent in his work pants making you bite down on your lower lip with a smirk. Tom took your chin between his thumb and forefinger to bring your gaze back to him before moving you to sit on the couch as he sank between your knees, throwing your legs over his shoulder, nibbling on the insides of your thighs. Your heart felt like it would beat out of your chest as you felt Tom's hand push your skirt up to bunch around your hips; he held your gaze and placed a delicate kiss on your already-soaked center before hooking his fingers on the sides and sliding them right off.

Tom's tongue ran sloppily along your slit, gathering your wetness only to tease but never quite get to your needy clit. Your head soon lulls back when you feel his tongue firmly press into you. One of his hands leaves your thigh to bring a thumb to your newly abandoned clit, giving skilled circles to the slick flesh.

You moaned borderline pornographically at the sensation and squirmed, but he didn’t relent. Tom just concentrated on making you fall apart under him, reveling in the soft cage of your thighs. Your chest heaved as he inserted a finger inside you, pumping and pressing against that tender spot. Tom can’t stop himself from groaning into you, drunk on the feeling of making you feel this good. Voice muffled as his cock strained in his work pants, desperate to ease the pressure; he could cum from just devouring you, and he was sure of it. If he knew you’d make these pretty sounds for him, he’d have done this much sooner.

"Right there. Don't stop." His lips circle and suck at your clit, making you moan and mewl in an entirely different way. An arch of your back is the signal he earns to keep doing what he’s doing. Tom doesn't relent as he inserts another finger when he suddenly feels you clench down on him and practically sob as your orgasm rips through you. He drinks you in and continues his ministrations. Once he knew you were sated, Tom pulled away, his chin and mouth coated in your juices as he licked his fingers clean before pulling you to stand with him.

Tom carried you from the couch and laid you on the bed before removing his shirt, pants, and boxers as he climbed over you. His cock bounced against the tuff of hair covering the lower half of his tummy, the length was definitely more than you were used to, but it had your mouth watering at the sight. Aching and red, leaking droplets of precum from the slit. Tom had you splayed out under him, hooded eyes, and already fucked out from just his mouth.

"Your fuckin' beautiful bird. 'M never gonna get 'nough of you." His fingertips traced the clasp of your bra, and you nodded, signaling him to get rid of it. He wasted no time mouthing on the soft tissue of your breast, his other hand kneading the neglected one, wet lips enveloping your nipple and swirling until your hands tugged on his soft curls. His lips moved along your neck and the skin on your collarbone, sucking and etching a trail before pulling away. Tom admired his work; he lightly kissed the purple marks adorned your body to soothe the skin.

Tom was absent-mindedly sliding his length along your slick, the tip of his swollen cock catching on your clit with every swipe that had you whining under him. He lined himself up with your entrance, eyes flickering to yours to make sure this was okay, make sure you still wanted this, still wanted him. You could sense the doubt inching into his mind, so you pulled him down into a bruising kiss, pushing your hips up to assure him, making the head of his cock slip inside. A hum of appreciation rumbled deep inside your throat.

"Fuckin’ hell." A hot jolt of energy spread inside your tummy as Tom continued to push inside you. Your heart fluttered, air leaving your lungs as you exhaled in contentment, watching Tom's eyes squeeze shut and mouth fall into a perfect 'o' at the feeling of finally bottoming out inside you. His grunts rumbled through you, growls that sent a wave of desire spiraling through your body until you were burning up with need.

"You feel 's good." Your warm, soaked walls are like velvet around Tom's cock as his hips thrust in and out of you. Groaning softly in your ear while you clawed your nails into his back from the pressure. He can feel your cunt begin to throb, wishing he could just take a second to sit back and watch you take him so well. A golden curl dangled from his head, the chill from his chain pressing on your forehead with every thrust as he picked up his pace making the coil in your center tighten further.

"Tommy.." You could feel every ridge of his cock and the heaviness of his balls slapping against your ass every time he slammed into you. An endless string fills the room as you buck your hips to meet his. Your walls clench, then flutter. "Hmph-please." Tom sees how you're struggling to string together words as your mind goes numb, slowly losing yourself to the bliss as he slithers a hand between where your bodies meet to swipe methodically at your clit, making your thighs quiver around him.

"Go ahead and cum for me, yeah? Need to feel ya, bird. Please."

That was all you needed. White hot pleasure built in your core and snapped as you writhed under him. Completely lost in the euphoria, the intensity of the sensations coursing through you, increasing pleasure with every touch, every caress, every whisper of encouragement. Tom continued to fuck you through your orgasm as he chased his own. "Fuck. 'M gonna cum. W-where?"

"Inside, Tommy. Please. I want to feel you." Something inside Tom splintered at your words, and he cascaded into his own ecstasy, spilling himself into you. He made sure to lean on one side, wary not to put his entire body weight on you before carefully pulling himself out and sitting back between your legs.

Closing your eyes, you relished the feeling of Tom's cum slipping out of you, already knowing that you were making a mess on your clean sheets. You barely noticed how he was almost admiring his work, gently taking two fingers and pushing whatever dripped out of your overstimulated cunt back inside, making you squirm away from him. Tom couldn't help it; he was proud of himself. Proud that he'd been the one to make you come apart like this. He wanted nothing more than to make you lose control again and again, to know that he was the cause of it.

"Come here." You pull Tom to lay next to you and nestle close to his chest as he puts an arm over you. "So what now?"

"Oh, 'M never letting ya leave this bed." You erupted in a giggle as Tom brought you closer to him and placed a kiss on the crown of your head. And at that moment, you knew exactly where you belonged.

#tom grant #tom grant make up #tom grant x reader #tom grant fics #tom grant smut #tom grant fluff #tom grant x you #joseph quinn

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d3nt4l-d4m4g3 · 3 years

Text

A few days ago, I emailed my former professor about a paper on women’s food practices in the middle ages. At least, that’s what I told him it was about, initially.

But actually, I wanted to discuss heresy. This professor teaches a women’s rights course every year. Every year at the beginning of the class, he calls attention to why he, a man, is talking about women’s rights. He looks us in the eyes and says, no one else is doing it, and I’m sorry it’s me.

This man made us read the SCUM manifesto, Gerda Lerner, Maria Mies. He grazed the subject of the Lesbian Sex Wars, delicately, so gingerly, posing the question: “Can sex work ever be just work?” And my (all woman) classmates, generally mute—in a Women’s Rights class, they all seemed averse to saying the word “woman,” at all. Then one woman raised her hand. and she said, “Sex work is real work.” A statement that, as I hope you know, is a deflection and a discussion killer.

At the time I was non-binary. Hah. I submitted a comic at the end of the year of my final project. My thesis for that project was this: the very language female people have to use for themselves was constructed by the patriarchy. for example, the english word “vagina” comes from the latin word for “sheath”. so the vagina invokes the act of penetration upon its utterance. Whereas the word “penis” has no clear etymological root, implying that it is original while the vagina is constructed for him. Why should I carry the fact that I will always be a tool, the hole, of the human that is man? My solution, at the end of the comic, was to continue using they/them pronouns, to shield myself from the horror of being a wo-man, a s-he—an appendage of Him.

I got a good grade. A stellar report. And it wasn’t a bad comic, for what I knew then. For my condition of blindness and deafness. I made a compelling argument, using sources from class. But oh, how much older I feel now. I’ve always felt old but now I feel almost like I’m dying. Like I don’t have enough time to fix the world before I disappear. And women’s stories never survive. They are not surviving. networks spring up like mycelium and then every century at least they are burned. Witchcraft is in the air shared by women in a room of their own, and witchcraft is doused in gasoline.

I don’t have enough time to explain how the veil lifted for me. Maybe I forget the big moment. the days after were a blur of searching the no-no tags like radical feminist, GNC, gender critical. Amazed at the wealth of journals that these women linked to with real statistics showing that children are being sterilized for no reason. Mostly gay children. like me, a lesbian, who now lives in a house with three “non-binary afabs”. This summer, one of these women, who I have known since freshman year, will start taking testosterone, a procedure I took up for three turbulent months during my freshman year of college. I get to watch her become what I turned away from, knowing the experience fractured my sense of self to a point of terror and estrangement. I get to watch her hide from her problems and cut herself off from womanhood the way I did for 3 years. I am not a woman, so do I not feel Woman’s pain, she is telling me, I told myself, when I was in a dream. She has so many problems, she laughs. But trans is a separate problem that has nothing to do with those other problems. A coincidence.

(For any trans people reading this, you may think: This transtrender fake-trans never-was-trans woman is treating these nonbinary people as if they were dead! as if they weren’t happy people finally living their truth! —well. I put my mom through the process of trying to convince her that I should have always been a man. and I did lose her, for months. For her it was the height of cognitive dissonance that I should want to go on a life-altering hormone to cure my lifelong social awkwardness and self-hatred and self-harm and depression. And I blamed her for not accepting my real self. I was basically made to shun her and my family because of transphobia.. It is disrespectful to anyone’s sanity and integrity for me to perpetuate that cognitive dissonance in this post.)

So I eventually got through to the professor. I knew because of the texts he had us to read for class. He is gay. He has read all the theory, and lives by it. And no (woman) student wants to speak to him. To bring the theory alive. They cannot breathe into it and it sits dead in his mouth.

Maybe it is because he is a man. because the presence of one man in a space of all women immediately sends up alerts. lockdown. Certainly that is the case. Radical Feminists here: I know he’s a man. But I don’t have a woman. And I felt on the strength of the texts he’d given us that he would be my best bet. Maybe somewhere in the corrupted, rotting heart of my college there was a person who knew about thoughtcrimes and was thinking them anyway.

My professor starts with diversion. He starts by talking about my paper. I find it disconcerting that he starts that way. I worry that he won’t want to refer to my email. Where I say: I have woken up from a dream to the apocalypse—Does this man think I’m crazy? Chipper and kind of frantically, he lists off primary sources of medieval nuns and women saints. for my paper. Does this man think I’ve turned into a bigot? Am I confessing lunacy, like a flat-earther?

But I steer the conversation to the meat at his first tentative encouragement. I tell him something like: “children, mostly gay children, a whole generation of gay children, are being sterilized. Porn is a symptom of late-stage capitalism—men’s ownership of women’s bodies. trans is an extension of this. I was part of this. I was in a cult.” I was shaking a bit. I don’t think I’d uttered those words out loud. They sound crazy. Some of the things I said did sound far-fetched. disorganized, remote. But I prayed that my professor would believe some of it, any of it.

What I will say is that he believes me. Thank fuck, right?

He tells me something along the lines of this, vocalizing my fears:

that all of academia is being scrubbed of anything that doesn’t support Trans.

And it is trans-identified female students and women who are reporting him to Title IX, who spend all their time in his classes fuming at the lack of validation for trans women in the history of women. My sisters, footsoldiers for the cause. What cruel irony. This man is holding onto this class by his fingernails, speaking through his teeth, hoping any of the twenty young adult women staring blankly or angrily at him will hear him and listen.

Looking back, the professor’s responses to my emails are vague, completely refusing to acknowledge a point of view other than “WOW. I look forward to discussing this.” I think he thinks he could be blackmailed. Anything he says on gmail dot com can and would be used against him. It’s like, really, really, really that bad.

No ideology should involve a cultural cleaning of women’s history feat. witch hunts.

I will end here with an excerpt from my first email to this professor:

I'm sure you know what a total bummer it is to realize this.

#detransition #tra #gender critical #radical feminism #radfem #radblr #feminism #academia

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letteredlettered · 3 years

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Do you have any complaints about HP canon, and if so, what are they? For example I know a lot of people really dont like that Draco didnt get a redemption arc, but your work seems to really thrive off of a close reading of canon Draco in a way I think a lot of fanfic just cant because hes like... a very bad person. Its made me wonder if you are very... canon positive? I guess? Or more positive than most, maybe.

I have too many complaints about HP canon to list in an ask, but I can try to list some of them. First I want to say that choosing to use canon to inform your fic has less to do with whether or not you like the canon and more to do with what you like or want from fanfic. If you don’t like that Draco wasn’t redeemed, you can write a fic that posits he is redeemed and so that canon doesn’t have to be dealt with. Or, you can write a fic that shows how he gets redeemed or deals with the fact of his redemption to show what canon could have been. I obviously prefer the latter style, though I respect anyone’s choice to write in the former style. I can’t say I always understand the former style, but I respect the fact that people want to do it and should if that’s what they want.

I will say that I’m not sure I’ve ever written a fic that’s fully canon compliant, and I can’t quite imagine wanting to. Most of my fics a response to canon--they’re about something that wasn’t in canon, that I wish was in canon; or they’re about something that wasn’t in canon, and I don’t want to be in canon, but I still want to be explored. I wish the MCU would actually deal with the responsibility of wielding outsized power of destruction, so I wrote MCU fics. I do not want Schitt’s Creek to deal with the darkness of David Rose’s trauma or past, but I was still interested in it, so I wrote darker SC fic. I love Star Trek TOS, but I want to see Kirk and Spock hook up, so I wrote TOS fic.

There are a few things where I like the canon just the way it is, so I don’t write fic for it. Rainbow Rowell’s Carry On series is just what I want. I don’t need to write fic.

Back to my complaints with HP canon, the major problem I had was a lot of set up without the follow-through I expected or desired. I discussed that in my tumblr posts about Ron and Ginny. The set up of the Harry Potter universe is rather black and white, which I appreciate--it’s easy to get invested; it’s easy to consume. You know who the good guys are right away, and there’s no more complication. LOTR is rather like that, and I love it. But then HP begins to deconstruct its premise--James Potter was good, but he wasn’t kind. Dumbledore was trying to stop Voldemort, but he wasn’t honest. Snape is a horrible person, but he’s trying to do the right thing. This is my favorite sort of story, the one that starts black and white--vampires are evil; the robots will kill us, and the Gems that didn’t rebel are the enemy. Then a vampire earns his soul, or you find out you’re a robot, or--well, actually I didn’t like where Stephen Universe really went with that, but you get the picture. The Harry Potter series began the process of turning its own premise inside out, but somewhere in Halfblood Prince, that got too hard, and things began to snap back to their original shape. Good is good, actually, and bad people will always be bad.

One example of this is the death of Voldemort. Harry is set up as a mirror to Voldemort. Their pasts are very similar. Harry even feels compassion for Voldemort. At several different points, Harry is faced with the fact that he has to kill Voldemort. But Harry never has to deal with killing Voldemort, or with making a decision to spare Voldemort. In the end, Voldemort causes his own end as a result of his own destructive tendencies. This makes me feel that the text is suggesting that Voldemort deserves death. The idea that anyone “deserves” death for bad things they’ve done is not something I believe in or ascribe to. But even if it is the argument the text wants to make--what was the point of showing us that Tom Riddle was lonely, hurt, feared, and probably mistreated? The point really appears to be to show that two boys can have the same background and one turns out good while the other turns out bad, because goodness is inherent to some people while evil is inherent to others. I find this conclusion abhorrent, but I feel the conclusion is ultimately borne out by plenty of other aspects of the HP books.

The other example is Draco’s lack of redemption. I do not think villains have to be redeemed. The world has proven that shitty people can remain shitty. I also appreciate stories that show us the humanity of shitty people. A story about someone who is faced with thier bad choices but continues to make bad choices because they’re too afraid to do otherwise can be a good story. But I guess with Draco, I felt like I saw enough of his inner turmoil to understand why his heart would change, but not a thorough explanation of why it wouldn’t. Combined with many other similar characterizations in HP canon, it just feels like more essentialism--bad people are bad, and that’s how it is. I don’t mean there’s no nuance--as I said, the series does begin to deconstruct its own premise; we even saw how the Trio could be shitty. But ultimately they make the right choices. The characters who make the wrong choices generally continue to make them, except for Snape and Dudley. My complaint with those two representing a change of heart is that we don’t get to see the actual painful process of what that looks like--Snape’s happens pre-canon and there is too little of Dudley to show what is going on in Dudley’s brain.

The last thing I absolutely hate about HP is a lot of the “bad” characters tend to be overweight or unappealing in appearance. It’s true that a lot of this might be Harry’s POV--maybe Snape actually is the sex god some fics make him out to be, and Harry just he’s greasy because he doesn’t like him, and maybe Harry doesn’t like a good hook nose (I do). Additionally, Lockhart is very pretty, and while I want to firmly stress that Draco is never describes as good-looking, he’s not really described as ugly, and I believe Narcissa is even described as beautiful. But the book isn’t written in close third-person Harry POV, and “pointy” isn’t very flattering. Unkind words and stereotypes are used throughout to highlight the badness or evil of almost all the characters we’re not “supposed to” like. The descriptions of the Dursleys in particular are upsetting.

In my opinion, the above examples demonstrate a lack of compassion at the heart of the HP story. That’s what I’ve always hated about it and what always made me want to write about it. I want to write and say, “Look at this. This is fucked up. This is wrong.” Some people don’t read fic for that reason, and I think that’s fine. Plenty of those people really hate my fic, which is also fine. I know that many things in this world lack compassion, and I don’t spend years of my life writing fanfic about them. I think the reason I keep coming back is to me, the premise was unkind--which I was fine with, and then the text itself began to deconstruct itself--which I was overjoyed by. It made me fall in love with the series. But when the premise snapped back to an essentially black and white world, I felt betrayed.

In conclusion, I find HP at its very essence to be unkind. Ursula K Le Guin said it best when she said that it was “ethically rather mean-spirited.”

#harry potter

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

Text

Moonlight On The Sand

Summary: Stationed to the desert for a short mission, you are on terrain inspection when the full moon emerges from behind the clouds. However little do you know there’s something about the Captain accompanying you that may change things forever. Based on this ask from @fairndsquare

Pairing; Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned) Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle (Movie) Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Werewolves, Werewolf!Sy, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Ovulation, Breeding, Outdoor Sex/Car Sex. This is NOT an ABO story.

I do not run a tag list, but please go follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post a new story. Masterlist got too big for Tumblr, so past works can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites or on my AO3

Only the finest, free range, organic typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Sy fumed silently as he drove the truck through the abandoned desert. He was furious that he had been overruled, but the general had finally done a site visit and his word was final; Sy had to show the new logistics planner the area, and there was no avoiding it.

What the General didn’t know was what Sy had been through during his posting in the dry and barren landscape. That mythical creatures didn’t always originate from leafy green valleys, or snow capped mountains, sometimes they dwelled in dry arid plains and rocky outcrops.

The truck hit a particularly proud rock on the dirt track and leapt into the air, your hands flying as you grasped for something to steady yourself on, one on the dash and one on the particularly meaty thigh of your commanding officer.

“Sorry” the gruff man uttered through gritted teeth.

“S’okay… the moon’ll be up soon and we’ll be able to see better as its full tonight” you casually replied, looking out over the desert surrounding you, surprised as the truck slowed down a little.

“The moon?”

“Yes, you know the big round rock orbiting the earth?”

“I know what the moon is darlin’, been cloudy the last ten days so hadn’t been keeping track…” he muttered to himself.

You used the small penstick flashlight to glance over the map;

“I need to see this valley, and get an idea of what it’ll be like to bring the trailers in with water tanks on”

The Captain glanced where you were pointing and nodded once, letting the truck veer to the right to follow the camel route up through the hills.

