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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months

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Hallowed

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, face sitting, smut. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Her Early Medieval Literature essay is due, and Michael has his own cruel way of ensuring she stays focused.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day six of the Smuffmas prompts - "future and face sitting". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She lounges on Michael’s bed, clad in only knickers and one of his t-shirts, a copy of the Canterbury Tales grasped lightly between her fingers. Her eyes move over the words of Chaucer, but take none of them in, how could they? His long fingers draw lazy circles on her ankle, her legs stretched out up to the pillows where he reclines, the duvet wrapped around his bare midriff while he reads from a textbook called the Book of Proof.

Life feels simpler since Michael has entered it, despite the turbulent beginnings. She has given up her friends, under his advice, and there is now far less pressure to conform. Her only focuses are her studies and pleasing him, the latter of the two she takes great pleasure in.

It is always on his terms; when they see each other, what they do, how they do it, and despite his obvious initial inexperience he is a fast learner. His ability to make her fall apart, to make her relinquish all control is something he does expertly. The slight fear she feels towards him only adds to the excitement; he could destroy her if he wanted to, but if she plays nicely then he won’t, and she is more than happy to play nicely when the rewards for doing so are as satisfying as they are.

She sighs, his fingers upon her flesh making her core throb with want, even from the simple gesture of absentmindedly touching her leg. She lets her book slip from her fingers, raising up on her elbow to look at him.

“Michael…” she whines.

He looks at her impassively, adjusting his glasses. “The first of your three essays is due soon, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she responds with a roll of her eyes, flopping back down and stretching her arms above her head. “Early Medieval Literature.”

His hand moves from her ankle, fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of her underwear. “And what have you written?”

She shivers beneath his touch, squirming slightly. “Am I really here to study?”

“I’ve no interest in sleeping with a failing literature student,” he pulls his hand away and she immediately misses his warmth. “So tell me.”

She groans in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably something about irony in the Merchant’s Tale.”

His textbook thuds closed and she hears the heavy sound of him dropping it onto the bedside table. When she chances to glance up at him she sees he is sitting straighter in the bed, his gaze hardened as he looks at her. “Probably?! You mean you haven’t started it? Have you even thought about your thesis statement, your in-depth analysis or how you’re going to conclude your ideas, if you’ve even had any?”

“Oh, come on,” she says softly, sitting up and reaching for him. “There’s still time. Can’t we just–”

“No,” he cuts her off. “I’ve been spoiling you, and it’s made you stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” She protests. “If I remember correctly, it was you who called my degree a ‘glorified book club’.”

“You still need to try,” he tells her, frowning.

“You don’t try,” she argues with a shrug,” and marks in your first year don’t count towards the final degree.”

“I don’t have to try, but I still get firsts in everything. Marks this year may not count towards the final degree you get, but they count towards you keeping your scholarship. Think about your future instead of being a fucking brat for once in your life.”

His words are a sharp sting to her already fragile ego, and she lowers her gaze, fighting the sudden urge to cry.

“I’m not touching you again until your essay’s handed in and I’ve seen what your mark is.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief as she looks at him, searching his features for any indication that he’s being unserious. She finds none; he really means it.

“And you’re not to touch yourself. I’ll know.”

The next two weeks are torturous for her. On the occasions that Michael does invite her to his room, there is no more casual half dressed lounging on his bed. Instead, he has a study space set up for her at his desk, and won’t allow her to speak or leave until she has at least a thousand words written.

They meet up in the library during free periods so that he can read through what she’s written, and her skin burns hot with humiliation each time he screws up a page and throws it into the waste paper bin, calling her arguments “lazy” and “uninspired”.

It lights a fire of determination beneath her, but bubbling under the surface is also a heightened state of arousal, driven by the lack of intimacy, and the fact that she finds that she likes it when he is so authoritative over her.

By the time she has finished, she has produced an essay that both her and Michael are satisfied with; it discusses the use of irony in Chaucer’s poem, the Merchant's Tale. She has used a number of excerpts and lines from the poem for analysis, revealing the instances of irony in each, and from this has determined that the irony Chaucer used in the Merchant's Tale is controlled.

Her eyes light up when Professor Ware hands it back, and she sees the 85% that’s circled at the top of it.

A first.

She feels giddy with excitement as she knocks on Michael’s door that evening, brandishing the now dog-eared pages at him as he opens the door.

“A first, I got a first!” She squeals, watching as he takes the essay from her, his eyes moving slowly over the top page.

“Hmmm,” he settles it down on the desk, removing his glasses and placing them on top. “Take off your jeans and underwear.”

“Wha–what?” She stammers, her grin fading.

“You want your reward, don’t you?” He asks, moving to lay back on the bed.

She swallows thickly, excitement fluttering in her lower belly, as she quickly complies, ridding herself of the clothing that covers her lower half.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

She joins him on the bed, a gasp leaving her as he manhandles her until her knees are positioned either side of his head.

“My clever girl,” he whispers. His words could be mistaken for softness, were they not directly juxtaposed by the rapid darkening of his blue eyes, and the way his thumbs drag across the indentations between her thighs and pelvis. “I knew you could do it, you just needed a little…push.”

He drags his tongue from her opening all the way to her pearl, and her jaw goes slack, the wet sensation making her clench as she falls forward, hands clawing at the wall in front of her.

His grip on her thighs tightens and he tugs her flush against his face, the sloppy sounds of him devouring her are lewd combined with the wanton cries of pleasure that tumble from her lips.

She feels her mind go blank as he inserts his tongue inside of her, keeping it rigid as she begins to grind herself in a circular motion, keeping his nose pressed against where she needs it most, desperately chasing the release she’s needed the last couple of weeks.

His hum of appreciation reverberates through her core, and as he withdraws from her, plush lips wrapping around her sensitive bundle of nerves she feels herself fall apart as the growing ache intensifies, completely at his mercy as he laps at her, while white hot waves of pleasure wash over her.

She raises up when it becomes too much, jerking at how oversensitive she feels and gazes down at him through heavy lidded eyes, breathless.

He looks like an utterly different person without his glasses, almost kind, though she knows better. His chin is shiny with her slick as he smirks up at her.

“You’ve worked so hard,” he says quietly, though the edge of malevolence to his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t worry, you can give that pretty little mind of yours a rest while I fuck you stupid again.”

She is powerless to resist as he tugs her back to his face once more, beginning the exquisite torture all over again.

#michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #saltburn fan fic

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luvsellie · 1 year

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PEOPLE WATCHING [j. maybank]

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

summary jj ignoring one of his friends is strange. and off-putting. so when he does it to you, argument ensues and indifferent confessions toward one another begin to spill.

warnings rafe being an ass, mentions of abuse, semi based on s1 ep5 but also not?? don’t expect anything regarding the obx plot, reader is in a similar situation to sarah and kie’s social standing (kook-turned-pogue) !

wc 3.1k

note this song just SCREAMS jj i couldn’t not write something inspired by it! also this man is so ‘angsty-love-confession-in-the-rain’ coded why didn’t the obx writers take that chance when they had it >:(

you never thought you would see the day that jj deliberately ignored you. sure, he hated talking about his feelings, and he was too stubborn for his own good, but he had never once gone out of his way to avoid your presence. until now.

“he won’t even look at me,” you hissed at kie, eyes glued to the blond who maneuvered around groups of people, the tray in his hands lacking drinks. he had a smile on his face regardless, making small quips at people as he passed them.

kie huffed, moving her body to block off your view of jj. her lilac dress shimmered in the orange light as she said, “just give him some time. he’ll come around. he always does.”

you chewed on the inside of your cheek, spinning the ring on your index finger as you continued to try and get a clear view of him. “yeah. i guess you’re right.”

the girl in front of you grinned in a way that seemed to say i always am.

still mildly offset about jj’s attitude toward whatever it is that you had done to upset him, you took a step back from kie, situating yourself so you could comfortably watch him once again. as you did, you noticed his back was now to you, topper, kelce, and rafe appearing to slowly herd him toward the building. the trio of men wore smug smiles, and before you knew it jj had lost his tray and swung open one of the glass doors, sprinting in the direction of the restrooms.

your eyebrows knitted together in sudden urgency, hand already swatting at kiara’s bare shoulder. “kie. kie they’re chasing him-”

“who’s- oh. oh,” kie said aridly.

“we have to go,” you told her, already gathering the skirt of your sage-green dress in a hand.

kie grabbed your arm quickly. “and do what? stab them with the back of our heels?”

“if that’s what it takes,” you told her stubbornly, ripping your bicep from her grip. “stay here if you want, i don’t care, but i’m going to go help the best i can.”

you didn’t wait for her response as you started in the direction of the door, gait switching between an uneven combination of a speedwalk and a run. whether or not jj was mad at you, nothing was going to stop you from assisting him in any way possible, especially if he was severely outnumbered. rafe was practically psychotic, his solution to everything was always violence, and topper and kelce only egged him on.

the cool a/c brought goosebumps to your skin, a chill shivering its way down your spine as you swept past people and furniture. fortunately, you spotted the dark-colored bathroom door, the sound of disgruntled male voices seeping through the wood. when you recognized jj’s, you didn’t hesitate to push past the barrier, deciding the consequences could be left for future you to deal with.

middle-age men immediately protested to your appearance, but you ignored them as you hurried in the direction of the overlapped voices, and, sure enough, you found yourself walking into the midst of the kooks jumping jj.

none of the boys noticed your presence, too wrapped up in whatever they were doing to grow aware of their surroundings.

your attention zoned in on your beat-up-looking friend, the sight of kelce retaining him in a jarring choke hold resulting in your sudden outburst of, “what the fuck is going on?”

“oh, look who’s decided to join us,” rafe leered, his grin growing twice as big. jj continued to struggle against kelce’s grasp, saying your name dryly as his eyes jumped from you to the oldest cameron sibling.

“the hell is wrong with all of you?” your glare turned to kelce, his eyes narrowed in vain. “let him go or i swear to god…”

rafe’s face only continued to dwell with enlightenment at your interruption. he stood up straight and took a long stride in your direction, forcing you to spin toward him. he put less than a foot between his body and yours. “or you’ll do what-”

the air stilled as you slapped the man across the cheek, your palm stinging from the impact. even though he towered over your smaller person, you still sneered up at him, gaze narrowed as if he were no more than the scum on the bottom of your shoe. “you’re not the only one in this town who has a powerful father, rafe cameron. yours just happens to have the worst reputation.”

rafe’s fingers ghosted the flushed skin where you had struck him, eyebrows beginning to knit together as his familiar rage started to surface. he barely had time to speak, “you fucking bitch-” before someone cut in.

the flickering lights caught everyone’s regard, and you watched stiffly as kelce instantly released jj and spun on his heels. “gentlemen. ma’am,” a security guard addressed, “is there a problem here?”

jj was quick to jump in, rushing to say, “pardon me, officer, i just…” his blue eyes caught yours, but they jumped back the man in the black tux before you could give him a warning glance. “we just- well, actually, yes, there is an issue. we have a criminal trespass in progress here.”

you knew he was just doing the best he could to get you both out of the situation, yet you didn’t mask your rather disgusted expression as he continued.

“beep! call it in, right?” the blond urged. “blatant disrespect for private property.”

the boys around you nodded, avoiding eye contact with the guard. multiple yeahs circled the room.

“we’re in violation of all kinds of shit, sir,” jj said, barely taking the motion to glance at you over his shoulder. he turned to kelce, plastering on a fake smile. he began to straighten the cyan-colored bow tie. “but these young gentlemen…” his hand was quickly swatted away. “...uh, caught us, sir, and they were about to take us away. which is what you should do; escort us out of here.”

you watched as jj offered up his wrists before looking back at you. his brows jumped to his hairline in a silent plea to just go along with the nonsense spewing out of his mouth. still mildly irritated at him and everything about whatever the fuck is going to happen as a repercussion, you exhaled sharply and took a few steps in his direction, sending a glare in rafe’s direction.

your arm brushed against jj’s as you mimicked his actions. “you caught us, officer.”

the man rolled his eyes, but reached behind you, hands roughly grabbing onto yours and jj’s biceps. “come on.”

but jj seemed to feel that he needed to add to the situation, his adhd never failing to shine in moments like these. he turned to kelce again as rafe moved closer, topper behind him. “fix that tie, son. oh, and you’re lookin’ quite spiffy too. you powerpuff girls have fun, alright?”

just as the guard was about to lead you both through the exit, rafe shouted your name. “you know you’re pretty hot for a ‘pogue!’”

jj spun before you could even react, already storming in the direction of the smirking boy. ‘mister security’ left you standing in the doorway as he trudged over to the beginnings of a fight and ripped your friend from the group. “let’s go,” he snuffed, shoving the blond harshly.

you avoided jj’s aggravated gaze as you locked eyes with rafe, still being pushed by the man. raising a hand, you flipped him off. “suck my dick, cameron.”

“knock it off,” the guard said, his fingers squeezing the flesh of your arm. his warning compelled you to turn away, huffing air through your nose in annoyance.

rafe scoffed a laugh from his spot, highly entertained by the sight before him. “hey, safe travels back to the cut, you two!”

“this shit ain’t over!” jj hollered, earning a harsh shove in the direction of the exit.

as the man directed you and jj out of the building, you made a point to not bother interacting with the boy, ignoring his existence entirely, just as he had done to you previously. talking to him at the moment would only result in yelling at each other, and the idea of that was rather repulsive.

finally pushing past one of the glass doors, you attempted to wrench your arm away. it only ended with the guard’s hands squeezing even tighter. “dude, i can walk by myself- let me go.”

jj tried the same thing as you passed a distressed-looking kiara. “yeah, we have legs. can’t you see that, daryl? and, hey, thanks for the ‘discretion.’ let us just walk out by ourselves, yeah?”

nearly stumbling on stairs because of your heels, you made a noise out of exasperation, eagerly pulling back. “give me- oh my god, just let us go!” as heads started to turn in your direction, you desperately hoped that one of your parents would show up, but as daryl continued to haul you and jj (who continuously made comments to the people he passed) away from everything, you made one last hopeless attempt to get him to let go.

“wait!” you said, this time actually tripping on your heels. faking a stumble, you very nearly successfully fell out of daryl’s grasp. “these shoes are killing my feet. let me at least take them off if you insist on dragging us through the mud.”

he rolled his eyes, but loosened his grip.

bending slightly, you raised your left foot off the ground, undoing the buckle of your heel. as you stepped out of the shoe, you went to do the other, stealing a glimpse at jj. this is too easy.

finally standing on the bare ground, you turned back to daryl, shoving your heels to his chest. “would you mind holding these for me? thanks.” using the best of your strength, you threw him off, jj happily doing the same, and began backing in the opposite direction just as your father appeared from behind mr. carrera. his face went from confusion to anger in the span of less than three seconds, and you knew you’d be in for the biggest lecture of your life when you confronted your parents later. but for now, all you wanted to do was get off the property.

and jj seemed to have a similar idea, as his fingers brushed against your left hand, gesturing with the jut of his chin when you made eye contact with him. “come on.”

unable to help the satisfied smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth, you turned away, quickly following jj into the darkness as kie called after you.

“okay, i think we’re far enough,” you huffed heavily, slowing to a walk beside jj.

he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair as he nodded. for once he had nothing to say, and it made you stop on the sidewalk.

“so that’s it?” you started, grabbing his elbow and forcing him to look at you. “you’re just going to go back to ignoring me? after everything that just happened back there? at least tell me what i did for you to treat me like this.”

his blue eyes averted your own as he chewed on his busted bottom lip.

“what did i do, jj?” you asked as your arm fell back to your side, annoyance slipping into despair. “just tell me.”

jj looked at you, and even in the strained moonlight could you just now see how badly his upper left cheek was bruising. he was fiddling with the hem of his white button-up shirt as he stood, stubbornly remaining quiet.

sighing, you took a step closer, the pavement cool under your bare feet. he flinched back when you went to raise a hand. you licked your lips. “did…did rafe and the others do this?”

stiffening, jj lifted his chin and looked down at you, his expression morphed into something between disgust and vacancy. “no,” was all he said.

“oh,” you breathed, your body running cold, even in the humid night air. of course. “maybe you should come back home with me. i can-”

“no,” jj repeated more firmly, shaking off your words. “no, i don’t need your pity right now. go back to midsummers. you and kie looked like you were having loads of fun.”

you scoffed in sudden disbelief, realizing what this was about—why he had been ignoring you for nearly a full day. “i’m not- i’m not offering to care for you out of pity,” you told him bitterly. “you’re my friend, jj, and i’ll always try and protect you when i can. i’m sorry that you’re too naive to realize and accept that.”

jj took a step back, his hands balling into fists as he shook his head. “i don’t need your protection. i don’t need your compassion, or whatever the hell you wanna call it,” he spat. “and i don’t need you.”

“you’re just saying that,” you protested quickly, swallowing down the crack in your voice and blinking back the sharp sting of tears.

shaking his head again, jj’s lips pressed into a thin line. “go back to that big, shiny house of yours.” he wasted no time in turning around, his back straight as he walked away, the clarity of his figure growing less and less as he retreated.

unable to process the moment, you ran a hand over your face, forcing yourself to keep your composure and not yell out to him. what the fuck just happened? you thought, panic beginning to set in as jj officially disappeared around the block.

what am i going to do?

the house was quiet when you entered, and after a quick call for your parents, you realized they were still partying away at the country club. it was somewhat of a relief.

feet sore and dirty, you began to rid yourself of your jewelry, unclasping the chains around your neck and picking off the rings on your fingers. you set them on your nightstand as you shut your bedroom door, immediately falling onto your bed.

lying back to stare at the beige ceiling, you inhaled deeply, running through the events that had taken place. and it had all ended in jj leaving you. for how long, you didn’t know—didn’t even want to think about it. so, with one last sigh, you stood from your mattress, stripped yourself down, and headed toward the bathroom, already thinking up a plan for tomorrow.

“look, i wasn’t trying to make a scene,” you explained over the phone, shrugging your shoulders even though your parents couldn’t see. “it just…happened, i guess. i’m sorry.” there was a tense pause, filled by the sound of your dad sighing on the other end of the line. “can i please go now? we can talk as soon as i get home later, i swear.”

you heard unintelligible whispers before your mom said, “you cannot keep blowing us off.”

“i know, i know.” you really did not want to have this conversation when you were nearly at jj’s house, the sky murky with dark clouds. “again, i’m sorry, but you know i don’t normally do stuff like this, so can you guys please ease off?”

“fine. only for a few hours. i want you home soon, it’s supposed to storm today. we will talk later.” your dad said roughly, irritation laced in his voice.

shoulders visibly sagging, you couldn’t help but nod in relief. “yes, thank you. love you both.” with that, you impatiently clicked the red button on the screen as jj’s house appeared. pocketing your phone, you spotted the blond in his yard, squatting next to his red dirt bike. and for a split second, you were just happy to see him, the events circling last night forgotten.

you approached quietly, making just enough noise to let him know someone was walking over. as his head turned, your jaw went slack at the fresh bruise blooming along his jawline. you cleared your throat. “hi.”

“hey.” jj returned to his bike.

“i, uh…i came to talk.” thunder rumbled from somewhere above. “about last night. about us.”

the entire way here you rehearsed what you were going to say, switching things out or removing them completely, but now, when he stood and looked over at you with a somewhat pissed-off expression, you found your tongue to be dry and your mind blank.

