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yslkook · 3 years

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UNFUCKWITABLE (9)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook convinces you to take a staycation with him for a few days (a week).

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, oc and jk discuss their unprotected sex practices, vomiting, some jealous jk, mild exhibitionism, fingers in oc's mouth grinding, making out, oral (m), titjob

word count: 7k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. also...cant believe mom manifested into butter jk im in pain

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Jungkook is unsurprised to enter your home with the key you’d given him the other week and find it completely empty. You’ve been working early mornings and incredibly late nights for the last week and a half, and he can tell it’s beginning to take a toll on you. The first sign that you were beginning to wear down was when you had skipped dinner in favor of sleeping. The second was when you had snapped at him in irritation and then immediately cried over hurting his feelings.

He can think of about a dozen other things, including the even more pronounced bags under your eyes. You’ve always had dark circles under your eyes naturally from hyperpigmentation but these days, not even concealer can help you mask them.

In fact, the reason that you’d even given him a key was because you felt like work was taking over your entire life. You’d hardly had a chance to see anyone who wasn’t a work colleague, and you just missed Jungkook. At least this way, you could wake up and go to bed with him.

You had only been calling Jungkook your partner just shy of four months, and he had a key to your home. Perhaps it was fast for other people, but with him, it felt right. So he keeps a copy of your keys on his lanyard- it’s possibly his most prized possession right now. Jungkook usually only comes when you ask him to, he’s been staying at your place for the last week because of how tired and busy you were.

Usually you stop by the tattoo parlor at least once or twice a week, but you have been sparse because of work. So he’s here, in your home without you. It felt strange the first few times he’d been here without you, but then he started leaving little pockets of himself- his shoes next to yours, his hair product on your shelf, and his two of his jackets hanging near yours in the closet. He’d even purchased a new plant to keep on your windowsill in your living room (which you take turns dutifully watering and making sure she gets enough sunlight).

It’s all very domestic. He had jokingly told you not to expose him to your shared friends, specifically Mina and Mei. To which you had rolled your eyes.

Though some small, very small, part of him wonders if the magic will fade away soon. Considering how fast you both are moving both physically into your home and in your relationship.

It’s only been a few months, and you both were incredibly comfortable with the idea of unprotected sex- after all, Jungkook always pulls out in time. Until, of course, you’d had a pregnancy scare. Hoseok and Yoongi, ever the pair of realists, had scolded him when Jungkook had revealed that you both hardly ever used any protection-

“Are you trying to knock her up? Is that it? You both ready to potentially be parents?” Yoongi says mildly as he polishes off his wine, looking at Jungkook expectantly. Jungkook’s cheeks burn.

“No, I’m not trying to knock her up and no, nobody’s trying to be parents-”

“You both are lucky you haven’t knocked her up already,” Hoseok says, with more heat in his voice, “You both are fucking stupid, but you especially.” He even smacks the back of his head with the book in his hands and Jungkook glares at him.

“Hey, my pull out game has always been strong, and I’m serious about her. We wouldn’t fuck raw if-”

“Oh, yes, then we definitely have nothing to worry about,” Yoongi says, “Keep it moving, Hobi.

“Talk to her about it, or else,” Hoseok threatens, “I don’t wanna hear about another pregnancy scare because you’re both idiots.”

“I know, I know,” Jungkook relents, “We’ve been talking about it. It just sucks that birth control can fuck up a woman’s body like that, you know? Mood changes and appetite changes, nausea and everything…”

“You could always get a vasectomy,” Yoongi says bluntly.

“Mei said the same thing. She was way more mean about it, though. Told me she’d cut my balls off if I didn’t get my shit together.”

“I don’t blame her, considering what a mess you both were last month.”

“We were not a mess!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so stressed ever in your life, not even when your first bike got run over by a car. Or when your tattoo got infected three consecutive times. And I’ve never seen her cry so much before.”

“Alright, maybe we’re a little bit of a mess.”

In the end, you and Jungkook had both decided that yes, condoms were probably a good idea. Considering the pregnancy scare you had last month, you both were on edge and a little paranoid. Jungkook hadn’t even mentioned the idea of you taking birth control or getting an IUD, knowing that your last few experiences with the former were unpleasant-

“I can get a vasectomy, you know. In fact, Yoongi suggested it,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly but your jaw drops.

“Jungkook. I don’t think vasectomies are reversible like that. Think about what you’re saying,” You murmur, “I’m touched you’d consider a surgical procedure so I don’t have to take birth control, but what if-”

“I looked it up, they can be reversed-”

“But Jungkook! You don’t know that, what if you want to have kids later and you can’t because you decided on a fucking whim to get a vasectomy? It’s still trauma on your body! You can’t just snip snap, snip snap your vas deferens tube whenever you please. At least with birth control you can start and stop it, even if that’s not a completely benign process.”

Jungkook looks at you long and hard, his tongue poking his cheek and you sigh. “But I don’t-”

“Honey. I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” You murmur, squeezing his hands in yours, “But we’re both being stupid. We’re both acting like condoms don’t exist. Why don’t we start with condoms and then think about getting your tubes tied or me getting an IUD?”

“You spoiled me,” Jungkook complains dramatically and drops his head to your chest, “With your pussy. I’m spoiled now.”

“Shut up.”

And so now, a box of condoms sits in the drawer of your nightstand and you’ve taken to bringing a few with you in your purse as well (and so does he). You’d been far more nervous buying condoms than you’d ever been of buying anything else, and Jungkook had only cockily grinned at you.

Today’s Friday and it’s the day of your deadline. Meaning that you’d hopefully be home soon and be his for the rest of the weekend. He fully plans on getting you to relax and stay in for the majority of the weekend, so that you can catch up on sleep.

But then you come home past dinner (you had sent him a text earlier telling him that you were going to be late. He knows your mood is sour- you had been in a foul mood all week, and the fact that you’re so close to being home but so far just makes it worse). You come home with an empty belly, a weary mind and wetness along your lash line. Climbing into bed next to him, you circle your arms around his waist and cry tiredly into his chest.