As the truck gained elevation Sy could feel his mouth watering. He could not only smell you, he could sense how you had grown wet in his presence. It was like a sickly sweet coating of pollen at the back of his throat on a spring day back home. Halfway through the day he’d been in a conference call as you stood in the corner of the room, observing as he updated his superiors back in Washington, when he’d picked up another sense, the only way to describe it was as if something had suddenly ripened in the room. It’d taken him until the end of the call to realise it was you and your body had just reached its most fertile point in the month. You were ripe and ready, you just didn’t know it.

That single thought had plagued Sy for the rest of the day, something in the pit of his belly was just telling him to flee, to get as far away from you as possible… for your safety. But then his military training had kicked in and he’d followed orders, and that’s how he found himself pulling the truck onto a rocky pullout on the curved track as it skirted around the hill, the view over the valley spectacular as the moon finally emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the earth below.

Stepping out of the truck you used your night vision goggles to scan over the plateau in front of you, looking out over the wide vista. You felt the heat of his body first, standing behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You knew what he was wanting.

24 hours earlier.

Scrolling your phone you checked the calendar, relieved that the mission to the desert would be there and back in the space of two weeks, back in time before your monthly bleed would start again. If there’s one thing you didn’t want to have to deal with, it would be tampons and sand. It would mean you’d be ovulating whilst there, but you had enough sugary snacks packed to keep the hormones subdued, and this wasn’t your first time being overseas, although normally you were confined to a small base north of Washington DC.

The flight had been long and bumpy, little more than a glorified cargo hold, so by the time you arrived at the compound and finally got to meet the infamous Captain Syverson, you were tingling with anticipation for what the next two weeks would involve.

When he finally spoke, it was low and deep, resonating through your spine;

“You need to get in that truck, and drive it far from here…”

You went to turn but his hand caught your arm, keeping you looking out over the valley;

“Captain?”

“Private, do as i tell you… there are things in these hills, that you don’t know of and don’t need to know of…”

It was then that you sensed it: the connection. It was like a spark shot up your spine, and in a moment of foolhardy courage you turned, the air being sucked from your lungs when you saw him. The Captain stood before you, his eyes burning into your soul, the ring of fire in his irises and his canine teeth just a little more prominent. Your chest heaved with a shaky breath, and his nostrils flared;

“Private…” he warned one last time.

But rather than running in the opposite direction, you slowly took a step forward, holding your hand to his cheek and for a moment your touch soothed him. You took in how his hair had grown longer, his shoulders even broader, he was virile and potent. That’s when he felt it, his senses clouded as the moon took hold, but finally he realised; you weren’t afraid.

His body slammed yours against the side of the truck, his lips on yours as his tongue pushed into your mouth; tasting you, devouring you. Your hands clung to the sides of his weather beaten uniform, pulling him ever closer so you could feel every inch of his body pressing against yours until suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was lifting you onto the still warm hood of the truck. With expert skill he had quickly shed you of your cargo pants and sensible undergarments, his face between your thighs and you watched with fascination as he inhaled deeply, humming as your scent hit his brain before he dived in.

His tongue was everywhere; licking and tasting you, running firm circles over your clit before descending and pushing the thick muscle into your velvet channel, his sharp teeth pressed against your soaked folds as he tasted you from within. When you came you screamed into the night sky, your legs shaking as the feral beast between your thighs growled in satisfaction, his eyes glowing.

He pulled you from the hood and carried you to the rear of the vehicle, opening the tailgate before sitting you on the edge as he made quick work of his cargo pants, his thigh holster holding them up as his thick cock unfurled from the worn in cotton. You swallowed nervously; you were far from a virgin but the thought of the thick gnarled girth splitting your insides apart had you pulling away for a moment. That was until he gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling your face to his as he rested his forehead on yours and you instantly felt calmer and relaxed. The first touch of his hot flesh against your soaked core had you trembling with anticipation, before he paused, one massive hand resting over your stomach, and he growled as the warmth of your womb almost burnt into his palm;

“Mine...” he muttered, before those feral eyes met yours; “...ours”

“Captain… now, please…” you whined, knowing that what he knew about you, and you were ready.

With a roar he surged forward, your ripened walls parting for him as if welcoming him home. With his palm still pressed to your stomach he could feel himself inside you, the thickness pushing out your belly as he moved slowly and carefully, working to get just the right angle until he paused and you saw that ring of fire in his irises again burn bright.

It was then that he moved faster, the pull and push hitting every spot inside you, feral and wanting, an urgent need to to fill you with his seed, to breed you took over. Faster and faster he pounded into your soft body, drawing orgasms out of you quicker than you could process them, before he slowed and pulled you up so you were sitting, your bodies still connected. In that moment it was when the connection, the bond was finally fully formed, and as he pressed his forehead to your and started to fuck you again, you felt your spirit joining with his. His thrusts got faster, harder, his breath hot on your skin. The angle of his pelvis meant it took just a couple more thrusts and you were coming again, this time he threw his head back and let out a cry-come-howl as he released into your womb, his seed flooding into you as your body eagerly milked him of it.

You stayed joined in the most intimate of ways until the cool night air made a shiver run down your back, the movement of your body making you realise the Captain was still hard and nestled deep within you;

“So… are we stuck?”

“No… but this is the first time i’ve done… this… whilst i’ve been like… this…” he let out a huff of air; “I’m not exactly sure how long i’m gonna stay hard Darlin’... we could be here a while…”

“All night?” you said, a hint of hope in your voice

“I’m yours until the moon goes down Darlin’”

“And after the moon goes down?”

He Captain paused;

“What would a girl like you want with a beast like me come daybreak?”

Running your hand over his beard your thumb caressed the skin of his cheek;

“Everything Captain… i want all of you...” It was only in that moment that Sy saw it, the ring of fire in your own eyes. He had found his mate and you had found yours; “Breed me Captain…”

#captain syverson #captain syverson smut #captain sy x reader #captain syverson x reader #henry cavill

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captain-yeet · 3 years

Text

The Worst Timing (Felix x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Keeping things to yourself is hard when your father reads minds. How do you successfully keep the secret that you're in a relationship with your family's sworn enemy?

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: NSFW; local man goes down under + edging, swearing, second-hand embarrassment

Author’s Note: Spicy times getting interrupted, I’m a sucker for that. Might make this a two-parter if people like it 🥺👉👈

Privacy in the Cullen household wasn’t always a given, especially with having a mind reader for a father.

Being the adopted member of Edward and Bella Cullen's strange family, you grew up knowing off the bat that your new family were vampires - gifted vampires at that - from very early on. Now that you were a legal adult and out of school, your parents and family were worried about a certain Italian governing force of vampires paying them a visit in regards to your mortality.

They didn't know however, even with your aunt's foresight, that they already knew that you were of the age to be turned. Aro had left that up to fate's hands.

Well, fate's hands being his trusted executioner, who's hands were very much occupied right now with gripping onto whatever part of you he could as the two of you kissed each other with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

"What-what if someone walks in on us?" You half asked half whined into your boyfriend's mouth.

Felix simply laughed, quietly, moving his lips from yours to your cheek. "I have very good hearing, sweetheart, if anyone's approaching the house I'll know."

Luck smiled upon you when you were born. While you didn't share the same blood of Bella, you happened to have a gift that was very similar to hers - the gift of being able to block specific thoughts and memories from someone's mind. You found out while talking with your adopted sister Renesmee one day, she tried to show you something you'd rather not know about with her gift, and your mind and body shied away from it. So much so, her projected memories couldn't get into your head.

Which led you to the helpful discovery that not only could you block Renesmee from from projecting thoughts into your mind at-will, but you could do the same with your dear old dad about your very secret Volturi boyfriend.

You'd been very sneaky, both you and Felix, at working around your family's multiple gifts to stay hidden. Today, your parents and sister were out, leaving you to your own devices. Originally you planned on sneaking Felix into your room but the two of you only made it as far as the living room.

Felix took your chin in his hand and made you look him in the eye; his own were almost pitch black from how dilated his pupils were, the ring of blood red that you'd grown so accustomed to barely visible. "Now relax, mi amore. I've got you."

His words made you feel secure.

With one arm hooked around your waist and the free one reaching down to work on what you assumed was the buckle of his belt, he turned the two of you around, leading you forward towards him. Kissing you again, you heard his pants hit the floor as Felix fell back towards onto the couch behind him, bringing you down on top of him.

You adjusted yourself so you were straddling him, your thighs on either side of his hips. Shifting your weight a little to each side, a jolt of arousal struck you as he grabbed hold of your hips and thrusted upward, his own arousal plainly obvious.

“These,” Felix growled, reaching up for your shirt, “need to go. Now.”

“Take them off yourself.”

To drive your sassy retort home further, you grinded against him, keeping eye contact. It gave you pleasure to watch him lose his focus, his eyes rolling to the back of his head mouth half open.

If anything, the fact that you, you, could drive a vampire wild was only turning you on further, your ego growing bigger by the second.

You didn’t have long to enjoy your smug pride at giving Felix pleasure however as you felt one of his hands move to your leg and the other staying firmly at your hip; then in the blink of an eye, you were on your back and the sound of cloth being torn caught your attention.

You pouted up at Felix, who tossed the remnants of your now ripped shirt to the side. “I liked that shirt, y’kno- hey!”

Ignoring you, Felix easily tore off everything you were wearing waist down with terrifying ease. Throwing more torn material aside, his eyes travelled up and down your exposed body with growing lust... and a smugness of his own.

Not letting up on the fact he just ripped your clothes, you tried to glare up at him. “I liked those too.”

Felix chuckled darkly. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

“Even that exact shirt?” you pressed, raising your eyebrows. This man brought out a bratty side to you that you didn’t know existed, and deep down you both secretly liked it.

Felix, even though he'd ever admit it, loved how bratty you got sometimes.

He rolled his eyes, moving off the couch to pull you to the other end of it. “I have money, now relax my dear Y/N.”

Cocky bastard, you thought to yourself.

Completely at his mercy, your boyfriend - or rather, your mate - admired you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. "You have no clue just how absolutely breathtaking you are to me," he said softly, slowly getting on his knees. Felix kept eye contact with you, which felt a little intimidating but also it aroused you.

Before you could open your mouth to respond you gasped as a pair of cold lips brushed against your inner thigh, placing loving kisses trailing up further and further, closer to where you needed it most.

"Felix," you whimpered, wiggling to try and get any friction where you needed it.

"I know, baby," he assured you, "let me make you feel good."

And finally, you felt his tongue make contact with your sensitive core. The moan that left your lips was as sinful as it was needy, leaving you a whimpering mess on the couch.

Felix was an attentive lover, making good use of his mouth and fingers to bring you closer to climax. You could do nothing more than buck against his tongue as he fucked you with it.

"Felix I'm - I'm gonna -"

To your dismay, he pulled out as you began to pull him in closer. His mouth covered in your own wetness, he flashed a grin at you as he rose from his crouched position. "Not yet. I want you to come when I want you to."

You sighed impatiently, feeling like you needed to cry in frustration. So, you bit your lip, trying to contain yourself.

Taking pause, Felix was suddenly at your side, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you. "If you need me to slow down, I can," he offered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “If I’m being too much...”

"You're fine," you assured him with a weak smile, "I'm just... I am, well..." you broke eye contact and stared blankly at his chest as you mumbled the next few words to leave your mouth. "I just really need to come."

He deftly opened the door to your room, chuckling at your words. "You will, I'll make sure of it, cara mia."

"You sound so sure of that," you teased as Felix lay you back onto a bed - your bed. He'd carried you into your room.

"Tease," he growled.

"And you're an incubus."

That made him snort. Felix closed his eyes, shaking his head briefly. "Only for you."

Stepping back, Felix rid himself of the shirt and boxers he wore.

Now, looking at him, you assumed he'd be big. 6'7 and built like a heavyweight champion, physically he was intimidating. Bigger than average. And boy were you correct in that assumption.

Felix wasted no time in lining himself up with your cunt; being completely soaked from what he did to you on the couch, it made it a little easier for you to take him.

Pants and moans filled the room, neither of you holding back with the sounds you were making. For you this was bliss; you couldn't imagine anything better than Felix, nothing would ever compare.

It didn't take long for you to build your climax up again. Felix could tell by how much more ragged your breathing had become.

"That's it sweetheart," he praised you, feeling his own release build up as he watched you come undone beneath him, "come for me. I want you to come for me, baby."

His words coaxed your impending orgasm along, and you wordless cried out, grabbing his shoulders and digging your nails in as you rode it out.

The sensation of your nails digging into his back brought along his own orgasm, a feral snarl ripping through his throat. You heard something snap just behind your head as Felix's thrusts slowed down.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the only sound in the room being your erratic heartbeat and breathing.

The post-sex bliss was that; blissful. Being in his arms, you felt like you were home.

Until the bliss was brought to an end.

"Y/N?" An urgent voice called out from somewhere in the house.

Your dad.

So much for Felix’s super hearing.

Locking eyes with Felix with nothing other than the shared expression of "oh shit," he deftly rolled off you, his boxers back on in a flash as you darted up from your bed to lock your bedroom door.

"Y/N Cullen answer me!" Edward's sharp voice boomed from the hallway, coming closer.

"You smell that scent too right, dude?" A second voice called out.

Uncle Emmett.

You looked back to Felix, who now at least had some of his clothes on. He gave you an apologetic look, throwing you the nearest article of clothing near him; a long shirt dress.

You quickly padded over to him and he cupped your face, stroking your cheek reassuringly with his thumb as your door began to rattle. "Go," you whispered, pointing toward your bedroom window.

"You better put that on," he replied, eyeing the door warily.

You fumbled with the dress, shoving your arms through it and quickly pulling it down over you.

Luckily for your chastity, the moment you were decent, your door came barreling down, hitting the floor with a loud thud as your father and uncle burst into your room. Their eyes widened when they saw who you were with.

"Oh shit," Emmett shouted, eyes wide looking between you and Felix.

"You motherfucker," Edward snarled in a deadly quiet tone of voice, his eyes locked solely on Felix.

You turned back to Felix, who was as tense as a spring. "Go, now!"

"I love you Y/N," he said urgently, his gaze flickering to the window.

"I know," you replied hastily. You had to buy him time, a window to escape out your actual window. You vaguely acknowledged the sound of your uncle shouting "What!?" at Felix's words.

So, you grabbed a nearby chair and launched it at the two of them.

Edward caught the chair easily, tossing it gently to the side to turn the full intensity of his glare onto you. "You, young lady, have some explaining to do. What was that... that monster doing in our home?"

You turned around, and saw the window wide open, Felix nowhere to be seen. You hoped he'd run far enough to where he could avoid your family's wrath.

Despite the clear trouble you were in, you couldn't help but giggle at the tonight of him running half dressed through the woods.

#late but shhhhh #its a sinful monday night #praise marcus or whatever #twilight saga #felix volturi #twilight renaissance #felix volturi x reader #my fics #volturi #volturi x reader

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

❆on a winter’s day | reader x hyunjin |❆

Pairing: self insert, female reader x hwang hyunjin

Genre: the fluffiest smut

Tags: confident!reader, shy!hyunjin, extrovert!reader, introvert!hyunjin, virgin!hyunjin, dancer!reader, dancer!hyunjin minho and jisung side characters, minsung if you turn your head upside down, slow burn, that sweet sweet build up, first time, meet cute, college au, sexual tension, mentions of food, praising, oral (m&f recieving), marking, fingering (f recieving), protected sex, aftercare, hyunjin is the softest boi in this one

Word count: 4.3k

Requested: By a lovely anon! You can read the original ask/post right before this one!

“and five, six, seven, eight!”

The cool of the hardwood flooring beneath your tired heels squeaked from the movement of twenty dancers throwing their bodies to the left. Each and every one of you were reflected in the mirror in front of you: bodies twisting like the curl of a ribbon and arms outstretched. You winced as your knee hit the ground and you hurled your body into a type of somersault. As soon as you were back on your feet, you bent your spine backwards reaching out as far behind you as you could. For a couple moments, the whole world was turned upside down.

It was then when you saw him. His silver hair was tied up, and his brow glistened with sweat. There was nothing else in his eyes other than pure focus.

It was breathtaking.

one, two, you counted in your head.

Next came the hardest part.

Everyone leapt in sync, creating a resonating thud once you all landed.

Thank God that you landed it that time. To your right, your friend Minho scoffed slightly, likely teasing you for finally jumping at the same time as everyone else.

three, four

The group crashed down to the floor again, this time you had to use all your strength to roll, then pull yourself up without help from your hands. You had been practicing it for weeks.

You could feel Minho’s eyes boring into you while you attempted.

You were able to do it, but it wasn’t nearly as fluid as him. How had you never noticed how amazingly his body flowed?

“and five, six!” Your instructor clapped. The music faded as you all sunk down to the floor again, trying to make it appear as if you were dissipating into it. “Very good job everyone!” She beamed and applauded you all who finally let your heaving breaths be heard. “Excellent improvement from you all!”

You couldn’t even stand up from the floor you were so exhausted. The aggressive florescent lights burned your eyes and you considered taking a nap right there.

“You did it!” A foot kicked you. Looming over you were your two friends Minho and Jisung shoving towels onto each other’s faces. “Were you counting like I told you to do?” Minho expectantly leaned in.

“yes,” You answered a little annoyed, not as much at him, but at yourself. You could have done even better.

“We told you that you could do it. It’s just the mental block man.” Jisung offered you a hand up.

Once you were vertical again, a little wave of dizziness hit you.

“Wanna go out to celebrate?”

Your usual friend group circled around you with their bags in hand.

“Finally got it this time, L/n?” They patted you on the back. Besides hip-hop being your specialty in a contemporary class, you still seemed to get along with everyone easily. On the first day of class when you literally announced that you didn’t want to be there, everyone warmed up to you pretty quickly. You didn’t want to lie and pretend that you were all about throwing your body around like that. Of course you thought contemporary was beautiful, just not your thing. Graduation requirements said otherwise.

“Do you need me to carry you outta here?” Jisung joked at your dazed expression. Truthfully, your head was still spinning a little.

“Only very certain people get to carry me Han Jisung, and unfortunately you are not one of them.” You quipped back, and a few of your friends snarked chuckles at him.

He put his hands up in defeat. “I was just offering.”

Across the room, your eyes found him again. He had put his bag a bit of ways away from everyone else’s. He guzzled down his water, bobbing his sharp Adam’s apple. He then tore his hair tie out and ruffled his hair around which was damp at the roots. Everything that he did was so effortless.

“Hey,” you nudged Minho, “You know who he is?”

“Him? That’s Hwang Hyunjin. I dunno much about him, he’s pretty quiet, I haven’t heard much about him within the school either. Amazing dancer though. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah...”

Hyunjin pulled a black pullover past his head.

“You coming with us?” Minho snapped you back.

“No-uh, I think that I’m gonna stay a little while.”

“Suit yourself, I know that it’s gonna be delicious.” He teased and turned to throw his arm around Jisung while the group walked out.

The silvery-haired boy zipped up his bag as if he was near leaving. Your throat became unexplainably tight. Your legs started moving towards him before you could tell them to.

“You popped up behind him. “Hyunjin, right?”

He whipped around startled, with his gorgeous brown eyes widening. “...yes?”