“what’s there to talk about.” he said it more like a statement and less like a question. “there’s nothing to talk about.”

you licked your lips as droplets started to wet your shoulders and scalp. “we both know that’s not true, jj.”

he wiped his hands on a cloth before tossing it into an open toolbox. shaking his head and sauntering forward, he said again, “there isn’t anything to talk about. you say you care about me, but you don’t. you don’t. do yourself a favor and stop lying to yourself. stop lying to me.”

“no, i do care, okay?” the raindrops began to fall harder, yet the only thing you were worried about was getting your point across. getting jj to understand. “i have cared about you for as long as i have known you. that first night at the chateau with the others…when you finally let me in…i didn’t know then, but i know now—i love you. a lot.”

jj scoffed and shook his head with an incredulous smile, his stare glued to the soaked grass, ignoring the weight of your confession. “you don’t know anything, alright? that night didn’t mean anything to anyone.”

“yes, it did!” you persisted loudly, frustrated with both him and yourself.

“no, it didn’t!” he snapped, reaching forward and grabbing the sides of your shoulders in exasperation. when you flinched at his yelling, a sudden wave of realization washed over him, and he released you with a step back, blinking rapidly against the rain. “nothing happened; nothing is happening.” he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than you. “you’re a kook. and i’m a pogue. we belong on two very different sides of this island.”

“jj,” you said softly. he remained still, hair stuck to the sides of his face as you went to cup it, palms resting against his wet skin. “just give in. for one pathetic second just forget about the social economic standing of everything and give in to me. please.” you weren’t sure whether the wetness on your face was your tears or the rain. “i know you want to, but you aren’t letting yourself. nothing you say or do will push me away. you’re stuck with me, pogue or not.”

his gaze flickered vicariously between your eyes and mouth, internally fighting with his own feelings. but, ultimately, you could see that your words had struck deep enough—that as the chill of cold water drenched your clothes and hair, as his warm fingers wrapped delicately around your wrists, thumbs sliding against your skin, you had won.

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x you #jj x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj obx #jj outer banks #outer banks #obx #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #obx season 3

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ren-054 · 5 days

Text

Tiny AIW Excerpt…

(This doesn’t guarantee a bigger story in the future, have mercy on me pls /lh)

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

(prologue thing?)

They took away everything I had left to hold onto. Everything but them, at least. It almost felt freeing, a relief, in a strange way.

The scent of flowers was thick and sweet to my senses. My thoughts slowly blur together as I drowned in the heavy aroma.

No longer did I have to uphold myself as a person. In this land, responsibility was merely a word. A silly word, at that. I was being offered the chance to be freed from the pressure of my former life on a silver platter by the people who have unfailingly proved their devotion to me again and again. Who would I be to deny them?

Gentle hands of cool metal joints and warm motors take my own of flesh. There is an unspoken promise in our grasps.

Out there, there wasn’t anything waiting for me. Really, I had submitted to my fate long before I came here. Before I met them.

I would miss the surface.. My friends.. My brother..

If I just stayed right where I was, surely I’d be happy. He said so. They both did. And I believe them, as much as they believe in me that I’ll stay. I have nowhere to run, therefore I’d never think to walk.

Here, I’ll be safe. Here, I’ll be happy.

• • • • •

(Main excerpt)

“Sugarcube!~ It’s time for tea!”

I shift as a voice rouses me awake and I groan in protest. I felt so warm… I didn’t want to get up… Get up…

Get up from where?

Eyes snapping open, I sit up, finding myself on a grass and wool-stuffed mattress. A warm blanket made of soft fibers had been wrapped around my body, shrugged off when I began to scan my surroundings.

The room was dimly lit and the air was crisp, making me imagine the walls were made of stone or perhaps bricks. Unfortunately my vision wasn’t the best without my glasses. Candles were lit about the room. There were no windows, but there was a lone door on the far wall. Was I underground?

“There’s my little sunshine!” The same voice from before warbled, followed by the clinking of porcelain. “Come! Come! Before your tea gets cold!”

With bleary vision, I turn toward the voice. At a small wooden table set in the middle of the room sat a familiarly flamboyant red-clad figure with their knees up to their chest as they tried to sit in one of the child-sized chairs. I began shuffling off the bed, brushing myself off.

“M-Mister Hatter?” I mumbled as I walked over. “Wher—“

The Hatter tutted at me before I could finish, placing a delicate finger up to my lips. “Dearest little dewdrop, I told you, you can just call me Sun!”

“Uh, Sun?” I eyed the liquid the bot was pouring into the cups. Yellow flower petals and flecks of green herbs floated prettily along the surface of the unknown brew.

“Hmmm?” Hatter hummed, the swirls in his eyes seeming to glow with warmth at the sound of his name.

“Where am I? I didn’t fall down another hole again, did I?” I rubbed at my eyes. “And have you seen my glasses anywhere?”

“Oh! Those are right here!” Dodging my first question, the Hatter pointed at the other side of the table which sat the other teacup along with the distinct sheen of my lenses against the candlelight. “Come on! Have a sit with this lonely hatter!”

“Ah, right.” I nodded before taking my seat across from the bot, putting my glasses back on once I sat. Ah, vision at last.

The first thing I realized was the room was dingy, dustier than I expected. Before I could really notice any other finer details, Sun piped up once again.

“Very good, my dear,” he praised with a light laugh that made me nearly blush. “Now then, where you are. That’s a simple one!”

I leaned in with anticipation. With a relaxed—almost smug—gaze, the Hatter answered.

“I brought you home.”

#text post #art post #aiw writing #uh sure I’ll tag it that #dca #sun fnaf #sun x y/n #aiw au #hatter sun #dca au #cw yandere #a little #what can I say? it’s my thing #this is for the darker version of this au but shush #I’m bad at writing silly things #had to get the creative juices flowing somehow

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imasoftieforbarb · 6 months

Note

hey there! you kinda have seen me already by freaking out about Floyd he’s actually is what I wanted to request!

if it’s possible, could you write a little fic on how reader could be when they (pronouns are your opinion) found out about floyd being captured? OR HEAR ME OUT PLS—

reader is Floyd‘s partner (girlfriend/boyfriend, again your opinion) BUT was captured WITH him, bc all the time I was watching the movie I imagined them being with Floyd since young and bc of cliché drama I love *cries*

again it’s your option on doing it or not !!

I LOVE THIS IDEA! Okokokokok

You were childhood best friends- and when he joined the band? You became their manager!

You wanted to support him and you didn’t want to interrupt the whole boys only band so you went with next best thing!

After the failed show you try to keep everyone from leaving

JD tells you to move, and shoves you out the way when you try to block the door

Clay just shakes his head and leaves

Spruce lays a hand on your shoulder and whispers “look after them for me”

At first Floyd tries to leave without you- after giving Branch his vest, he asks you to look after him

You nodded- but the minute he was out of sight you started crying

“What are you waiting for girl? Go get him!”

Grandma tells you she’ll be fine looking after branch on her own so you run off after Floyd

“FLOYD! FLOYD WAIT!” You shouted, seeing his figure turn around, his eyes widening when he saw you running towards him.

“Y/n? What are you doing? I thought you were gonna look after Branch”- he started to say before he saw your tears

“Im not gonna watch the boy I have loves since who knows when walk out the door without him knowing how I feel” you panted taking his hand in yours and meeting his eyes shyly “we could be so good together, we can make this last forever!”

Floyd blinked a few times before laughing slightly “wow! I never thought that you’d like me- I mean I’m not the heart throb or the fun one”

You interrupted “I don’t like them! I like you! A lot”

“I like you a lot too-you sure you wanna come with me?”

You nodded and he grinned, intertwining your fingers and starting to walk away from the pod together, hand in hand as you talked about the future

Ok now- I’m gonna mix ideas here

Let’s say when he got captured you were still with him but not present at the time

So when you got back to the pod you and your long term boyfriend had made to see it wrecked with big foot prints leading away from it

You immediately assumed he’d been eaten by a Burgan

Absolutely heartbroken you fixed the pod back up on your own and fell into a grieving depression

Everywhere you looked you saw memories of him

And then far into the future one day- you get a letter

Supposedly from your dead boyfriend!

You- despite thinking that he was dead- were desperate to see him again, and if that lead to your death then so be it!

You got in your catterbug van called Chloe and head straight for the ‘mount rageous’ that the letter had specified

Once you got to the place this “Velvet and Veneer” we’re singing at you snuck in and noticed the dressing room door open a smidge

You peaked in slightly and felt your eyes water

There he was- Floyd was alive! You couldn’t believe it- you took a few steps back to grasp what you were seeing before a bumping into something.

You looked up and Veneer looked down at you before snatching you up and laughing slightly

“Wow! Another troll? I wonder which one you are? Either way- more talent for us I suppose!” Veneer muttered before entering the dressing room

Floyd looked up from his crossed legs as one of his captors Veneer walked into the room with something in his hand

He had been thinking of you- he always thought about you- between the torture of having his talent drained he dreamed of being back in your shared pod- in your arms

He startled from his thoughts as another diamond perfume bottle was slammed down onto the counter next to him, and felt his heart drop and eyes water when he noticed who was in it

Floyd waited for veneer to leave the room- probably to go get velvet to tell her the good news of having another troll to drain before standing up and pressing his hands to the wall of his prison

“Y-Y/n? Is- is that you?”

You nodded, already crying your eyes out just from looking at him

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come- they’re gonna drain you-“

He stopped when he noticed your tears streaming down your face and had a déjà-vu moment of when you first told him you liked him

“I thought you were dead”

You whispered, dropping to your knees-

“There’s no way I would pass up a way to see you- I love you!” You pressed your hands against the diamond as well and he felt his eyes well with tears

“I love you too-“

Velvet came storming into the room and cackled when she saw your face fill with fear

“Oh- you are gonna be mine!” She said grasping the bottle and starting to walk back out

“NO!” Floyd shouted “not her, drain me first-“

Velvet sneered slightly

“Seeing as you’ve said that- no, I’m gonna drain her, veneer can have you. I want a newer talent”

She left the dressing room and the door slammed shut on Floyd- his tears finally falling

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

AAAAAA- should I do a part 2 taking place during the family harmony at the end of the movie? Let me know what you think!

#trolls band together #brozone x reader #brozone #brozone floyd #brozone floyd x reader #trolls Floyd x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

All the Good Girls Go To Hell 21

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, injury, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You come home for the summer but your break is not as relaxing as you expect.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Enjoy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The warm pressure of Bucky's fingertips release the tension from your soles and radiates up your legs. You feel yourself slumping further against the armrest, watching the television as you try not to be too aware of his touch. It's hard to ignore as a groan slips between your lips. You sink down, extending your legs so he can get a better grasp.

“Good?” He asks lightly.

“Mhmm,” you hum, “it's nice.”

He keeps on, his large hands around your foot as he rolls his knuckle into your arch. You let out an embarrassing noise and giggle as his tending turns ticklish. You sit up suddenly, cheeks burning as your thighs tingle.

He looks at you surprised as you plant your palms and hold yourself out. You lift a hand and fix your glasses. You give a sheepish smile and wiggle your toes.

“Tickly,” you carefully raise your feet and bend your legs. He reluctantly lets you go as disappointment wrinkles in his forehead.

“Sorry,” he apologises.

“No, no, it's okay,” you turn straight, hanging your legs over the edge as you come to sit in the middle of the sofa, “I'm just sensitive.”

“Ah, and I can be a bit overbearing,” he adds.

You fold your hands in your lap and smile, your eyes drifting back to the television as you divert your attention to the cat fight over an over extravagant brunch. You feel his gaze, it has you paralysed. He sighs and stretches his arm over the back of the couch. You stay along the edge, pretending to be rapt in the on-screen drama.

His leg sways one way then the other. He blows out a long breath and the tension mingles with a sweltering heat. You wince as you feel a brush along your arm and glance over as he pushes the strap of your shirt back over your shoulder.

He smiles as you peek down at the fabric. You meet his gaze again as his fingertips linger on your skin, caressing in circles as he sits forward. You tilt your head, spellbound by his slow movement.

You gulp as you feel the tugging force between you. Like a magnet you can't help but lean in as he leans closer. Your eyes go wide as you realise what's about to happen. He's going to kiss you and you're not going to stop him.

His breath swathes around you as he grips your shoulder, hand crawling towards your neck. He brings his fingers under your chin and angles your head back as you shift towards him. Your noses brush against each other but your lips can't meet before a sudden bang draws you apart.

You sit back and cross your arms, cheeks burning as Bucky stands abruptly. He clears his throat as you shake your head and clamp your lips tight. That was too close.

“Yo,” Naomi hollers as she prances into the room, stopping short as Bucky distances himself from you. You're stunned by her arrival, her nonchalance unexpected given her storming out days before. “Huh,” she looks between you and her smile falls to a scowl, “am I interrupting?”

“Wasn't expecting you,” Bucky grits.

“Clearly,” she scoffs as you fold your hands and stare at her helplessly, “you move on fast.”

“It's not–” you begin but go unheard as Bucky speaks over you.

“And you sure are a good friend. Took me all day to clean that shit off her car,” he snarls, “so unless it's an apology, you won't talk to her.”

“Oh, this is so rich. Her?” Naomi blusters.

“It's about decency,” he insists, “why are you even here? Shouldn't you be with the worm?”

“I came back to check on her–”

“Sure,” Bucky crosses his arms and you watch his shoulders bulge, “you left her all alone yesterday and now you care so much, huh?”

“I'm sure you were right there with your little act to sweep her off your feet. You should be thanking me,” she accuses, “she's my friend. She just feels sorry for a pathetic old man like you.”

You stand up, standing just behind Bucky. He has no response, throwing up his hands as he blows between his lips. He waves her off dismissively.

“Whatever, Mimi, I'm the bad guy,” he mutters.

“It's not true,” you say as he turns away from her, “please– I… Nay,” you pass him as he drags his feet. You stop in front of Naomi, watching her expectantly, “I'm here because you ditched me. Last night… I said no. I said no and you violated me.”

She rolls her eyes, “we were having fun.”

“It wasn't fun for me,” you retort.

She puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head defiantly, “it was a kiss–”

“That it? No sorry?” You sputter, genuinely hurt.

“Well, uh, yeah,” her voice warbles, “I'm sorry, sure, I didn't think you'd freak out–”

“Sorry I freaked out? Nay,” you pout, “come on.”

She sighs and looks past you. You know he's still there but he won't look at her. You don't blame him. You're not the only she betrayed.

“You lied to me. About everything.”

“I had to–”

“Your parents never kicked you out, did they?” You interject. She winces, taken aback by your abruptness. “Tell me the truth.”

She drops her eyes and shrugs, “I couldn't stay–”

“Did they?” You ask quietly.

She clicks her tongue and stomps her heeled sandal, “no, okay? But I couldn't stay there. It doesn't change anything. Bucky's still an old creep–”

Bucky sniffs but says nothing. The tension roils around you as you're caught between them. You can't keep doing this. You have to choose.

“Naomi,” Bucky rasps as he approaches, “I won't throw you out. I know you have no where else–”

You cross your arms as your spine goes rigid. She rolls her eyes again. How much has she had handed to her and spat back? She had somewhere to go, she has a dozen people who want her, but you're not one of them anymore.

“If she stays, I'm leaving,” you declare, “so better make up your mind, Nay.”

You sidestep her, nearly brushing against her as she lets out a pathetic noise. You don't look back as you charge across the room. You're done being lost, you'll go home and deal with that mess. You can't live by Naomi's rules anymore.

“You can't do this,” she whines, “you know he'll choose you.”

You don't listen. You scurry down the hall and into the guest room. You close the door and lean against it, breathless.

The scene unfurls in your mind. Only nights before, Naomi on top of Bucky, taunting him. She blames him but you heard it all. She was begging him and he said no.

You march to the nightstand and grab your bag. You don't have much to your name, only a car declaring you as scum. The thought of going back to your mom chills you but you could drive up to your dad's. He can't turn you away if you're already there, can he?

You shove your few possessions into the bag and whip open the door. You're an adult, you need to stop expecting others to take care of you. You'll just grab your phone and be gone.

As you come out, you find Bucky standing with his back to you. He leans on the wall, his arm bent as if he’s cradling his head. You peer around at the empty room.

“I'm going–”

“You too?” He asks softly.

“I think I should. I don't want to put her out–”

“She left,” he murmurs and lets out a hiss, “don't think she'll be back.”

“Why do you say that? Bucky, what's wrong?”

“If you're going, please just do it,” he begs.

His voice is barely more than a croak. Is he crying? You near him, leaning to the side as you try to get a glimpse of him. He shies away so you grab his arm. He lets you turn him as he drops his hand from his cheek.

There's a bright red welt on his cheek bone and a gash just below his eye. You gasp and drop your bag. He blinks his injured eye and turns his face away.

“What happened?” You squeak.

“She just… she was upset–”

“Naomi did this?” You gasp.

He chuckles then winces, “those shoes she wears, they always looked painful, just didn't think like that.”

“What? She hit you with her shoe?” You exclaim, searching around him.

“She's gone,” he assures you, “think she scared herself even.”

“Bucky,” you step closer, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” He gives a rocky laugh.

“I… it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have confronted her like that–”

“Not the first time,” he shakes his head, “definitely not your fault.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, please. Don’t let me keep you. You need anything? Gas money?”

You take a breath and close your eyes. You feel worse leaving him like this. He says it’s not your fault but you can’t help but feel it is.

“Is… is it okay if I stay?” You flutter your lashes open.

“Only if you want to,” he tries to smile and once more reaches to his cheek.

“Oh, you need to get some ice on that,” you say.

“I look that bad?”

“I mean it, it’s swelling already,” you bend to pick up your bag and stride past him.

You enter the kitchen and plunk your bag on the counter as you pass. You open the freezer and search around. You find a bag of frozen veggies and snatch the cloth from across the oven handle. You wrap up the cold package and turn to face Bucky as he shuffles in.

“Here,” you cross to him and hold out the icy packet.

He thanks you as he takes it and leans on the island, pressing it to his cheek. He groans as he plants his elbow. You smile nervously, unsure what to do next.

“Do you need Advil or something? Can I get you anything?” You offer.

“Please, please, I’m good,” he says, “you’ve done more than enough.” You can only see his one eye as the other is hidden behind the iced veggies, “you’re too sweet. Really.”

“I’m just doing what anyone would do,” you shrug.

“No, not anyone,” he assures you.

🏡

It’s hard to settle down for the night. The shadow of adrenaline follows you into the guest room and you try to close it out as the door clicks behind you. It’s the buzzing sensation of being overtired but slightly too addled to calm down.

You left Bucky in the living room. He seemed less than eager to turn in himself. Guilt nips at you but he insisted that you go to bed. It’s probably for the better. You assume he needs some time alone after a day like that.

You change into your pajamas and prop up your phone on the nightstand. You shut off the light and nestle into the fresh sheets, fragrant with fabric softener. Your nerves ease down as your eyes cling to the small screen glowing in the dark, the colours blurring together as your eyelids grow heavy.