“J-Jungkook,” You hiccup, “I’m so tired, they kept me s-so late today but it’s done. Everything is finished-”

“Oh, baby,” He sighs, rubbing your back soothingly, “It’s okay. We can just sleep now. You should take a few days off next week, baby.”

“I don’t know…” But your eyes are wide and considering it.

“You’ve been running on empty all week,” Jungkook points out, “For longer than that. Your job can handle two or three days without you while you recharge. Text your boss, baby. You need to rest, too.”

He nudges your cheek with his nose and you hum in agreement. “Okay. Five day weekend? Sure you won’t get tired of me?” You murmur and laugh when he squeezes your waist.

“We can make it a staycation.”

And you’re already texting your boss, telling her that you needed a few days off next week. She gives you a thumbs up and encourages you to rest up, making it a point to recognize how hard you’ve been working. She even suggests you take the full week off, which you jump at and Jungkook only grins at you.

“My brilliant girl, charming her way into a full week off.”

You swat his hand away and hide your burning but satisfied face in his chest. “Yeah, your bad habits are rubbing off on me.”

“Oh, that’s not the only thing rubbing off on you,” Jungkook says wickedly and pushes his hips into yours, earning a fierce pinch to his bare waist.

“Hush, I’m trying to nap,” You mumble, your voice muffled. Without warning, you lick his neck and bite lightly at the base of his neck, ignoring his soft yelp. He doesn’t have a chance to question you on what that was, as you’re already falling asleep.

You’ve always thought from the beginning, even when you and Jungkook were just friends, that he was an ass man. You’ve caught him staring at your ass many, many times- in jeans, in a dress, in a skirt. And now that you both are officially together, he spends any and every moment he can with a hand on your ass. Casually, when you both walk side by side. And purposefully when you’re both just in his bed or on your couch. His hand is a well known presence on your ass, not that you’re complaining.

One of Jungkook’s favorite places to nap is on your ass, with his cheek pressed into you and one hand firmly gripping your ass. He also likes laying with his head on your lap. But his favorite place to nap is with his head buried in your chest, specifically buried in between your tits. He is currently analyzing his hypothesis that your right tit is smaller than your left, a thought he’s had for a while now, but needs further samples of evidence to properly assess.

But he’s always had an affinity for your tits, whether you’re blissfully unaware of it or not. You don’t notice it not really- you like any and all of his touches on any inch of your skin, as you’ve told him many times before. Especially when he holds you close next to him or under him and you feel protected, surrounded by only him.

He holds you, looks at you as if you’re as soothing as the sea and as bright as a supernova. And yet, the universe is contained in his big, doe eyes.

But really, at the end of the day, it’s an affinity for you. Jungkook loves every part of your mind, body, and soul, and he thinks he has for a long time. His heart has been tangled with yours since the first time he had seen you years ago at Hobi’s surprise birthday party that you had planned. Jungkook is sure that when he had seen you with a homemade red velvet cheesecake with a ‘Happy Birthday Hobi <3’ written perfectly in red icing in your arms, a silly party hat on your head, and a shy, beaming smile on your lips, he had been magnetized to your center of gravity from then on.

But even then, he had only hovered. Barely introducing himself, if it weren’t for Mina and Mei. He thought he had known girls like you- girls who baked cakes, planned elaborate birthday parties for their friends and wore flowery dresses liked other predictable people. It’s another one of his hypotheses (which has been clearly debunked)- but by now, he knows not to be so judgmental of others.

But he doesn’t dwell on that for long. Even the first time he met you, right after he had introduced himself to you and you had stared at him with starstruck eyes and stammered a quiet ‘hello’ in return, Sora had cornered him. And told him to back off from right then, that you were off limits. That you’d never be interested in a guy like him, so to not even spend a second in his stupid little mind even entertaining the ridiculous idea.

So he backed off subconsciously, thinking it wasn’t worth it to even know you as a friend. He’d convinced himself that it was too much trouble, and Jungkook has always been an easygoing kind of guy in most instances. After all, your best friend would know you best, right? And really, what did he care? As the saying goes, there were about a million other fish in the sea.

However. Even then, with each word uttered between you both, with each laugh that he pulled from your soft mouth, he couldn’t help the reluctant fondness for you that began to bloom. You had surprised him every few months after that, just saying hello at events that you were both present at and asking how he was. With that stupidly beautiful smile and those bright, shy eyes.

You were a smart, kind woman, always remembering details about others. And he was no exception.

That was years ago. He’s known you since your third year at university, hanging by a thread just outside your orbit. But this is now.

This is now, and your lips are against his neck, your chest pressed to his. You climb into his lap haphazardly, nearly knocking your mug off of the coffee table. You both have only just woken up and stumbled out of bed for coffee and breakfast. You had combed the tangles out of his bedhead with his head in your lap, but now sleepiness has washed away and you’re tugging at his oversized shirt.

You promptly bite him, right where his neck tattoo starts and ends. Jungkook meets your eyes with an incredulous, breathy laugh. “What’s gotten into you?” He murmurs, palming your chest from under your shirt.

“Nothing. You just have a very biteable neck, I told you,” You say, resuming your inspection of the vein next to his tattoo, “What a juicy jugular vein-”

Jungkook holds your wrist and flips you so that your back is on the couch. “My sexy vampire girlfriend. Love when she starts talking about my jugular vein.”

“Watch out, I might drink from it. You never know,” You giggle with a wink, squirming in his grip.

“You can do whatever you want,” Jungkook murmurs but then an idea that has been planted in his head for weeks now spills from his lips without him meaning to, “I wanna fuck your tits, baby.”

Your eyes go comically wide, mimicking Jungkook’s own. His cheeks are a little pink from his abrupt confession as silence falls between you both.

“That’s really interesting,” You muse.

“Is it?” He asks, feeling a little lightheaded. You tug a little at his purple locks to pull him down to you.

“Yeah. Always thought you liked booty. And legs,” You shrug, “But I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

Jungkook’s throat is too dry for him to reply coherently. But he finds his voice after you give him a reassuring smile, “Uh, when it’s you, I like everything.”

“Me too. When it’s you, I like everything,” You mumble, heat rising in your cheeks, “And uh… you can. Do that I mean.”

“Do what?” He asks teasingly, tilting his head to the side.