“I wanted to tell you that I saw you dancing today and you’re really good. It looks like its so easy for you. I wish that I could be like that.”

“Oh...thank you.” He gave you a kind smile.

shit, he was so cute.

“Soooo, what’s your secret?” You attempted to keep him there for just a moment longer.

“My secret?” His eyes became puzzled.

“Yeah, like, to how you’ve gotten so good?”

“I just...practice.”

“Huh...”

The door to the practice room clicked one last time and the two of you were alone.

“I noticed that all of your moves flow really nicely to the next, you’re not stiff at all, it’s like your body never stops evolving with the motions.”

“thank you...” Hyunjin hushed shyly and twiddled with his hair.

“Maybe you could teach me? Teach me how to make my technique better? I’m just so robotic sometimes.”

“...sure.” He hesitantly said with a growing tiny grin. “Like right now?”

“Oh! I mean it doesn’t have to be right now right now, just like when you have some time I was thinking.”

“I have a little time right now.” He began taking off his coat which he had just put on.

“Oh really?” You felt your cheeks get a little warm. You certainly weren’t expecting him to say yes so quickly.

“Do-do you have time?” He worriedly asked.

“--Yeah!”

“Okay...let’s get started then.”

✦✧✦✧

The music from Hyunjin’s phone echoed over the speakers and you attempted the twirls again. You were able to execute the timing, but each one felt more inelastic than the last. God, your whole body was aching to stop, but it couldn’t get enough of the feeling of him watching you and observing your every movement.

“What should I change about it this time?” You struggled to take in breaths.

Hyunjin looked you up and down, with that same focus from before. With someone as picturesque as him, he looked a little stern when he examined you, which scared you a little, but excited you at the same time.

“You need to take the strain out of your hips, they’re geting in the way you need to let you whole body fall into it. Focus on your legs. Like this:”

He spun in front of you with his leg pointed out. With the twist of his body his silver hair swept along with him.

“You know what I mean?” He gently asked.

“--yes, I think so.”

“Your hips are your anchor, but don’t let them stop you.” Hyunjin stepped up closer to you, hesitantly going to grab your waist with his hands. It was then when you realized how big and powerful they were. His sudden gesture made your heart beat even faster than it already was.

“Pivot like...this.” He turned you a little to the left.

“Oh.”

He lead your hips into the pivot a couple more times to show you. His hands were so warm.

He quickly removed his hands, embarrassed, like he had been doing something he should not have been. He walked away from you and you took notice of his shoulder blades curving under the thin fabric of his sleeveless shirt.

“Do you wanna stop now? I think I’ve done as much as I can for today.”

He nodded and removed his phone from the sound system.

✦✧✦✧

Outside of the arts building, snow had picked back up again after flurrying the whole night long. Everything around had been covered in a beautiful blanket of white.

“Well, I’m headed off this way.” You head nodded to your bus station a couple blocks down. “Thank you for helping me by the way.”

“For sure! I...liked helping you out.”

“Really?”

Hyunjin immediately made a startled little face upon realizing what he had said and you laughed a little at him.

He pulled his chunky scarf up higher to his chin. “Actually...I um, live down that way too.”

“Do you take the 12 bus too?”

He nodded. Little snowflakes had begun to get caught in his hair like a little halo.

“Well then let’s get going! We don’t wanna miss the last bus!”

✦✧✦✧

It was rush hour, so naturally the two of you had to stand on the bus of packed people. The air inside was chilly and it smelled of old dusty coats that had just recently been taken out for the fist snow. You thought it was a little funny how every five seconds or so someone would sniffle in there.

“I’ve seen you in class too.” Hyunjin finally said something after a while of you two being pushed pretty close next to eachother. “Dancing and other stuff, everyone really seems to like you, you’re really good at making people laugh.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You didn’t quite know how to respond to him. “I don’t really have a problem putting myself out there much, I’ve always really believed in just being me, you know? And not letting others determine who I am around them. That or maybe I just like the sound of my own voice.”

He giggled a little then pulled the string nearby the window.

stop requested. The robot bus voice said.

“You’re not stalking me or anything are you?” You rose an eyebrow at him, which scared him more that you had expected.

“No..? What do you mean?”

“This is my stop too.”

Your boots crunched into the snow of the side walk and you thanked the bus driver. Hyunjin got off after you with his hands in his pockets. The two of you stood there in the snow for a moment, something weirdly unsaid lingering between the two of you. Something felt unfinished but you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He genuinely was so sweet, you sneakily wanted to be around him for just a little longer.

Hyunjin stammered, but confidently got out, “Do you want to get something to eat? Right now?”

It was if he had read your mind. You were glad that he had asked, and a little surprised too. He waited attentively for you to answer, still looking a little nervous; even looking like that he was terribly adorable.

“I’d love to.” You smiled back at him causing him to sigh in relief.

“Is there anywhere that you like?” He led the both of you on.

You pondered for a moment, then remembered. You cringed out the words, “Actually...I really shouldn’t be spending money right now; I need to get a lot better at saving...”

You almost slapped yourself in the face after saying such a thing and seeing how crestfallen he had become. It was true, but technically he didn’t need to know that.

“Or! I mean, we could go to my place and I could I dunno, whip something up? I should have something...”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to be eating away your food.”

“No really! It’s fine, come on, I’m just down this block.”

✦✧✦✧

It was only seconds before you opened the door to your apartment that you remembered how embarrassingly messy it was. You and your two roommates were the best of friends, but horribly matched when it came to being cleanly. The three of you just chalked it up to you all being “creative minds.” You all went to arts school after all.

“Just...don’t look--sorry, it’s really messy in there, I wasn’t really expecting to bring anyone over.”

“I don’t care.” Hyunjin politely said and watched you unlock the door.

“We just call it creative madness.”

When you walked in even you tried hard to not look at the mess and got straight to work rummaging around your cabinets.

“Does spaghetti with sauce sound good?”

He nodded and neatly arranged his coat, shoes and bag at the door.

He wandered over to the large windows of your living area. “You have a really nice view.”

“Ah thanks,” You clicked on the stove. “Makes the price of the rent worth it,” you lowered your voice “fuckin’ swindlers.”

Your eyes wandered to the island in your kitchen full of all kinds of crap: baking supplies, art supplies, old mail, textbooks, mismatched pairs of gloves.

“It would probably be best if we ate in my room,” You let up. “You can barely sit here.”

Hyunjin nodded and turned to keep watching the snow peacefully. While you cooked, he didn’t say much but you couldn’t keep his eyes off of him, nearly burning yourself on the saucepan. He changed the room by just merely exisiting in it. You truly couldn’t imagine how you had never noticed him before.

✦✧✦✧

“Thank you for cooking for me, that was really good.”

You waved his compliment off with the swipe of your hand. “It’s really nothing, you should see my roommate, she’s a culinary science major. Wait! Let me go get something real quick.”

You smiled at your little surprise and shuffled back to the kitchen, putting the two little raspberry and chocolate cupcakes on plates with equally little forks.

“Ta-da! These are to die for. I wish I could take the credit; these are just one of the benefits of having a roommate that’s constantly experimenting.”

Hyunjin took in a careful bite and his eyes widened into moons.

“I know right!? She’s a genius.”

Silence filled the air between you as you ate more. You couldn’t help but feel so completely and utterly cozy in the moment. The sun had nearly set and you had set your heater up in your room along with some Christmas music to softly play in the background. The only regret that you had was the candle you had lit which was just a little too sweet. You started to wonder after you two had finished, what would happen next? Would he leave? Greedily, a feeling seeped into you like before, you still didn’t want him to leave.

“That was amazing.” He placed his plate down.

“You know what?” Your brash confidence pushing through once more. “Your hair, the silver, it’s just so pretty. I can’t stop looking at it.”

He instantly became flustered. “Oh...thank you, I’ve been thinking about dying it like this for a really long time now and I finally did it. It sounds kinda dumb, but I didn’t wanna do anything that would draw attention to myself.”

“...can I touch it?”

Hyunjin looked a little shocked, but eagerly nodded.

You started by thumbing through some of the longer strands towards his shoulders: it was just as soft as you imagined. You then started from the top running your hand all the way down, admiring the way that it looked like it shimmered a little. You had gotten so caught up in him that you didn’t notice that he had closed his eyes.

“pretty.” You cooed.

“Y/n?” He suddenly asked.

“Hmm?”

“Is it weird to say that I feel like really comfortable around you? Is that weird?”

“No, not at all.” You continued running your hands through the silver strands, somehow you had leaned in a lot closer to him than you had been before.

He looked at you with his doe-like brown eyes. You could have sworn that they were glistening. Your eyes fell a little lower to his lips, they looked wonderfully kissable and plump. From that moment your brain furiously wondered what they tasted like. His eyes fell a little too.

He leaned in first, catching you completely off guard. He kissed you so carefully and gently, his mouth parted just slightly; it was heavenly. You could still taste the chocolate and the raspberry on his lips. He sighed a little into your mouth like he was relaxing himself. In many ways, the way in which he kissed you made you feel like he cared for nothing else in the world, just you. Your cupped his face in your hands, tracing your thumbs against his jawline.

That was it. You were absolutely crazy for him.

You broke for a moment and he turned into a huge, rosy, smiling mess. The two of you giddily giggled at how happy you were over what had just happened. You shuffled your own plate off the bed to silently invite him to lay down which he did obediently. Now he seemed less hesitant, but more excited.

You swung your legs around both sides of him and kissed him more on his smiling lips. At this point, you had convinced yourself that nothing in this world was sweet as him. His hands found their way to your back, where he ran his fingers down, making you shiver delightfully at the touch. His hands finally found your waist which he grabbed onto firmly. He pulled you down into him so your bodies were flush and you could feel all of his warmth. Once you were this close, he started kissing you back more wantonly, gasping a little in between.

“You’re so beautiful Hyunjinnie.” You snuck in between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

He let an airy laugh fall into your lips then brought one of his hands to tangle in you hair. All at once, your hands yearned to explore the soft of his skin everywhere. Outside your window the snow still silently fell and the golden sunset faded into the skyline’s horizon.

You knew how excited you had become, where together your hips grinded together. Your head spun thinking about having someone as beautiful as him give your body attention.

Hyunjin broke, holding your eyes seriously. “I-I want to make you feel good. Can I do that?”

“Of course, I would love that.” You melted.

“--But...I think you’ll have to tell me how...I haven’t done this before, sorry..”

The fact that he had shared this with you made him even more adorable.

“Don’t apologize, I can show you everything.” You whispered into his ear with a prideful grin. “But first, can I first help you?”

He gulped, “Yes.”

“I want to show you that you’re worth the attention, you’re worth all of it.”

You helped him pull off his sweater, and then his sleeveless shirt revealing his toned and pale chest, just waiting for your lips. You didn’t want to move too fast however, or risk scaring him.

“Just relax okay?”

You planted kisses everywhere you could: on his collarbones, his stomach and on his ribs, right over his heart. Even from the simplest of touches from you he seemed to unravel.

“You’re breathtaking.” You said onto his skin.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sucking a little harder than you planned, drawing little purple marks against his milky-white skin. He looked like pure art.

“Can I go down a little further?”

“Mmhmm.” He got out, with eyes closed shut trying to control himself.

You slipped his joggers down, revealing his quivering member, which was enticingly long even hidden by his briefs. He had already stained them a little with pre cum.

“oh my god.” you whispered, enamored. You couldn’t wait a single second further.

He timidly watched as you completely striped him, then tore off our own shirt and pants to make it a little more even.

“Tell me stop if you want me to, okay?”

He pleaded with desperate eyes, “Don’t stop.”

First you teased him just a little by running your tongue flat up and down and around his length, wetting your tongue with one hand and slowly pumping. You moved on to then twist around the head which had grown painfully hard. His breaths wavered and he let out little moans in desperation. You took him in at last, bobbing your head steadily.

“ mmm, that feels so good.” Hyunjin moaned out breathlessly.

You kept on, but not for too much longer, you didn’t want him finishing quite yet. He looked a little dejected when you stopped, but you swooped up to kiss him more. You took up his left hand and kissed him all the way up to his wrist and into his palm. His fingertips brushed over your lips, as gentle as one would with a flower petal.

“You want to touch me now?”

“--Yes.”

You unclipped your bra for him and laid back. For this he didn’t need any instruction. He immediately took your breast in his hand, squeezing and and ghosting his fingertips over your nipples; you reveled under his touch. He lowered to suck lightly on the bud, pulling at it lightly with his lips. His teeth grazed you slightly but you didn’t care, you fucking loved it.

“That feels amazing.” You whispered as you watched him. He was sure to give both of your nipples attention.

“I want you.” You said with hot breath. “I want your tongue.”

He looked a little bewildered, but determined after what you had said. He slid down your body, giving you kisses the whole way down like you had done to him.

He nibbled a bit on your thighs. “Tell me how you like it.”

By the second his confidence grew more and more and it was addicting.

You started by rubbing yourself a little so he knew where to start. “In circles, you can go fast or slow, I like both, and you can suck on it too if you’d like.

He lowered, and you swung one of you legs over his shoulder which he palmed into. He started painfully slow, kitten licking carefully; he didn’t know it, but he was teasing the hell out of you. Nevertheless, you whole body began to shake a little with each lick.

“Flatten your tongue out...like that, you can go a little faster, yes...just like that.”

He had closed his eyes and settled into a rhythm, and you dug your heels into the bed. It was astonishing how quickly he got the hang of it. You whimpered out while he continued.

“fuck, Hyunjin--”

He sped up a little, your first orgasm was close by.

“Your fingers, like this.” You held up your pointer and middle together to show him. “Fuck me like that.

He did as he was told, sliding them in with ease over how wet you had become. His fingers were long and slender; addictive. He pumped in and out while your pussy made ungodly sounds. You felt so close you were lightheaded.

“Curl your fingers up, like this.” You showed him again. He continued going fast, taking a hint from your quickened breaths.

You came with white heat, clawing at the comforter on the bed. You only gave yourself a few more moments before pulling him up towards you. “I want you inside me.”

You scrambled with the drawer of your nightstand to rip a condom off from the strand that you kept, tearing it open for him. He was a little flustered, but put it on quickly; he was dripping even more for you. Your lips connected as you laid down, and he aligned himself on top of you. It was then when you saw how pink his chest had flushed. You opened your folds for him, and he started to guide himself in. He filled you up perfectly, and he groaned out once the two of you were connected.

“it’s so tight.” He shivered.

Your fingers latched on to the skin of his hips as you guided him lightly up and down. He buried his face into your shoulder as little euphoric moans slipped past his lips. After a moment, he was able to find his pace, grazing you deep inside. You let him take control as he thrust into you, leaving your arms to wrap around his broad back. You pulled his face over to kiss him, the both of you loosing yourself in the other.

“You make me feel, so, so good, baby,” You hushed into his ear.

He panted, “I-I’m gonna cum soon.”

It took all your strength to flip him off of you, and to land in his lap. He groaned with his hands getting lost journeying all around your body--anywhere he could touch. You took over, riding him and rolling your hips fast with both of your palms flat on his chest riddled with hickies. Like this, you thought that he looked practically angelic. Both of you chased your orgasms together, erupting at nearly the same time, and you ravished in him throbbing inside.

You laughed a little together in sheer bliss and he flinched a little when you slid off of him.

“Did that all feel good for you? Are you okay?” You pecked his nose.

“Yes. It felt like nothing else.”

You stood up, adjusting your frazzled hair and putting on a fresh set of comfy clothes. “Stay right there okay?”

You went to grab him a towel and clean himself off with, handing him his clothes one by one as he dressed. You brought the plates back to the kitchen coming back with a large glass of ice cool water, then offered it to him. He guzzled it letting a little drop fall down his neck.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Do you wanna...stay a little longer?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

You blew the candle out and dimmed the lights, adjusting a blanket for the two of you to crawl under. Hyunijn followed you under, sweeping you deep into his arms.

Just a little bit longer. You thought to yourself. Stay with me.

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Sunny Side Up

Summary: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? And for Mike, there’s no better way to start it than by eating his favourite thing, ever.

Pairing: Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Brief mentions of drug addiction- nothing graphic. Language!

A/N: So this was what popped into my head after seeing @imanuglywombat post that damned latest Sex Position as part of her downright filthy and wonderful “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “The Special Breakfast”. See here for more information. And you can totally blame @sweater-daddiesdumbdork for this one. I wasn’t gonna write it but…yeah, I did. Sorry not sorry. I’ve tried to make the reader as non-descript and as inclusive as I can but I don’t usually do reader x fics so I apologise if it hasn’t quite hit the mark.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

Main Masterlist

********

“No, that’s not the same, at all.” Mike’s voice drifted up the hallway of you house as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the bitter January wind that has descended over Dover. “Yeah, well they signed up to the terms so....”

You glanced at your watch, it wasn’t even seven-AM yet and he was already on to someone about the current case he was working. But then, that was Mike all over. An addict, only now you were glad to say the only thing flooding his system was adrenaline and passion for his work.

You hung your jacket up on the pegs by the door, unwrapped your woollen scarf from round your neck and placed that over the hook above your jacket and then reached down to unzip you boots, before toeing them off. Your sock clad feet padded down the wooden floor of the hall towards the kitchen and you walked in to see Mike was bent over a file on the island in the middle, already dressed for the office.

“Clause ninety-one, paragraph twenty, sub-bullet two. Yup. We’ll present that to them today, give them chance to respond.” He paused for a moment, his head turning to you, a warm smile spreading across his face as you leaned over for a quick peck before you headed to the fridge for a soda. “Yeah. Okay, no problem, see you about half eight.”

With that he placed the cordless phone down and turned to face you.

“Morning, Baby.” He grinned, before he nodded to the Diet Coke in your hand. “Interesting choice of drink for breakfast.”

“Technically it’s not my breakfast time.” You shrugged back. “More like dinner, I suppose.”

Mike chuckled as he crossed to space towards you, his hands falling to your hips before he bent down and brushed his lips against yours in a hardly there kiss. “Good shift?”

“A heart attack, car accident, two broken legs, couple of flu cases and a shit tonne of idiotic drunks, the finest Delaware has to offer.” You shrugged. “Usual shit.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dr Y/L/N”

“Lucky for you I do, or we’d have never met.”

“And I’d be dead.”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, swallowing a little. The memory of that night almost eighteen months ago was still raw. If you hadn’t stopped by at Mike’s that evening following an argument the pair of you had earlier in the day, you’d never have found him almost dead from an overdose. It had been a long road to recovery, and whilst nothing was ever proven, Mike and Paul were convinced that it was something to do with the safety needle case they had been working. Despite the fact that there was enough heroin in his system to stop his heart, Mike swore blind to you he hadn’t taken anything but a few lines that night, and there was something about the way he said it that made you believe him. And so did Paul.

The authorities never managed to prove anything, but there was one good thing to come out of it. When you had broken down and told Mike how scared you’d been that he was going to die and that you couldn’t cope anymore with the constant fear that one day he would kill himself for real, it gave Mike the final kick he needed because he didn’t want to lose you.

So he got clean. And this time he did it for good.