You feel yourself sink into your subconscious. It’s a swirling black, turbulent but void. You feel like your swaying on a tide, rising and falling with a steady ebb and flow. From the shallowness that has you vaguely aware of the room to the deep sludge that makes your headache.

You wake with a start. You’re not sure what woke you but it’s completely black. Your phone doesn’t respond as you hit the home button. It’s dead.

You rub your eyes and yawn, feeling around for your glasses on the night table. You want to just roll over and fall back asleep but your bladder squeezes uncomfortably. You surrender and drag yourself from the bed.

You let yourself into the hall. The house is silent but a light glows still from down the hall. You cross the hall and dip into the bathroom. You take your time, your movement lazy with the dregs of your exhaustion.

You dry off your hands and go back into the hall. You stop and listen to the house. You hear something, a low, inconsistent noise. Something shuddering from the front room. You peek over at the guest room door then back again.

It’s probably the wind or something. Bucky has to be asleep by now. You go into the front room and find it empty.

You go to turn off the light and let out a squeak of surprise. Bucky lays across the couch, his head propped against the armrest as he holds a whisky bottle against his chest.

“Hey, doll,” he slurs.

“Bucky,” you bat your lashes.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” He babbles before covering his mouth, stifling a belch.

“Are you… okay?” You inch closer and see how his head lolls.

“Fine,” he drones, his eye purplish blue as a large bump swells on his cheek, “I’m just… having a midnight snack.”

He wiggles the bottle and you glance over at the time digitally displayed under the television. You frown. It’s almost three in the morning. You cautiously edge along the couch, drawn by the onus of your own regretful drunken shame.

“It’s late,” you say as you stop beside him, “how about you save the rest?”

You grab the neck of the bottle and he clings to it a moment before letting it go. You nearly slosh it on yourself. You set it on the table behind you and face him again.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, “I don’t drink… not alone.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “do you want some water?”

He closes his eyes, “please, I’m so embarrassed. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“You know I won’t judge you. I was a bigger mess last night.”

He turns his head away from you. The difference between you and him is that you can’t just carry him off to his bed. You gently touch his arm and balance on the edge close to him, rubbing his shoulder.

“It’s okay to be sad about Naomi,” you coax.

He nods and keeps his face averted. You squeeze his arm, feeling the thick muscle of his bicep. The scent of alcohol ripples off of him.

“You still need to sleep though,” you say, “so why don’t you get up–”

He turns his head back suddenly and grabs your hand. There’s a desperate blaze behind his oceanic eyes. He clings to your tightly, “I’m not sad about her,” he garbles, “doll, I’m heartbroken…” he wiggles his nose as his eyes sparkle, “over you.”

“Bucky,” you murmur, “you're drunk.”

“I am,” he croons, “but I still feel the same. Doll, I only ever think of you.”

You sit there, speechless. You don’t know how to react. You want to chalk it up to whiskey and stress. You want to just get him to bed and pretend he never said it in the morning. Yet something else in you wants him more. You know you shouldn’t, but you do.

Even so, it can’t be like this.

“I… I like you, Bucky,” you slip your hand free of his and brush a shank of hair away from his forehead, “but I like you even more when you’re sober.”

“Mmmm,” he groans and drops his chin, “I’m sorry, doll.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you tap the tip of his nose, “just get up and go to bed. Sleep it off and we can talk in the morning.”

He nods and gulps thickly, “alright, doll. For you, I’ll do anything.”

He reaches up and braces the back of the couch. You stand as he pushes himself up, wobbling just slightly as he gets to his feet. You grab his arm, offering what little support you can. He smiles down at you and caresses your cheek as he sways.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” He asks.

“Bed,” you remind him firmly.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #all the good girls go to hell #series #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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jamil-s-wifey · 9 months

Note

Hello! Can I request drunken reader and drunken Jack howl making out and about to go further but there's a knock on the door that brings them back to reality? They weren't thinking straight in the moment and now they don't know how to act with each other after the heated makeout and groping session

Thank you!

Ah, I love these types of requests so much omg! I made it kind of open-ended, do tell if you wish for a part two of this! This is so cute! We love them drunken shenanigans. One slightly lime-y scenario with extra vodka, coming right up~~ ALSO A TON OF CURSING!

P.S. This is happening during MC and Jack's 3rd year, so that they are of legal age for both the nsfw part and the drinking, (at least in my country) AND to still be together most of the time, and be in that crush phase~

P.P.S. Alcohol is fun until it's not! Drink responsibly~~

How your friends managed to procure alcohol on campus was beyond you. How they hid it from Crowley was even more beyond you. Did it matter? Not necessarily. Not when you were having so much fun!

Towards the end of your third year, you decided to celebrate together with your friends. After all, the future was uncertain. Ace, Deuce, Sebek, Jack, Epel and of course Grim and you, everybody was there! You all stayed at Ramshackle, away from prying eyes. So here you were, drinking to your heart's content, celebrating the end of the school year, reminiscing, laughing, playing games like truth or dare, you know how it is.

As time passed, everybody reluctantly returned to their respective dorms until only you and Jack remained. Even Grim had gone who knows where to probably sleep off the ungodly amount of food he'd consumed.

.................

"So, I don't really want tonight to end yet. If you've got nothing better to do, how about we drink one more?" You proposed, taking a sip of your drink. You were currently facing each other, cross-legged on your bed.

"Yeah, I'd like that." He smiled back, tail swishing behind him. The more he drank, the more he let loose. He was leaning back, eyes glazed over from the alcohol. A sight to behold. And my my, were you beholding it.

Your gaze travelled down his body, before moving to the alcohol, taking a big gulp. You couldn't exactly help yourself, not when Jack was just sitting there, on YOUR bed, all attractive and shit.

"Let's play a staring game!" Suddenly you chimed in. Then you could stare at him and compete at the same time.

"Staring game? Okay, bring it on."

"But with a twist." (Hehe, twist)

"Oh no"

"Oh yes. We can try anything to get the other person to blink."

"Anything?"

You realised the implications of your words and your cheeks heated up almost immediately.

"Yes. Anything."

"....okay."

He moved closer to you, using you as leverage, so that you could be perfectly face to face, with little space between you two, less than an arms length. His own heart skipped a beat at the closeness and your implication, which was FOR ONCE not lost on him. Perhaps it was the alcohol? It is a great way of dropping your inhibitions.

"3... 2... 1... Start!"

And so the game began. The first few seconds were easy, until you reached out to try and poke him, only for him to firmly grab your hand. His eyes read determination...and a little something more.

"Killjoy."

"I'm just playing the game, MC."

But then, you reached out and with your other hand and gently cupped his cheek. His eyes widened, but he still remained unblinking. However, his gaze slowly moved downwards, from your eyes to your lips. His own hand moved to rest on your knee. It was getting increasingly harder not to blink. You slowly slid your hand out of his grasp and moved it to his knee, mirroring his actions, only you didn't stop there. Slowly gliding your hand further up his thigh, you knew you were getting a rise out of him. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, or just your own subconscious looking for-.

"Fuck. I really want to kiss you right now."

Before you could stop yourself, you had closed the distance between you two and smashed your lips on his. And my god, was it glorious. Thin lips moving against your own warm ones, big strong hands moving up your thighs, resting on your waist. It wasn't the most romantic kiss, but god it was passionate and hungry, and needy.

With resolve almost fully broken, he pulled you towards him, manhandling you onto his lap as if you weighed nothing - which for him, you did. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. It was cathartic, the release of finally tasting him, feeling him, all over you, crashing into you like waves of desire. His hands slid down, to the small of your back, engulfing you.

Pulling back, he looked at you, eyes glazed over, breathless, wanting, barely cohesive from that intoxicating kiss. He nodded, silently asking you if you were okay. Even drunk, needy and turned on out of his mind, he was a gentleman. You settled a little more comfortably on his lap pushing him back to lay on your bed, before demonstratively moving one of his hands to your ass - your very physical answer.

The growl that left him was unlike anything you'd ever heard before, and god, did you feel it wash over you like a heatwave. He pulled you in for another kiss, this time deeper, slower, much more sensual, hands freely roaming over your body. From your ass, toy your hips, to your chest, he couldn't stop himself - not with your intoxicating scent, engulfing his very being, with the small whimpers coming from you through the kiss. His hips moved involuntarily, grinding against your core. Fuck he was so hard it was almost painful, and you were so fucking wet for him. And he smelled it, god he smelled it, and he knew.

Suddenly, he flipped you two over, pushing you onto the bed and caging you between his arms. You were so gorgeous beneath him, hair tangled, slightly sweaty, eyes glazed over, heaving, with reddened lips. He wasted no time moving to leave heated kisses and darkened hickeys down your neck, scenting the absolute hell out of you. One hand moved under your shirt, exploring the soft skin on your stomach and pushing right underneath your bra. So warm, so soft, so fucking perfect, he wanted to feel all of you. And when the palm of his hand brushed over your hardened nipple, when you moaned so sweetly, when you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling on it so deliciously, fuck it was over for him.

"Let me undress you. I want to undress you. I want you naked underneath me." He mumbled, lost on the taste of your skin and the sound of your breathy moans.

"Then undress me, big boy~"

He left another searing kiss right on your lips, committing their softness to memory. Then he moved back just enough to grab the hem of your shirt to pull it up.

Knock knock knock

Fuck.

"Oi! MC! I think I ditched my phone there! Y'sleeping?"

Ace, of all times-

You two looked at each other, before hastily jumping off the bed, making yourself look as decent as possible.

Flushed beyond salvation, you looked around, indeed spotting Ace's phone on the floor. On the floor, which was about to be littered with your clothes-

Oh my god. Were you about to have sex with Jack?!

Grabbing the phone, you opened the door just a little bit and handed it to Ace. "Here."

"Damn, you seem pretty out of it, y'still drinking with Jack?"

Fuck, don't mention him right now.

"Yeah, we were just about to clean...up around here and...call it a night."

"Cool, I can wait for him so we can walk back together."

"Uh...we still have some cleaning up to do. You go back. Okay?" Please, just fucking go.

"Suuuuure. Yeah. Okay. Gotcha. G'night then."

And with that he was gone. Somehow, you knew that he knew. But perhaps, he was just too tired to mention it. Or maybe, he was saving all his teasing for tomorrow?

What about Jack?

You turned back, only to find him actually picking up the glasses and tidying up.

"You... don't actually have to do that, you know?"

"It's the uh ... Least I can do."

"Uh-huh."

Fuck. Why was this so awkward, this shouldn't be this awkward, you've known each other for years. Did you just seriously wash 3 years of friendship down the goddamn drain?!

"I...think we should talk." "I think I should go."

Really? Did you guys really say it at the exact same time? This isn't some shoujo anime-

"Can we-"

"Tomorrow?"

"Huh?"

"T-tomorrow. Talk tomorrow."

"I don't think I-"

"Let us be at least...sober."

Fuck. He had a point.

"Okay."

"Uh....Goodnight, then."

"Yeah... Goodnight.

Before he could leave, though, he turned around to look at you.

"I-"

Welp. Here goes nothing I guess. If tomorrow's gonna be awkward regardless, then you... Might as well... Right?

You stepped on your tippy toes and left the smallest of kisses on his cheek.

"Bye, Jack."

His eyes widened, tail gently swishing behind him.

"Bye, MC."

What a night.

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m0chisenpai · 1 year

Note

Can you write a fic about Jake sully x reader where she has a terrible father and she completely shut him out of her life and one day he comes back for reader and Jake is just super protective over her? <3

father!jake sully x daughter!reader

You often forget you were once human along with your adoptive father. Then moments would ground you, and remind you of that little star in the sky you’d once call home. And the primal look in your fathers eye right now looked far from human.

You’d never heard your father hiss like that before and you hoped you never did again. Usually, when you did he would playfully bare his fangs at you and you would copy him with a fit of giggles. But his teeth now bared in a show of dominance against the man who held your arm in his.

“Let her go” Jake spat out and the man immediately tightened his grip. You felt like the world would end right then and there, the new life you’d knit together came unraveling in front of you.

Your father made a name for himself as soon as he caught wind of Pandora. When you were younger you were naive to it. All you knew was that daddy would spoil you with a pretty little dress, and a bigger dollhouse cause he got special rocks from this planet in the sky.

Then you got older and you heard things, whispers from the cracked doors of that study. How he was investing his money toward some foreign element with an old college buddy, Parker Selfridge. You were still a child, just well into entering those double digits, but all you knew was from that day on every gift your father gave burned your hands.

You would have given anything to get away from your father. Perhaps you were only there to carry the name, but you ran from that gilded cage long ago. You convinced Grace Augustine you were some young prodigy in the making and the woman was more than welcome to teach you about the plant life on the planet and about the Na’vi people.

Life was beautiful again. Following the war, you found this as a gift from Eywa herself, the chance to love and be loved by a real family. Neytiri spent her days on the hunt even while pregnant and you trained by her side, learning the ways of the hunter and the future Tsahik. She loved you fiercely and saw you as hers despite not sharing blood.

None of you expected a search party to be placed, yet here you stood in the grasp of the man who once called you father. Jake saw red when he heard your cries and found you in the arms of the man. His heart thudded in his ears, the world around him a blur as you had his entire focus.

His eyes calculated every nervous shift the man whom you once called father stepped back with you held tight. “Y/N tell that thing you are not one of them.”

This only elicited another primal hiss and fangs bared at him and your father finally released you and took a slow step back. “Ok, ok.” He finally released you from his hold and you quickly ran to Jake who kept his eyes trained onto the human but reached a hand back to press into your stomach.

“Y/N, baby I know things went so badly wrong. But please. Come home baby, we miss you. We’ll do what we can to fix you back and mama is home ready and waiting. Please baby.” And you felt tears fall, because it was all a lie. Your father used that very tone when you ran up to him in a fit of tears begging to know if your friends were true, that Santa wasn’t real. And he rubbed his hand down your back and cooed at you with syrupy words that the man was indeed real.

Those sticky sweet words make your stomach burn as you tightened the grip on Jake’s hand, no your father’s hand. “I wanna go home, please.”

“I know baby, we’re going home. Let me fix this baby.” he whispered back, lacing his fingers with your own and squeezing what strength he had into you.

The human cooed your name again, and you balled up your fist hissing weakly at him.

“This is home” you retaliated, “not back there. Not where I was a shadow, a guest in the place that was supposed to be home. Mama didn’t want me and you knew it just as much as she did. You abandoned me once you can do it again.” Your nails dug into Jake’s palm as your voice raised and your eyes screwed shut as you pressed your forehead to his back, taking in gasps full of air.

“Y/N.” He took a step forward, arms reached out and Jake lowered himself over you more, tail swishing in agitation as he prepared himself. “Baby, I don’t want to cause a muck on this planet, you don’t want to bring unnecessary harm. Just come home and we can leave the natives alone. No unnecessary bloodshed.” His hand once again reached out, the dark glint of metal shined in Jake’s eye.

He knew what that was slung over his shoulder. He was no match against it, and who was to say he wasn’t surrounded now? That their wasn’t an army waiting for him, ready to attack if he came back empty handed.

Yet just as he went to take another step forward arm reaching to his weapon, an arrow shot from the trees above and lodged itself in front of where your fathers hand would have been had he not moved back fast enough.

Your eyes flickered into the trees above where your mother stood, arrow drawn with another bow. She gracefully leapt down, her stance unwavering as she took a spot beside her mate. Eyes never once leave the human man whose face was painted in fear. “Another word, and I shoot again.”

Silence fell. All you could hear and see was your father whose arms fell in defeat finally turning his back to you, arms raised. When he was far enough your fathers arms gathered you into his chest where he pressed you so tight you feared you would pop.

“You’re fine baby, let it out” his words washed over you as you let your cries out, gripping onto him tightly. His words and Neytiri’s hands stroking your back brought you peace. You were safe, you were home.

#avatar x reader #jake sully x daughter reader #jake sully x reader

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simp-ly-writes · 2 months

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Lasting Pictures: Home (pt.10)

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Photographer!Reader

Summary: You wake up in the hospital surrounded by your task force that readies themselves to entertain your every want and need. You move in together, grow lives outside the military as you transition back to your photography career in light of your recent injuries. Your future awaits you all now, but just how well will things come together?

Warnings: 3733 words, slowburn, swearing, mentions hospitals and suggestive themes.

A/N: 50,000 words, 100 pages and a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears have all culminated into these final moments. Thank you all for coming with me for this writing journey and may we see each other again in the next- enjoy!

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

Shoving the doctor aside with a remorseful smile, Johnny bared his way into the room and pulled a chair as gently as he could from the hallway as Kyle followed suit. John entered soon after, offering your parents hand a shake before he gently held your calf as Kyle had already laid claim to your hand and Johnny waited. Simon waited by the door, scenes of his past, seeing you here like this even breathing had him shaking and unable to move as his eyes cast down to his feet.

You squint your eyes open, glazing up towards the masked-man as the other boys fail to realise your awakened presence once more, “Simon” you rasp out as his wide-eyes meet your own, you acknowledge his fear as Kyle drops your hand, allowing you to extend it outwards as he fumbles to sit at the edge of your bed.

You wince while fighting over and pat the side beside you, telling him to join you as he looks around the room, silently asking if anyone else wants to join you instead. They all nod encouragingly as you smile as brightly as you can, trying to hide your everlasting wince to the hospital's intense fluorescent lights. You hum out in content, feeling his body head warming up your skin through the light hospital robe you wear as he lets out a shuddering breath.

You parent smiles at the scene before lightning slips out of the room, allowing you all a few comment together as they go back to your apartment to grab a change of clothes alongside a quick shower after the wild drive here to the city core.

“How are you feeling, luv?” Price asks, his cap off to his chest as he stares down at you, large palm rubbing up and down your leg with featherlight touches just as Kyles hand finds itself back in your own as Johny transitions over to where your parent had been seated earlier, gently grasping your other hand, bringing it to his mouth as he presses a light kiss to the surface.

You giggle slightly from the blissful feeling that soon overtakes you, muttering in response to John’s earlier question that the medication was hitting again just as you slipped back away into the land of dreams this time a smile coating your features in a fresh ray of light that had each task force member in that room hopeful for your future, together.

Gabby would burst in later, tears seemingly never-ending as she demanded (and threatened in other words) to the secretary for the location of your room. A large bouquet of flowers in one hand alongside a handmade card in the other, she raced her way up the stairwell- the elevators jammed packed and she was too impatient to wait a minute longer seeing you.

Entering the room a lot more graceful than the boys did earlier, she tiptoes around the sleep figures and snaps a photo of your all, resting the supplies on a side table she requests for another chair to be sent up to the room as she scrolls through her phone, answering emails so that you could rest for a few moments longer before smothering you in countless apologies.

Trying to throw a hand in her face to shut your best friend in up, she was having none of it before she read out the letter that Laswell and her wife had written to you, wishing you a speedy recovery as the task force nodded out in approval just as the doctor arrived, seemingly confused to the number of people that were not supposed to be with you during the resting period… you could only let out a large smile, covering the guilty faces of every face in the room just as your check-up started and they all soon were forced outside once again.

It had been a few months since your dismissal from the hospital. A cast around your ankle and fumbling down the stairs with crutches had Gabby in shambles as she moved into your apartment temporarily while the boys searched for accommodations nearby your place.