“Don’t play dumb,” You whine, shoving his shoulder.

“C’mon say it,” Jungkook jeers, not unkindly, “Put your big girl panties on.”

“I hate you,” You sigh dramatically, “Fine. You can fuck my tits, if you so desire.” His face splits into a grin as he thumbs your chin and ducks his head into your neck. He playfully nips at your skin, murmuring that he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine, but you feel his half hard cock pressing against your thigh.

The image of his cock wet and slick between your tits is now imprinted in your mind, and when both of you want something, you’ll surely get it.

Despite your eagerness of making Jungkook’s wish a reality, neither of you have had the chance for your usual shenanigans just yet. You still have quite a few days of your staycation left, so you won’t rush it. You had spent most of the first two days sleeping, cuddling, spooning, eating and lots and lots of slow sex.

You think you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve left your bed. Jungkook has been nothing short of wonderful, bringing you food (just this once, you hate eating while in bed), giving you shoulder rubs and booty rubs without you asking. Your favorite ice cream is in your freezer. Life is good.

His shirt hangs off of your shoulder and you’re too lazy to fix it. In fact you’re too lazy for pajama bottoms, only settling on your favorite pair of comfortable panties (nothing flashy. Just a standard black cotton panty) to wear under your shirt. One might even call them granny panties or whatever, but lace was uncomfortable on your skin. Lace and thongs are for very, very special occasions (hardly if ever) and you are in the comfort of your own home. You’ll be comfortable if it’s the last thing you do.

In fact, you’re too lazy to even raise your head to pucker your lips for a kiss from Jungkook. You only open your arms and hum, as if he’s supposed to telepathically know what you want from him. But he does, and he flops onto you once he tugs his shirt off. Jungkook’s face remains buried in your chest as you gently rub his scalp.

He hums happily, nearly purring at your touch and shoves himself closer into your hold. You can’t believe this man, the man who mildly intimidated you for years, is now in your arms and purring like a baby kitten. He’s admitted a few times that his scalp has been irritated and inflamed ever since he dyed his hair purple. One of his favorite things is to lay in your lap while you massage a mix of coconut oil and peppermint oil into his scalp.

He looks up at you, warm heat blazing in his eyes. You’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about but he palms your pussy from under your shirt- your still swollen, puffy pussy from the four times he’s made you cum already.

“Can I help you, Jungkook,” You ask flatly, but your poker face breaks when he dots you with kisses up and down your thighs.

“Yeah, fuck,” Jungkook groans, voice slowing to a whine, “I’m still hard, baby, fuck. Help me.”

“How are you still hard,” You wonder with a grin, “Damn, Jeon. You must really like me, huh?”

“If that wasn’t obvious then I’m clearly not doing something right here,” He breathes into your skin.

“Gimme a kiss then,” You murmur, pushing his long hair behind his ear. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light of your bedroom and you trace it gently with your fingertips. Jungkook desperately pushes his lips to yours, parting your lips easily and slipping his tongue into your mouth. He kisses your teeth hungrily, strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks.

His hips roll into yours impatiently, hands already pawing at your shirt. The air in your bedroom is suddenly so stifling, thick and nearly choking you both with the intensity of your desire. You just want him to feel good with you.

“Jungkook,” You say softly with warm cheeks, “You can use me, however you want. Tell me what you want, bunny.”

He lets out a quiet gasp, his eyes bright and wide.

You’re both on the same page, because he’s scrambling to chuck his boxers to the side and you’re tossing your shirt on top of his boxers.

***********************

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook groans. He’s breathless, heart racing erratically. All he can do is hold your shoulders as he watches with a piercing, hazy gaze as his cock is swallowed in between your tits. You squeeze them tightly together, trying to create as much friction as you can for him.

“Fuck,” He whines, “Fuck, you look so good, baby. O-oh, shit, my pretty baby, you’re pretty-”

Jungkook nearly cums when you mischievously stick your tongue out to brush against the head of his leaking cock. The visual is almost too much for him and his breaths are choked, strangled as he forces himself to look into your dark eyes.

“So big, bunny, look,” You say softly, “You like this? You’re so hot like this…”

He’s nearly in tears, eyes shining and wet at how good this feels. If your pussy was a slice of heaven, then your tits were the next best thing. You moan softly, feeling your own wetness and heat pooling. Jungkook’s cheeks and chest are flushed, eyes wild and wet as he slides his cock in between the valley of your tits languidly. Almost as if he doesn’t want the moment to end.

You’re so warm, warm everywhere.

His muscles are tense, the furrow in his brow beginning to appear when he’s about to cum. “Shit, baby, oh my god, I love your tits,” Jungkook moans, tossing his head back, “Fuck, I love everything about you-”

You don’t know how he’s able to form coherent sentences to you when he’s this close to cumming. But he’s always been a man of many talents.

“You know what I just realized,” You gasp suddenly, “Neither of us made it official that we’re dating. Like I never asked you ‘out’ and you never asked me ‘out’-”

“Fuck, you talk too much,” Jungkook nearly snarls, “My cock is literally in between your tits and I’m about to fucking cum all over you and you think I belong to anyone else?”

You swallow thickly, Jungkook narrowing his eyes at you. He looks intimidating and intense above you, his powerful, golden thighs straddling either side of you.

“N-no, I was just-”

Jungkook shoots you a glare, reaches behind him and gathers your wetness with two fingers. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he pushes two fingers into your mouth to shut you up. You send him a glare right back, but it melts away quickly when you swirl your tongue and suck on his digits.

He cums without warning, hastily and with a broken sort of sound ripping from his throat. It’s warm and sticky as it lands on your chest and your cheek. But he cums so much and much to your chagrin some of his cum gets in your eye and you nearly shriek at the burn.

“Jungkook! What the hell, your cum is in my fucking eyeball-”

He’s still panting above you, like some sort of golden boy, and it takes him a few seconds to register your irritation. “Oh shit,” Jungkook says and jumps into action. He tugs you into the bathroom to gently wash your eye for you (after washing his own hands), with you grumbling the entire time.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You roll your eyes and demand to be taken back to bed and lavished in kisses as penance for his cum shooting into your eye.