It wasn’t easy, for either of you. Once he was medically fit enough, Mike had been placed on a programme at a Rehab Centre, whereby he saw no one bar trained medical specialists and councillors for six weeks. It felt like the longest six weeks of your life but he did it. And when you went to pick him up, you instantly burst into tears at how different he looked, how better he looked, how healthy he looked.

The road to recovery is a long one, paved with temptations, you knew that being a Doctor. And whilst Mike knew and understood his triggers thanks to his programme, those temptations met him everywhere, especially because he knew exactly where and how to get his fix. So the pair of you agreed to take a fresh start. You traded Texas for Delaware, the State you were originally from, and you were beyond proud to be able to honestly state that Mike Weiss had been clean now for eighteen months. Well, apart from alcohol that is. But even that was enjoyed in moderation, and to be honest, you’d rather him sit at home with a glass or two of bourbon each night that sticking fuck knows what into his veins.

You cocked your head to one side as his hands flexed on your hip and he gave you a little side smile. “Sorry. Oh, hey guess who I got a call from?”

“Who?” You asked as he stepped back, grinning.

“The Alligator Farm. Snappy’s got himself a lady friend. They’re gonna send me some photos and stuff.”

You smiled, giving up that beloved alligator had been a hard sell to Mike. “That’s great.”

“Yeah. Oh and Paul was thinking of coming over with the family in the spring. I said they could stay here, I know it’ll be a squeeze but is that okay?”

“Course it is.” You reached up to cup his cheek. “It’ll be lovely to see them again.”

Mike smiled and dropped another kiss to your lips, this one slightly stronger before you pat his chest as he rest his forehead against yours.

“I need to go shower.”

“Want me to come join you?” He asked, eyebrow raised and you smiled.

“As good as that sounds there’s something else I want more.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, his eyes flickering down to the buttons on your blouse and you laughed.

“Calm down, Stud. I want pancakes and bacon, I don’t give a shit what time it’s supposed to be for me.”

Mike groaned as you moved away from where you’d been stood with your back to the large, stainless steel fridge and headed out of the room. He watched you go, the gently sway of your hips in your well fitted black pants made his groin twitch. He was half tempted to fuck your demands and go and jump you in the shower whether you wanted him to or not, but he’d seen the flicker your face had given when you’d described how your twelve-hour shift had gone down. Despite your blasé tone, he knew you too well and understood exactly how tired and stressed you were feeling. So, instead, he turned his attention to making breakfast.

Something he prided himself on was his cooking ability. He’d picked it up pretty fast since you’d moved here, he found it was a welcome distraction, so much so you very rarely made meals now, bar when you insisted on doing a roast which he never argued against. Within fifteen minutes he had a stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs- sunny side up, as you preferred- all laid out on the island and ready for you to help yourself to. He’d just poured you an orange juice when you walked back into the kitchen, hair piled on your head in a messy bun, wrapped in a dressing gown and he was pleased to see you looked relaxed.

“Oh, Mikey, this looks great!” You smiled as he wrapped an arm round you, kissing your head. He watched as you helped yourself to a huge plateful before making your way over to the table and sitting down with a sigh. Mike tucked his tie into his shirt to avoid it dropping into his food and plated himself a helping up before he sat down at the place next to you, cracking his neck slightly. The pair of you chatted about the day ahead, which for you consisted of sleeping until it was time to get up for your next shift, Mike’s contained a meeting with a company who he was currently in the process of negotiating a settlement with on behalf of a client. When you’d finished, Mike made to clear away the dishes but you gently placed your hand on his arm and stood up, insisting on doing it as he’d cooked.

When you returned to the table, Mike pushed his chair back slightly and patted his knee.

“Come ‘ere.” He smiled softly and you grinned, settling yourself on his lap sideways, your arm looping round his shoulder, fingers gently playing with his suspenders. He gave a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your head, happy to simply be close to you for a moment.

“You doing okay?” You asked and he smiled, your words carrying that hidden meaning- ‘Do you want a fix, today?’

“I’m good, Babes.” He pulled back to look at you. “I promise.”

Smiling you gently placed your lips on his in a soft kiss, which soon became heated as Mike’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He was pleased when you reciprocated, opening your mouth slightly to allow him in. He could taste the sweetness of the syrup on you from your pancakes and, as your tongue gently swirled against his, he let out a little groan from the back of his throat and he felt you smile.

“How long till you have to be in the office?” Your voice was lower than you’d intended, betraying exactly what you had in mind and Mike grinned at you, pulling back a little, as he glanced up at the clock.

“Just over forty-five minutes, why?”

You bit your lip, fingers toying once more with his suspenders which were clipped to the waistband of his light, grey trousers and sat over a maroon shirt, set off with a black tie. “Do I gotta spell it out to you, Weiss?”

“No, I just like hearing you beg.” A cheeky glint flashed in his eyes and you gave a snort.

“I do not beg.”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow and in a swift moment he stood up, causing you to give a shriek of a giggle as he sat you on the table in front of him. “I bet,” he pushed on your shoulders causing you to rest your weight on your elbows as he loomed over you, gently reaching for the tie on your robe, “that I can have you singing my name and begging for more,” his hands made quick work of the knot and pulled it open, before his fingers slid up the front, opening it to leave you bare in front of him, “in less than five minutes flat.”

“Less than five minutes?” You looked up at him, his eyes blown with lust and you smirked. “You’re so full of shit.”

He wasn’t though, you knew full well that you were the one full of shit. Mike had on many an occasion had you crying his name in less time than it took you to sing a verse of the National Anthem, and he knew it as the cocky expression on his face showed.

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He chuckled, bending over, his mouth brushing against that spot on your neck, the bristles of his short beard scratching your skin. “Have you learnt nothing, yet?”

“Only that you’re a cocky little bastard.” You tried to keep your voice level but it didn’t work. Your words came out a shaky whisper as one of his hands gently splayed on your stomach and brushed up your body to your sternum as he peppered hot, opened mouthed kisses across your collar bone, before his lips ghosted up your neck, over your chin and his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss as his hand palmed at your breast. As he rolled your nipple between his finger and thumb you gave a moan and he smirked against your mouth.

Suddenly, he was gone from over you and you frowned, missing his sudden presence and you propped yourself up on your elbows to see him settling back in the chair by the table.

“Mike, what the-“

You were cut off as he reached over, grabbing your ass and hoisting your pelvis up, pulling you towards him. Before you could register what was going on, your legs were over his shoulders and you just caught a glimpse of his face, as he quirked an eyebrow at you, lips curled upwards in that maddeningly smug bastard grin, before his mouth was trailing up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, Jesus.” You let out a little groan as he neared the place you now desperately wanted him and he chuckled.

“No, just me.”

“Fuck off you-“ But whatever it was you were going to call him flew from your mind as his tongue licked up your sex, and grazed against your clit, teasing it with quick, hardly there flicks which, you were ashamed to say, had you riled up something feral. His hands palmed at your ass, his fingers curling round the outside of your thighs as he quickened his movements, his mouth expertly devouring you, tongue flicking into your entrance as his lips circled that sensitive nub, giving a suck that made you cry out, your back arching off the table, pushing yourself further onto his face.

Mike let out a chuckle which vibrated exquisitely against you and you gasped again, your hands slapping onto the cool surface of the table, fingernails feeling the grain of the wood as he upped his efforts dramatically, lips and tongue teasing you in a way that was so delectable it was teetering along that fine line between pain and pleasure. His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, despite the breakfast the pair of you had eaten moments ago.

“Fuck, Mike, I need…” Your voice was croaky, the words sounded far off as they bounced around your lust addled brain and once again he chuckled.

“I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah you arrogant sh-oooh fuck!” You cried as he gently nipped your clit. “Shit!”

You were willing yourself to remain grounded, wanting to prove him wrong but you couldn’t. You couldn’t fight the urge you felt to ride over the edge which was building like a fire inside you. When his mouth was over you completely once more, tongue deep, you felt him move one of his hands and his thumb pressed against your clit, before the pressure eased off and his tongue slipped away.

"Okay, okay you win, Mike, please for the love of God!” You groaned and with a final, maddeningly smug chuckle he dove back in, only this time when you felt your orgasm brewing he didn’t stop. One of your hands flew to his hair, pulling lightly on his soft, spiky strands and he gave a growl as you tugged, his efforts doubling once more as his beard scratched against your sensitive pussy and inner thighs. The coil in your belly was tightening, your entire body quivered and with a final flick of his tongue you gave a cry as your orgasm crashed over you. Your toes curled into his back just below his shoulders, your own back arched as your walls clamped down over nothing, the room fading out as everything went silent and the lights erupted in front of your eyes, your entire body feeling like you were floating.

Mike grinned, guiding you through your release before he stood up, pulling you further to the end of the table as he undid the flies on his trousers, freeing his painfully hard erection. The swollen head of his dick gently swirled around your folds before he buried himself inside you, groaning as he felt you fluttering around him in the after throes of your orgasm. You let out a low groan and finally opened your eyes, looking up at him as he pounded into you, fully clothed, those fucking suspenders that drove you wild still looped over his shoulders.

He slid one, large hand under your back and pulled you up causing you to cry out as he drove deeper into you, his hand on the base of your back pulling you up and towards him as he dipped his head to give you a dirty, sloppy kiss whilst he rolled and thrust into you. Then His lips moved down, nipping at your neck, his breath hot on your ear as your head fell back, a low moan rumbling in his throat.

“God, I love seeing you like this, fucking wrecked all because of me.” His panted words made you groan even more as the heat in your groin was beginning to mount again. “Makes me higher than any fucking drug ever could.”

His thrusts continued, hard, deep, and you felt his dick throbbing inside you as he drove up against your spot, his lips back on yours as he kissed you hard, swallowing the pants and whimpers you were making as you began to teeter on that cliff edge again. With a deep roll of his hips you let out a low wail and came, once more, your core spasmed around him as your entire body tingled, and that was enough for him to follow you. With a powerful thrust he stiffened, a low grunt stuttering from his lips as he pulsed inside of you, his hips growing sloppy before they stopped completely. His chest heaving, he pressed his forehead to yours, the pair of you gasping for breath as you came down from your high.

“Shit, Mike.” You managed to stutter as he grinned, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck. “That was…”

“Yeah, I was pretty good.” He chuckled and you slapped his arm as he moved and pulled out of you. You straightened your robe and stood up, wincing as you felt his release trickled down your inner thigh.

“I need another shower.” You grumbled, before you glanced at his crotch, the damp patch where he’d pressed against you was clear as day. “And you should probably change your trousers.”

Mike glanced down before his eyes met you, and he shrugged. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll go into the office like this and then every time I see it I’ll be reminded exactly what a damned good breakfast I had this morning.”

You blinked before you shook your head, scoffing. “You’re gross.”

He laughed. “You love it, Sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You corrected, your hands sliding up over his shoulders and he smiled, a pure, innocent smile that made him look like a schoolboy before he took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, pulling away, his nose bumping against yours.

“I love you too.” He whispered, his eyes locking onto yours. “Now go, before I decide to play hooky for the day.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Weiss.” You smirked, before with one final quick peck you left the room.

Mike watched you go, before he ran his hands through his hair and turned to glance around the kitchen, his eyes falling to the table he’d just fucked you senseless on.

He should probably clean that before he went to work…

#uglywombatsexpositionchallenge #mike weiss #mike weiss x reader #mike weiss x you #mike weiss reader insert #reader insert #mike weiss fanfic #mike weiss smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

448 notes · View notes

cinnamonest · 3 years

Note

THAT FIC WITH RAZOR MISTAKING DARLING FOR A BOY WAS SO GOOD 😭😭 PLEASE MAKE me MORE TOMBOY FICS. It’s super hard to find tomboy fics that are actually good I really like it when reader/darling is strong and can fight back

Ok heads up: from now on I'm gonna put anything involving crossdressing or cross-gender stuff under the forced fem tag (#tw: ff) in addition to the misogyny tag bc I know that can be a sensitive topic for some people and I don't wanna accidentally trigger anyone (・m・ )

I love tomboy darling so much tbh and I know it's very controversial (which is why I tag it) but... I am also a fan of intentionally deceptive crossdressing. Like darling intentionally trying to make people think she's a boy (or the other way around, that's nice too). But just normal tomboyishness is good too tbh. I like hyper-feminine fem darling too, both are very interesting dynamics.

I'll probably get more in detail about individual boys eventually (esp bc I really like this concept with a Zhongli/Childe/Diluc type so I'll make posts for them eventually) BUT a general summary:

I feel like the worst for tomboy/crossdress darling is probably Diluc or Zhongli or Xingqiu bc they're gonna have to Change That(tm). Help you fill the waifu fantasy in their head. Especially Xingqiu/Diluc like... You know you have to fit the rich people trophy wife norms so they can show you off! How can they show you off to their rich visitors and not feel emasculated if you're not hyper submissive?? You might not like it now, maybe fight it even, but eventually you'll see they were right all along and you're a lot happier molded into a waif :) also bc if darling is strong and can protect herself it threatens their poor fragile masculinity which is hilarious tbh. Nooooo you can't protect yourself and kill those monsters that's his job :( You can't have a job that pays a lot how is he supposed to fill his savior complex and impress you with buying you nice things?? How are you gonna respect him as an authority when you have a position of power?? Hence it significantly speeds up how quickly you get... Removed from you original environment.

Also Childe and Kaeya and Scara would be pretty terrible too. Very mocking about it, always pinning you down to remind you how much stronger they are bc you seem to always forget and try to fight. Call you princess and the like just to see you squirm. Force you to say degrading things about yourself. The strength is... Irritating to them. You actually land a few blows and can struggle out of their grasp and that pisses them off and just makes them rougher. But tbh they like it because they like the fire/fight darling has, they enjoy the brat taming process. They also have the "no you can't protect/provide for yourself only I can" complex though.

The best... Probably Bennett or Chongyun or Razor, but Razor's got pros and cons tbh.

The former two, it doesn't really matter, if anything you can go on more adventures with them :) and other guys won't know and will stay away from you, which is great. It relieves a lot of his fears. And if you're a more dominant personality, well, that's fine too, they're pleasers and will do anything you want! I could actually see both of them really being into tomboys actually. They're both nervous boys and feeling like they can relate a bit more helps ease their nerves, whereas they're a lot more stuttery/blushy around a highly femme darling.

Razor... Granted the major con is he still gets irritated if you're not very obedient and has the breeding thing going on, but if you want to dress or carry yourself a certain way, he couldn't care less. He doesn't really get any of that anyway. Him with a highly feminine darling is its own pretty funny dynamic (which I will discuss eventually lol) but with a tomboy it's also kinda funny bc he just *shrug* doesn't care, it's kinda the same idea as a male darling like... Literally no matter what your sex, gender presentation, identity, whatever, literally nothing about that is gonna stop him from breeding you on the forest floor every few hours. Boy does not care.

Notably he is very intrigued by female darling in general bc he does not understand what any of these parts are or how they work and needs to... Explore. Bennett and Chongyun are a bit similar, even, they're the kind of virgins that don't even really know what pussy looks like and get hard at the slightest hint of tiddy or thigh, you know the type.

Venti is similar to Razor, actually. He could not care less about presentation and nothing about your identity or way of dress or demeanor changes anything for him, he has no preference. Some yans are "idealizers," where they have a very specific image of what darling *should* be and forcibly mold them to it, whereas some are "flexible" taste-changers - basically, their own tastes will lean towards or can even be completely transformed based on what their darling is like. He falls into the latter category. He's also very good at laughing off defiance, but he can be pushed to a snapping point more easily than Chongyun/Bennett. And he will fall a bit into the "nooooo you can't protect yourself that's my job" similar to the other boys.

#tw: ff #lena's asks #scheduled post #tw: misogyny

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jjkpls · 3 years

Text

the wishlist (m) - 4

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 4.7k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity ; awkwardness

previous - next

The issue is that Jungkook -and you're not a bitch for thinking that- is a little bit of an idiot.

He can be very smart. He can be wise and present unsuspecting resources and knowledge. He can teach you things you don't know anything about, figure out others you struggle to -but not during stressful times like for say an escape game because during those, he turns absolutely, utterly useless.

But he is an idiot too. An idiot that sometimes shapes situations and conclusions and ideas in a very peculiar way that is very singular to him.

That’s precisely what happens then. He plays his role right, to its full extent, with great dedication and commitment. Except he missed a memo, misread the script and ends up playing a role that's not the one you planned for him. He believes that he’s your new adult toy provider (as if there is such a thing).

When you think he’s coming over to share a meal or play some game or binge-watch a series you promised to wait for him to experience together, he has a box hidden in his pocket or carried under his arm.

He has the decency to not comment on it the first time around. He just set it down on the coffee table, between the bowl of chips and the one filled with guacamole. You see the logo on top of it. You recognize the design, reffined, minimalist with the pretty pastel matte colour.

He probably identifies the shame and the annoyance on your face, painting your cheeks and reshaping your eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything. Simply smiles to himself and starts talking about the series’ new episode that’s about to start.

It takes a lot of efforts, coming from you, to ignore the conspicuous object sitting just in front and in between you. But eventually, probably because more than a decade of friendship with this guy have grown impressive mind muscles on you, you manage to make abstraction of it.

It just stops existing for a while until he leaves and you’re curious to see what’s inside. And again you have the same old intentions as before. The same ones.

You won’t use it.

It’s curiosity. And it's fine for you to be curious because he’s the one buying it and gifting it to you. Why should you be blamed?

Freshly hopped in bed, just done reading the notice hanging over your face, you’re yawning and sending your eyebrows high in interest. Again you won’t use it but it sounds very interesting. That’s when you get a text from him.

Guk

So about the toy!

As if you were waiting for his explanation. As if the conversation got cut short and you were expecting him to pick it back up whenever possible.

You won’t entertain him.

You

I said not to buy me this.

Guk

You never said that! You said something about me being crazy but never about buying one again

Because you're mostly made of petty bitch material, you scroll higher quickly, wishing to find something, any text that would corroborate what you’re saying.

You don’t find anything though. Because you never actually told him to not buy you other toys by text, and now that you come to think of it, you probably never did out loud either because you didn’t fucking know that he would even consider doing so.

It’s not even Christmas anymore. It’s not your birthday. There’s even less of a valid reason for him to get you this therefore, of course, you did not explicitly warn him not to, you didn’t think it would be necessary.

You

It’s not even my fucking bday why???

Guk

I told you the lady at the shop

But who the hell is that lady?

Guk

She talked about a lot of products and they all seemed cool and because you liked the other one I thought I’d get you this one too

You

Jungkook

This simple response says a lot, you hope he can read between the pixels of his screen the desperation, the irritation, the frustration, the silent insults.

Guk

Listen it’s super cool it's supposed to mimic the touch of a finger

Jungkook then proceeds to explain to you how it works. The original idea being a system with a tiny ball rolling under a silicon skin, to place on your clitoris to have the illusion of a finger's touch. And it’s interesting and innovative surely and sounds intriguing as in, you wonder if it’s accurate, but you’re tired and it seems like you’re wading in some sort of swamp you can’t escape from. There’s a fire burning your skin from your cheeks to your chest. You’re both hating this conversation and unwilling to just draw a final period to it. This asshole.

You

I can read

Guk

So you opened it already??

There’s a bunch of excited emojis that follows his last message and fill up the empty space your lack of response leaves.

Why and how can he be so eager?