You had decided to take leave once more from the military, keeping that metaphorical door open a crack for that one day you were determined to head back out onto the field but in the meanwhile you readied yourself with the camera- jumping back into your career as a photographer.

A few wedding photos here for a friend, another set of architectural photos there and your career had returned like it had never left. It took a bit more time for your social platforms to come back to life as you did your best to appease the algorithms intensive demands yet Gabby had been taking leave as well, helping with the editing and overall organization of your blooming personal business.

You had gifted your elderly neighbour an expensive gift basket with the bonus you had received from the successful mission alongside sustaining such injuries as you stumbled into the kitchen, almost tripping over Spoons who meows loudly, “Oh shut it Spoons, you are not starving you fat ass,” you complain before shouting down the hall to ask Gabby where she put the medication from this morning.

Life had been relatively peaceful transitioning back, you slept better at night with the occasional guest that would find his way underneath the covers for a good cuddle and who were you to complain when they did an extraordinary job at warming your feet at night. Simon would grunt before holding you closer, not making much as a protest in comparison to Johnny who would loudly complain as you would slap a hand over his mouth, pleading that the neighbours didn’t wake. Kyle would chuckle into your skin, making a light comment similarly to John before lacing their legs with your own.

You smile, not noticing you are missing filling Spoons water bowl in the sink, cursing out just as the door rings and Gabby sprints in time to answer it. The task force stands in the hall, dusting off their shoes as they make their way inside the apartment. Summer had come in full swing and various platters filled with fruits and sandwiches were plastered in their arms and being carried over to the dining room.

You had been hanging out regularly with the guys and at times were pleasantly surprised by the transition that had happened over the weeks that soon turned into months. Those off hand dates (that you finally admitted to yourself about) soon turned scheduled just as Johnny latched on days later. Your weeks spread out into breakfasts and nights between them all and you had never felt so loved in what appeared a short amount of time. Your parent was over-the-moon with the news, fully supporting your changing relationship dynamic with open arms and even one day when they invited you all over for a weekend you couldn’t help but accept with a wide smile to this next big step since that last saw one another at the hospital… the hospital, you chuckle to yourself internally just as John slides himself into the kitchen beside you. Plastering a kiss to the corner of your mouth, what a tease, you think back before pulling his face down to your own, smiling into one another.

“Anything you need help with, luv?” He asks, concern in his eyes as he takes Spoons out of your arms and yells for Kyle to come and help him with the dishes in the sink as Simon pulls you towards the couch, cheering for his team playing as Johnny moans out complaining just like old times in the shared complex. The crew worked like a well-oiled machine as Gabby returned from her job, leave had ended for her a few days ago and the transition back had taken visible wear as she asks with a grovel filled voice, hands darting around the fridge for a beer before joining you all in the living space, “what time are we leaving tomorrow?”

You take a sip from her drink as she tips the neck towards you and hand it back. Leaning into Simons side, he shuffles to place you underneath his arm as you kiss his shoulder in thanks before answering Gabby, “8AM on the dot, have to grab some activities for the long weekend…” you tail off, tensing as the ball enters the second half of the field, feet racing towards the box just as you stand to cheer beside Johnny who grabs you hand in celebration before pulling you into his lap as he tucks you underneath his chin.

Gabby pretends to gag as you send her the bird just as Spoons accompanies her in her lap. You fumble to find your phone, snapping a photo of the scene and text her the photo just as half-time is called and John and Kyle are calling from the kitchen to pick up the lunch, none freshly heated. Transitioning into the dining room, you all go over who would be taking over driving during the parts of the day and in between drinks, kisses and a few more goals on the net. You are all passed out around the apartment as a sleepy Price forces himself awake, picking you off of an armchair and into your bedroom where Gaz lays passed out.

Once arriving at your parents house, serious work is completed. You watch cutting vegetables in the kitchen with John as Simon and Johnny help to rebuild parts of your parents fence that had broken due to a recent thunderstorm. Kyle was upstairs folding the group's laundry as Gabby took the dogs out for a walk with your parent. They soon came back to the house with a few extra bottles of wine and snacks for you all to enjoy tonight’s board game event.

You had dominated the group in UNO before failing miserably at the Game of Life that had Gabby making a few too many jokes before you carried her out into the pool where you both fell into, rising with laughters as you swam yourself back onto the patio.

Kyle was already standing waiting with towels he folded earlier as he picked you up in his arms, not watching your bare feet to be hurt by the deck that desperately needed to be treated this weekend as well. Tea now brewing as dinner had been served, you all transition towards a game of Clue just as your parent announces their departure for the night as a series of sleep well’s are carried out.

You don’t follow that far behind as Gabby had fallen asleep on your shoulder, your head resting atop her own as Johnny coo’s at the sight before falling into Kyle's lap as they cuddle, a movie playing on the projector as eyes become heavy. John washes up the dishes in the kitchen before joining Simon on the couch as they both settle in against one another. The pile of bodies was soon joined by the dogs that had also been their alarm clock, licking each one of your faces with wagging tails and leashes on the floor.

Gabby had made a start to breakfast as you took your turn at walking the animals with your parent, now a few blocks down in the neighbourhood. You allow the dogs off leash in the empty park while taking a seat on a nearby bench, observing as they both fight over the same stick. “So… they propose yet?” you cough out the coffee in your hand just as their own falls onto your back, patting it gently to help ease your reaction. “N-No? Are they supposed to?- I don’t quite know how… situations like ours work out like that…” you state, not making eye contact as you yell for the animals to stop terrorizing the squirrels in the tree.

“I was not saying any of you have to make anything formal but… there has always been a part of me that wished to be with you during your wedding service no matter who would be there on the other side.” You both begin to tear up at the thought, a smile accompanying both your faces as your imaginations take over your sentences- imagining what the venue would be, the guests that would attend, and the foods you would serve. Failing to realise as brunch had come and gone as a series of worried voicemails leave you both rushing back to notice the deck had been treated as Simon pulls you into a hug just as Johnny leans down to unleash the dogs, helping your parent inside with a smile.

Kyle stands in the dining room, setting the table as he kisses your cheek in greeting just as you grab the glasses and fill them with water for the next group meeting and gameplan for the remaining day of your visit. You decide to show the task force on a tour of your childhood, Gabby helping to show your old school that had been transitioned into a community centre. The local library where you set off the fire alarm two weeks after you were back from university and the pub where Gabby met her with her late partner.

The tour continued to the small creek at that passed through your favorite park where you pointed towards the first time your got high as Gabby groaned out in embarrassment as you explain this was the very same ditched she cast her car into during a heavy snowfall one winter she came back for the holidays. Johnny did his best to hide his chuckles with coughing just as Kyle buried his face into your shoulder, hiding his teasing smile from Gabbys glare as Simon observed the location with great interest and John did his best to act like he did not hear a member of his team was close to death at one point (as he exaggerated).

Upon returning from the weekend getaway, your new regular schedule resumes with you now working out of the new separate studio place you bought from running a successful number of ad campaigns- your work now plastered on billboards as the task force celebrated your successes with sleepless nights and coffee-filled mornings as your happiness soared through.

Laswell had visited your apartment much to yours and Kyles surprise when he answered the knock shirtless and your love bites lining up his neck as you hid behind the couch in embarrassment just as Simon demanded that she makes no further comments, throwing a glass of water in her hands as she requested a new mission for your all. This piqued your interest as you peaked over the couch, John chuckled with this reaction of yours- seemingly appearing out of nowhere as he lovingly brushed his hand through your hair, taking a seat beside you.

Johnny was out for the day, helping Gabby to move into her new apartment just as you all had decided to settle down together in your own space after having no longer needed the office space- transitioning it back into a bedroom as the task force failed to find another big enough apartment close enough to your own in the same district.

In a turn of events, you felt weird being all geared up again and strapped into a place. Your men around you all in their own little words and conversations as you reflected on how you always found yourself back here. In these black clothes despite it never being a funeral, as you knocked on a mental piece of wood with that statement. Seemingly knowing your thoughts, John reached out, lacing his fingers in his own as he continued his conversation with Johnny. You leaned your head against Gaz’s shoulder, taking a small nap just before the jumpmaster would present themselves hours later.

As the door slowly opens and the wind blows in your face as various members of squads jump out and dash towards the objective site. You take a deep breath, handing a nod towards the Jumpmaster hands you one back signally for you to jump. Taking a run and soon only air is meeting your falling form. Nipping against your cheeks, finding its way through all the gaps in your clothes as you make your descent.

Pulling your bag, the parachute expands and you are brough upwards with a sudden spike as the straps pierce through your thighs. Checking the meter on your wrist, you navigate to land in a nearby open field where various other parachutes are left scattered across the land.

Detaching yourself and running over to the rallypoint.

You were confused as to how all the boys were already there before you after having all jumped at the same time. A bit out of breath from the lack of recent training you leaned against a tree trunk and closed your hands, enjoying the feeing of the late summer’s breeze drifting through the forest. A small cough has you opening your eyes as they gradually widen in shock before you notice your laughter echoing throughout the woods. Carved into a fallen tree are the following words, “get married?” Your eyes are overjoyed as they seep out your excitement, jumping into a group hug as they each stumble from the impact.

“So… is that a yes then?” Johnny asks with a teasing smile, kissing your forehead just as Simon nods his head in acknowledgement to the question, staring you down with crinkled eyes- knowing your answer. “Fuck yes!” you shout in disbelief before tugging off your helmet and strapping it to your belt. Gabby appears with a camera of yours in hand as you question how long she had been waiting there, only shrugging her shoulders she snaps a quick few photos to commemorate the event before ushering you all back into a group of awaiting Jeeps. John places a hand on your thigh, he looks down as your ring-covered hand covers his own with a smile just as the wheels carry you away and seemingly into your new future…. Together.

↳ A Few Years Later…

Your wedding had been small, as your old task force joined you as your groomsmen and Gabby as your maid of honour (and flower girl). A few close family friends had flown in as your wedding also served as a housewarming party, a backyard celebration was taking place as your hands drifted over the fabric of your clothes, ironing out imaginary lines as you were led down the isle by your parent who sobbed happily, kissing each mans cheek as they whispered their promises to one another.

Your household had only grown throughout the years as the boys, including yourself, had retired from the military for good now. Spoons soon joined by another feline friend you had stumbled upon in a back alleyway while picking up groceries for your newest addition. You had all decided that you wanted to have children yet did not feel fair in only a select few being able to have last names of their own, in doing so you adopted a child under your last name and they had never experienced more love in varying languages. John ensured that they could hold their own, often being called-out as the stricter parent that enforced manners and strength, he also showed them how to protect those you love dearly and how that should also include yourself.

Simon always wanted to spend as much time as possible with them, driving them to and from school, playing catch with them in the backyard as he was always aware of his own strength, lightly tackling them into the grass with joyus giggles emanating as you washed dishes with Kyle in the kitchen sink. Kyle had always been the one to pack their lunches alongside coaching any and every team they joined as Johnny often joined them both. Gaz would be the first one on the scene to any cries or tantrums, holding them near and often dancing with them in his arms until they got too big and even then he found ways to continue to do so.

Johnny could not say no, spoiling your child to death as you often complained to them, only being met with guilty smiles before he showed the craft they both made together that afternoon. Shaking your head before snapping a quick photo, the two of them bonded over hobbies as they grew up and soon the garage turned into a woodshop where your new dining set was created alongside the porch wing that you drifted on with your coffee mug and book each morning.

While preparing yourself for bed one evening, light jazz music plays in the background as you hum along to it while moisturizing your face. Your child is long asleep just down the hall as you smile seeing John leaning against the doorframe through the mirror. He soon slides over to you, leaning against the countertop as he directs a hand underneath his chin, pulling a gentle kiss against your lips as Kyle and Simon come out of the shower, Johnny sends wink from the bed as you shake your head, stealing another kiss to Johns cheek before tilting his head upwards as he eyes you curiously.

Touching his beard, “you need to trim here a bit.” He hums out, seemingly in a daze as his hands grasp your hips as he picks you up and throws you onto the bed. You bounce a few times before crawling back to lean against the headboard just as Johnny leans in, training a hand up your leg as he kisses your inner thigh, biting the skin playful as you yelp out and warn him.

Simon and Kyle crawl their way in beside you as John renters the bathroom to trim up his beard as you directed. Only a few lamps are on inside the room, mood lighting set in its dimness as hands spread across your skin, clutching your form in a loving tangle as you moan out. You feel the bed dip just as the last task force member joins the scene and before you know it, morning is peaking its way through the blinds, illuminating the various memories hung against this home's wall and for the first time in forever, you felt comfortable living with these lasting pictures.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @ashy-kit @lilliumrorum @kaoyamamegami @brokenpieces-72

151 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 9 months

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Traditional Extra II

How about another check in on these guys?

2.8k+ words

Just a little something kicking around in my brain. (I've got a bit of baby fever going on over here on these last few I know--I'll move away from babies for my next update)

You can read Traditional here

Her shyness was adorable. It was entirely too early to have this conversation. They’d only officially been dating for less than three months. But they also lived together. And worked together. He was crossing his fingers and hoping the earliness or suddenness didn’t matter.

She knocked on the door with Harry’s tea in hand. Even though she was no longer an intern, it was one way to get her little dose of Harry while at work even on the busiest of days until they could get home. She craved seeing Harry. Being near him made her instantly happy. Stealing kisses at work was one of her new favorite past times, and Harry found himself unbelievably happy about those, too. It didn’t matter that they ate dinner together, snuggled up watching TV, or fell asleep spooning. The little fifteen-minute teatime in the afternoon was enough to make her extra dizzy with love for him.

However, today she was surprised to find a little baby, sitting alone, in a round little activity seat. He babbled to himself as she entered, and she smiled immediately. “Well, hello,” she cooed. Placing Harry’s tea on his desk she smiled curiously at the little one. “Who are you?” She asked him and knelt in front of him playing. He wasn’t quite a toddler, but maybe a bit over a year old. He was simply adorable: soft wispy hair, beautiful round eyes. She was immediately in love.

She always did well with babies. Her smile was warm and maternal. In college, she spent some of her time tutoring and babysitting when people inquired. Little ones always enjoyed her gentle nature. Honestly, she was definitely one of those women who wanted a tribe of her own little cuties to follow her around one day in the future. The baby gurgled, hitting the different activities around his seat. He smiled at her, a bit of drool falling from his little perfect lips, and he reached out making a grabbing motion with one hand. She waved back at him. She held out her finger so he could grasp his squishy little hand around it. “Hi,” she giggled again. “Did you get here all by yourself?” She asked him which of course led to no response, but he enjoyed her voice and gave her a big, drooly smile in return. The door opened and in walked three people. “Oh hi,” she glanced over her shoulder as Harry closed the door behind them. “I brought your tea.”

“Hi,” he said awkwardly. “Um...”

“You have a baby,” she said. “Did I miss something?”

The two people with him smirked. “Hi, love,” the woman said. “I’m Sarah, this is Mitch. We’re Harry’s friends.”

“Oh, the ones he doesn’t pay,” she smiled.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I like her,” Mitch whispered toward him but so she could still hear.

“Your baby is very cute,” she said poking at some of the toys while the baby kept a firm grasp on her hand.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Sarah said sweetly crouching down beside the baby and activity seat next to her. “Hi, cutie pie,” she kissed his little nose making him giggle excitedly. “Would you like to hold him?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately, almost before Sarah finished her question. The three snickered at her. Sarah lifted the baby out of the seat and held him out to the waiting girl.

“Sometimes he is fussy with new people,” Mitch warned. He usually grabbed handfuls of hair and screamed every now and again.

She nodded. “That’s okay, must be scary getting passed around a bunch of people that aren’t Mumma and Dadda, huh?” She asked the little one who still nuzzled against her neck effortlessly, not worried at all that she was a stranger. He may have been fussy sometimes, but it seemed today wouldn’t be one of those days.

“Well, he definitely likes you, hmm?” Sarah laughed rubbing his little back as she held him.

“I have a wide-open face that babies love,” she explained. “I think I look like a teddy bear.”

Harry was speechless. He wanted to introduce his other best friends to his girlfriend. He would like to say she looked nothing like a teddy bear, but instead a beautiful angel with a halo around her head. But instead, he was tongue-tied watching her with the baby. She was a natural and his heart was aching with longing. His brain started imagining her holding a little one that looked like the perfect combination of the two of them. “Harry, you’re staring,” Mitch muttered under his breath, this time so no one could hear but Harry.

Shaking his head quickly to pull him out of his daydream, he knelt beside the two women and smiled at the baby. “Mitch and Sarah were jus’ saying they wanted t’have a date night jus’ the two of them,” Harry explained. He reached out to cup the side of the baby’s face. Harry’s palm was the same width as the side of his little head. His thumb skimmed over his hair gently, brushing his ear making the baby’s eyes flutter shut. “I sort of volunteered myself t’watch him,” he explained. “We were jus’ putting his sippy cups in the fridge.”

She smiled. “Could I help watch him too, if it’s alright with you guys?” She asked Sarah and Mitch. She didn’t want to make the parents uncomfortable. Of course, they trusted Harry, but she was a stranger. It was nice to let her hold the cutie pie, but she wouldn’t expect a whole night if they didn’t want it.

“We wouldn’t leave the baby alone with just Harry,” Mitch smiled. Harry rolled his eyes at the joke. He’d been left alone with the baby plenty of times before. It happened that some of those evenings he hadn’t spent with her over the last year were spent with the baby.

“We sort of expected you two to be a package deal,” Sarah winked at her.

Harry adored the blush that painted her cheeks. She liked that—being a package deal. Harry liked it too. “Mitch and Sarah are leaving me with their car,” Harry explained.

“You going to be good for Uncle Harry?” Sarah asked the baby. He giggled reaching for him. He crawled into Harry’s embrace. Giggling and bouncing as Harry placed his feet on his lap.

“We always have a lot of fun, don’t we lad,” he murmured kissing the top of his head. “Would y’mind leaving early?” Harry asked the girl beside him.

“You’re the boss,” she reminded him, standing now while Harry stayed put on the floor with the baby. “I just follow orders. I am working on something with Niall right now. I’ll have to finish that up.”

“That’s fine. We’re not leaving for at least an hour. Some business to attend to,” Sarah smiled. “Harry is going to invest in our new music label, supposedly.”

“Oh, how lovely!” She said excitedly. “I’ll send the paperwork to you once I get back to my office,” she said for Harry’s benefit. His heart warmed over with adoration for her once more; anticipating his needs. It was quite the quality she had.

“Surprised Harry doesn’t have you in here with him,” Mitch said with the sound of delight in his voice. Harry glared at the carpet bitterly.

“He tried, but Niall beat him in an arm-wrestling contest,” she explained. “He’ll tell you—”

“The table had water on it!” He was still quite sore about it and wished Niall had given him a rematch. The whole predicament was laughable to her but still very upsetting to Harry. He wanted her around all the time.

“—his arm slipped,” she finished ignoring Harry’s interruption.

“They arm-wrestled over you?” Sarah laughed. “Harry Styles, the poor girl is not a trophy!”

Harry knew that and found himself rolling his eyes as he played with the little one to keep his mind occupied and not wallowing in pity over the fact that she was down the hall most of the time. Even though they drove in to work with one another, back home together, and of course lived in the same house. She insisted that as CEO he should have his own space. Niall liked to remind him of the time he threw the keyboard in her presence—of course he would never hurt her, but where would he put her in his office so she would be out of the line of fire when Harry became that agitated again? It was better for his simmering temper and for her safety to be down the hall.