Jungkook tastes himself a little when his tongue slips into your mouth, but it hardly registers as he rolls on top of you, caging you in between his arms.

Jungkook fleetingly thinks he should’ve spent more time trying to convince you to stay home with him. Maybe with a few soft, long kisses to your neck, he might have. You looked delectable, good enough to eat- your dress fitted around your hips, nails, hair, and makeup done, the scent of your perfume subtle but not irritating to his sensitive nose.

You had asked him to pick what jewelry to wear, so one of his long necklaces sitting around your neck and disappearing into the valley of your chest. It doesn’t really match with your dress, but you don’t care.

And Jungkook… well, it was difficult for you to keep your hands off of him as well. His hair is tied back into a neat ponytail, he’s wearing a sequined black (fitted) button up with the top four buttons undone, a thick, silver chain and ripped, black jeans. Your eyes are glued to his chest and he knows it- you can’t help but grip his arm, his bicep whenever you can.

Neither of you really enjoyed the club scene, but you had wanted to go out since it had been a really long time and after all, you were on your staycation. Mei had planted the idea in your head, and so now here Jungkook was.

Here he was, catching flashes off the satin, coral colored wrap dress that you were encased in. For someone who doesn’t like the scene, you blend in effortlessly. But you’re a grown woman, so he takes his eyes off of you and orders a round of shots for him, Jimin, Taehyung and Jin while nursing a bottle of soju.

In the midst of the thumping bass bouncing off of the walls in the club, you’re only aware of you and Mei while you both sing along to whatever song is blasting through the club. Mina disappeared a while ago, presumably to find Jimin.

You’re holding two drinks, one in each hand, and all you feel is the vibrations of the club. Along with your own drunkenness. Mei holds your arm to keep you steady as you move your hips in time with hers. You laugh loudly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders at something she said. Everything is amplified and muted at the same time, the swirl of alcohol settling comfortably in your veins.

You’re having a great time with your friends, dancing, swirling, singing and drinking. It’s a nice night to unwind, in the company of dear friends and strangers.

“Hey,” Mei murmurs in your ear, “I gotta pee and I’m gonna go find Seulgi-”

“You can just say that you wanna go find her,” You giggle, “Don’t blame your bladder on it, Mei.”

“Oh, you’re funny. I’ll text Jungkook and tell him to come find you, alright?” Mei says, patting your head. You nod and tell her to go find her girl, and she does. Leaving you to your own devices for a bit, at least until Jungkook makes his way to you.

However, what neither of you realize is that the cell reception in this building is terrible. Mei’s text never goes through and you stay in your bubble, with your two drinks in your hands and bounce along to the music.

You’re not sure how much time goes by, but it feels like you’ve been alone for quite a while. You squint your eyes at your phone to check the time and send a text to Jungkook. A text that never goes through. You frown and are about to turn on your heel to link up with your man (wherever he might be), but you hear a surprised call of your name.

It’s hard to keep the incredulity out of your face when you come face to face with Yunho, the man who had stood you up all those months ago. The air has almost been punched out of your lungs, and you have to squint at him to believe what you’re seeing.

He calls your name again, giving you a wave and a bright smile. “Funny seeing you here, huh?”

“Uh…”

“Can I buy you a drink? I feel like I owe it to you after…” His eyes are sincere. At least you think so, with your drunk goggles on.

“I don’t know, Yunho, it’s okay…” You mumble unsurely, “Isn’t this weird?”

“It’s only weird if we make it weird,” Yunho says and pulls a chuckle out of you.

“Oh, alright. I guess a drink won’t hurt,” You shrug and lead the way to the bar. The least he can do for you after standing you up and hurting your feelings is buy you a drink, you think.

“Hey listen, I owe you an apology,” Yunho says, sliding your drink towards you.

“Oh, it’s- it was a long time ago,” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. Sure, it was a hit to your ego, but in hindsight it doesn’t matter. Not when you have Jungkook. Honestly, you’ve forgotten that Yunho had even been a blip in your radar once upon a time. It was only because of Sora, anyway.

“I had something urgent come up last minute that day and I asked Sora to tell you,” Yunho continues, “I’m sorry I didn’t follow up or even reach out to you after. But I’d heard that you were with Jeon now, so didn’t want to… overstep, I guess.”

And even through your drunken haze, you understand. You sigh deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Oh boy,” You groan, “Sora never told me about that but we’re not close anymore, Yunho. It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry she got you, too.”

Yunho’s lips part in surprise, “She didn’t… Alright. What’s done is done, I guess.”

“Yeah,” You murmur airily, “And yes, I am with Jeon. Though I can’t seem to find him…”

“I’m happy to keep you company until you do.”

Despite how well you and Yunho seem to hit it off (most of your time spent bitching about Sora), you can’t help but think of Jungkook. You quite miss him, not having seen him all night in the club. You want to dance with him, and little do you know that he’s been scouring the entire club for you in a frenzy once he ran into Mei and Mina and hadn’t seen you with them.

He had sent them a glare, his jaw clenched and walked away to find you. So when his eyes finally land on you at the bar, after about twenty-five minutes of searching and trying to get through strings of people around you, his heart soars. But he sees you laughing with someone else at the bar. With Yunho.

Jealousy is petty, he tells himself. But he struggles to keep it at bay as it rears its head and comforts him. He’s always been protective and possessive of those he loves and cherishes. You’re definitely no exception.

You wobble a little on your feet, but you hold your own. Even from here, he can see the drunkenness of your smile, beads of sweat as they race down your neck to hide in the valley of your breasts. He zeroes in on your necklace (his) around your neck and reminds himself. It’s his necklace that you’re wearing, after all.

Then why is the man who stood you up all those months ago making you laugh like that?

You must have a sixth sense or something for him, because you turn your head a bit as if you can sense him. Your entire face lights up when you see him, in a way that makes his tough heart swell in adoration.

You make your way over to him with your drink and peck his lips chastely, despite his desire to pull you into his arms and kiss you long enough that your knees buckle. So that Yunho sees that he is yours.

“You disappeared on me, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, adjusting your necklace. He’s gripping it tightly, but you don’t notice.