Here comes the delusional part of your brain. It’s a very wide, very deep hallway covered in bookshelves filled to the brim with stupid interpretations and beliefs and sometimes even memories you’ve shared with him. Often next to the laters are pinned an article from a teenage magazine or the jacket of a romance movie, specifically there to validate that yes, indeed, it must have meant something.

The door of that corridor just creaked opened. You can discern the sound, you can feel the particular atmosphere without even having to take a step through.

Is it really that normal to be so excited about that? For him? As a friend?

It’s the most frustrating part: you are friends. Friends who supposedly can tell each other everything. Friends who can ask each other anything.

You should be able to talk about it. Just ask him. If there’s anything behind this whole mess, if he means to tell you something, if it’s wholly mindless, if there’s no hidden agenda.

It should be fine. There’s only trust and affection in this friendship.

You are still too scared, you are terrified that he’d start linking dots, ask himself some new questions, potentially answer them himself, and have you all found out.

You'd have your barely well-worn cover thrown completely away.

You send the blank emoji. The one with even the eyes closed. It summarizes your actual state pretty well, speechless, relatively annoyed.

Guk

She said you could try it on other parts of your body too

Guk

At first

Guk

Like on your lips or your nipples

You want to die.

Now.

No, better, you wish to have never been born.

Why is he talking about your nipples? Why?

And through all that, you still feel like something is wrong with you, along with your feelings.

Turns out you are so overwhelmed by his clueless inadequacy, you need a good half an hour and a random shot of tequila to get through it. When it’s gone and exhaustion of a long day and alcohol have knocked nervousness and panic out, you fall asleep, forgetting about answering his outrageous last texts.

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

Min's finger stops midair, above the cash register she's been working on. She needs a good minute to get back to her senses and while you wait, anxiety invades you. Maybe you should never have brought it up.

But this question, the torturous thing is slowly killing you.

Min finally turns her head to you, eyes squinted and eyebrows drawn low. She sucks in her pretty red lips before opening them to start formulating, with it seems a certain struggle, an answer.

“I don’t think I quite understand.”

It’s a pretty straightforward, relatively easy question. That’s what you'd want to say but you’ve reached the state of bashful regret and decide not to press it. Some things are better just left alone.

“Who talked about your nipples?” She ends up asking the one thing you wished she wouldn’t because there is no way you’re giving his name.

“Doesn’t matter.” You mumble, turning around slightly, getting back to the task you were here, paid, to do -wipe the shelves clean and not talk about your “““love””” life.

“I think it does. You wanna know if it means something? Like the guy's into you?”

“Something like that.” Your cheeks are aflame now. No doubt about it. You silently curse at your manager who refuses that you don’t wear the ugly hat that holds your hair back because having a curtain of hair to hold behind, as a help to keep some of your remained, sparse dignity would have been peachy.

“What did he say exactly?”

Silence. You’re not elaborating. She sighs, defeated.

“Well, I suppose... he’s considered the fact that you have boobs. If it’s a straight guy, that’s a good sign, I guess?” She shrugs.

You don’t like the answer. It’s exactly what the wrong, defective part of your brain, the one directly wired to your heart, wanted to hear.

She doesn’t even have the context, anyway. It doesn’t mean much, doesn’t hold much power in your court of sensibility.

She stares at the side of your face, clearly attempting to drill holes in your head to try and find some answers. You’re awfully silent, have said too much yet not enough and she’s dying to know the whole story. You won’t give in and she can tell. There’s no way you’re sharing the whole thing. The most, probably, probative point of the whole story: the sex toys. It’d turn her into a devastating tsunami of nonsense and misinterpretation and drown you in its wake and you can’t, when you’re already struggling to stay afloat, allow that.

Tag list: @fangirls94 @realswimshaddy @safi4x @pnkd @somewhereinthestarss @kpopfandomftw @kai-kai-bookshelf @pasteljoonie @ggukkieland

A/N: Don’t forget to click on the next button on top, two parts are being posted simultaneously :)

#btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #ggukienet #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #my writing

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tangledstarlight · 3 years

Text

oh all of this silence and patience (oh im pining in anticipation)

listen it’s still august in some timezones so this totally counts as posting something in august okay? okay! i hope people like this, it took me far too long to finish, but also special shoutout to the wonderful @ourstarscollided who really helped me with the whole first section of this fic, without her i truly would still be working on it, so thank you eunice, you’re the best!💜 okay enjoy!

the first firefighter!luke fic for anyone who wants to read that first, though it can be read alone: ao3 / tumblr

also on ao3!

lil disclaimer: i’m still not a firefighter and i also know that they dont use fire poles anymore but lets just ✨pretend✨ for the visual okay. this takes place between part 4 and 5 in the original fic!

trigger warnings! lots of swearing, implied sexual content.

RATED T –– there’s no graphic scenes but there’s a lot of kissing and fading to black, so rating might change if anyone needs me to 😬

Word count: 6,072

“Look who it is!”

Julie feels a grin pull up on the corners of her mouth as she spots Luke’s station captain coming around the end of one of the fire trucks Julie is walking between, sending her a wave of the clipboard she’s holding. “You’re here early.”

“Yeah, class ended early and I thought I'd pop over to see if I could get some extra time with Luke,” Julie shrugs, holding up the pale grey burlap bag that Alex had packed their food into.

And there’s a sympathetic look that crosses over Harrison’s face, because she knows that the younger woman knows she’s in charge of Luke’s shifts and the reason why Julie comes over every Tuesday to have lunch with her boyfriend.

Because that’s why she was here. To have lunch with him like she did every Tuesday between her classes and when the fires of LA would allow. Sometimes Alex would text her to stop by to pick up a packed lunch for them, sometimes she made something herself, sometimes they just ordered in. The food wasn’t really the point, it was just getting to spend some time together. Julie had never really thought about it before, but there was always something, someone, somewhere, trapped or hurt or on fire. Luke was a very busy person, and it meant sometimes their lunches got interrupted by blaring alarms and him pressing a quick kiss to her lips before rushing off.

Tuesdays were apparently very busy days for a firefighter.

“What’s the master chef prepared for you this week then?” Harrison asks, crossing her arms and clipboard across her chest and lifting one brow, “Y’know Alex used to cook for us, he’d send Luke in every Saturday he was on shift with all sorts of goodies.”

Julie bites her lip to try not to laugh at the exaggerated sigh that leaves the older woman's lips as she shakes her head sadly. There was something about Vivian Harrison that just— put people at ease. The first time Julie had officially met her there had been a warm hug and teasing remarks and there was just something that had viscerally reminding Julie of her aunt Victoria that it was kind of impossible not to like the station captain after that.

“He was pretty busy so it’s just some sandwiches,” she wrinkles her nose a little before smiling, “I’ll tell him how much you’re missing his cooking though, I’m sure the blame will fall completely on Luke.”

Harrison laughs, and tilts her head slightly as she shrugs, “That boy of yours is just very easy to blame.”

She feels a sudden flush to her cheeks at ‘that boy of yours’ that she hopes can be played off by how warm it always is in the station. She can see Harrison’s lips twitching, like she’s about to say something teasing, but Julie is saved from it by two people walking past them and a change of mind.

“Morales, can you tell Patterson his lunch is here.”

“Sure thing Cap,” one of the guys says, shooting her a wide smile that Julie feels compelled to return quickly before he’s rushing off, past the fire engines and up some stairs. And Julie’s about to ask Harrison if they’ve been busy today and if she’d found time to visit the farmers market they’d talked about last time, but another voice interrupts, and Julie hadn’t even realised the other guy hadn’t followed his friend.

“So you’re Patterson’s girl, right?” The blonde asks, eyes scanning her up and down in a way that makes her want to hide behind someone. There’s something vaguely familiar about him, probably because she’s seen him in passing for the last couple of months but never talked to him. Which wouldn’t have been weird if most of the other people in the station hadn’t introduced themselves the first time Luke had invited her to one of their station parties, and made an effort to talk to her whenever she'd stopped by since.

“Yeah, I’m Julie,” she smiles politely, trying to put emphasis on her name. She doesn't mind being known as Luke's girl by people at the station who have actually made an effort to get to know her.

“Right, right, nice to meet you Julie. I’m Nick, I’m sure Luke’s mentioned me,” he grins, teeth showing and shoulders pulling back like he’s expecting her to — what? Clap? A small furrow works its way between her brows as Nick starts up a conversation without even waiting for her response and she suddenly understands what Luke means about him. Because he has mentioned the condescending, stereotypical blonde frat boy before, and never in a good way. It was mostly followed by some very creative swear words and a mumbled ‘he’s going to get either himself or one of us really hurt one day’.

She tries to follow along with the conversation, nodding politely and laughing whenever Harrison forces one out, but Nick only seems interested in talking about himself, and normally she can feign interest, but right now all she wants is to talk to one person in particular.

There’s the sound of too many voices heading in their direction and Julie turns around, eyes searching for one person, but all she’s met with is a collection of firefighters she vaguely knows and tries not to let her disappointment show too clearly on her face.

“Wow Molina, don’t look so excited to see us!” An elbow nudges her side and Julie glances up to see Carrie Wilson has appeared in the place that Nick had just stood, eyebrows raised and a blinding smile as the other blonde frowns from behind her, still trying to carry on his conversation.

“No! I am glad to see you all it’s just—” Julie starts, eyes a little wide as she looks at the other girl because Carrie had only ever been nice to her, but Luke had a lot of stories about the blonde being ruthless and rude to people she was mildly inconvenienced by.

(One of Luke’s favourite stories was about Carrie loudly telling some girl that Nick was flirting with how he had used the same lines on her two months before. Luke told it every chance he could get, sparing no details on the look of horror that has taken over Nick’s face.)

“You’re here for Patterson,” Carrie cuts her off with a wink, elbow nudging her lightly again, “Don’t worry, we all know. He should be down soon.” There’s something about how she says it that raises more questions than answers for Julie, furrow between her brows and mouth opening to comment when Carrie just nods her head behind her, and Julie turns around to spot Luke.

It’s impossible, Julie knows it’s impossible, but she could swear time slows down. Like she’s in some rom-com movie where the main character sees their love interest for the first time.

Only she’s not in a film, she’s stood next to a fire engine and trying to care about what the people around her are talking about and it’s far from the first time she’s seen the love interest. But the world still feels like it’s in slow motion all the same as she looks up as Luke calls her name from the second floor, grinning at her from over the banister and holding up one hand in that universal signal for ‘wait’.

And Julie waits, not that she could really do anything else with the firehouse blurring at the edges and Nick's voice fading into the background. Focus entirely on Luke.

She’s never seen someone slide down the pole before, didn’t even know that they still used them in firehouses, but Julie’s pretty sure it shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Though, she supposes, it could just be Luke. His hand wraps around the metal and Julie swallows as her eyes are drawn to his arms, to where his top pulls tight and his forearms are on show. If this was a film, there’d be some stereotypical song about sex playing in the background right about now. All her slightly hazy brain can supply is the chorus to Lady Marmalade on repeat. His legs wrapped around the pole, ankles crossed and thighs pressed together, comes into view as he slides down the metal, all cool and in control, and Julie's throat goes dry.

She knows how much strength it takes to slide down a pole. Her and Flynn had taken a few pole dancing classes a few years ago in an attempt to add some sort of exercise into their day. Julie can still remember how much her arms ached and the bruises that littered the insides of her thighs after even the simplest of moves.

It was hard, and Luke was making it look so easy.

His feet hit the ground, and even though she’s too far away to actually hear it, she’s pretty sure they must make some sort of thudding sound. Because that’s what happens, right? You slide down the pole and your feet hit the floor with a thud that shows you’re ready for action. Only Luke isn’t going off to put on his uniform and fight a fire or save a life.

He’s walking towards her, suspenders swaying and smile widening and eyes never leaving her face.

And look, she knows that she’s seen Luke fully naked, fresh out of a shower or panting on his back. But seeing him slide down that fucking pole in his white t-shirt, suspenders by his knees and hair a mess? Hottest thing she has ever seen. And he knows it if the way his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gets closer is anything to go by.

“How long did it take you to practice all that, Patterson?” Carrie asks, and Julie can hear the teasing tone in her voice and would normally enjoy seeing Luke stammer and blush, but right now she’s the one feeling too warm and is pretty sure if she started speaking right now all that would come out would be a high pitched noise.

“About the same amount of time it takes you to do your hair,” is his easy reply and Julie watches as Carrie rolls her eyes, hair flipping over her shoulder, and because he’s momentarily not looking at her, Julie tries to pull her thoughts together. To get a hold of herself. This is not the first time she has seen him in his uniform, she has seen in him in far less, and she will not turn into a blushing mess right now!

“Alright you lot, back to work!” Harrison interrupts before anyone can say anything else, and everyone starts walking away, some nudging Luke as they go, some giving her a wave, and she thinks she must smile back, at least she hopes she does. Her brain is still very much focused on Luke and how his thighs probably looked coming down that pole without the heavy duty trousers. “You tell Alex I’m still a fan of the flapjack he makes,” Harrison says as she walks past, dropping an eye into a wink and giving Luke a look she doesn’t understand.

A tense smile pulls at Julie’s lips that she hopes comes across as genuine and not just her unable to speak because of her incredibly hot and infuriatingly knows it boyfriend.

“You alright, Jules? Looking a little flushed, need me to get one of the EMT’s?” Luke asks, all innocence and anything but subtle as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, teeth still chewing on his damn lip.

“Just—” she clears her throat, trying to glare up at him, but already knowing it’s ruined by the heat in her cheeks and how she can’t stop staring at his arms. God, she hasn’t been this distracted by his arms since their first date. Blowing out a breath, Julie drags her eyes away from where his arms are crossed across his chest — which, she’s like, 80% sure he’s doing on purpose right now, the little shit — and up to his face just as he raises an eyebrow at her.

“It’s just a little warm,” she finally manages to get out, raising her hand that’s clutching the reusable grocery bag too tight, “Alex sent me with lunch.”

Luke’s eyes light up at the mention of Alex and food, hands dropping from his chest to eagerly reach for the bag and Julie can’t help but giggle at how quickly he can switch from cocky to cute.

“Swee-et! Alex is best,” he grins down at her, drawing out the first syllable of the word and bobbing his head at her. “You wanna eat outside?”

Julie doesn’t respond, just nods her head and links her fingers through his empty hand, letting Luke lead her out of the fire station and to the little grassy area outside. There’s already a blanket on the ground, two bottles of water and a warmth spreads through her for a different reason as Luke pulls her down to the ground and spreads out the food Alex has given them.

They get an hour.

An hour to eat lunch and curl up together to talk and giggle and try to keep their hands visible at all times. It’s both her favourite and the most tortuous hour of her week so far. And Luke’s just leaning in to whisper something in her ear, his breath against her cheek sending shivers down her spine when the alarm starts blaring from inside and his head drops to her shoulder with a sigh that mingles with her own groan.

“I gotta go,” he mutters into the fabric of her t-shirt, and she can imagine how his lips would feel brushing against her skin if they were somewhere else right now.

“I know,” she sighs and carefully moves her shoulder so he has to lift his head up, eyes apologetic as they meet hers. “Be careful?”

“Always am,” Luke smiles gently at her and then he’s getting up and leaving her on the blanket and feeling the loss. Julie watches him go, knees pulled up to her chest and blowing him a kiss when he turns around to wave one last time like he always does when the alarm inevitably ends their lunch date early.

Which normally Julie was fine with.

He was at work. He had a job. He had an important job.

Running out in the middle of lunch was fine. And it would have been fine today, if he hadn’t slid down that damn pole and filled her head with all sorts of ideas and left her fidgeting in her seat. It doesn’t help that Luke clearly knows, if the way he presses a kiss to her forehead and mutters a sorry, eyes a little wide and promises to see her later.

Which is all well and good, but Julie can’t help but feel like he did it on purpose and wonders if there’s a way for her to make him feel just as flustered as she had an hour earlier.

It takes her a while to form a plan of revenge, and then it takes a while longer for her to gather all the things she needs. And okay, maybe at some point she forgets why she’s doing all this, and then Luke mentions the pole at the station and how it makes his muscles ache sometimes as he says he’s going for a shower and Julie remembers the sight of him coming down and redoubles her planning.

The hard part comes when she has to pick a day. Because she can’t lure him to her house, not while her dad is working odd hours and her brother is home and Victoria still has a tendency to show up unannounced. Which leaves finding a time when his apartment is empty.

Not an easy feat when Reggie works from home part time, and can’t actually be trusted to stick to his word when he says he’ll be out and Alex has a weekend routine he’s hard pressed to change and likes to get home from work and relax. Plus she has to check when Luke isn’t working on a weekend, which turns out to be the easiest part, because it turns out Harrison really likes her and was happy to schedule Luke a weekend off when she asked.

Sure, she could have enacted her plan while one or both of them were home too but, well Julie knows the boys are all very close, and she knows that they’ve accepted her into the closeness with welcome arms. But she’s not sure she wants to have sex while they’re eating leftover lasagna down the hall. Feels a little too close for her liking. Plus, she has a plan that might end up involving their bath and she’s not sure they’d want to be there for that.

So Julie bides her time. Changes her mind on what clothes she wants and practices different poses on her bed at night and drops little hints about a weekend alone together.

Alex makes plans first, announces that he’s going with Willie to an out of state kids skateboarding competition to help cheer on Willie’s little proteges. He makes a big deal out telling them all the dates and how they had plans to go to some couples spa on their way back and how his restaurant would be ‘more than happy to supply any meals for two that you two might want’.

It had gone over Luke’s head, just nodding and asking about the competition. But Julie had gotten the hint.

And then a few days later Reggie said he had ‘big plans’ with her dad and brother of all people. He’d said it one afternoon when she’d stopped by to see Luke before his week of night shifts, how they were going to go camping so her dad could take some photos for a project and Reggie could teach Carlos to fish, and then he’d dropped his eye in a dramatic wink when she’d asked if that was the same weekend Alex was also away.

(Julie knew that she probably should have found it a little weird how often Reggie seemed to talk and hang out with her family, but the first time she’d gotten home to find him sitting at the dining room table, helping her dad edit photos and offering to order pizza, had felt strangely right.

Like he had always been a part of their family.

Luke had asked her once, a few weeks after they first started dating if it was okay. If she didn’t mind that Reggie had seemed to attach himself to her family. He never explicitly said anything, but she’d known him long enough by then to see the hints, the secrets she wasn’t aware of yet. Of lonely childhoods and something lacking. The hints that he’d found that with her family. And even if she hadn’t been fine with it already, she wasn’t about to stop Reggie. The Molina’s had never been shy about taking in lost souls.)

So apparently she hadn’t been quite as subtle as she thought she’d been with her hints. Both boys clearly conspiring to get her a weekend alone with their best friend. Julie’s just glad that Luke clearly hasn’t noticed. Or if he hadn’t, hadn’t teased her about it.

And that their apartment is empty when she uses her key to let herself in on Friday evening, Hotdog already waiting by the shoes for Luke, head tilted as she looks up mewling softly in disappointment.

“Sorry sweetie, he’ll be home soon though,” Julie mummers, bending down to scratch behind the cat's ears before stepping out of her shoes, which Hotdog happily moves to sit on top of instead. “Be sure to make a big fuss when he gets in so I know, alright?”