“Unbeknownst to me,” she continued while Harry was lost in thought. “I only found out after. But I did try explaining to Harry several times that it makes more sense for me to spend some time away from him, so he doesn’t tire of me.”

Sarah and Mitch exchanged a knowing look and Mitch shook his head at her. “Oh, love, I don’t think Harry’s ever going to tire of you,” Mitch promised.

Harry was silent during their little exchange other than interrupting to defend his loss against Niall. He rolled his eyes at the wonderful girl he adored so much. His eyes stayed on his friends’ little babe. Listening to her worry about growing tired of her made his stomach knot sickly. He wouldn’t ever. He couldn’t. She was his favorite thing to wake up to in the morning and the last thing he loved to see before falling asleep. Getting to be in the same building as her and working with her was a godsend; he was so lucky to be near her so often.

If anything, Harry worried about suffocating her.

He looked up at her from the floor with a knowing little smile. His left dimple dented his cheek deeply, making her stomach flip with adoration for him. She needed to leave before she kissed him all over his pretty face. Looking like a lovesick idiot in front of his friends. People who expected her to protect their most precious angel without falling all over Harry for a few hours. “Well, just to be sure, I better get back to Niall. I’ll see you later,” she cooed.

“See you later,” Harry answered, voice oozing with love that made her knees feel weak. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she meant the baby.

Harry held the baby in his arms while she got another sippy cup cleaned and ready with more milk. The little one was supposed to be asleep or hopefully falling asleep any minute but seemed much too excited to play with Harry to even think about resting. Harry was bouncing him effortlessly, his arms looked delicious curled around the little one. Like he was meant to hold a baby; Harry had big strong muscles, but they looked so delicate and still protective around the small little bean. Her heart fluttered at the thought of how natural he looked.

“Mumma and Dadda will be very upset with us if you don’t go to sleep, cutie pie,” she said but the little one thought her voice was pretty. Harry found it pretty, too. He liked the way it sounded when she spoke to him. Not quite baby-talk, but not exactly how she spoke to Harry either. “They might not ever let me play with you again if we keep you up all night,” she caressed the back of his soft little baby head, the hair feathery and light, like a bird’s wing. She was in love.

Harry smirked and kissed his little forehead. “Y’got t’sleep, lad.” She took the bottle from the microwave and handed it to Harry. The little one pushed it from Harry’s hand, so it fell to the floor. At the same time, the baby reached for the sweet girl. “I know she’s pretty; I don’t want t’sleep either when she’s around,” Harry murmured. He bent to get the bottle. “But y’can’t play with her when you’re tired either,” Harry explained. Her face was warm at Harry’s description, and she snuggled the cutie up to her chest. Harry placed the bottle between his lips and his little eyes seemed to close almost instantly. “Jus’ wanted a cuddle from y’kitten, before falling asleep. Can’t say I blame him.”

She smiled and brushed her fingers across his velvety soft cheek. “He’s so cute,” she whispered. Swaying as she held him in her arms.

Harry figured they would eventually talk about kids. He wasn’t sure when exactly, but it would happen. Harry definitely didn’t think it was going to be on a Tuesday evening when she had only just moved her final belongings in two weeks prior.

Yet all he could think about was her gorgeous being glowing with a rounded tummy. He wanted it. Bad. The idea suddenly consumed him. Wanting everything that would go along with it.He wanted every one of her possible mood swings. Every morning of nausea. All the cravings she could have. He wanted everything with her and a baby that would be a perfect meld of her and himself. She could feel Harry’s mind spinning in thought. She could see it in his face. But she had no idea that Harry was imagining a gaggle of little babies following the beautiful girl around their home. Snuggling on the porch furniture while she read to them and gave them lemonade. Or playing hide and seek around the yard. He wanted her pregnant right now. “What’s on your mind, Mr. Styles?” She hummed, interrupting his thoughts.

“Promise y’won’t…get nervous or worry?” He asked. He sounded nervous. For god’s sake he never even thought about asking her about kids in over the year she knew him. How was he supposed to just spring this on her right now? She was young. She had so much time to think about kids. She didn’t need to rush. But she looked so goddamn pretty with a baby in her arms Harry couldn’t help but think she’d be even more beautiful if the baby was her own.

She looked up at him with a smirk. “Sounds worrisome,” she answered knowingly. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I…I think y’would look really pretty if y’were pregnant, love,” his voice was so quiet. Softer than a whisper. He loved the flush of her cheeks and how she seemed to drop her nose to the little one’s head so she could almost hide in his wispy hair. Her shyness was adorable. It was entirely too early to have this conversation. They’d only officially been dating for less than three months. But they also lived together. And worked together. He was crossing his fingers and hoping the earliness or suddenness didn’t matter.

“Yeah?” She responded. No clear emotion about his idea either way.

“Yeah,” he nodded in affirmation.

It wasn’t often she thought about her six-year age gap with Harry. Almost everyone permanent in her life had five or so years on her. Before everything, before she knew how the world worked, she dreamed of being married and having kids by her mid-twenties. After everything, the last six years of hardship…it was a laughable thought.

But Harry was six years older. He probably thought about having kids a lot more now than she did. Of course, she loved kids. Of course, she wanted them. She had no idea Harry wanted them too. Suddenly, she was fourteen again. Just finished reading a young adult romance novel that had her dying for an all-consuming love like the one she read about. One that made her want to be married and have kids by the time she was 25.

And she could. Harry wanted to give her everything. Harry would give her everything she ever wanted. He was able to make everything better. She could have that crazy pipe dream with him that she imagined when she was in junior high.

“I think I’d like that too,” she admitted.

The relief on his face was utterly adorable. She didn’t know what to add to her statement. “Oh, thank God,” Harry mumbled.

She giggled trying not to jostle the baby. Harry ushered her to his room where he created a little makeshift sleeping pallet on his bed for the little one using a pillowcase and blanket. A little raft on the sea of Harry’s duvet. Once the baby was down Harry wrapped her in his arms. Attaching his mouth to hers and backing them out of the room towards what used to be “her” room but was now just a guest room.

“Oh, are we starting now? I think we should wait maybe a little bit, no? At least until Sarah and Mitch come back for their child? Or you know maybe we should actually date for a year?” She asked against his lips with a cheeky smile and giggle.

“Practice makes perfect,” he murmured back and pushed until she was laid on the bed.

“Baby,” she paused his delicious kisses. It was hard. She had to keep a tight rein of control on her mind to do so.

“Hmm?” He kissed the length of her neck, following an imaginary path to the hollow of her throat, and began skimming across her collarbone.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Kitten, I love you so much.”

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beary-rambles · 28 days

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Flowers | The Series | Chapter Fourteen | The Calm Before The Storm

Summary | it is the aftermath of the tourney and the surprises that come with it

Pairing | Jacaerys Velaryon × Fem!Reader

Warnings | fluff, a lot of banter between you and the prince, relationship development, not proofread, eating food

Word Count | 3.4k

a/n | sorry for the wait on this one was a little stuck in the direction i wanted to take,, hope you enjoy !! <333

series masterlist

Peonies, though they have many meanings, luck, prosperity, good fortune, the most common meaning is romance. The heat hasn't been able to leave your face ever since the flower crown was tossed into your lap.

You run your fingers along the petal of the crown. They look very bright meaning they had been picked recently. You hold them up closer to your face and smell them. They are fragrant but you can smell a hint of dirt and if you look at them closely you can see that they are quite crushed from being gripped by leather covered hands.

You are definitely not keeping your attention on the flower crown to distract yourself from the fact almost every single person that walked by or was ever standing near the two of you was staring at you as you briskly tried to walk away and find a place where no one else was so you could gather your thoughts. you ignore trisk rambling your ear off about the prince and how charming he was. Your parents had wandered off with trisk’s parents to catch up, but not before your mother gave you a warning look and your father dragged her away giving you a reassuring look. It had given you chills but you ignored it for now, making a mental note to come back to it later.

You are so lost within the throbbing of your own heart that you barely register the call of your name until trisk rapidly shakes your shoulder, “joffrey, you fought well-”

“There is no need for flattery, my lady. I need to speak with you.”

Trisk perks up and lets go of your arm eyeing around the different stands, “that is no problem i will go walk-”

“You may stay, I shall be quick.”

His eyes have never left your face as he grabs your hands, “I have enjoyed our time together and you have become a dear friend to me but I don't see a future for us.”

Your eyes widen as trisk gasps beside you. “Joffrey, but what about-”

He laughs and shakes his head, a look of sadness in his eyes as he lifts your hands and kisses the back of them. “I made a promise to a friend. I must go.”

Your mind can barely conjure a thought as he pulls away from you and laughs again, a sad smile on his face as he looks over your shoulder. You turn and see jacaerys who was seemingly making his way towards you three but had been stopped by a lord who was loudly talking about how brilliant the fight was. As if he felt eyes on him his gaze drifts over to you and he smiles before seemingly bidding farewell to the lord and continues to make his way over to you.

“You shall always have a friend in the eyrie. Please come visit me sometime.”

You nod and smile at him. “Of course I shall, I would be more than happy to.”

In a weird way a sense of relief flows over you. As he bows and turns his back to you but before he had left he spared you some final words, “I hope he shall make you happy.” then not sparing a single glance. Even after the conversation with your parents and how they reaffirmed the fact that they were happy despite the fact they were not in love the queens had plagued your thoughts, if even a queen who has everything how can you be? Your parents must just be a rare case, especially knowing most marriages are not happy ones anyways.

Maybe you could have been happy, maybe the two of you could have ended up like your parents thought now that would never be a reality. You barely even grasp how long you've been staring at where Joffrey was standing until you feel a hand on your shoulder. You jump and whip your head. “I'm so sorry my lady i hadnt meant to startle you.”

The prince. The sun hit him so perfectly it was as if he was glowing, light bouncing off his eyes as if they were mirrors. You had never even noticed how soft his hair looks, curls that run down to his shoulder. You wonder if he did anything with them, if the maids put oils in his hair like they do yours or maybe he does it himself. Oh how nice it would be to run your fingers through it.

You snap out of whatever trance he had put you on once you hear him chuckle and gasp as you dip into a low bow with one of your hands flying up to cover your mouth with the other gripping the flower crown tightly in its grasp. . “I am so sorry, my prince.” mortified is not even enough to describe how you were feeling. You had been eyeing the prince… right in front of him! You imagine him to look angry or even disgusted at you once you stand straight up but if anything he looks the happiest you've ever seen him. A wide grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes you haven't seen before. “Feel free to gawk at me as you like.”

“I was not gawking.” you turn to look at trisk for comfort but she must have run off leaving you alone. you could not even bear the humiliation you felt right now as he takes another step towards you and you take a step back. One of his hands reaches to grab the hand that had still been covering your face and removes it, pulling it all the way down until it was at your side but his hand stayed firm around your wrist. “That's a shame, I rather liked you looking at me like that.” When did the prince become so forward? He seemed to have this new rush of confidence about him, maybe it has come from winning the tournament, maybe he got a little in his head and felt as though he could do and say anything. “You must feel rather bold after winning the tourney my prince.”

His smile only grows as he reaches down to your other hand and takes the flower crown from you and places it on your head. “I have won a much bigger prize today my lady.” he must not be referring to you. Is he mad? A part of you wants to ask what it is and by the look on his face he wants you to as well but you do not dare as a part of you fears his answer. “A bigger prize than winning the tourney, i am doubtful that is possible.” His smile is so large his eyes begin to crinkle forming crescents on his face as he shakes his head, “I would rather have this prize than any others in the whole realm.” you stand in silence unable to give any answer to him not that he is even looking for one. His hand that is wrapped around your wrist begins to burn as if his skin is lighting up a fire inside of you. A part of you wants to push him away, knowing that despite all the attention he has shown you not only privately but publicly as well the two of you standing here together could cause quite a scene.

As if he could read your mind he lets go of your disappointment and instead offers you his arm. “I must insist you join me in walking around the stands my lady.” if you were rational you would refuse him, run away and hide under your sheets like a child. But you are a fool who takes his arm and lets him guide you towards the busy market place area.

Stands line the street as if you were walking around outside of the keep. Merchants from all over selling different sorts of items and foods. Despite the wonder of the market place around you your mind cannot help but stray off into thought as you had been all day. You must have tensed up or had an odd look on your face causing jacaerys to question you, “are you alright my lady?”

“Is this not inappropriate, my prince?” you cannot stop yourself from asking as your mind trails back to trisks earlier comment. He was in a courtship. Sure this whole event had been set up for him to be able to choose a wife but it felt like you were overstepping walking around with him as you were right now. “What is inappropriate, my lady?”

“Well, are you not in a courtship with lady baratheon?” He stiffens up at the mere mention of cassandra and rolls his neck as if he were irradiated before sighing. “We are nothing more than mere acquaintances my lady.”

You feel a twitch of irritation flood your head at his dismissal, “People in courtships can be mere acquaintances, my prince.” “Rest assured I can promise you that is all we are.” his words come out hushed and rushed and you can feel his growing annoyance at this topic you immediately stiffen up. Maybe he truly is just stringing you along and truly is in a courtship with Cassandra and doesnt like that you've called him. You are oddly reminded of the power imbalance between the two of you and let go of his arm causing him to stop in his steps. “I am sorry my prince, I have overstepped.”

You fold your hands in front of you as he turns away from you for a moment clearly running his hands down his face in frustration before turning back to you. “I didn't mean it like that. I am sorry the situation with her is merely,, frustrating. She is a rather insistent woman and has been incessantly always around me to an overwhelming degree. My anger is not targeted towards you. I must ask for your forgiveness.”

He looks at you as if he were a young boy that accidentally knocked off his mother's vase asking for her forgiveness, a kicked puppy even. You feel a sense of relief as you are doubtful the prince would like you about such matters and nod at him, unsure of what to say. He lets out what you believe to be a breath of relief and once again offers you his arm. “Allow me to try this again my lady.”

You smile and grab his arm once more, “promise you shall not get angry at me.” you had been teasing him but he seems to take you rather seriously as he nods at you, “of course my lady i shall never.”

“I was teasing you, my prince.”

“Jacaerys.”

You hum in confusion as the two of you continue to walk side by side, “call me jacaerys, jace if you so wish.”

“I certainly cannot do such a thing.” you are horrified he would even ask you. “Why not? You called Ser Joffrey by his name, why not me?” if you had been paying attention closer you would have heard a sense of venom in his voice that many would interpret as jealousy. “He is a lord and you are a prince. It is very different.” “I do not find it all that different.” “That is because you are a prince, you do not see the difference.” “then your prince demands you to.”

You turn your head towards him and he is already looking at you with a teasing grin on his face, “whatever do you mean?” “If you shall not do it when i ask then i demand you must do it for i am the prince.”

You huff at his childlike actions, unable to hide the smile on your face as you knock into him as you walk. “You are ridiculous.” he looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised and his head tilted much like a dog waiting for his food. “Fine you win, jacaerys.” as much as you wish you could say you find the word stuck in your mouth his name rolls off your tongue so seamlessly it is as if you were always meant to say it. You check the look on his face and he has a soft smile on his face and what many would say is a lovesick look in his eyes as he finally hears you say it. “I like the way you say my face.” It is soft and quiet as if you were not even meant to hear him speak and you quickly turn away from him, your face growing more and more hot by the second.

You do not turn back to look at him for a few more moments and once you do you see he has changed his gaze back in front of him but that smile is still on his face.

A couple quiet moments pass between the two of you, simply enjoying each other's presence and for the first time that day you feel as though your mind is free of the thoughts that had been plaguing you for hours. Simply finding comfort in the time you spent with the prince. “Are you hungry my lady?” you almost tell him not but suddenly your stomach rumbles and you are hit with the realization it was now midday and you had barely even eaten your breakfast this morning. “I could eat, my-” his eyebrows raise at you and you sign, “jacaerys.” he smiles once more and looks around at the stands before spotting one and eagerly rushing you towards it. “Everytime there is a tourney this man sets up shop here,” it was a skewer stand, with a wide variety of meats and veggies you could barely believe a stand like this could run out of this tiny shack. A man, seemingly the owner, has a wide grin on his face as he greets jacaerys. “My prince, I was hoping to see you.” “do not act as if you didn't know i would come.” The man laughs alreadying moving to give him a skewer of what you must assume to be what jacaerys always gets, “ a pork stick for you.” “thank you ser.” “And what would this fine lady like today?” you eye down the many options in front of you before pointing to one and in seconds it's in your hands. “Thank you kind ser.” you didn't even notice jacaerys paying and the two of you move to stand off to the side. You notice he always already ate some of his and you eagerly take a bite of yours, humming you look at jacaerys in shock. “This is wonderful.” “he is the best i know, everything he makes is good though i've never gotten the one you have my lady.”

You offer it to him, holding the stick towards him to grab out of your hand. “Then you must try this one it is so good.” he looks shocked and eyes the skewer in your hands before nodding. You had expected him to grab it from your hand but instead he leaned his head down and took a bit of it right from your hand. One of his hands wrapping around yours to hold it still enough to bite.

It feels intimate as if he was truly eating out of the palm of your hand and you can do nothing else but watch him as he stands fully back up and uses his free hand to cover his mouth while nodding. “This one might be better than my usual.” you don't make a move, not even a comment as he licks his stick clean and looks at you confused. “Is something the matter my lady?” you certainly cannot tell him the true reason as to why you had been frozen and lick your lips before quickly coming up with a lie.”you call me my lady.” he tilts his head, licks one of his fingers which you are choosing to ignore for your sanity. “And what of it?” “if i am to call you jacaerys you should also call me by my name.” you stress eat what little is left of your skewer to which he takes it out of your hands and tosses them away before turning back to you. “I am more than happy to do so, y/n”

A part of you regrets your decision as you are far too happy to hear your name from his lips but attempt to hide this fact from him as the two of you link arms once more and continue to walk down the market area. “This market is rather large, my prince.” “Well this is truly the main event of these sorts of things, tourneys do not last that long and they must come up with something else to fill the time.”

The two of you continue to make mundane conversation until you spot what had to be the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. You were far too blinded to even notice you had stopped walking, catching the attention of the prince who turned to see what you were looking at. “Its gorgeous.” you walk closer and smile at the shopkeeper who greeted the two of you. “Eyes stuck on the necklace huh?” She takes it from the case and allows you to hold it, admiring it closer. “Are you interested?” you shake your head and place it back down. “I could never afford such a thing.” Despite how beautiful the necklace was you could tell by the huge gem in the middle of it the necklace had to cost a fortune. “How much is it?” jacaerys voice cuts in behind you stepping close to the stand with his sack of coins in his hands. “Jacaerys you cannot be serious.” The shopkeeper is more than happy to take the gold off his hands and hand the necklace to him. The two of you step away though you do not tackle his arm when it is not offered to you. Finally stopping once you feel as though the two of you are not in the public eye “Turn around.” “Jacaerys I cannot accept this.” “turn around and allow me to put it on you y/n.’