“I was with Yunho, remember him? ‘Member, he stood me up but he didn’t because it was Sora’s fault-”

“That’s no surprise,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes. You take his hand, squeezing and introduce him to Yunho. As if he doesn’t know him already. Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t like how Yunho looks at you, how his gaze lingers on your skin and the curves of your dress. You lean against Jungkook heavily, absently playing with his fingers. You stay mostly quiet, sipping your drink as the two men speak (rather tersely).

Jungkook knows he’s being ridiculous.

“Kook, finish my drink?” You murmur, offering him the glass. Jungkook maintains eye contact with Yunho as he downs the remainder of your drink in a few solid gulps.

“Was nice to see you, Yunho,” You say, “I think Jimin and Mina are looking for us, Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that Jungkook firmly holds your waist, keeping you close to him. You both know that neither Jimin nor Mina are looking for either of you. You’d only wanted to be alone with Jungkook.

So Jungkook leads you to a spot where he knows Yunho can visibly see you both. You let loose, giggling as Jungkook twirls you easily and moving your arms to match the beat of the music. He makes you laugh with his moves, winking at you and shooting finger guns at you as he twirls and swivels around you. He’s always been a great dancer, you realize. That’s funny, because you’re sometimes clumsy on your own two feet. He pulls you into him, his chest to your back and his hips pressed against your ass. You sigh contentedly, head lolling against his shoulder and you rest your hand over his hand to let him lead you.

His nose is buried in your neck, lips lightly brushing your pulse. He bites your earlobe gently, earning a soft laugh from you. Jungkook tilts your jaw to the side to meet your eyes and plants a deep kiss to your glossy lips. He holds you steady when your knees weaken, your belly flipping at the intensity that he pours into you.

Jungkook is all around you, encasing you within his arms and there’s not a single place you’d rather be. When you pull away for air, you thumb away your gloss on his bottom lip and bite his bottom lip gently.

“I adore you,” You say dreamily, “You are so… Everything. Everything. I adore you.”

Jungkook’s cheeks burn, but he ducks his head for another sharp kiss. And if Yunho is watching him shove his tongue down your throat and holding your hips to his possessively then that’s fine by him.

The journey back home is a quick one (after you both stop for fried noodles, despite the inevitable heartburn it’ll give you both the next day but you’re both so hungry). You both stumble into your home in a mess of giggles and groping, nearly falling to the floor due to your clumsiness.

Jungkook has been hard since he kissed you in the club, in front of Yunho. He knew Yunho had been watching, feeling the man’s eyes on you both the entire time. His jealousy has crawled back into the box that it was unleashed from, but he knows that’s something to revisit later.

Something else to revisit is that he liked that someone else was watching him with you. He stores that information for later, instead focusing on keeping you upright from falling.

Somehow, through your blurry vision and wobbly legs, you get on your knees and palm Jungkook’s cock through his pants. A shameless moan rips through you- any and every inch of him makes you dizzy with desire.

You like him so much that it nearly makes you cry.

“Gonna blow you now,” You announce happily, fumbling with the button of his jeans and using all of your concentration and strength to pull his pants down along with his boxers. You sloppily kiss your way down his chest, spending extra time on his tattoo and licking (then biting) his happy trail before humming around his leaking cock.

He’s so wet already, and it’s all because of you.

Jungkook groans, eyes closing in pleasure as your pretty mouth wraps around his cock. He thrusts lightly into your mouth, peeling his eyes open to watch you. Only to find you already staring up at him, your makeup smudged and tears already forming in your pretty eyes. He cradles your cheek affectionately, stroking your cheekbone-

But before he can compliment you, softly praise you, he hears a noise. It originates from the back of your throat, something both familiar and unfamiliar. You gag uncontrollably around his cock, and while it’s certainly not the first time it’s happened, it’s different this time. Because you’re a little drunk. So he should be unsurprised when you retch on his cock, pull yourself off of him before your drunk self can get any more vomit on his cock and sprint into your bathroom.

You manage to lock the door in your frenzy of utter humiliation and alcohol addled mind. You hover over the toilet bowl, the sounds of you throwing up bouncing off of the walls. You’re crying, sobbing more like it- from both the pain in your chest from vomiting violently into the toilet bowl coupled with the humiliation of quite literally throwing up on your boyfriend’s cock.

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, as if that’ll erase the memory.

“Baby,” Jungkook calls softly, his cock fully hanging out in the open, “Baby, please open the door. It’s not a big deal, but I need to wash my dick off.”

You let out a choked, watery laugh at that and move to flush the toilet and rinse your mouth out. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you unlock your bathroom door, and you can’t bear to look Jungkook in the eye. But he holds your wrist to his when you try to escape into the safety of your bedroom.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest, heat flooding your ears in shame. It feels like your head is empty, static filling up the spaces that the silence between you both doesn’t.

“It’s just me,” Jungkook coos, “Do you want to shower with me?”

“Jungkook, ‘m absolutely mortified,” You say flatly, voice a little high in pitch as fresh tears burning behind your eyelids, “I want to evaporate from this plane of existence in about three-point-four seconds, I literally threw up on your penis, I’m so sorry. Don’t even look at me-”

Jungkook winces at your tone and the way your shoulders are hunched, hands gripping the hem of your dress unsurely.

“Baby,” Jungkook sighs, “It’s really okay, there’s nothing to apologize for. Come shower. The vomit is drying on my dick-”

But that’s the wrong thing to say because you start to cry immediately, shoving your face in your hands. Jungkook sighs, mentally kicking himself and running a hand through his purple locks. He calls your name softly and pulls you into his arms for a tight hug, despite the drying vomit on his dick, which is hanging out and brushes against your hip. You sniffle, peeking at him with shy eyes and he rubs your back soothingly.

“When I say it’s okay, I mean it,” Jungkook murmurs into your hair, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how drunk you were. I know you feel embarrassed, but it’s just me, baby.”

He kisses you, despite your protests, and helps you rinse your mouth again. You allow Jungkook to somehow maneuver you into the shower, peeling you out of your clothes. You feel grimy and sticky from the club and you’re grateful for the cool water against your skin. You stand behind Jungkook, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face in between his shoulder blades, letting him wash himself.