Hotdog doesn’t respond, just fixes her eyes back on the front door to wait for Luke, and Julie moves further into the apartment, laughing quietly at the plate of brownies Alex or Willie have clearly left out for them on the counter, blushing slight as she reads the short message scrawled on a post-it note,

‘Don’t mess up my kitchen ;)’

She tries not to let herself think too hard or long about how clearly they all knew about her grand plans for the night. And the next day, and hopefully the whole weekend if things went according to plan.

Picking up the plate on her way through the kitchen, Julie shrugs out of her coat to leave on the back of one of the kitchen stools, because if Luke missed her shoes in the hall, he won't miss this, and she’s really hoping he’ll get the hint to head towards his bedroom. By the time she’s made it to Luke’s room she’s lifted the cellophane off the plate and taken a bite from one of the brownies. Definitely Willie who’d baked them, he was always doubling up the chocolate content. Where Alex was experimental in the kitchen, Willie was a traditionalist who believed chocolate was the best way to set a mood. Julie couldn’t really fault his logic as she moves into Luke’s room.

His room looks the same as it had the first time she’d seen it. Only now there’s a bottle of her perfume on his dresser, and some of her clothes on his ‘laundry’ chair, and polaroids of the two of them stuck in the corners of the photo frames of him and the boys. And Julie knows if she thinks about it, that her room at her dad's house is also littered with pieces of him as well, and she knows it’s only been a few months, but it feels like years. Like her life had been full of all these little gaps she’d never noticed until they were filled with Luke.

Putting the plate down, she starts moving around his room. Pulling out the firefighting coat he’d brought home a few weeks ago because he’d found a rip in the shoulder, rooting through his wardrobe for the plain blue cut off she’d seen the last time she was over and laying them out on his bed. Tilting her head, Julie mentally puts together her outfit one more time. Shorts, suspenders, Luke’s cut-off, coat, maybe the shoes? She bites her lip and decides to come back to it, to see how everything looks on.

It’s strange, Julie thinks as she clips one side of her suspenders to her shorts, how nervous she is about this. It’s not like this is the first time they’ll have slept together, but it is the first time she’s done anything like this. Dressed up in something other than a pretty dress for dinner that he’d taken great care of taking off her.

What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was weird? What if he got home and was too tired to do anything? He’d been at work all day, after a long week of working, maybe she should change her plans and do it tomorrow night? What if—

She cuts her own thoughts off with a groan, sitting down on the end of Luke’s bed to take a breath and fiddle with knee high sheer socks dotted with little stars that she’d ordered online. Logically, Julie knows that Luke will like this, that he’ll look at her with those eyes of his that can’t hide a single emotion and smile at her slowly and call her beautiful.

Because he’d been complimenting her since their first date, and every day since. Little things and big changes and all the between. He really did seem to like her just as much dressed up and with make-up on as he did when she’d just woken up on a morning with her hair a mess and pillow creases still on her cheeks.

And that in itself was scary.

Because he liked her for her and didn’t need her to change. She’d never really dated anyone before who didn’t want her to be less invested in music or spend less time with her family or who didn’t like Flynn or even one guy who thought she should try a different scent of shampoo. They’d all been relationships littered with red flags, big and small.

But not even Flynn could find a real warning sign about Luke. Maybe he was a little co-dependant on his friends, but neither of them could say anything because they were a little co-dependant too. And maybe he could be a little over enthusiastic, but he also knew when to give her space. He had a stable job and good friends and was cute and lived in a nice area and he had a cat.

And, once upon a time, he had had a similar dream to her.

One of the things Flynn had managed to dig up on him during her ‘background’ check was an old low quality video on youtube of three boys in a garage playing instruments that looked too big for them but taking the whole thing seriously. Voices cracking on the cover of Summer of ‘69 they were playing, but Julie had seen the way they grinned at each other, at the way a younger Luke had bounced around the small space and Reggie had rocked on his feet and Alex had thrown a drumstick in the air and caught it again. They were kids, but they were talented and it's at that moment that Julie realises Luke was right. They could have made it.

She wonders what would have happened if fate hadn’t intervened in the form of a fire. She’s pretty sure Luke has wondered the same thing too. He doesn’t talk about it much and Julie’s never sure how much to push because he seems happy in his life and choices. And plus, if it hadn’t been for a fire in a record store, there’s a chance they wouldn’t have met.

Julie frowns a little at that thought as she rolls on her second sock over her knee and stands up, straightening out her shorts and twisting the side of Luke’s cut off up and tying it into a knot. She’s never been the biggest believer in fate since her mom died but she thinks there’s something a little like fate that’s pulled them together. And she thinks they’d have met with a fire or without a fire, with music or without.

She wrinkles her nose at herself in the mirror at that thought, rolling her eyes at how cheesy it sounds even to herself. Fate and destiny, who did she think she was? They were just two people lucky enough to find each other.

An alarm goes off on her phone to tell her she’s got half an hour before Luke is due home and this is her last chance if she wants to change her mind.

Tilting her head a slightly to the side, Julie takes in her high waisted shorts, red suspenders dangling by her thighs, the way her t-shirt cinches at her waist and reveals just a strip of skin above her shorts where she knows Luke likes to rest his hands when he pulls her close. She’d taken extra care with her curls and all she had to do was apply some lipstick and touch up her eyeliner and she’d be ready.

It’s Flynn’s voice in the back of her head as she tucks curls behind her ears to lean a little closer to her reflection and, as she pulls back, smacking her lips once before letting them rest in a pout, she can’t help but reiterate it, “I do look hot.”

The front door shuts and Julie can hear Hotdog meowing and Luke’s muffled voice down the corridor as she’s pulling his coat over her shoulders. It’s far too big for her, hanging below her knees and she has to roll the sleeves up three times to free her hands, but the collar smells like smoke and metal and Luke and his last name is written across the right hand side and his station across her back.

That was the part that Flynn had said would really get him — his name on her. Luke wasn’t exactly possessive, but she and Flynn had agreed there was just something about it that was A Lot, in a good way. (Unlike buying a pole and installing it in Luke’s room for a weekend, that was A Lot, in a bad way. Her plan had gone through many different phases before settling on this one. Luckily, it was also the cheapest.)

“Jules?” Luke calls and Julie bites her lip as she carefully climbs on to his bed, and kneels in the middle before changing her mind and crawling off the other side to stand next to it instead.

“I’m in here,” she calls back and she hears something dropping to the floor, probably his bag she guesses, and then his footsteps sounding down the hall.

Julie’s glad she opted for the shoes, just simple black heels, but they give her an extra lift and something more for Luke to look at as he opens his bedroom door. She has one knee slightly bent and resting on her toes, coat sleeves hiding the way her hands are balled up at her sides and one shoulder raised a little higher than the other as she tilts her head at him, biting her lip.

He freezes in the doorway, mouth partly open like he’d been about to say something only to get lost somewhere between his brain and vocal chords as his eyes seem to lock on to the coat she’s wearing before traveling down to her bare legs and Julie watches him swallow, adam's apple bobbing. Just as his eyes get back up to her face she moves one hand to tuck her coat behind her hip and hook her thumb under her suspenders in a way she’s seen him do countless times.

And it gets the reaction she wants, his eyes zeroing in on her hand and tracing up the line of red that covers her chest. Luke’s tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip as he blinks and finally drags his eyes back up to her face, pupils blown wide and she watches as he lets out a heavy breath.

“Hi,” she breathes out, and almost immediately regrets it. She's trying for sexy but thinks it just comes across as gasping. Which she hopes she’ll be eventually at some point tonight, but would at least like to be touched a little first.

“You—” Luke starts, and his voice is rough like he’s not used it in hours so he swallows again and Julie’s momentarily distracted by the way his throat moves before his speaking again, “Is that my coat?”

“Maybe,” Julie shrugs, turning slightly so she can pull at the collar of the coat to peer down at the name stitched in the fabric, “Oh look, it does say your name. Would you like me to take it off?” She blinks up at him with a soft smile.

Julie doesn’t know if it’s the smile or her words or just everything about the moment, but Luke lets out a low groan and before she can even blink he’s stood in front of her, hands on her hips and fingers brushing against her strip of visible skin, just like she knew he would. And she’s thankful for the heels all over again when it gives her the little extra height that means Luke doesn’t have to bend down quite so far to brush his lips across her cheek.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, lips ghosting along her jaw and Julie has to rest her hands against his chest to steady herself as her legs already feel wobbly. If she didn’t love him, she’d almost hate him for how easily he can affect her.

“Luke,” she whines as he continues to avoid her lips and trails one hand up his chest to wrap around his neck, fingers winding into his hair to tug lightly which only results in making him huff a laugh against the skin below her ear before giving in and pulling back.

“So,” he starts, press a light kiss to her cheek again again, “fucking,” he kisses the corner of her lips, “beautiful.” And he finally presses his lips to hers, soft at first and then she nips lightly at his top lip and he flexes his fingers against her hip, tugging her a closer with her suspenders to deepen the kiss.

Julie walks them backwards until the backs of her knees hit the edge of his bed and Luke takes the lead from there, lowering her down without breaking the kiss. He pulls away just enough to gasp for a breath, and she looks up at him, chest heaving and takes her chance to start her own teasing trail of kisses up his neck and across his jaw.

“Fuck,” he mutters and Julie smiles as she sucks lightly at his neck and sees the red mark her lipstick has left behind. She just hopes it lasts long enough for her full plan.

“This was because of the pole thing a few weeks ago, right?” Luke asks a few hours later as they lie in the middle of his bed, blankets half pushed to the floor and Julie’s spent the last five minutes kicking her legs back and forth to try and dislodge the reminder from covering her legs without having to turn around or sit up. She’s perfectly comfortably lying on her front, licking chocolate off her fingers from one of the brownies that Alex and Willie had been correct in leaving for them.

“Maybe,” she tries to shrug, but it’s awkward in this position and she quickly gives up to just look at him from under her lashes with a smile.

Luke laughs, his fingers trailing up and down her arm and over her shoulder a few times before he sits up slightly and leans over to press a kiss to her shoulder, “If I’d known it would cause such a reaction I would have slid down that pole in front of you months ago.”

“It might have still taken us months to get to this. Your roommates have very annoying schedules,” she shakes her head sadly and she thinks her hair has to be hitting him in the face, but he doesn’t say anything, just carefully gathers it in one hand to drape over her other shoulder, his lips still brushing soft kisses across her skin.

“Yeah. I’d get rid of them if Alex didn’t feed me for free and Reggie didn’t get us so many free tickets to stuff,” he sighs, breath blowing against her skin as his nose nudges over her shoulder blade until his lips follow and his rest his chin on her shoulder, and all she has to do is turn her head a little to find his eyes on her lips. “Though it would be so worth it for weekends like this.”

“Guess we should just make the most of this one first, huh?”

It’s a little awkward, and Luke must be uncomfortable with his torso twisted like it is, but it’s easy to kiss Luke, and to roll over until she can push him back down until his back hits the mattress and she can hover over him instead.

“You sound like you have a plan,” Luke comments, and his hands rest on her hips, fingers tapping against her as he looks up at her with those damn eyes of his. The ones that can’t hide a single thought or emotion. And all she can see is love, and okay yeah, probably a lot of lust.

“There might have been some bullet point list involved,” she shrugs one shoulder, her hair slipping over as she moves and Luke’s fingers flex against her, squeezing one hip as he lets out something that sounds halfway between a laugh and a groan.

“That shouldn’t be this hot,” he shakes his head, but his eyes are still shining and Julie loves him.

So she tells him. And kisses him. And wonders if it’s too soon to suggest they spend all their weekends together forever.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp fics #julie molina #luke patterson #jukebox #jatp #firefighter!luke au #serioulsy what else am i supposed to tag fics on here ghfj #*fics #i post this then i go to bed. enjoy and goodnight 😌

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lilyrachelcassidy · 3 years

Text

Birthday Cake

A/N: Suprise folks!!! *me laughing maniacally* The whole scenery for this fic somehow appeared in my head and I just COULDN’T let it slip away, so... My biggest inspo for that was @drawlfoy!! Remember her posting the fic where Draco and Reader work at McDonald’s and are total suckers in their job (arguing with the customers; preparing wrong orders; etc.)? Dee unfortunately, deleted this precious, but it’s stuck to my head ever since (lol lol, it’s the moment where Dee wants to get rid of something, but I kindly remind everyone it existed). Therefore I present to you the next Draco x Reader fic related to our fav fast-food rest. This time, however, they’re not working at the same workplace but... I'm going to stop here cuz I don't want to spoiler :P

**The second thing that triggered me to write this fic is the YouTube video I recently saw with a lady who orders the 'specials' appearing to be out of the menu list of McDonald’s, through the Drive-Through. She asked for a birthday cake, was laughed at a few times, but eventually got what she wanted. Applause for the attitude!!

About the fic (context, my bitches): ofc it’s the modern AU, non-magical world. Draco’s the worst boyfriend ever but always manages to turn things into their righteous place.

Summary: The birthday is upcoming, and Draco is in a rush to think up an idea for a perfect gift. His ingenuity fails, however, and leaves Y/N very unsatisfied with a disaster that has been forged.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: my brain playing a total psycho, language, alcohol, sexual undertones/allusions to sex, Pansy being too much of her self... deal...

Tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy

Such an unrestrained desire to strangle somebody you hadn't felt in a long time.

Really.

Today was your birthday, which you had been widely announcing for almost a whole month to people you might have accidentally forgotten about it. Having your boyfriend, Draco, on your mind in particular.

You doubted he would have the guts to omit your big day, though as repeatedly as he had done for a few years back. But something between foresight and the second sense of prevention told you to keep reminding him every day of the upcoming event, with a heap of birthday-themed emojis and uppercases in the messages.

Everything was planned out in your head: him picking you up from your house with the sharp-red cabriolet that he used only for special occasions; him driving the two of you to the fanciest restaurant he could find in town; him bestowing you with a nice-looking, golden necklace or a different piece of jewelry you had been suggestively pointing out in the store's exhibition; him booking up a hotel room for you two to celebrate.

Either way, that was much beyond your expectations, as it turned out. And now you were sitting in the front yard of your house, waiting for him to show up.

'If he was going to at all.' This thought invaded your mind for the last hour, try as might to subdue it. An hour you had been sitting tight, hoping it was only a delay caused by a traffic jam or other irrational explanation he could come up with. But you were deceiving yourself, you eventually presumed -- you had been checking up your phone every one minute, only to see if any message notification popped up on the screen, other than birthday wishes from friends who actually cared for you.

2.02pm: Nothing.

2.03pm: Susan 'Happy birthday bitch!'

2.04pm: Instagram notif. (Someone liked your photo, which you had posted before leaving your room, posing in front of the mirror in the best cocktail dress you could find in the wardrobe.)

2.05pm: Nothing yet again.

2.06pm: Still... Peace and quiet.

"Fuck it...Enough," you muttered under your breath, an annoying disillusionment falling like a heavy mile stone on your chest. Tears suddenly started sprinkling in your eyes at the regret, and you were very reluctant to admit that your friends were right -- Draco Malfoy was an egoistic, negligent, self-absorbed pri--

"Hi." You heard the raspy, panting voice says. "Sorry for the delay."

You blinked slowly, stupidly. You raised your head to assure yourself it was him. That his expression actually corresponded to his words and showed some kind of remorse for standing you up. But no... There he was: standing in front of you, plainly confident and unashamed, with his cocky smirk provoking you to slap him.

Oh, how much you craved to slap him right now. "Where to the fuck have you been?"

"I've tried to pick this up," he explained, simultaneously lifting up the paper bag he'd been carrying in his hand. The big, exclaiming letters 'McDonald's' with the brand's logo were printed on its exterior, and it was fully stuffed with something inside.

Not quite comprehending, you furrowed. You attempted to hide the venom in your voice, but somehow it found its way to leak out. "Couldn't you do that in advance?"

"Nope..." It was his turn to furrow, looking almost shocked with the question. And thanks to all those years of your relationship, you knew it was his piss-poor estimation of time taking over. "It was a last-minute surprise."

"Sounds like it," you commented irritably. "What's that?"

"Your birthday present, sunshine," he drawled happily, ignoring your remark. He sounded positively delighted and satisfied with himself at surprising you with that because he saw a slight crease of shock painting on your forehead. "Here you go."

You took his deposit out of his grasp, still quite unsure. What if his gift would only make a situation worse? Can it get any worse with Draco's total lack of tact? Yes. But it was only one way to find out.

Without even stealing a second glance at him, you ripped off all of the packaging that had been folded around, protecting the contents. You tried to do it carefully and without any impact of emotions revealing the way you felt inside, but your hands were shaking with rage, and you couldn't quite contain yourself. You had been highly aware you shouldn't have expected much from him, but still...

You wondered if the universe was playing against you.

There was a moment of tense silence as you struggled to deal with all the wrappings. Rather unfortunately, you wished you hadn't put so much effort in opening your so-called 'gift' because as you finally did, it only angered you more, seeing as the disappointment laughs at your face. And yes, as a matter of fact, the universe was against you today...

"Are you kidding me?" you asked in disbelief, fury reappearing in your eyes. "A birthday cake?! From McDonald's?" Ugly, little cake with the creepiest smiley face of a clown. It wasn't even fresh, you realized, when you smelled it and felt a musty reek of a freezer, it probably had been kept in. A confusing sense of sadness in your chest couldn't reach any higher at this point.

"Don't you like it?" he asked, detecting the wrath in your eyes. At that, you felt the dumbest urge to laugh and never stop. "I thought it'd be something original."

"Oh, I love it," you said sarcastically, a faint voice of hope telling you it was only a very bad joke was still lingering in your head. But it wasn't a joke.

"It's not just--" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I've been asking Blaise and Theo about any ideas. I told them, what you had said to me -- 'you didn't want anything fancy.' So we decided it's... something."

"Of course I didn't tell you I want anything, you dolt!" Your voice raised up almost two octaves, and the pulse sped up so fast it entailed a headache along. A neighbor from the opposite garden who was watering the flowers looked at you, startled, and eyes widened your exasperated tone. You didn’t care. "It's how it works: you don't tell other people you expect them to buy something!"

"But I'm your boyfriend. You shouldn't -- er-- feel uncomfortable to tell..."

"Exactly! As my boyfriend, you should have known!"

"Well... I didn't. If that's what's bothering you, we can...we can..."

"Stop." Listening to him and his pathetic excuses was the last thing you were going to do now. "What – why would you even – " You sputtered out, unable to process or express exactly what you were feeling. There was definitely anger and indignation. Curiosity, for another, as to why Draco would even fall for such foolish and ill-considered idea, and -- to the top of it -- hope it would make a good fit. And possibly, the last and most satisfying part, was the wicked impulse to throw the cake directly into his arrogant face, letting him taste his own medicine he had been serving you for years on each failed birthday.

"You know, for once, you could pay more effort and try doing something nice for me," you told him firmly, deflating to calm down your buzzing nerves.

"I've been tr--"

"Do you realize how much it costs me to pretend to be happy when you forget about me? Last year, I organized a big-ass party for your birthday, inviting over all of your friends and buying the best booze I could find to celebrate it properly," you said harshly and pretentiously, as you intended. "The best part is, you didn't even thank me." You stared at him, wringing your hands and expecting to perceive any trope of shame in his eyes. For the first time, you actually did.