In defeat you turn away from him and his hands glide easily around your neck, lingerie touches on your collarbone and exposed skins feels more intimate than anything you've ever felt as you can feel his breath on the side of your neck. “You should not have just bought it.” your words are quiet as you can finally find it in you to speak and he lays his head on your shoulder and takes a deep breath. “It is nothing. I will give you anything you wish.” you selfishly allow yourself to stand there with him for a moment with your eyes closed. His hands had fallen down to your forearms and held you and you could feel the cold metal of your new necklace against your burning skin.

You frown as he steps away from you and you turn back towards him. His eyes were not staring directly into yours but instead were locked onto your lips. He takes a step closer to you and you let him. You let him lean down and even close your eyes eagerly awaiting him-

“My prince.!” he freezes and sharply pulls away from you and whips around to the guard who had come over. “What is it?” if you had thought he sounded irritated earlier that would be nothing compared to the venom that laced his voice now. What you don't see is the angry look on his face and his eye twitching from how quickly annoyed he had become. “The hunt my prince,,” the guard trails off and his eyes quickly land onto you which you promptly turn away from him and stare at the ground as you kick the dirt beneath you. “I am so sorry my prince but the hunt is about to start.” You can hear the prince tsk before he shoos the guard away saying he will be there shortly. He grabs your arm and spins you to look at him, “i wouldn't want to keep you jacaerys,,,” he smiles and shakes his head at you. “You should want to keep me y/n.” you turn your head away from him causing him to laugh. “I shall see you, I promise.” as you watch him leave you bring your hands up to your cheeks and feel them burning against your skin. The prince had certainly charmed you.

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kitorin · 9 months

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letters to my favourite author.

in which, within the darkest times of your struggles, a secret yet admiring fan is there for you.

a/n. thank you to yumi and ray for the help !

"I wanna be a writer."

It's summer of your final year of primary school, radiant sun sinking into the horizon, vibrant hues of orange bleeding out into the sky. The taste of soda lingers in your mouth, drops of the melted ice block gently plop onto your skin, the cold sensation makes you jolt a bit.

"Really?" Yoichi, the boy who's been by your side since forever piques with fascination. He pauses from eagerly sucking on his popsicle, turning towards you with his azure eyes, interest blazing within them.

You nod, ignoring part of the melted ice block dribbling down your chin. "Miss told me I was really good at it, she said to write everyday, I like stories. I don't want to stop making or reading them when we're adults." The liquid smeared onto your face remains neglected, as your heart begins pounding at your teacher's words.

"This is amazing, you have to keep writing. I want to read so much more."

It's not like the first time you've been complimented, but being called good at a game or sport can't even compare to someone craving more of what you created. There's an indescribable sense of pride heating up in your chest, maybe one day you could even write something, something that has people glued to every word on the page, something that someone couldn't resist putting down; something that's like the books you stay up reading.

You've finally found it, the soccer to your Yoichi, what you want to continue doing for the rest of your life, what you want to dedicate your life to.

"I think it's awesome! Your stories are always read out in class. You could beat Detective Conan!" He's too engrossed in this new found dream of yours, not even noticing the melting ice block in his hand, coating it with sticky syrup.

"Yocchan that'll never happen… All stories are beautiful, it's not like soccer where you have to be 'better'." Despite telling him off, another smile creeps up on your lips, with your best friend's support and teacher's encouragement, this new objective of yours seemed attainable. Either way, you were determined to work hard and persist no matter what.

Yoichi's hand grasps yours, the joyous glint remaining in his eyes. "Doesn't matter, I'll be the best striker and you'll be the best writer! Promise?"

"Promise." And with confident grins scrawled on your expressions, you race home, popsicles long gone and forgotten, melted away in the suffocating heat.

"Y/n, what the fuck is this?"

The cursing and vexation threaded into his voice and tone catch you off guard, a complete juxtaposition of the peaceful atmosphere of the classroom, with now only you and Yoichi there, soaked in the comfortable sunlight. Gold stains the room as cheery exclamations can be heard in the distance, as students rush to their after-school plans.

"What's wrong?" Your lips curve into a frown, scavenging through memories in an attempt to figure out what's wrong. Though you'd been struggling recently, none of those issues translated to your friendship with him. "Did something happen?"

"Oh my fucking god, I'm talking about this crap." He slams a sheet on the closest desk— yours. It's your career path form. You recognise your own handwriting, the occupations "psychology" and "law" written as the main two paths you're interested in.

"What about it?" You're still not sensing the issue here. "It's my future, I'm interested in those paths." There's a puzzled expression as you wonder, why Yoichi was so annoyed at the degrees you might want to study, it's not like you're altering his life.

Your confusion only seemed to amplify his anger. "What the hell happened to writing? Weren't you supposed to become an author?" So this is what this was about.

"It's just a hobby. Other jobs make more money anyways-"

"Fucking hell, since when did you care so much about money?"

You don't. Obviously money matters significantly within one's life, but you're not striving to be filthy rich. Realistically, studying at university would bring a lot more success than writing, at least, not at how you are currently.

"Yocchan— I still need to make a living, I can't make much out of being an author—."

"So? You haven't even tried."

Because it's obvious it'll never work. "Writing isn't a career I can succeed in, I mean, just look at Haru. Someone like them. Or anyone else I know who writes." "Haru"'s a friend of yours, one that you met on the website you frequently post your works, among plenty of other writers you've befriended. They're popular, only being on for a few months and managing to rack up thousands of likes, as well as plenty of followers.

You're over the moon for how well they do, you truly are, but it doesn't and can't stop the envy and insecurity creeping up on you; a fatal disease slowly infecting you, tainting you with overwhelming jealousy.

You can't help it, not even their account makes your achievements look pathetic and insignificant; if Haru were to have an off day and receive less attention on any of their uploads, it'd amount to what you get on a good day, actually, probably even more.

"Oh. My. God. Haru this, Haru that, you don't see me getting upset about Hiori or Kurona everyday do you?" Yoichi scowls, seemingly getting more upset at you and this whole ordeal. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Sports and writing aren't the same. You wouldn't get it." He really wouldn't. In soccer you can practise the same kick over and over again, until it really drills into muscle memory. But when writing, you can't rewrite the same metaphor, or simile, or anything really, then be able to write something beautiful. Repetition can't save an author.

"Fine—, but one thing I understand is having a dream." That day twelve years old you announced your new life goal of becoming an author flits through your mind, and gosh you'd do anything for that oblivion, the oblivion of how harsh reality is, the oblivion that provides innocence the privilege of dreaming freely.

"You don't get it, writing needs talent." Or whatever the hell it is, because no matter how much effort you put in and how much wellbeing you sacrifice, there's always someone doing better; attracting more attention, more compliments and more love.

"And you have it. I know how you and Haru write, you're equally good, actually, your writing's so much more interesting. Talent isn't the fucking issue, it's you and how you're not trying enough"

"You're only saying that because you're too stupid to differentiate." Guilt is quick to stab you in the stomach, and you're already feeling the consequences and hurt of your words, as if they were targeted towards you.

Yoichi only scoffs. "And you're too fucking sad and undisciplined to work hard." And he's wrong. Completely. Yet it's salt to the wound, to be perceived in such an ugly manner by someone so valuable to you. “I have training now. Bye.”

You're mustering a response, wanting to apologise, beg for forgiveness; whilst desperately finding the right words to defend yourself. Yoichi doesn't give you a chance to respond, as he leaves, you notice the frustrated grit of his teeth and how even his footsteps sound livid.

"Yocchan—"

You follow, unsure of what you want to do. You want to cry, but you also want to scream out of rage. You're doing your best to chase him down the corridor, your legs are tempted to give out from the sheer emotional torment the argument was; yet you insist on pushing through the discomfort.

Yoichi's long gone by now, either sprinting home or running to the comfort of his soccer team.

As a sigh of defeat leaves your lips you return to the classroom for your stuff, chewing on the inside of your mouth out of frustration, not caring about the consequences nor the ulcers that'd appear there in a few days.

Fights are normal, they're inevitable in all kinds of relationships. They're not foreign to you and Yoichi considering how you've been friends since diapers, you both put the effort in communicating afterwards, and knew how to properly apologise.

But not once has Yoichi ever sworn at you like that.

It's immature to ignore issues instead of making an attempt to resolve them, but if you keep telling yourself to focus on going home for now, you can deal with your emotions once you were okay physically.

The pencil case returns to your bag, and your books are about until you notice the post-it stuck on it, sky blue with thin writing resembling fish bones.

Hello [username]

I've enjoyed reading your works for a long time now, they're such fascinating pieces that I find myself rereading and staying up late for.

I know I had no right to eavesdrop, however it was not intentional in the slightest. I don't think you and Haru are comparable. They may have more followers but your ideas and there their execution are a lot more beautiful in my eyes. Popularity, followers, and likes don't define you, or anyone.

I can tell you work hard I respect and admire it but take care of yourself. You take priority.

As you finish reading the pale blue post-it, you finally register the sense of dread.

The words are sweet, they're wholesome and what you've needed to hear for so long. Roses of warm comfort bloom within your heart at the sight of someone acknowledging the effort you put in.

But thorns of trepidation remind you that someone knows your online alias; someone at school nonetheless.

Ah.

You're screwed.

Your online presence has always been a secret, for the better. Someone discovering all the love stories you posted online would simply be embarrassing, that's for your follower's eyes and theirs only.

Normally you'd ignore the message, and just pray they don't decide to reveal your identity.

Yet you find the pen in your hand dancing across a piece of paper.

[To the light blue post-it, thank you so much ! It's really appreciated]

Then you don't stop there, pinning it onto the class noticeboard with a push pin. What were you thinking? Or expecting? You weren't exactly sure, and found this trivial attempt at contacting a stranger foolish, yet you still give your message displayed on your board the last hopeful look, before going home.

By the next day, your note was nowhere to be seen. And this time, instead of a post-it, it’s a pale blue envelope, carefully slid between your notebooks.

"And here, with the context of the Egalitarian and feminist era, we can tell…" The teacher's words are drowned by your fascination with the letter, as you carefully open it, ensuring only you get to witness the contents.

Hello again

i'm I'm glad to hear that my words could mean something to you. It's an honour for you to respond, I wasn't expecting anything back. I hope after yesterday you feel better, even if it's the slightest bit.I've been re-reading your stuff a lot recently, especially on the bus, train and before sleeping.

It's oddly weird, I never liked reading. I can't seem to find books that I don't give up on. Even so I never thought I would read romance. I always thought it’d be a bit uncomfortable to read.

I don't have much time since I've been busy, but if you have the time I'd like to receive a letter back. As long as it's from your heart. It's a lot for just a follower to ask. But I find you as interesting as your writing. If you're okay with sending a response can you slip it in the very last locker in our class? It's unused so it works for now.

There's a faint tinge of disappointment at them remaining anonymous, but it's cancelled out by the overwhelming joy tugging your lips into a smile.

Someone likes your writing enough to put the effort into a letter.

You still continue to ignore the teacher, tearing out a page of your English book, eagerly writing a response for whoever this. The now familiar blossom of warmth is back, you could almost start giggling at how exhilarating you found this all.

The pen skims across the torn out page, your reply gradually materialising. The world around you is completely dismissed, right now it's only you and the letter.

It's not until your teacher snaps at you, demanding your attention, earning a quick switch in demeanour; from accumulating excitement to fabricated focus and a feigned interest in classic texts.

Have you made up with Isagi?

Your heart drops at the mention of Yoichi in today’s letter, nails digging into your palm with frustration; because the answer to the question is no.

I'm not trying to intrude, but you should try to if you haven't (it looks like you haven't talked about it yet). Fighting is normal among people, but it's dangerous if you don't do something about it quickly.

With time, it can become irrepairable irreparable. And I don't want you to go through that with someone you care about cherish.

It's been around a week, a week of these note and letter exchanges, slipping them into the empty locker. Lately, you've found yourself patiently waiting for their messages to appear alongside your possessions. They didn’t always write letters, if they didn't have time it was a post-it note instead, either one had you fully engrossed, clinging onto every word written.

I can't really offer advice. It might be a bit scary but anyone can tell you and Isagi care about each other a lot. He looks upset at training. You seem to be the same during class too.

And they're right, ever since that heated exchange of untruthful words in the classroom, Yoichi's been avoiding you. Eyes avoiding yours, opting to eat with his soccer teammates instead, and the absence of time spent together leaves you feeling empty.

So don't beat yourself up about over it. Stress and anger can make you say things you don't mean. I know you'll be able to fix things.

They're right again. You didn't mean to call Yoichi stupid; all the insecurity and doubt had been accumulating recently, internalised with the suppression of expressing yourself, it had gotten to a point you couldn't control it. As a consequence, you unwillingly took it out on Yoichi, he retaliated and the pointless argument left both of you hurt.

A few glances of the classroom inform you that he's not here, either out speaking to someone in a different class or at a meeting for soccer. You ask Bachira, a teammate of Yoichi's.

"Hm? Isagi and Rin had to go do something, it might be about the upcoming game." Bachira pauses for a moment, pondering what exactly it might've been about. "Somethin' about them having to figure out who plays striker, probably." A quick thank you sends him buzzing away, on this way to go bother Kunigami.

After school it is.

Time passes rapidly, as you're preoccupied with selecting a work in progress to continue, brainstorming the potential trajectory of the events. Mechanical pencil rushes over paper, transcribing your thoughts into potential story. It's not until the bell drags you back to reality, as Yoichi calls out to you. Speak of the devil.

"Can we talk? After school and at our usual place?"

You nod "Was going to ask you the same." The convenience of how the two of you always seem to be aligned would've earnt a grin, if only it wasn't for such a serious and uncomfortable topic.

He reciprocates the nod, returning to his desk, as you fail to ignore the creeping dread ensnaring your heart.

You're not quite sure what you're exactly so worried about.

It's either:

a) Possibilities of another argument occurring, with the recent avoidance and discomfort, it’ll be worse than last time. It’s likely, given how tense the atmosphere was yesterday, regret and hurt lingering in the air yet simultaneously suffocating you.

b) The tiny sliver of chance that Yoichi wants to stop being your friend, rather than talk about the argument. Although this outcome is unlikely with how close you are, paranoia couldn't care less about logic and rationality.

c) Being unable to articulate your recent inner turmoil and conflict. Despite your passion for interpreting your thoughts and emotions into fiction, it feels impossible to explain yourself to Yoichi; words getting stuck in your throat and choking on the bitter self doubt.

Maybe it’ll be a combination of the three. Struggles with communication melt into another heated dispute, which would then solidify into a heavy burden within your heart, as Yoichi decides your insecurity is intolerable and disappears from your life.

You shake off the thought, as you make your way to where you’d always hang out with Yoichi; the rooftop. It’s prohibited for all students but with enough messing around you had managed to pick the lock, every break period invested on it was worth it; within the hours spent in school the pale cerulean and cotton like clouds were only for you two, accompanied by the wind playing with your hair.

By the time you arrive, Yoichi’s already there.

You analyse every crevice of his face, searching for any emotion and attempting to map out his thoughts. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, and his arms are crossed, leaning against the fence.

“Yoi-,”

“I’m so sorry.”

And he doesn’t give you the opportunity or time to respond.

“I don’t know what I was saying, I know better than anyone else that you’re always working hard. Heck you probably spend more time writing than anything else. I didn’t mean anything I said last week, ‘m so sorry, I don’t know why but I was angry and took it out on you.”

It almost all comes out as a whine, not the kind with a bratty tone but the kind that an apologetic child would have as they cry. It’s not out of character, he’s always been a bit of a crybaby, especially as a kid, bawling at the slightest jump scare or change in weather. With how much older you are now, you’ve almost forgotten this side of Yoichi, it’s easy to grow used to the sharp tongued and brutal character he now adopts when on field.

“Those are my words… I said everything that day because I was anxious, not because I meant anything.” Relief washes over you and you’ve never relished in it so much. “I’m sorry for taking it out on you…” There’s a slight pout in his cheeks as he pulls you in for a hug.

“You were kind of right though.” Before you can refute he keeps going. “I don’t understand all those weird English techniques, and to be honest I still google a lot of the words you use because they’re too complicated.”

“But even then, I know your writing’s amazing. I was worried. I thought you had given up on it entirely, all because you think Haru’s better. It’s— I don’t want you to give up because you think you’re not good enough—, because you are. Writing to you is like soccer to me, I can’t imagine what it’d be like if either of us quit. But if writing doesn’t make you happy anymore I’ll respect it. Or if you’re not aiming to do it professionally.”

As kind as his words were, it doesn’t loosen the grip insecurity has on you. It doesn��t change how others have so much of what you want; Paragraphs of praise instead of the short, brief and shallow compliments, popularity; As Haru hit impressive milestones you were wondering why some of your works got so neglected. Everytime you hear him make some sort of self-deprecating comment, crescents of frustration being dug into your palms; because he’ll always have people waiting for his posts, typing out long paragraphs eulogising everything he writes. It doesn’t exactly matter how much he doubts himself, people will shower him in praise either way. It seems a bit hateful, but it can't be helped with how you'd do anything to receive even a fraction of the love he gets.

You have someone like that, remember? The letters come to mind, they’re a foreign yet comforting presence.

Writing is such a significant component of you, yet it leaves you feeling so empty at times. But even if there’s one person; someone who only knows you by your writing and willing to support you purely based on that.

Someone, is better than no one.

Although Yoichi’s been supporting you from the day you started writing, that's a different story, Yoichi has your friendship, the creator of the letters doesn’t.

“You’re worrying over nothing.” It’s far from nothing. There’s still uncertainty in the confidence of your work, you’ll probably never eliminate the grasp of jealousy asphyxiating you each time you notice the difference in feedback and attention in comparison to your friends. Maybe it’d be better for you to quit, to move on from that silly little dream you declared to follow as a kid, and accept that some dreams will always remain as dreams. “I’m still passionate about it, but I’m interested in other things too.”

“I understand,” His pout is replaced by a grin. “Whatever you choose to pick ‘m always here for you, ‘kay?

Tell him. Tell him how the sight of your friends’ success leaves you and your heart thirsty for the same love and attention they receive regularly. Tell him—

“Of course you are, you’re my best friend.” —instead comes out. “You always will be.” You’ll tell him another day. Probably.

Tick. Tock.

The clock in the kitchen reminds of you every passing second, as you're quietly bringing and preparing a drink for the night. You quickly re-read today's letter, getting ready to write out a response

I know you already told me that you and Isagi made up, but has the topic of the argument gotten better?

It might be a bit invasive to ask about it, but I'm worried. I'm an athlete, and I know it's different to being a writer. But what I do understand is what it's like for someone to seem so much better and out of reach. There's a lot of doubt and you start to question why you're even trying.

I can't guarantee results, but I like revisiting my favourite parts of my sport. It helps remember why you started. Sometimes we care too much about others' opinions and forget who we are.

When and why did you start writing? What's your favourite part of it? What made you love it so much? (There's no need to feel obligated to answer these. They've just helped me a lot and I hope they can help you too.)

Please remember you're enough. You always have and will be. You're more than enough.

Drawing in a sharp breath, you stare at those words, relishing in the soothing solace of their kindness. Unknowingly you've craved that saccharine emotion for so long, despite not asking for it or expressing the struggles burdening you.

Before you know it, your pen's gliding across the page, you're engrossed in completing a response, expressing your gratitude for his goodwill.