“Can I wash you?” You whisper, voice unsure. You feel awful, cheeks burning but still. He nods and you take your body wash and lather him with it, washing his now limp dick gently and swallowing nervously.

“See? Not a big deal,” Jungkook says, coaxes you out of your nervousness, “Lemme wash you, baby.”

And so he does, taking your loofah and gently rubbing your skin. Under the cool spray of water, your nerves slip away with each giggle and kiss that he pulls and plants from your lips. Your eyes are still a little shy, a little slick with alcohol. But it’s just Jungkook, and you’re safe with him.

Jungkook nearly wrestles you to get you to eat something more, after throwing up the remainder of your guts after you both had showered (it was mainly just water and alcohol at this point). You’re nearly falling asleep on his shoulder but he manages to shake you awake for a slice of leftover noodles and two glasses of water. But eventually, he coaxes you into eating with a few kisses, hugs, and shoulder rubs.

Once you both are in bed, Jungkook wraps himself around you, his hands immediately drifting below your sleep shirt to your belly. Your cheeks burn as the events of the night replay in your mind’s eye and you press your face into your pillow with a groan.

“I can’t believe I threw up on your dick a-and you’re so nice a-about it,” You mumble, “You really are everything.”

“Well, what else am I going to do if the girl I like vomits on my dick,” Jungkook murmurs, “Don’t worry about it, baby. It happens.”

“To who? Only to me,” You say sadly, “I drank too much. I’m sorry, Kook-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook says, tightening his arms around you and kissing your forehead, “I promise it’s okay. I promise I’m not looking at you any differently.”

His words make you relax in his hold and you nod. Jungkook tilts your jaw towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You don’t say anything else after that, only allowing your soft, breathy sighs to spill out of your lips and into him with every comforting kiss and every slip of his tongue in your mouth.

He tells you to rest in between kisses, but your eyes are already closed.

**************************************

MOM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ultraanonymousey @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c @yeotan07

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fluff

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myonepiece · 4 years

Text

Perospero, Zoro, Sanji with a s*icidal S/O

Description: a few HCs about how he would act with a depressed S/O

Warnings: death, s*icide, self-harm, angst

A/N: Sorry for the drab theme, I’m in a bad mind space tonight and I felt like writing something to distract me and hopefully maybe cheer a few people up a bit- so this is just a quick scribble of some thoughts pls ignore any spelling mistakes and the messiness, it’s not my best work 💕 also I’m working on my other requests don’t worry, they’re just all longer posts 💕

Perospero is smart he knows what you’re doing when you lock yourself away in the bathroom or disappear for hours or sneak out of the room at night only for him to hear whimpers somewhere in the dark

And everytime it breaks his heart. He doesn’t exactly understand how you feel or why you would feel like this, but he has an understanding. When he finds you cutting yourself he’ll take the blade away from you, aggressively if he has to, and he cleans you up before sitting with you on his lap, and he clings tightly onto you pressing your head farther into his chest

He talks you through your “episodes” or bad moments, telling you stories, that always involve someone else’s pain and suffering because he’s a psycho, but he hopes it’ll cheer you up- or at least distract you which it usually does

He presses light kisses everywhere, or more like he lightly licks the places. In your worse moments he tends to hold you tighter, clinging to you even with everything he has, he does it subconsciously usually, simply trying to let you know he’s there to hold you and tether you to this world

He never judges you, but he’ll scold you, yell at you, he’s broken things against the wall a few times, simply because the anger at not being able to protect you from even yourself is eating away at him

He pampers you and spoils you everytime you’re sad, hoping that you’ll realize the reason for you to live, when you slip into the depressive space late at night, or more accurately put- early in the morning, he’ll list reasons for you to stay, he’s blunt he gets to the point

Zoro doesn’t get it, he’s had depressive episode before definitely, but that was awhile ago when he was younger, and he doesn’t remember much so he’s extremely confused when it comes to you

He acts on impulse and instinct, but when it comes to you it’s delayed by a moment of uncertainty and fear and sadness and realization, everytime

He stalls as his sight falls on you sitting on the floor slicing, only with seconds wasted before he’s practically throwing himself on the floor and flinging the blade as far as he can

His touch is rough at first, gripping your shoulders or your untouched wrist, he shakes you and looks at you practically fuming and scolding you, begging you to tell him what you’re doing and why

He naps with you everytime you’re tired or he is, pulling you against him and nuzzling his face into your neck letting you do the same to him

He really only knows one way of comforting you, and that’s physical affection- more specifically hugs and forehead kisses. Though he does always say “it’s gonna be okay” and “I’m here” “I’ve got you” just the simple reassuring phrases that he means with every bone in his body

He’s not very good at words so unfortunately you can’t really count on him to tel you reason not to end it, but being with him provides a sense of comfort, of being safe, of being home

He hold you tightly when you cry, when you scream and hit his chest telling him to let you go, when you tell him you messed up your clean streak he tells you it’s okay and it’s just a mistake- everyone messes up. He’s protective, watching everyone’s moves even closer, making sure no one dare to threaten the candle flame burning in your eyes

Heartbroken, the one word to describe him. He feels as though he himself is the one being cut. He drops to his knees and begs you to tell him what you want, what you need, what will make you stay

He cuddles you and smothers you with kisses, even when you’re covered in blood or vomit or tears or alcohol, he’s there for every bruise and cut, for every scream of anguish and fear and frustration, for every weeping moment when you think there’s no way to reach the surface

He’s like a guardian angel, watching over you to make sure you’re not hurt in anyway, though he’s not always successful when it comes to you hurting yourself, big TW here- Sanji told you to cut him if it would help, hurt him if it would keep you from damaging yourself even more, past the point of fix

He has you bake with him, making cookies snd cakes and pies, decorating them while talking of the future, because you will have one

He tells you about the all blue, trying to find a dream for you, reminiscing all of the moments and memories that added color your dull world, listing reasons for you to live another day

When the hopeless thoughts and broken sobs creep up on you, taking you in their embrace and trapping you in a bubble of overwhelming uselessness and gruesome thoughts, Sanji is there by your side holding you the whole time, holding you head in the crook of his neck while he rocks side to side and whispers how much he loves you

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #sanji #sanji headcanons #sanji imagine #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #zoro #zoro headcanons #zoro imagine #charlotte perospero #perospero imagine #perospero headcanons

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whumpzone · 4 years

Text

(masterpost)

(I wrote a very nsfw flashback from Col’s past, which can be read here. Heed the warnings and have fun)

As the days went by, Pet quickly realised that Master’s cat was a little… imperfect. He could tell from the way she sometimes bumped her head into doorframes, or table legs, that her vision wasn’t the best. She was old, by the looks of it. Old and slow, and Master clearly loved her very much.