"Listen, about that--" he calmly attempted to cut off your monologue.

"No, you listen..." Did you really want what was upcoming next? Maybe it was about time. "Today, I decided I'm standing up for myself. So, for the last time, get out from my porch."

He bristled, the thunderstruck air hanging around him. "Because of the stupid cake?"

"What?! No! It's just... I feel like you don't give a damn about me anymore." Gulp formed in your throat, and the tears finally left your eyes at the consciousness of what was happening. "I think we both deserve some time."

Your eyes moved to his, and you almost wished you hadn't looked. He was watching you, with pursed lips and a pure mixture of every emotion: anger, sadness, resentment, pretension, dejection. The faintest of his flustered blushes appeared on his cheeks, and you suddenly wished you could hug him. "So you are putting us..." His finger pointed at him and you as if expecting clarification. "...on a break? Is that what it is?"

You were truly torn, to be honest. Becoming single on your birthday was the last wish you had for this day, but you felt a strong sense of adequacy and pride for building up the boundaries of tolerance. Besides, seeing as it was heading nowhere, it was only a matter of time that your relationship came to an end.

Although, it hurt. A lot. "Yes."

You darted your eyes from him, not wanting to study his reaction in case it caused you to meltdown and jump to his embrace, apologizing endlessly for your words. You loved him. But you didn't regret what you had just said.

Something like a dry chuckle of disbelief escaped out of his mouth. "Is that what you really want?"

'No,' your thoughts prompted you instantly before you could even contemplate. 'I want you to say so many things you're never willing to say. But you don't know.'

So instead, you lied: "Yes."

All expressed, you spun around without peeking back and rushed into your room, already knowing there was no more sense in strives to make this day any better; all of it would bring only bad associations. It would be depressing, even more than it already was.

God, was it how the break-up pained? Because if so, you wanted to be deceased. The world spun suddenly, and you sank to your knees, shaking madly and doing your best to find your way back to your bed, located a few mere meters from you. Part of you felt numb, but your head was wide awake and alarming you that something in terms of a disaster had just happened. Because it did. The clutching in your chest was unbearable, and tears were dashing out of your eyes like a living waterfall, which made you bury your face in your hands. Never have you ever wanted to be so drunk before.

And so many questions rung up in your head at once.

Did you make a good decision? What if you are going to miss him, yet knowing you could never call? What about college -- are things about to get awkward?

No answers.

But you knew someone who would be able to reply to them.

With the blurred by tears vision, you struggled but managed to find your phone in the purse, and then clumsily scrolled through and tapped in your list of contacts before holding the phone to your ear.

Please answer, you begged. Please, please…

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Pansy's voice roared from the other side of a line, as always, enthusiastic.

"Pansy." You tried to sound less brokenly than you were, feeling marginally worse at the reminder of your birthday. "Is Daphne around?"

"Ouch, you're a really nasty bitch sometimes, you know. I'm not goin' to point out today, but since you didn't let me end my wishes, I'll note that for the future reference." You were sure she was grinning at the teasing, seeing as much as she liked that. Normally, you wouldn't mind, but... "How--"

"Pansy, please..." you sobbed out, almost desperate to have someone to consult and share emotions with. Daphne -- contrary to Pansy, who could be very judgy sometimes -- was someone you had especially on mind now. "I need to talk to her."

You heard her sigh; the kind of sigh she used to either prove her resignation or concern. But, as much as it surprised you, she suppressed her curiosity and, without a second word, obediently handed the phone over to Daphne. At least, that's what you assumed because you heard a pause and subdued mutters in the background.

"Y/N?" the milder tone spoke up, and you felt suddenly very strange as if submerged in water of relief; relief to hear the familiar voice. That released you from keeping a distant attitude, and yet again, a sadness washed over you, triggering a loud wail to come out of your mouth. "Y/N, is everything alright?"

"No..." you sniveled, unable to collect yourself together. "I-I... We br-brok-e up."

"You and Draco?" Daphne asked, astonishment evident.

You nodded but then remembered she couldn't see you nor read your expression. So instead, you forced your vocal cords to work again. "Mhm..."

"What happened?"

Restoring the story in your brain again, you told her everything, still tearfully but much more coherently this time. You avoided the details, briefly skipping from one utterance to another, as your conversations had gone, and you were very much thankful she didn't press for more information about the prospect of the situation. If it hadn't been her sporadic gasps or loud inhales of breath, you would have almost presumed she wasn't listening. However, she was, and as soon turned out, Pansy was as well.

"That's bananas!" Pansy shouted somewhere from the back as you had ended, and despite your gloom, you giggled quietly at her comment.

"Shush," Daphne tried to silence her, covering up the fact she had put you on the speaker. You didn't mind because you knew Pansy, who would definitely expect Daphne to cite the whole conversation if needed. But knowing Daphne as well, you could bet she flushed more than she would want to at that point. "So it all started because of the cake?"

"And the delay," you added. "But it's not just about that, obviously. It feels like... he completely stopped caring. And I don't want to be stuck in a relationship where everything is about sex and having fun only. Draco wasn't looking for a commitment, which..."

"Sucks,"ended this time Pansy unhesitatingly, who wasn't now screaming from the other part of a room but openly participating in the discussion.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"As for me, I think he might love you more than you know, Y/N." It was Daphne talking again, and she sounded positively convinced about her view as for someone who had hardly exchanged any word with Draco for the past few years. As if reading your thoughts, she continued. "I've observed you a lot. I know he might seem unemotional, but it's you who discovered him. That must require a lot of trust, you know."

You contemplated, and some of the memories and images from your first encounter run across your brain, try as might to suppress it: spotting each other at the party; binging some whisky shots together; flirty teasing; the very masculine scent of cologne; and then... more spicy recollections -- eager lips pressing against each other; against each others' necks; against other parts of the body; stripping off the clothes in the passionate haste...

Receiving a long moment of silence, Daphne took a second chance and asked. "And what's with you? Do you want to end it?"

It felt like standing before the oracle of truth. Therefore, you couldn't deny it in front of yourself. "No."

"So what're you still doing there?" commented Pansy impatiently, and you could imagine her rolling the eyes. "Get out and find him!"

She was right. You will.

XOXOXOXO

"I thought I'd find you here..."

No. Actually, you didn't.

You had tracked Draco's phone with your own one with some help of an app that, as the two of you had established still in the relationship, would be a good idea in case of an emergency. That in itself proved to be more than helpful, believing that your argument may be pinned as something in terms of an emergency, right?

So having access to his location, you had found out he was in the park where he had taken you on the first date, shortly after dinner, to watch the sunset that, as he had described, 'was a typical cliche from every romantic movie.'

But you had fallen for that. So much.

You hadn't been aware the place had actually some meaning for him until now, and that... God, that he had even remembered it. Time showed, however, that it indeed did, to which your heart reacted with a happy jolting. But also with a nasty sting of nostalgia following shortly after.

Yet, that only had encouraged you to make up your mind and go looking for him, which hadn't been such a difficult task per se. He was sitting on the bench, in the shade of a tree, and hiding his a little too delicate skin from the sun rays. As soon as he had heard your voice, his gray eyes flew up to see you standing a few meters away.

"What are you doing here?" was the immediate question that tumbled out of his mouth. He arched his eyebrow, and to your surprise, he didn't even look angry or sad with you. Nothing near the edge; actually, almost something like the amusement was painting on his face.

"Aren't you mad with me?" you asked intrigued, completely forgetting about his question.

He frowned. "Why would I be?" His tone was so mild that you weren't sure if he was referring to the double meaning; but then he smirked playfully and said, "Besides, I knew you were coming."

"Wha-- How?" you asked, eyes dilating a fraction, in shock.

He smirked, pointing at his phone in an explanatory manner. After a moment, you finally figured out what he meant: the app must have registered he had been tracked and that your phone was trying to find his. At this notice, you reacted with a wave of flush, suddenly regretting your previous lie. His smile only widened at your expression. "Wanna sit? It's plenty of room here."

"Mhm..." You nodded, pleased to accept his offer, and walked over to the bench, doing your best to hide the evident embarrassment on your face. You felt strange he had taken you with such ease, seeing as merely two or three hours ago, you had burst at him like a cram-full volcano of unspoken emotions.

Draco shifted a package from his side, making more space for you to sit, and it took you a moment to realize it was a McDonald's cake from earlier. Everything started from that -- a stupid, little piece of cake which stood up between...

You shook the thought away, taking a seat next to him, close enough to smell his sandalwood cologne. "You didn't answer my question," Draco reminded you. "What's so important to make you track my phone?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" You rounded your face to him, flustrated, leaning at the backrest of a bench. "That's why I came. I wanted to apologize."

"Oh... Couldn't you call?"

You sighed. "I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me after...you know... our quarrel," you said half-despondent, half-desperate, watching your feet as if it were the most interesting thing to peer at now. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know," he said. Out of nowhere, he was gently grasping your palms which forced you to look up directly into his intense gaze. His eyes were swirling like molten silver at you. "But I should be apologizing, love. I made a mistake, okay?" His hands traveled all across to your tense shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "I know I should be more... affectionate with you. And this was...dumb. A dumb mistake. With that cake. But I'll try to be better if you give it another shot."

He looked so serious that you instantly believed him. You wanted to actually, with all force of longing, which grew up too rapidly in you when he wasn't around. Draco was a fool, you could easily say. But he was your fool, which was a thing you couldn't be more proud of.

Peeking slowly in the other direction, you asked, out of the topic, "You remembered the place?"

"Of course," he puffed jokingly, smiling. "Our first date. Officially our place from then on."

"Right..." You smiled back.

Honestly, the mere fact that he had called this spot 'yours' warmed up your heart, and you felt yourself grinning at his never-before-discovered emotionality. To assure yourself you weren't the only one caring, it was all you needed to hear.

The whole moment was intense, and now, you realized, is when you should have hugged him. Kissed him. Said something back at his sincere endearment.

But instead, spotting plastic cutlery next to your 'gift', you asked, "So what's the taste of the birthday cake?"

And you knew he had caught the subtext of your playful inquiry. And you knew that soon you would work things out again. But, as for now...

"I thought you would never ask."

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Looooooool. Such a drama-comedy, right? And I could easily say It feels like 50% Draco-x-Reader / 50% Draco-x-BirthdayCake... But whatever (2am is working like a drunken bud, folks). Happy beginning of August :)

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akaashisbabygirl · 3 years

Text

make me yours

if you know the original source of this picture! please dm me or let me know in my inbox so i can tag them

A/n: I am so excited to finally post my first length fic. I wrote a fic before about mafia akaashi and reader falling in love, and this one is similar but different as they are rival rivals. Check that one out too if you enjoyed this one!! I’m considering making a part two if this leaves people wondering what’s going to happens next <3 I wrote this story in third person as it was easier for me, for anyone wondering

Words: 6005

Pairings: Mafia!Akaashi x Mafia!Reader

Warnings: nsfw, characters are aged up, sex, oral (giving and receiving), hickeys, vaginal penetration, fingering

“Akaashi Keiji...” Yamiji, the great boss of the Fukurōdani mafia called out, stopping the young-looking boy in his tracks.

“What is it, sir?” Akaashi asked, his handsome turquoise eyes moving to face his boss.

“I need your advice with something... come with me.”

Akaashi nodded, tailing his boss down the lengthy corridor of the mafia building and into the headquarters where the boss generally stayed. Standing with his arms behind his back, Akaashi gently fiddled with his fingers, anxiously waiting for what the boss had called him in for. No one usually comes in Yamiji’s office, not unless something is the matter that he needs to discuss with them about. Akaashi wondered if he had done anything wrong. He didn’t want to be kicked out of the mafia - where would he go?

“We are at what seems like a war with the Nekoma mafia...” Yamiji started.

“Shit... that’s not good,” Akaashi thought. he knew that Bokuto, his best friend in the mafia was somewhat friends with Kuroo, one of the members of the Nekoma mafia. The two boys were close, Akaashi knew that. He wondered how Bokuto was going to take the news that they are now at what felt like a war against each other.

“And we want to be victorious... as usual. So, I’ve been working on some things lately and I’ve come up with a plan on how we can get the first laugh,” Yamiji’s choices of words were interesting, according to Akaashi.

“What is it, sir?” he asked, eyes now opening fully to know about the situation.

“What if the person we take out first it Nekomata’s daughter, Y/n?”

Akaashi thought about it for a second, “That would work. She is the head of the mafia’s daughter. Her death would be problematic with the Nekoma mafia, but then I fear they would come after us if they found out that we were the ones who assassinated her.

“Yeah! About that, don’t worry, Akaashi. I’ve already figured out ways we could get away with it. First option was to make it look like Nekoma’s other rival - Nohebi. Make it seem like they were the ones who ordered the assassination of Nekomata’s daughter,” Yamiji explained, chuckling evilly at his own plans.

“I believe that would work, but I’m not sure. do you have someone who you’ve picked to assassinate her?” Akaashi asked, just out of curiosity.

“Oh... yeah. Actually, about that, I was wondering if you could be that person?” Yamiji asked.

Akaashi blinked a couple times, to make sure he wasn’t daydreaming.

“You want me to do... what?” Akaashi thought he was dreaming. This didn’t seem right. In the mafia, he was only respected for being the brains of the group – nothing more.

“I would like you to be the one who assassinates Y/n. Will that be alright with you? I know you’re busy and all...”

“Yeah- no, no it should be alright,” Akaashi knew that he wasn’t able to defy the boss. He had to do what he was assigned.

“Really? Thank you, Akaashi!”

“You’re welcome sir. I promise, I won’t fail you.”

__________________________________________

I promise, I won’t fail you

The words ran through Akaashi’s mind on repeat, just like an echo. His eyes sat fixated on the naked girl standing in the bedroom, admiring her stunning body in the large, wide mirror. He could admit it – she had a nice body, she was an attractive girl, but he rejected to believe that she was Nekomata’s daughter.

She looked nothing like that old man. Her hair was (your hair length) and (your hair colour). She was young, looking around his age, maybe even younger.

How hadn’t she noticed him yet?

The dark grey curtains were wide open, the vivid light from the bedroom obvious to anyone who was looking up at the tall building.

How hadn’t she noticed him yet?

The boy settled with a mask concealing his face, donned in black clothing, standing on her balcony watching her. Or did she notice him and was acting like she didn’t. Judging by her facial expressions – she didn’t.

Akaashi watched as she slipped on the small nightgown that lay on the chair next to the mirror. She looked… stunning. How the fuck was she Nekomata’s daughter? She couldn’t be, unless her father had hooked up with someone, or Y/n had just got all her mother’s looks – that would only make sense.

Akaashi’s turquoise eyes were set on her – why did she make his chest hurt. She was nothing like he’d ever seen before, blowing him away so quickly.

He noticed her body turn to the windows, walking over. Akaashi tried to hide. Fuck. Did she notice him? Was she coming out to confront him, or even attempt to kill him? He would’ve been classified as a creep if anyone saw him standing on her balcony. He tried to hide himself to the best of his ability, turning his back around to blend in with the dark night sky. He held his breath, his eyes carrying a sign of fear as he silently prayed that he wouldn’t get caught.

A sigh of relief escaped Akaashi’s precious lips as he heard the curtains shut and the footsteps of Y/n walking off.

“It’s time to get out of here…” he muttered to himself, his mind now forgetting about the original plan to murder Y/n tonight. He couldn’t do it. Not now at least. He couldn’t kill her while he was still unsure why she had been making him feel slightly different. Akaashi sighed to himself, climbing down the rope he had used to get up.

__________________________________________

“I’m sorry sir…” Akaashi bowed in front of Yamiji, his eyes clenched shut as he prepared himself for his punishment, “I-I couldn’t kill her… I don’t know why… but I couldn’t.”

Yamiji sighed, “I really thought you would be the perfect person for this task, Akaashi. But, that’s not a problem. I can always just take you off the job and find another one of the members in this mafia to go kill her. I’m sure they’ll do it without a second thought.”

“NO.”

Akaashi didn’t know why he was screaming at this point. He couldn’t tell someone why his eyes were widened with shock from hearing his own boss say he would take him off the job. He wanted to prove that he was able to do what he was ordered to – that he wasn’t scared to do what he was assigned. But, all that Akaashi wanted to know was why she made him feel… odd? Why was there an instant urge to protect her when Yamiji said he would get someone else on the job? Why did he think she looked so beautiful when she had been disposed of her clothes?

“S-Sir… just let me have this job… please. I will go back whenever I can and try to kill her. Just please, let me have this job,” Akaashi silently mumbled, trying to conceal his inner feelings, fearing what his own boss would think of him for the way he acted.

“I’m going to leave you on the job, Akaashi. But you must promise me that you will kill her.”

“Yes sir. I promise.”

__________________________________________

“What’s with you, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, his hand colliding with Akaashi’s back, almost making him choke on his water, “I heard the boss has given you a task to do… something important even.”

Akaashi sat his glass down on the table as his best friend went to sit across from him.

“You could say that.”

“What is it?” Bokuto asked in a curious tone.

“I… have to assassinate Nekomata’s daughter.”

“Nekomata’s daughter? Wait… from the Nekoma mafia?” Bokuto’s golden eyes widened in shock.

Akaashi only nodded I response.

“BRO. THAT’S SUCH AN IMPORTANT TASK.”

“Quiet down!”

“Oops… sorry. But, seriously Akaashi. I can’t believe it. You’ve been given such an important task, considering that we’re currently in war with the Nekoma mafia!”

__________________________________________

Akaashi stood on the silver balcony once more, peering into the room that Y/n stood in once again. This time, she was dressed fully in black clothing, similar to him. He hid his gun from himself, only threating to actually use it if someone did catch him standing up there.

There was no way in hell he could kill her. He didn’t have the guts to. At this point in life, Akaashi could only stand there and watch the beautiful girl who stood on the other end of the door. Her (your hair colour) hair was spread across the pillow on her bed, her attention drawn to her phone. Akaashi still wondered if she knew he were there – hopefully she didn’t.

He was sure of it now. Sure, that he didn’t want her dead. He wanted to keep seeing her like this. Keep watching her from her balcony like a stalker. He loved the way she sat on her bed, her (your hair colour) hair spread out on the pillow behind you, your attention directed to your phone. Akaashi sighed in defeat – there wasn’t going to be any way for him to get you to notice him, and it wouldn’t be long before Yamiji hired someone else to murder you.

He couldn’t fall in love.

He knew he couldn’t, because if anything were to ever happen to you, he would be heartbroken. Akaashi sighed. As much as he wanted to continue to stare at your beautiful features, he knew he couldn’t stay here for long. He would have to leave eventually.

__________________________________________

Kuroo sat in his chair, his feet up on the table as he whistled while Y/n walked by. Y/n rolled her eyes, ignoring him to the best of her ability.

“Hey kitten,” the tall, black haired boy smirked.

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to walk past, only to have the boy grab onto her wrist. She struggled to free her wrist, but Kuroo was stronger than her, so really, there was no use.

“Let go of me, Kuroo,” she demanded, an angry tone filling her soft voice.