To be honest, I'd love to become an author. I love the idea of having a book. The thought of having my words printed with a cover, and bought and enjoyed by others brings me indescribable joy. But I'm scared. It's a risky career for anyone, but I'm scared it'll be like my presence online; almost non-existent.

You blink a couple of times. Conveying your thoughts wasn't even that hard, yet you struggled so much to tell anyone else, not even being able to muster an attempt.

But your subtle confusion evaporates, as you continue the letter, everything else disappears, including your worries. While the hours pass, it's just you, the letters and your racing heart.

xx / xx / 23

Your recent work was compelling. The confession was my favourite part, I enjoyed how it wasn't perfect. It's unrealistic and gets boring when they're perfect. I know that's the purpose of fiction but a bit of realism is appreciated. You always achieve the right balance, something that seems impossible to happen, yet believable and not weirdly convenient. I had a lot of fun reading it on my way to school this morning, thank you.

A letter from this morning, a couple of hours after posting.

xx / xx / 23

Training was a bit longer than usual, but I wanted to say good luck for our upcoming exam. I hope maths isn't too bad for you. The topics we're going over seemed tricky… You'll be fine though, you're always studying hard when you're supposed to.

Before the maths exam from the other day, the one that everyone was panicking over.

xx / xx / 23

This is for you. You mentioned craving it last night. Hope you enjoy it.

The day after you posted on a whim "I feel like royal milk tea and idfk why."

The notes, both the latest one and a few from the past days are enough to earn a verbal reaction from you, "Oh my god— I adore them so much." Beaming, you re-read the notes a couple of times, savouring their feedback and sincerity. A few were carried around, while the rest remained safe either at home or in your locker.

Yoichi pauses from sipping on his drink. "They're still writing to you? You really are popular." He shuffles a bit closer, "Wow, they even went far as getting a drink for you. It's already been a few months."

"They already read my recent post too." You're already writing back, depicting your appreciation for their feedback. "That was quick though, I posted it before leaving the house and they had already written a response by the time I got to class."

"Hm." Yoichi hums a bit, gazing up at the sky and swallowing a piece of his onigiri. "How'd they find out it was you, only I know your username, you don't use your real name as your alias, and you're not public about writing as a whole. I can't guess anyone on our team, but that's the only clue we have, right?"

You nod, "They're also in our class." Too many questions and no answers. "I should ask them in my response."

He pulls out his phone, opening the notes app and typing the only two clues you have. "Right, but making a guess should be fun. It's a bit like all those general ability tests our parents made us practice, no? C'mon we'll figure something out if we work together."

"Why not." You recall everyone in your class. "Soccer team and in our class, aside from you there's Bachira, Kunigami, Yukimiya, Reo, Rin, Otoya and Chigiri."

"Well first we can eliminate—"

"Bachira." To his amusement you finish this sentence.

"Yup, I don't think he's physically capable of reading, or writing legibly. Besides, he'd be straightforward about it. If it was him everyone would've found your account by now." So that limits the possibilities to six people.

"Kunigami doesn't seem into reading either."

"He isn't, if he's not at soccer training he's either at the gym, eating or sleeping. There's no way it's Otoya, he only talks to people he wants to date, and does it straightforwardly " You'd question what kind of person would behave like that, but for now you'll save it for another day.

"Reo studies and reads a lot, doesn't he?" That would explain how they rectified any errors.

"Business and economics related books mainly, but he reads fiction too. He could've gotten his dad to pay someone to find you. Something like that."

"…" The soccer team was certainly a unique group.

"It's definitely possible it's him. But he would've been extra about it, I mean he's the heir of the Mikage Corp, 'course he'd do something extravagant as a fan. Who else again?"

"Rin, and Yukimiya, oh and Chigiri."

"100% Yukimiya. I guarantee you. If not, then Chigiri." Yoichi, then that's not a 100% guarantee, but you keep that thought to yourself.

"I thought Yukimiya would hate reading, since he said art strains his eyes."

"He reads as a hobby. So does Chigiri. Rin only likes horror, all your works are romance."

"Can't you just ask?" As fun as attempting to deduce who the fan was, your curiosity couldn't be contained.

Yoichi shrugs. "It'd be awkward if we're wrong. You'd rather not risk someone else finding your account."

"Wonderful point." You glance at your phone and notice the time, break's about to end. "Let's get out of here, before we get caught."

"I don't wanna go to maths… Not on a Monday afternoon please—" Those were his last words before you dragged him back to class.

"Wait, where's my phone?"

It's finally Friday, the conclusion of the week and the long awaited weekend. You had just left the school to go out for dinner with Yoichi and Bachira, until you realised its absence from its usual pocket in your bag.

"You must've left it in the classroom." Yoichi asks, "Bachira and I can wait here for you. Or I can go run up to get it for you."

"No it's fine, the place is nearby anyways. I'll meet you there."

Either of them don't get the opportunity to protest, rushing back into the building and up the stairs. How inconvenient of you to lose your phone, especially on the one day you're dying to leave immediately.

You finally arrive at your classroom, but there's someone already there, hood concealing their face, despite it being summer.

And they're at your desk.

"What the hell—" You waste no time, sprinting to your desk and grasping their hood, pulling it off and exposing their face, whilst having a grip on their wrist.

A shocked gasp leaves their lips; your name, but instead of your real one it's the one you use online. Is he—?

Adorned with captivating and noticeable eye lashes, alluring, deep beryl eyes stare right back at yours. Accompanying them on the pale canvas of his skin were faint pink and glossy lips. His teal hair's a bit messy, almost covering his eyes and contrasting the soft rose dusted on his cheeks

He's ethereal.

"Itoshi…Rin?"

The silence is loud, neither of you knowing what to say.

With the release of his wrist, you decide to break the silence.

"You're the one who's been writing letters to me?" Now that you've registered the surprise and who he is, you notice the sky blue envelope in his other hand, confirming your suspicions.

"Guess I got caught."

"Wait, that doesn't make sense—? I never told you about my account."

"I know you didn't." He responds verbally, voice hoarse and raspy. "I recognised your writing style after seeing sir show the class your writing."

That was from a year ago. "You knew me from that?"

"And some intuition. Whenever you made a post rambling about something at school, it matched up with whatever was happening here. So I took the risk and wrote that note." You're still in disbelief, Itoshi Rin, popular with his seemingly permanent stoicism, wrote all those affectionate words.

"To be honest, I know it would've been better to approach you normally. But I'm not—." He pauses, before continuing, roughly stuffing the envelope in his pocket. "I'm not like Yukimiya or Karasu, I can't express myself well through words and I was a bit worried." That explained his anonymity.

"Every time I read whatever you write, letter or not, I love it. A lot. I found your writing through a mis-click and I don't regret anything, your works are so addictive." There it is again, the sweet, warm words that sooth your scars and hurt.

"I like you, a lot. Though I can't say for sure if I love you, but I know I am with your writing. I want to talk about how much I cherish you and your hard work, instead of expressing it through a letter. I like the expression you make when you're focused, or how you smile while eating your favourite foods." Sunlight drenches the two of you in warmth, colouring the classroom gold.

The sun isn't the only reason why you feel so hot.

It's so infatuating, despite him not being a close friend at all. The way he speaks of you and your writing so highly. Your heart's pounding against your chest, begging for more of him.

"I don't want us to be just writer and fan. I want to grow close to you, and eventually end up as lovers." Rin's face is a bright red with embarrassment, averting his gaze from you. "Gosh, your writing is almost as pretty as you."

It almost feels like a dream, to finally feel some reassurance of your insecurities, even if Rin had been sending you letters and notes for the past few months. Something tells you to be a bit daring. "May I?" Your fingers reach up to his face.

It catches him off guard, and the flustered expression on his face is adorable as he nods. His hair's soft, as you brush it away from his eyes.

"Rin, I'd love that. You've been my lighthouse, I've felt so lost recently and those words you left me saved me." You're already regretting using a metaphor in regular conversation, but it's what you do best, even if it is embarrassing to say it verbally. "If it weren't for you, I think I would've quit writing entirely."

It was completely unfamiliar to you, for someone to praise you with that much effort, to finally have a source of comfort that seems to understand the relentless storm of self doubt; yet you can't imagine things without Rin anymore.

What has this boy done to you.

"It was my intention to prevent that." Despite him maintaining his calm and cold tone, he's still blushing heavily. "I'll be your lighthouse for as long as you'll allow me to then."

You joke around a bit, amused at his words. "I guess you'll be by my side forever then."

"That'd be ideal, sweetheart."

He relishes the growing blush on your face, chuckling at leaving you speechless and flustered.

"I can't believe you out of all people would do that. Why the hell would you gaslight me?"

"Listen, I didn't gaslight you."

"Lies, Isagi Yoichi, you're the reason my phone went missing that day." His lips curve into a delighted grin, as he helps you carry the heavy boxes.

"I was setting you up with the love of your life."

"You also knew the letters were his. You tried to convince me it was Yukimiya or Chigiri." Books are placed onto the shelf.

"I was trying to surprise you, I can't believe you didn't notice that. Didn't you find it weird how we spoke about the argument the same day the letter mentioned it, and after Rin spoke to me? Dude you ditched Bachira and I for him—" More books now. "You've grown up so much though— I can't believe you've publishing a book and you're in university already."

"You're literally the same age as me."

"I was born a few months earlier."

"Yet I'm taller." The faux offense on his expression is priceless.

Before he retaliates, you're called out to by a few people.

"y/n!" It's Reo, followed by the rest of his team, most you recognise, Nagi, Chigiri, and Yukimiya.

"Long time no see!" Violet hair tied up and with his expensive outfit, he looks like he's going to a business conference rather than meeting up with an old classmate. "Congratulations, it's doing really well already. You should've told me you've been writing since high school, I would've loved proofreading for you."

"Thanks, but aren't you guys busy with training?" Rin mentioned a few important and upcoming games.

"I have my priorities. I really loved the fireworks chapter—"

"124-136." Nagi butts in.

"Hm?"

"The page numbers. If it was really your favourite you would've recognised them." Not even you, the author remember that. "You're a fake fan Reo."

"Congratulations." Ignoring Nagi doubting Reo's 'loyalty' as a fan, Chigiri approaches you with a smile, a copy of your book in hand. "Mind signing my copy?"

With a thanks and a nod, your pen (Yoichi insisted on you keeping it at all times) glides along the cover, producing your autograph.

"Someone's popular." A familiar and raspy voice comments—, it's Rin. "Sorry for being late, Coach was being annoying. Did I miss anything?" Similarly to Reo, he's overdressed for the situation, covered in designer brands.

Chigiri scoffs. "You never apologise for being late to practise."

"Shut up princess." The nickname makes Chigiri chuckle, joining whatever chaos Reo started, muttering a comment about love birds under his breath.

"Rin, you already know you didn't have to come— Yoichi and I were only helping Anri restock."

His arms wrap around you from behind, head resting on your shoulder. "I'd rather be with you than train." Rin's hair tickles your cheek as he places a kiss on it. "I knew you could do it." Pride is laced with his voice, almost as if he was talking about one of his soccer games.

"It's thanks to you."

"Bullshit. You're the one who took the initiative to send your manuscript, you're the one who spent hours working on it, you're the one who didn't give up. My support can't compare."

A lot of things come to mind. The initial letters and notes, which became him bringing your favourite foods and drinks during your all your writing sessions. Rin was always there, ensuring you never overworked yourself, proofreading every word and providing his input and feedback. He even went as far as utilising his and his team's fame to assist with the promotion.

"It still meant the world to me. And it still does." Despite it being a regular way of him being affectionate, it still manages to make your face heat up, probably colouring them pink by now.

Though it's been years, there's still a bit of uncertainty. Even with a published book, it's scary knowing that it's out there for criticism.

"You're going to be okay." Rin, as always, notices the change in mood, hand caressing yours. "I'm always going to be by your side."

"I know just— it's so weird." It's surreal how you went from contemplating giving up writing to signing something you wrote from scratch. "I'll probably have to make alt accounts just in case of hate comments."

"Don't think you have to worry about that, Reo already sued some people. Pretty sure Isagi and Nagi stay up fighting people online. So don't worry about anything happening, we're all here to support you, you're my favourite and I love you." He concludes his speech with a peck on the lips, ignoring everyone who recognises him. "Let's get out of here."

"Wait, aren't we having dinner with everyone?"

"Change of plans, I only want to spend my money on you." Rin's already walking out the store, holding you hand. "You said you wanted to try Kobe beef, no?"

"Fine— you win." A high school reunion will have to wait for another day.

From milk tea to infamous and expensive beef, it's sweet how he things have changed yet have still remained heart warming, just like how he went from fan to lover.

tagging : @yuzurins

#I HAD TO GET IT OUT OF THE WAY #now i can focus on school #unless i hyperfixate on another wip #bllk x y/n #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #fluff #blue lock x male reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #itoshi rin #bllk itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x male reader #itoshi rin x gn!reader

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inhuman-obey-me · 3 months

Note

🌑 + Simeon + MC = ?

"Embrace the shadow following behind." - Simeon/MC

An angel’s fall is often painted as one of disgrace, of shame. Once a beloved creature, now a despicable monster. A being of light now immersed in the shadows.

The story of the Great Celestial War can always be found in the whispers of the Celestial Palace, in the teachings of the angels, in the way that several large portraits in the halls had been removed but how nothing ever replaced them – a constant reminder of them. Those who dared to oppose their Father, those who dared doubt him.

Simeon is beginning to wonder if he, too, might soon become a warning tale.

It had already been set into motion long ago, with his demotion to archangel after he refused to fight, after he covered for Lucifer. As the years passed, he often found himself wondering – Why didn’t you join them? Why didn’t you fight?

Had he been a coward? Or did he want to so desperately believe that, at the end of it all, Father did everything for a reason? His guiding light is all he had ever known, all he had ever worshipped.

He does not have anything else.

That’s a lie.

He struggles to silence the voice in the back of his mind, but it has become more and more difficult as time passes, a shadow constantly clinging to him. You have them, it reminds. His long lost friends in the Devildom, new friends as well – and one particular human who has ensnared him, enamored him.

You have them.

“Simeon? Got something on your mind?”

Snapped out of his thoughts, he turns to be greeted by the most recent subject of his musings.

“Oh, nothing important.” He flashes that warm smile of his, trying to ease your worry – though his gaze can’t help but fall on the Ring of Light adorning your hand. The ring that now has further embroiled him in Michael’s ire, in Father’s.

“You know, I’m always here to listen.” You aren’t convinced, and take a few slow steps towards him. Placing a hand on his arm, you look into those cerulean-sun eyes as you try to read him. He has always made that difficult. “You’ve been out on the balcony for a while.”

“I know.” Simeon’s smile softens, as does his gaze. With a sigh, he looks back out to the quiet Devildom forest. “Just…thinking about the future.”

“That sounds important.” You tilt your head to the side, lips curved in a teasing smirk. “What future are you thinking of?”

“...Of the Three Realms. Of mine.” He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to choose his words carefully. “Trying to figure out what it is that I want.”

“What you want, hm? Well, I was told some great advice once. Maybe it’ll help?” You bring your hands up to cup his face, earning a look of surprise. “When in doubt, have a little talk with yourself. Close your eyes, and have a heart-to-heart.”

Simeon can’t help but laugh, shaking his head slightly in your grasp. “Using my own words against me. Very clever, dear.”

“Hey, I know you’re the type who won’t listen to his own advice.” With a grin, you lean forward and place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, then his lips. “So, I’m going to make sure you do, okay?”

“Okay.” He chuckles, feeling a warmth in his chest. As you move to cover his ears, he lets his eyes close and confronts that voice he tries to keep away. The voice that has followed him from eons ago, from that first inkling of what if? What if he had joined? What if he had done something else? What if he could be with those he held so dearly without fear or repercussion?

He thought all he had was the Celestial Realm. That all he had was what Father called love.

You know that’s not true. You have everything you need, right here.

As your hands eventually leave his ears, he hears the distant shouts of Lucifer and his brothers, the raucous laughter of Diavolo and Solomon, the yelping of Luke, and he’s sure he can hear Barbatos too. He then slowly opens his eyes, and in that moment all the affection he felt for you threatens to overflow.

Perhaps it's time for him to finally embrace the shadow following behind.

#yes I know I'm using stuff from nightbringer but I feel like SImeon would have given the same advice to OG timeline MC too #obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #omnb #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x mc #obey me simeon x reader #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #obey me angst #4000 follower celebration #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos

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svtyandere · 10 months

Note

omggg hi i’m so excited this is exactly what i’ve been waiting for 🥹

can i request a yandere jeonghan imagine where he continually cheats on y/n to try and make her jealous but it only causes her to hate him more. like i want her to turn cold towards him and he ends up breaking down because she can’t look at him the same anymore.

yk maybe turn a little crazy hehehe 🤭

and thank you! i can’t wait for your future writings!! 🤍🤍🤍

TW: threats of self-harm, mentions of murder, yandere behaviour

Doormat. That’s what your friends accused you of being. And that’s what you were every time Jeonghan walked out the front door. You knew what he was doing, anyone with half a brain knew. And honestly, you were fed up.

Jeonghan stumbled through the door, the imprint of lips pushed onto his collar and breath reeking of alcohol. A greasy, “hey baby”, crawled out of his throat. Yet you paid him no mind, completely immersed in eating your dinner. Dragging his gaze up, he frowns as he realises there is only one plate on the table, yours. "What's up, huh? Why'd y'not make food for me?" He pouts and slumps against your back. Biting back an anguished scream, you lift your plate and carry it toward the kitchen. Jeonghan however, almost falls over due to the abruptness of your actions.

Jeonghan looks like he’s praying. His hands grasping at the skin of your soft thighs and his knees bare against the hard cold floor, is the greatest juxtaposition, he thinks. "Baby please, I love you more than anything in the world. I only did it for your attention, I'm so desperate for it. I need it! I need you!", he whimpers, pushing his face further into your thighs. Slap! As soon as his pleading eyes meet your own cold ones, you raise your hand and strike. The moan he lets out is downright sinful. This sound, however, furthers your hatred. "You're fucking disgusting. Going around and sleeping with other women. I hate you." At this, tears, which previously have been pooling in the corners of his eyes, stream down his face. Jeonghan wails, "No please! They mean nothing to me! Nothing! You are all that matters, they're worthless!" At this, he pauses, considering. Gently, he reaches for your chin, twisting it to face him. "All of those women I flirted and slept with, every single one... is dead. I killed them all. Taking me away from you and causing you to hate me was a crime punishable by death. I can show you if you'd like? Prove my love for you? Or maybe you should punish me? I've definitely been a bad boy... and bad boys need to be punished. If not by you... then I'll do it myself." As he finishes his speech, he leaps up. Positioning a knife at his wrist, he pleads to you, "Take me back baby, I know I've been bad... I just missed you so much. If you don't love me... pay attention to me... I don't think I can live."