“Hello my little Jaffa,” he murmured, scooping her up, running his fingers through her thick fur. Her eyelids sank down until she looked like she was fast asleep.

It made Pet’s chest ache. Why was Master making him watch this? Did he enjoy being cruel? Pet already knew he wasn’t here to receive affection like that, and the reminders hurt. Especially knowing Master could love his pet even if it wasn’t in perfect shape.

He still hadn’t been given any clear orders, and Pet was starting to think Master was giving him time to heal. Getting him as robust as possible before breaking him down again. The waiting was tough, and not knowing what was to come was worse. But Pet couldn’t speculate, he just couldn’t, or else he’d skirt too close to the memories he kept shut out- the ones he kept hidden, even from himself.

Master’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Hey, Col, want to come and sit up here with me? I have some biscuits here you might like.”

. . .

Col nodded in that quick, nervous-rabbit way of his, and stood up. He liked kneeling on the carpet, Linden had noticed. He kneaded his balled hands through it like a cat. Kneeling was fine, Linden told himself, as long as he didn’t crawl. And to the boy’s credit, he was doing very well with that.

He walked over now, at about to same speed Jaffa often walked at, trying to mitigate the impact of her frequent head bumps. Linden set her down and slowly grabbed his mug of herbal tea and the packet of biscuits, while Col watched him. Waiting for permission. Linden was starting to wonder if the boy was even able to speak, or if something in his past had rendered him mute. His past had clearly rendered him a lot of things- it was figuring out what could be healed that mattered.

“Come, you can sit here,” Linden patted the wooden chair. “If you want to. You can just get a biscuit and go back to the carpet, if you’d prefer.”

It was as if Col almost started to consider it, then thought better and forced himself into the chair, curling one foot underneath him.

“Comfortable?” Another quick nod. “Okay, good.”

Linden noticed how Col seemed to relax a little at that. Baby steps, he reminded himself. It’s okay to tell him he’s good, if that’s what he needs right now.

He sat along from him, close but hopefully not too close. He tore open the packet and handed it to Col. “Here. They taste nice. You can take one and eat it.”

He peered at it, like he expected it to bite. Then, constantly checking Linden’s face as he did so, he reached in and picked one up. Linden waited patiently, then took one for himself. As he bit into it, so did Col. Okay. This was going alright.

. . .

Master was eating one too, so they weren’t poisoned. Or maybe he had just built up a resistance. Or maybe they weren’t harmful to humans, only dogs?

None of that mattered, of course. Master had ordered him to eat. His orders were odd, they weren’t barked at him like Pet’s first owner, but that didn’t make them any less unavoidable.

It did taste good. It was sweet, nothing like the sour dog food that had sustained him for years.

Pet noticed he had dropped a small crumb onto the table and quickly licked it up gratefully. He wouldn’t dare waste food given to him. It was still weird, not eating from Master’s hand.

“You don’t- it’s okay, it’s just a crumb,” Master scolded him, and Pet ducked his head at the reprimand. Maybe it was funny watching him act like a human- Master was probably laughing at the way he wobbled on the chair, and held the biscuit in his disused hands, and fed himself. He was sure any moment now Master was going to smile and tell him how stupid he looked, what a dumb dog he was.

Pet drifted back to reality at the smell of something even sweeter than his treat. It was coming from the mug in Master’s hands, held securely between his fingers, each one with a painted black nail. Master noticed him staring before Pet could look away, and he cringed. Messing up as usual.

“You want a sip? It’s herbal tea. It’s hot, mind.”

Another order. Pet nodded obediently.

. . .

It was an easy mistake, and one Linden should’ve seen coming, given how out of practice Col was with his hands. Linden let go of the mug before Col had properly gripped it. Right over Linden’s lap.

Linden was aware of the burning against his thighs before he had even seen the mug drop. He jerked up, the chair clattering to the floor behind him, and Col gasped in pure horror.

“Shit, ow, ow, ow!” he cursed automatically.

Sounds beside him. Looking over, Col was already knelt with his face to the floor, trembling all over, and Linden’s thighs were burning and he really had to do something about that first-

“Woah, no, it’s okay, it’s just an accident, I have to get these trousers off, ow…” he muttered, quickly pulling his belt out and, suddenly realising he shouldn’t be getting undressed in front of Colton, scrambling upstairs.

. . .

Pet wasn’t sure if Master was still here- he had heard noises, he thought, going upstairs, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen, every instinct telling him to stay and take his punishment like a good dog.

He had hurt Master. He couldn’t stop trembling. His mouth quivered, his breaths coming out in whines. Fat heavy tears dribbled down his cheeks and onto the floorboards.

He was so bad, such a stupid insolent mutt, and bad dogs got punished, didn’t they, bad pets who can’t behave got belted and burned. Bad pets got taken upstairs to be restrained and, and-

Pet whimpered, a full-body sob that was so close to speaking he almost vomited from fear, and ground his face against the floor, trying to make the thoughts stop. That was his old life and he had a new Master now and this one might be different, he might be worse, but he couldn’t cry before it had even started and he had burned Master’s legs, burns hurt so badly and he was so, so useless that he just wanted the pain to start right now, so he could show he was sorry.

He could feel the cartilage in his nose jostling as he rolled his head. His heartbeat was pounding into his ears. He was in so much trouble, and he was so so sorry but it wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t be allowed to use his hands ever again.

A bump, at the top of the stairs. Footsteps. Coming towards him.