“Kitten… you know you want me to be with you. Come on. Why waste your time on some random boy when you can just be with me. You know I’ll treat you like the queen you are,” Kuroo winked.

She would only roll her eyes in response. It had become a regular occurrence where Kuroo would come up to her and suggest a relationship. However, she never wanted to be in a relationship – not now at least, and most definitely not with him. She was sick of being in the mafia with Kuroo, he was too much of a flirt. It made her a target of his, being the only girl in the Nekoma mafia.

“You say that, Kuroo, but the last girl you were in a relationship with, you cheated on her.”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t special. I just wanted to be with you, kitten.”

“I’m not taking any of your bullshit, Kuroo. I’ve told you at least a hundred, or even a thousand times, I do not want to be in a relationship with you. now, leave me the fuck alone. Father wants to see me for something!” you argued back, pulling your wrist from Kuroo’s grasp and storming off.

“Fucking bitch,” Kuroo muttered underneath his breath.

Y/n made her way as quick as possible up to her father’s office. She knew that if she wasn’t fast, Kuroo was going to come right after her. She didn’t want that – she didn’t want him. By this point, she was sick and tired of him and his bullshit. He would confess his love to her one day, and that exact night he’d be pulling a new girl into his bedroom and fucking her. It became obvious to her eyes that Kuroo really wasn’t interested, and she herself wasn’t planning on spending anytime waiting around for a boy who was unsure of his feelings.

Her body stood outside the dark, wooden doors of her father’s office. Her soft fingertips pressed against the keypad, typing in the special passcode of the office that only he gave her. The doors automatically opened, her father’s figure sitting at his desk now being visible to her (your eye colour) eyes.

“Hello Y/n,” her father’s evil smirk appeared onto his old face.

“What have you called me here for, father?” she never liked being called into her father’s office for long. She wanted to do her own thing, not sit around and listen to her father’s bullshit every once in a while.

“Oh, I see you’re jumping straight to the point.”

“Precisely. So, what is it that you want from me today?”

Nekomata took a breath before speaking again, “I have a task for you, my precious girl. You know how we are currently at war with the Fukurōdani mafia? I believe they’re going to send an assassin from their shitty group to come after one of our members… and their smartest member, Akaashi, would be a perfect first start for us.”

“What’s the thing with Akaashi?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s the smartest one in their group. If we’re able to kill him first, the Fukurōdani mafia should knew not to mess with us.”

“Why exactly do you want me to be the one who kills Akaashi? Why can’t you pick someone else like Kenma or maybe even Kuroo? You know both of them would love to have that job.”

“Because both boys seem to have a slight friendship with Akaashi and Bokuto. They would both hesitate to take their so-called friend’s life, that is why I’m entrusting this mission to you, my sweet girl,” Nekomata explained.

You could only scoff, folding your arms as you stared at your father.

“So, what do you say, my dear? Will you be up to the task, or should I call someone else to do it for you?” her father asked.

He knew she loved to take on a challenge, which is why he threatened to give the job to someone else if she wasn’t up to it. He knew his ways to get what he wanted, and in times of need, he wouldn’t forget about these ways. Nekomata always got what he wanted.

“I will.”

__________________________________________

Y/n stood at her mirror, admiring her body. Her beautiful hair had been tied up in a lower ponytail, enough to keep it out of her face. Her body was draped with black clothing, mainly pants and a shirt, a belt strapped around her waist which was to hold her weapons.

She sighed; her eyes still focused on your body in the mirror. How did she end up in his position? How did she go from such an innocent girl to someone who took other people’s lives without any care in the world?

Quickly, she fled from her apartment, making her way to the address of this Akaashi fellow’s home.

Where he lived was such a beautiful place. Why was she feeling this way? Why was she imminently drawn to the place where he called home?

She climbed up the balcony with the rope she stored in her backpack. Resting herself on Akaashi’s balcony, she noticed the curtains of his apartment only slightly opened. Peeking inside, she could see the flashes of the TV screen lighting up the dark room, making out the figure of a boy sitting up against the bed head.

He had a dull look on his face – almost as if he was upset for some reason. Why did he look like that? Slowly she shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. Not at all. Her mind should’ve only been focused on the boy she was assigned to kill.

But why did she want to hold him so badly?

He looked young – just a little older than her. He had beautiful, messy, black hair, a decent body, dressed in a dark coloured shirt and some grey sweatpants. He was a good-looking boy. Y/n could only shake her head again.

Stop, stop, stop, stop. Why are you thinking like this, Y/n?

She shook her head, trying to throw the thoughts form her mind. That didn’t work. Her soft, (your eye colour) eyes sat focused on Akaashi, watching his every movement. She needed the right moment for when he was unarmed to go into the room and attack him. It wasn’t her first kill – so it was nothing new to her. She knew what she was doing.

She sat on his balcony, watching him for what felt like an hour before she noticed the boy get up from his spot on the bed. He walked down the corridor, shutting one of the doors behind him. He was probably using the restroom.

She used that opportunity to sneak into the apartment. How careless of this boy? Leaving the door unlocked for anyone to secretly walk in without him even realising. Quietly, she shut the glass door behind her, turning around to find a place to hide. She didn’t think about the situation. Where was she going to hide? What was she going to do? She didn’t think of anything properly at all.

“Just as I expected,” Her body jumped, hearing the voice of a man in the bedroom.

Anxiously, she turned around to find Akaashi standing behind her, his arms folded and a glare spreading over his face. She was able to see him more clearly now – he did indeed have a beautiful looking face. He was a beautiful boy.

When her father had first brought him up, she thought that he was going to be an older looking man, someone who had been in the mafia for several years – but her thoughts were wrong. Too wrong.

Akaashi stepped forward, only causing her to step back, trying her best to get away from him. These actions continued, until the back of her legs met with the edge of Akaashi’s bed. Why wasn’t she drawing her gun? She had it on her right now, she could use it to protect herself, but she didn’t.

Akaashi was now standing directly in front of her, chest against chest. Her body had lost all of its control. Akaashi’s hands flew up, pushing her down onto the bed. She wasn’t fighting back, not at all. She was completely mesmerised by this boy, by the way he acted and what he looked like. He was nothing compared to the Akaashi who she had imagined.

Akaashi kneeled onto the bed, pinning her tiny body underneath his large frame. His hands pinned her wrists down onto the sheets.

“You’re Y/n Nekomata,” how was his voice attractive too?

Why did she sound like she was falling for him?

“H-How do you know who I am?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Because, my boss asked me to assassinate you. And now, you show up outside my apartment, even going as far to sneak into my apartment? You’re so rude, Y/n. I never once broke into your apartment when I was there,” he smirked.

Son of a bitch.

Why was he like this?

Why did his words create a blush that began to spread across her face? She didn’t like it when Kuroo touched her, pinning her to the wall or even trying anything remotely sexual with her, but she was fine with being pinned underneath the body of the man she was assigned to kill.

“Y-You’ve been to my apartment?” She didn’t know what else to say at this point. She had become absolutely speechless.

Akaashi stayed absolutely silent. She could only wonder now. Was Akaashi also assigned to assassinate her?

“I think it’s time you leave.”

The heartbreaking words that she didn’t want to hear fell from Akaashi’s lips.

However, she didn’t want to leave. Y/n wanted to stay pinned underneath his gorgeous body for as long as she could. She wanted to be close to him, bodies touching with the minimum lighting in the bedroom. Was she attracted to him? Maybe. Because, if this feeling was a normal feeling, why didn’t she feel the same way when it came to Kuroo, someone who she wasn’t ordered to kill from a rival mafia? Did the thrill of herself getting caught by someone with the man you’ve been assigned to kill thrill her in some way? Maybe. But honestly, she didn’t even know herself.

“C-Can you get off me first?” She asked, a small, playful chuckle leaving her lips.

Akaashi only smirked before letting go of her wrists, standing up and watching her pull herself from her laying down position. She readjusted her hair, grabbing her small bag that had fallen to the floor when he pinned her down.

She jumped, feeling a hand slip underneath her shirt and to her belt, grabbing the gun. Her head turned with widened eyes towards Akaashi, with her gun now sitting in his hand.

“I’ll be taking this from now on.”

He was truly a smart boy. A boy that she now wanted to meet again. She couldn’t kill him – especially not when he ignited some sort of fire inside of her body that she thought she lost.

__________________________________________

Y/n stood on the balcony once again, just like the week before. The curtains had been opened a little more this time. Akaashi was in the same position as last time, his back pressed up against the headboard as the glowing lights from the TV brought light to the dark room.

She could only sit and watch. She wanted to be caught by him again – if he would ever notice her. Y/n sat and watched; her eyes sitting focused on the boy who seemed to have no idea that she was there.

Y/n watched as his hand came into contact with the remote, pressing the pause button. He got up from his resting spot, walking over to the window.

He was coming towards her.

She didn’t know if she should move or stay and wait for him to find her. She wanted to feel him again, she wanted to be close to him. Even though, right now the smartest option was to move and leave before he could find her.

But she couldn’t move.

The curtains were drawn open, her face now meeting with Akaashi once again. The glass door slid open, Akaashi’s hand moving out to grab onto her wrist tightly, pulling her into the room. He pushed her towards the side, locking the door and shutting the curtains. He couldn’t have anyone seeing the two of them together.

“You haven’t been here in a week. I was starting to think you had gotten bored of me,” Akaashi smiled as he rested the palm of his hand on her cheek.

“My father wanted to spend some time with me, so I’ve been at his mansion for the last week,” she answered.

Seeing him like this, she was able to notice his height. He was tall, taller than her. She had to move her head up, just so she was able to stare into his turquoise coloured eyes.

“You keep coming back. Why is that?” Akaashi asked.

“I have to kill you…”

She has to kill him. That was what she was assigned. But she couldn’t. He had taken her only gun away from her the first time the two met face to face. It was childish of her to keep running back to the same guy she shouldn’t be with.

“You won’t.”

“What do you mean, I won’t?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

“You won’t kill me.”

“Of course, I will. Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“You’re here right now. You let yourself get caught.”

He wasn’t wrong. This is what her dad meant when he said that Akaashi was smart.

“Y-You…”

Akaashi smirked, leaning forward and pressing his lips onto her own. His lips were soft, but his kiss was strong and filled with passion. Her mind had gone completely blank, unable to focus properly. She returned the kiss, letting him slip his tongue past her lips.

This was wrong.

She pulled her lips from his, her mouth slowly parted as she looked up at him. She wanted him to tell her to stay, so she could get to know him. She wanted to stay. She didn’t want to leave him again. Akaashi had tugged at her heart strings harshly, and now, she didn’t know what to do without him.

“You need to leave. You can’t keep coming back here.”

She felt her heart sink.

__________________________________________

Y/n’s hands flew to his black hair. Her legs began to feel shaky as she came into contact with the back of the bed. Akaashi only pushed her forward, her back now meeting with the soft sheets of the bed

It had been weeks since he first kissed her. Weeks of her sneaking back to his apartment because she desperately needed to see him. It had been the same with Akaashi too. There had been days where he made his way over to her apartment, sitting on her balcony and watching as she fell asleep, making sure she was safe.

Truth was – he didn’t want her to leave.

He knew she wasn’t, as she kept appearing at his apartment. He continued to let her in, as he started to realise, he was falling for her. It was obvious that she was falling for him too; especially with the small blush that would appear onto her face when he would touch her or kiss her.

His hands moved to her wrists, pinning them down tightly onto the bed once more. Akaashi’s lips moved from her lips, down to her neck, sucking on her soft, delicate skin. Soft pants flew from her lips as he found her sweet spot.

His lips began to suck on her collar bone, hands desperately tugging on her black shirt, desperate for the material to come off.

“C-Can I?”

Even though she was from a rival mafia gang, he still wanted to take his time with her. He wanted her to feel safe in his arms.

“Y-Yeah…”

Instantly, he slipped the black shirt from her body, revealing her lace, black bra. It was almost as if she had planned for this exact moment.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” He smirked, burying his head into her chest.

Akaashi’s hands flew to her back, unclasping her bra. He pulled away, throwing her bra onto the floor where the rest of her clothes lay, discarded somewhere on the wooden floorboards. Her hands flew to cover her breasts from his eyes, but Akaashi only held onto her hands, pinning them back down onto the bed. He noticed the small blush which began to sit on her cheeks, due to her chest being exposed to the boy she was supposed to kill.

This was stupid of her, to be all exposed, needy and wet for him. She had been assigned to go kill him, not sleep with him. It wasn’t her first-time having sex, she wasn’t a virgin, and it wasn’t the first time she and Akaashi had done something sexual. He had fingered her, gone down on her, and she’d even given him a blowjob. However, the two of them had never gone the full way before, and she wanted that to change tonight.

She wanted him to take her and make her his.

Akaashi’s soft lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking lightly. Her head was thrown back against the pillows, her breathing heavy, chest rising and her lips slightly parted. Akaashi switched his attention to her other nipple, a small whine leaving her lips.

“Keep your hands where they are. I don’t want to have to tie you to the headboard.”

She did as she was told. It was funny with how quickly Akaashi could pull her down into submission. His hands unbuttoned her pants, pulling the zipper down, tugging the black material down her legs. He pulled his own shirt off, throwing it to the pile of clothes on the floor, along with her pants. Akaashi pressed soft kisses onto the inside of her thigh, before coming into contact with her matching black, lace panties. He ran his finger along her clothed womanhood, a small moan falling from her lips. She was wet, soaking even.

“You’re soaking for me, baby.”

He slipped her panties down her legs, throwing them to the floor as he spread her legs apart for him. Her legs sat spread wide, her slick evident to his eyes. Akaashi dipped his head down to her womanhood, licking a strip around her folds, collecting her wetness on his tongue. His tongue pushed into her cunt, a louder moan falling from her lips. His lips moved up, sucking on her clit as his fingers toyed with her entrance. From how wet she was, he was able to push two fingers into her cunt. He dragged them along her tight walls, curling them inside which earned a sharp moan to fall from her lips.

Her body was sensitive to Akaashi’s touch. She craved him more than he craved her. Her hips bucked up as he was able to slip another finger inside of her, stretching her out for him. Akaashi’s fingers were long and slim, decorated with beautiful veins which stood out. His fingers hit spots deep inside of her. Her walls clenched tightly around Akaashi’s fingers, moans slipping from her lips as she lost control of her body.

“G-Gonna cum…” her voice was shaky, legs shaking as her climax washed over her like a wave.

Akaashi removed his fingers from her cunt, watching how her cum had coated his fingers. He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking on her cum. He watched as she tried to hide her face from him.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded.

Following orders, she moved onto her knees, watching how Akaashi now set himself up against the bed head, his legs spread as he stroked his clothed boner, “You know what to do.”

She crawled in between his legs, hands moving to unzip his pants, tugging them down his legs, along with his boxers. Her eyes came into contact with his member once again. She threw his clothes to the floor, her mouth moving down to wrap her lips around his length. Akaashi’s hand sat on top of her forehead, helping her take more of him into her mouth. She maintained eye contact with him as she went down on him

“Rub your clit for me, baby. Make yourself cum,” Akaashi moaned out.

She followed orders once again, rubbing her clit. Pleasure spread throughout her body as her wet cunt clenched around nothing. She could feel her arousal dripping down her thighs, her legs shaking as her clit became sensitive. Being sensitive, her climax built up almost quickly, her cum now shooting from her cunt, dripping down her legs and onto Akaashi’s bedsheets.

She felt horrible for ruining his sheets, but her mind was filled with lust and need for him to even consider apologising. Akaashi pulled his length from her lips, watching as drool began to slip from her lips.

Akaashi grabbed onto her hips, lining her up above his erect length. He helped push her down, her walls clenching tightly around his length. He knew she wasn’t a virgin, so he didn’t care much about making sure if it hurt or not. She clenched her eyes shut for a second. He was the biggest she had ever taken. He helped her take all of him in, before pulling her off of him. A small gasp left her lips as she was thrown back down against the bed, her legs being wrapped around Akaashi’s waist as he began to thrust into her.

He took his anger on the mafia out on her, tearing her tight cunt open with every thrust of his hips. The room began to be filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, loud moans falling from her lips as deep groans fell from Akaashi’s. He hated the fact that they were both assigned to kill each other, but they both couldn’t. he couldn’t accept the thought that she had to die, that she had to be killed in order for the Fukurōdani mafia to scare off the Nekoma mafia.

He wanted to be with her. She wanted to be with him.

He loves her. She loves him.

But they can’t be together. They can’t be seen in public. They can’t hang around and hold hands and make love to each other. They were rivals, but they were in love. Rivals in love. Two people who were exact opposites were in love. They were drawn to each other, desperate for each other. They needed each other to survive.

“A-Akaashi… I-I love y-you,” she moaned out without any care in the world.

Akaashi’s heart felt as it had stopped. Did she really just say that?

She wanted to hide the fact that she was in love with him, but now that her mind had been clouded with the feelings of love, passion and lust, she wasn’t able to conceal her feelings towards him.

“I love you too,” he groaned out, fingers moving to rub harsh circles on her clit while his lips moved to suck on her neck.

“C-Cumming… Akaashi.”

“M-Me too.”

The two both climaxed together, Akaashi’s seed shooting inside of her. He began to panic, knowing he didn’t pull out and that he wasn’t sure if she was on birth control or not. He pulled out of her, going to the bathroom to grab a towel as the thought ran through his mind. What the fuck did he just do?

He grabbed the wet towel, cleaning in between her legs.

“You need to go home…” Akaashi mumbled under his breath. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay and spend the rest of the night with him, but he knew how dangerous it was for her to stay.

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with you! And- I-I don’t think I can walk.”

With the way her soft eyes were looking at him, soft and serious, he couldn’t say no. Instead, Akaashi pulled the bedsheets over her naked body, covering her and himself. Akaashi let his head rest on the pillow, her hands moving to rest on his chest as she curled up to his side, falling into a deep slumber.

__________________________________________

“Hey kitten,” Kuroo smirked.

She was sick and tired of Kuroo now. She wanted to scream and tell him that she’s in love with another boy. That she had sex with another boy and tell him that he needed to leave her alone or she would kill him.

But she couldn’t.

“How’s the mission going, kitten? Actually, killed him yet?” Kuroo smirked.

She wanted to scream. She couldn’t kill him.

“Just leave me alone Kuroo, I don’t want your pity.”

He only chuckled, “Suit yourself, kitten.”

He pushed her up against the wall, hands pinning hers to the cold, wooden wall, “Though, I will make you mine, if you like it or not.”

“You can’t.”

Kuroo tilted his head in confusion.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Someone has already made me theirs,” she smirked.

“That’s bullshit. Everyone in the mafia knows that you’re going to belong to me, and only me. No one would be stupid enough to touch you without my permission. You’re lying!”

It was almost as if Kuroo was trying to convince himself that she still was going to be with him, that she hadn’t been taken by someone who was going to love her more than he ever could.

“Pull the bandage from my neck and look. There is your proof.”

Kuroo tugged the bandage from around her neck. His eyes widened, noticing the dark purple marks which decorated her neck.

“Where the fuck did you get these?”

“From the boy who made me his, Kuroo.”

Kuroo threw the bandage to the floor in anger, “You fucking slut.”

“Correction. His slut,” you chuckled, watching as Kuroo stormed off in anger.

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