#yandere!jeonghan #yandere!seventeen #yandere!svt #sub!seventeen #seventeen #yandere seventeen #yandere jeonghan #yandere svt #TY for requesting #sorry if it doesn't rlly fit the request #and pls give me some writing tips <3

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bumblesimagines · 5 months

Text

Midnight Beach

Part 19

Request: Yes or No

Taglist: @nathan-no @hyubg @ash455 @gills-lounge

~~~

The sun hadn't risen yet, and the world around them had been reduced to a gentle blue that slowly lightened with each passing minute. Small goosebumps spread across his arms, skin cool from the early morning chill. He would've put on his shirt if a certain blonde hadn't taken it for herself sometime during the night. Sarah remained curled at his side with her head on his chest and arms loosely draped over his stomach, quiet snores escaping her.

His shirt looked bigger on her, with the hem reaching her bare thighs. The bikini top and shorts she'd been wearing the previous day rested beside them, covered in specks of sand and waiting to be put on again. He took in the silence around them, the feeling of peace and tranquility before the other Kooks began to rouse and he'd be forced to wake the girl. (Y/N) wondered what she'd say, and every thought surrounded regret.

One of the nearby tents unzipped and he tilted his head, skin flushing with embarrassment and mild shame when he noticed Liv stepping out. She paused and stared at him through squinted tired eyes, and once she processed the sight of Sarah Cameron practically sprawled out over him, she shook her head in disappointment. He released a breath and carefully pushed himself up, his movements causing the blonde to stir and grunt quietly, head groggily lifting and brows knitting in disoriented confusion.

"Get up, Sarah. We have to go home." (Y/N) told her gently, slipping from her grasp and standing up. He spotted Kelce's shirt half buried in the sand and picked it up from the ground, shaking it free of the sand and slipping it on. Not the best fit, but it'd have to do until he got home. He glanced toward the sun when it peeked over the horizon and sighed quietly, avoiding meeting Sarah's eyes as he walked around the bonfire in search of anything that any of them owned.

"I think it's common sense not to fuck your ex, especially if they're in a relationship," Liv murmured as she stopped at his side, lifting her brows at him. His heart felt heavy at her words. He didn't particularly like John B and he knew for a fact the brunette hated his guts, but he'd never wish the pain of a partner cheating on anyone.

"I wasn't exactly planning on hooking up with her, Liv. It just... happened. I can't go back in time."

"You can't go back in time but you can definitely stop it from 'just happening' again in the future, (Y/N)! Listen, I'm sure Sarah is a great friend to you and the little shitbirds she hangs out with. I'm sure she'd do anything to help you if push comes to shove. But you can't deny that all she's done since meeting those shitbirds is cause you problems. Can't you see it? I mean, look at Kie! She was a good, hardworking girl on her way to being top of her class until she went back to them and now all her parents do is worry about her wellbeing because her life has gone downhill. I.. I don't want you to end up a high school dropout who's forced to live off his parents cause of a bad friend group and some shitty decisions. You're smarter than that." She gently cupped his forearm with her palm, the hardness in her voice giving way to a softer tone. Liv stared at him with all the concern and sweetness that she reserved just for him, just for her so-called 'brother from another mother', and gave his arm a squeeze.

"Morning, ya'll," Topper's raspy, groggy voice called out from the nearby half-zipped tent. He clumsily unzipped the rest and staggered out, knuckles rubbing against his eyes and face scrunched up. Kelce's soundly sleeping form lied further within the tent, sprawled out and with a beer can resting idly next to his hand. Topper zipped the tent back up and stretched out his arms, grunting quietly and glancing around the messy beach until he caught sight of Sarah wiggling on her shorts. With eyes nearly bulging out of his head, he whipped around to look at (Y/N) with a slacked jaw.

"Don't." (Y/N) hissed sharply and Topper's mouth clamped shut, stiffly nodding but the small grin he failed to wipe off his face told him the blonde would be bringing the topic up again.

"So," Topper drawled and clasped his hands together, head turning in the direction of Sarah who pointedly refused to meet any of their eyes. "How 'bout we get ourselves some breakfast?"

The ride back to the mainland had been a deathly quiet one. With Liv nursing a growing headache, Topper frantically texting his angered mother, and the realization of what they'd done setting in for Sarah and (Y/N), none of the teens had much to say to each other. The boat eventually reached one of the many restaurants sitting at the edge of the water and Topper hopped out onto the wooden deck, making quick work of getting the boat secured. He seemed awfully upbeat and gleeful, unlike the sluggish Liv who followed him up the steps and into the restaurant.

"God, I'm starving," Topper groaned, the heavenly smell of cooking bacon wafting through the air and making (Y/N)'s stomach rumble. Sitting down at one of the many unoccupied tables, Liv took one swift look over the menu before dropping her head down on the table, with enough force to make the silverware clatter. The typical theatrics of Liv.

"She's fine." (Y/N) murmured, running his eyes over the breakfast options on the menu, the hunger toiling in his stomach only growing. With all his attention focused on it, he hardly noticed the feeling of something brushing against his knee until it happened twice, thrice, and then one last time. He shifted in his seat and tilted his legs in the other direction. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Sarah glancing up at him, her eyes glimmering from the sunlight pouring in beside her and he raised the menu further to block her from view.

"The eggs are so good here- Oh, and the french toast is fucking delicious." Topper spoke, as oblivious to the slowly forming tension as always, and continued rattling on and on about each of his favorite menu options until it began to sound like he favored all of them. (Y/N)'s lip twitched up in amusement and he exhaled softly, setting his menu down on the shiny wooden table and waiting for the waitress to pop by.

"Shit." He heard Sarah hiss quietly and he tilted his head in her direction. Sarah's eyes peeked over the top of her menu and when they connected with his, she subtly nodded her head toward the front of the restaurant. His brows furrowed slightly at the panic in her eyes and he craned his neck to peer over his shoulder, easily spotting the familiar curly-haired brunette standing by the counter. Kiara flashed the girl at the cash register a polite smile as she braced herself against the counter and began surveying the room until her attention landed on the four of them.

Kiara's lips pulled into a small smile at first and her fingers lifted to wave before her brain processed the two kooks sitting beside them. Her fingers curled toward her palm and her brows lowered, head turning away from them to grab a box and to-go order. The deep frown on her face spoke volumes, and it'd been enough to get Sarah to rise from her chair. Her hand snatched the collar of (Y/N)'s shirt and gave it a tug, causing him to sigh heavily and follow her outside.

"Kie! Kei, please, wait," Sarah called out desperately and rushed down the steps to catch up with the fast-paced brunette. "We're just having breakfast. You should come join us."

"Breakfast?" Kiara repeated, stepping down into her father's boat and setting down the box. Her long braid whipped over her shoulder when she spun around to face them, brows lifting as her mouth formed a scoff. "Sarah, you're literally wearing (Y/N)'s shirt."

"Listen, I- I had nowhere to go last night, okay? John B and I- We got into a fight and I couldn't find anyone else to stay with. We hung out at Mase with Top and Liv. That's it. Nothing else happened, I promise." Sarah stuttered out an explanation and turned to him pleadingly, the pure desperation on her face doing little to tug on his heartstrings.

"Nothing happened." (Y/N) echoed and Kiara's eyes narrowed. "Nothing happened, Kie. You don't have to worry about anything, I swear. I was actually wondering if I could bring Josie Bekkar to your parents' party. I'm sure she's already invited but I just want to double-check."

"Josie Bekkar? Wow, uhm, yeah. Go for it." The suspicion on Kiara's face dissipated in seconds and she quietly snorted under her breath, attempting to hide it by scratching the bridge of her nose. Sarah stared at him with furrowed brows and parted lips, her slightly widened eyes flickering between his. (Y/N) simply smiled and nodded toward the boat.

"You should go, Sarah. The Carreras were busy with family stuff, right? They'll probably appreciate some help setting things up. I'll drop your things off later." He casted Kiara one last glance before turning around and heading up back up the steps. Back to his real friends, his real family.

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

"It's been so long since I've seen any of these people," Rachel muttered quietly as they strode further into the heart of the party. Mike and Anna's 15th anniversary, and they'd hosted a big party to celebrate their relationship and the return of their daughter. Rachel flashed her perfectly curated smile at anyone who glanced their way and heavily eyed the beverages offered for the adults. She swiped her hand over her son's arm and stepped away, approaching the Carreras with a wide, beautifully fake smile. His father, Joseph, rolled his eyes and (Y/N) began wishing he'd stayed home.

"Thanks for bringing me." Josie, right.

"It's no problem, Jo." He smiled and she giggled, flipping some hair over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes at him. Joseph grunted and muttered a quick excuse about getting food before slipping away toward the snack table. They couldn't even stay together as a family unit. (Y/N) exhaled through his nose and looked back at Josie with the same smile he'd inherited from his mother. "Thirsty?"

"Oh, yes. I'm parched."

"I'll get us some drinks, then." He slipped his hand out of hers and made his way around chatting and dancing guests until he reached the table holding the punch bowl. He only had time to get one cup before Kiara appeared at his side, voice light and high-pitched as she laughed at something someone said, then turned to him with a grimace. She casually took the cup from his hand and drank from it, sighing heavily when she looked over the people present.

"I still can't believe you brought Josie Bekkar. I mean, I get it, she looks great. Just never thought you'd be into geeks like Pope." Kiara chuckled into the cup and tilted her head back to catch the last of the punch. (Y/N) resisted the urge to bring up her own relationship with Pope and instead shrugged, retrieving another cup and pouring punch into it. Sadly for him, slim fingers wrapped around the base of the cup and swiftly took it from him.

"Seriously?" (Y/N) groaned and turned, breath nearly catching in his throat at the sight of Sarah. She smiled cheekily at him, lips glittering from the gloss she had applied, and sipped from the cup. Her typical straight hair had been curled at the ends, bringing out the fading blonde and the eye-catching brown roots settling in. She'd gone for a natural makeup look that suited her perfectly and wore the pretty yellow dress with white floral patterns he'd convinced her to buy ages ago. It stung, just slightly, to see her in it.

"You look nice," Sarah said softly, twinkling eyes dropping down to the plain white button-up he wore. He hadn't gone for anything fancy, just a simple shirt, dress pants, and dress shoes. He'd mimicked his father in unbuttoning the first couple of buttons and rolled up the sleeves the minute he felt the heat of the evening.

"You do too." He breathed and noticed Kiara's gaze flicker between them curiously. Sarah swiped her tongue over her lips and finished her cup, the previous pride on her face disappearing and replaced by a more serious look. She took in a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder for any nosy ears before stepping closer to them.

"Ward's on the island." She revealed quietly and Kiara's head shot up with widened eyes. (Y/N)'s posture stiffened. "He... He used Wheezie to send me a voice message. He gave me the key to a condo and a credit card."

"Ward's on this island? Like, the one we're on right now?" Kiara questioned, mouth agape and brows tucked in. First Rafe, who had luckily steered clear of the (L/N) house, and now Ward fucking Cameron. The dream of being home had soured into a nightmare. "Christ... I swear, the second I see him, I'm turning him in. I don't know how you deal with it, Sarah. I mean, every time I want to complain about my dad, I think about your guys' dad."

"Glad to be of service."

"So sweet of you to say, Kie."

"Anytime." Kiara grinned widely and bumped her hip against (Y/N)'s, pulling a small smile out of the teen. Sarah dug her teeth into her bottom lip as she gazed at (Y/N)'s face, watching his eyes meet hers and then flicker away while he finally poured himself two cups of punch. He glanced over his shoulder and she followed his line of sight, spotting Josie mingling with their neighbors and feeling a stabbing feeling in her gut. He turned back to them and opened his mouth to bid them farewell, but her hand shot out to grab his arm and stop him.

"I need to talk to you." She said hurriedly, fingers lightly tightening around the fabric of his shirt. (Y/N) blinked at her, still clutching the two cups in his hands. The sound of mic feedback interrupted the music and drew their attention away from each other and onto the stage where Mike and Anna Carrera stood. Mike smiled awkwardly and chuckled into the mic.

"Uhm, I just want to say a few words, and I'm not much into giving speeches, but I do want to say thank you for coming out and thank you for your support after a rough month. I want to say thank you to our daughter for being here. Hey... we love you. But most of all, thank you, Anna, for fifteen years, for making this restaurant a symbol of our life. I love you." Mike smiled widely at his wife, gazing at her with all the love in the world. Anna laughed and dipped her head bashfully before murmuring the words back to him. Mike slipped his arm around her and pulled her snugly into his side before addressing the crowd again. "Figure Eight, the Cut. Everyone's together here. As one island. So, thank you for putting up with us. Cheers."

(Y/N) watched with unsurprising bitterness as Kiara strolled over to her parents with a smile. They embraced her eagerly and cradled her in their arms, looking at her as if she hung up the sun in the sky. Anna stroked her cheek affectionately and pulled her daughter in, tenderly kissing her forehead and giggling when Kiara squirmed in her arms and groaned. He hated the prickly feeling at the back of his eyes and forced himself to look away, raising one cup to his lips and wishing it'd been tainted with some alcohol. He slipped past Sarah and returned to Josie, quietly apologizing for the delay and taking a seat on the nearest empty chair.

Pursing her lips, Josie rubbed her finger against the ridges of the cup. "I-I just have to ask, (Y/N). Are you and Sarah, like, over? I know you've been through a lot together and I know she's with that weird guy from the Cut but..."

"We're not secretly together if that's what you're asking, Jo. You-" (Y/N) sharply inhaled and propped his arm up to rub his forehead. His eyes wandered around the party until he spotted Sarah speaking to John B. His jaw twitched, threatening to clench but he forced himself to relax. "I like hanging out with you, I do. But things are really complicated right now. I just... I need to figure some things out and I don't want to string you along."

Could complicated even begin to describe the hurricane passing through this life? His parents, his new and past friends, the wild goose chases and the treasures, Sarah? Only a few months prior, he'd been a normal guy living a normal life. His only concerns were college and dealing with pompous assholes until the Pogues turned the tide, changed the course of his life, and set him directly on the path of a storm. Normalcy felt like a distant dream he wouldn't be able to attain.

Before he could drown in an ocean of self-loathing and crippling thoughts, Josie gently tilted his chin up and smiled sweetly. "We can be friends. And my first duty as your new friend is getting your mood up before Liv gets here and thinks I'm an uncool Debbie Downer." (Y/N) snorted and allowed himself to laugh, graciously taking her hand and rising up from his seat.

(Y/N) let himself enjoy the day, dancing with Josie and the others with a genuine smile on his face. Liv practically collapsed into his arms the moment she arrived and whined about the heels she wore, yet outright refused to take them off in the name of having a great outfit. Just as promised, Josie and his friends lifted his moods significantly and everything clicked into place. No danger, no running, no worrying for his life. Everything felt okay... up until he noticed Sarah chugging an unattended glass of wine with obvious tear streaks on her face. Christ, couldn't John B go a day without hurting someone's feelings?

"I'll be back." He murmured to Liv and pulled away from her side, already hearing the scolding she'd give him after the party. Swiping some napkins from a table, he approached Sarah and took the glass from her. She hiccuped softly and clumsily rubbed at her wet cheeks but her eyes remained watery with tears. He gently took her cheek and delicately dabbed at her cheeks, sighing softly.

"I'm sorry." She whispered and the hot tears slipped from her eyes. "I ruin everything. I-I fuck everything up. God, why do you even bother with me?"

"Because I care about you, Sarah. I know you're a good person at heart." He answered and dropped his hands to his sides. Her lips quivered and she sniffled again, stumbling toward him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Her head leaned against his shoulder and she buried her face in his neck, her body easing its trembles as she took in his warmth and comfort. (Y/N) draped his arm around her shoulders, content with comforting her until the crying ceased.

Glass shattered from behind him and they pulled apart to look, spotting a furious John B heading straight for them. Sarah quickly detached herself from him with a soft gasp and moved forward, quiet pleading falling from her lips as she met him halfway. Her pleading fell on deaf ears, however, seeing as he pushed her aside and gave (Y/N) a hard shove. He stumbled back and caught himself on the table behind him, a heat of anger washing over him.

"Fuck you, man." John B seethed. "I never once believed that bullshit nice guy act. You prance around here acting so great when you slept with my fucking girlfriend, you piece of shit!"

"Guess you don't like getting a taste of your own medicine, huh? But I guess I shouldn't have expected less from a guy who parties while his 'girlfriend's grieving the death of her father. Real charming of you, John." (Y/N) spat back, maintaining his tone evenly and smoothing out his crinkled shirt with the palm of his hand. John B's jaw clenched and his eyes flickered around when the people around them began murmuring lowly.

"I was giving her space!" He barked defensively.

"Did your friend give you space when you thought your dad died, asshole? No, they didn't. They stuck by you 'cause they're good people. You're just the guy who got lucky a pretty girl even spoke to him in the first place. You could learn a thing or two from Pope or J." (Y/N) liked the way John B's ears burned hot red with embarrassment and the Pogue let out a humorless, sharp chuckle.

"Of course, Mr. Perfect is lecturing me. Mr. Perfect who always knows what to say or do. Always cheers everyone up. Always has everyone wrapped around his perfect little finger. I bet you were just so perfect your parents couldn't handle it. Maybe that's why they left you alone all these years." The air escaped (Y/N)'s lungs and his shoulders deflated, the venomous words slithering around his brain. Sarah slapped John B on the arm and glared at him fiercely while Kiara hissed his name angrily. The disapproving looks sent John B's way turned pitying the second they moved onto him. Pity, always pity. He took in a breath and released it in a dry laugh.

"Then, I guess you must be perfect too considering your mom skipped town when you were a baby. I mean, shit, you've gone missing like twice now and she hasn't even bothered showing her face around here. And we certainly can't forget daddy dearest 'cause fuck, I can't imagine leaving my son to deal with all my shit and not even caring enough to reach out. I think we ought to give him a Father of the Year award for that one, don't you think?" His lips curled up into a grin and John B pushed Sarah aside one last time to lunge for him. A mop of bleached hair stepped into view, arms shoving John B back before he could get close to (Y/N). Topper pressed a hand against (Y/N)'s chest and extended the other out toward the fuming John B.

"Let's all calm down, alright? There's no need to ruin Mr. and Mrs. Carrera's day with-" Before Topper could finish speaking, John B swung his fist and connected it with Topper's jaw, hard enough for Topper to stumble and trip over his own feet. Sarah shrieked John B's name but he refused to listen, the pure rage in his eyes deadset on the fallen Kook. Topper cradled his jaw and lifted his head only for John B to swing at him again, and again, and again.

Breaking out of his momentary shock, (Y/N) darted forward and grabbed the back of John B's collar. He tore him off the unconscious Topper and while John B attempted to regain his foot, (Y/N) clocked him hard enough to knock him onto the grass with a low groan. Mike rushed in and pushed (Y/N) back as Topper's mother cradled her son's head in her lap and screamed for an ambulance to be called. (Y/N) moved to step toward John B again but Anna stepped in his way and grasped his arms.

"Baby, baby, no, that's enough." She urged softly, in the same tone she used on Kiara when she and her father argued. (Y/N) took in a couple deep breaths to calm his racing heart but his eyes watched JJ rush over and help John B up onto his feet while Mike shouted at them to get out and followed them until they left. Sarah stared at him helplessly and teary-eyed, the start of an apology forming on her lips but he turned away from her.

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks x male reader #outer banks x y/n #sarah cameron #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron x you #sarah Cameron x male reader #sarah Cameron x y/n #kiara carrera #topper thornton #john b routledge #jj maybank

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