His thoughts went into overdrive. Master was coming and Pet had hurt him and now Master was angry. He had never seen him light up like that before, suddenly so quick and sharp and fierce. Pet’s hands skittered by his shoulders. He could feel every joint. Would they all be broken, perhaps? Burned? It would make sense to burn them. He deserved to have them burnt, even though that made him cry harder. Or maybe Master would concentrate on his thighs. Pour boiling water on them, then make him walk. Perhaps he’d peel the burning skin off and press knives to the raw flesh and make him scream. Or maybe he’d pin Pet’s hands down and bludgeon them until they didn’t even resemble hands anymore

You braindead animal. He’s not going to pick one or the other, you fucking idiot. He’s going to do them both and you’re going to thank him.

Master was stood over him, now. Looking at his unworthy dog, grovelling before him.

. . .

Linden couldn’t imagine how he would look threatening to anyone right now, in the only pair of shorts he could find, his thighs coated in cream. He’d had to roll the shorts up past his burns, and safety pinned them there.

But he knew, he knew, that didn’t matter. He knew Col wouldn’t look up from where he was cowering on his knees, sobbing audibly, and crack a smile.

The tall person in his care looked very, very small right now. He was knelt exactly where he’d dropped to the floor. No running, no backing away. Just like he’d been trained to. It made Linden feel ill. He had to take this slowly.

“Okay, okay, I’m here,” he started, keeping his voice slow and calm, knowing that his presence was Col’s worst nightmare right now. He had lost his cool earlier and he wished he could take it back, even though it was useless blaming himself. It was a shock, and a painful one. Anyone would’ve sworn. But he still felt a twist of guilt when he saw Col lock up, frozen in fear save for his persistent trembling. Linden could tell he was trying to stop himself from crying.

“Okay, you’re allowed to cry, crying is normal. Can you look up at me?”

Col did as he was told. His mouth was wobbling downwards, his nose red from being pressed against the floor. His hands were fully curled up.

Linden didn’t have a chance to say anything more before Col’s wild, terrified eyes found Linden’s belt on the table and he whimpered, holding his hands out eerily quickly, palms up, ready and unresisting.

Linden knew that if he took the belt and slashed Col’s hands with it, the boy wouldn’t fight back at all. He’d cry and moan, but he wouldn’t fight.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m not. I wouldn’t hurt you, ever.”

He thought about putting his hands in Col’s, gently lowering them and rubbing soft circles with his thumbs, but he shook the thought away. Who knows what he might interpret that as.

Instead, he picked up the belt, feeling Col’s eyes on him while his back was turned, and threw it upstairs.

“No belt,” he said, “I won’t belt you, I won’t hurt you at all. Your hands are safe. I’m not angry with you. It was an accident. Can you look at me?”

He complied, of course he did. His eyes were burning with regret and fear.

“See my thighs? I’ve put some cream on them, to help with the burns. It’ll make them better.”

After a few seconds, Col nodded.

“You will know that burns hurt a lot,” Col whimpered, but Linden tried not to rush his words out. “That’s why I snapped. I was surprised, but not angry. I’m not angry. You can see in my face and hear in my voice that I’m calm and I won’t hurt you. Just because you spilled some tea on me, doesn’t mean you have to hurt too. It was just an accident. And I can tell you’re sorry.”

This was the magic word, it seemed. Col nodded desperately, eyes wide, as he blinked fresh tears down his face.

“Thank you. Apology accepted. It’s okay, it’s all okay. You’re safe and I won’t hurt you. In fact-“

. . .

“…And I can tell you’re sorry.”

Pet could have fainted with relief. His body was still prickling with fear, waiting for the punishment, and Pet couldn’t yet believe Master when he said he wouldn’t hurt him. But he could definitely show he was sorry.

He nodded, trying to get it just right, trying to look eager but not careless, guilty but not too pitiful.

I am so sorry, Master. Your stupid lowly animal is so sorry, your pathetic dog is sorry and won’t ever do it again, thank you for showing your slave pet mercy.

He was definitely being prepped for something, but Pet pushed it from his mind. Master was giving him a chance and he had to show his gratitude.

“Thank you. Apology accepted. It’s okay, it’s all okay. You’re safe and I won’t hurt you. In fact-“

Master walked somewhere behind him, returning a few seconds later with Jaffa in his arms, setting her down beside him.

“Jaffa always makes me feel better,” he said. Pet had no idea what he was talking about, but he nodded anyway, then leant down to kiss Master’s feet, thanking him with his body in the way that didn’t scare him. He only managed one kiss before Master stepped away, and Pet hoped it had been enough to show that he knew his place, and he was sorry, and he would do anything to please Master. It was a lot to show in a single gesture.

“I’ll be upstairs, if you need me. You’re safe, you’re okay, I’m not angry. If you want, you can cuddle Jaffa for a bit. Okay? Okay. See you in a bit, Col.”

Pet watched Master leave, his wiry legs climbing the stairs until they vanished entirely. Jaffa rubbed her cheek along Pet’s folded legs, and he nervously reached out a hand, sinking it into her fur. His hands, that he still had. Pet felt like he was starting to understand what Master was keeping him for, but he didn’t want to accept it. Instead, he stroked Jaffa and dried his eyes, the taste of biscuit still in his mouth.

(tagging: @newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @temporary-whump-sideblog @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @whumpwillow @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whumps @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @briars7)

#pet whump #dehumanisation #conditioned whumpee #burns tw #ALSO. ITS 4AM #IF THERE ARE SPELLING ERRORS IM SORRY:(#i will come back and correct them in the morning #i just wanted to get this out for you lovely lot #and i hope you all enjoy!!#linden and colton

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cher-writes · 4 years

Text

Playground Love | Klaus Hargreeves X Reader (16+)

A/N: I've always felt like Klaus had a lot of selfish lovers at some point in his life. People who didn't really love him but his masochistic tendencies made him go back to them time and time again. This one-shot is kinda on the perspective of such a lover. Hopefully you'll enjoy.

Word count: 1.3k

CW: Insinuation of Self-harm, Suicide attempts, Substance use and Sex.

Art work by: @meamme1 , Thank you so much for letting me use your gorgeous piece!

Follow the artist's insta here (or search @meamme1 on insta).

Special thanks to my beautiful friend @crisis-of-joy for being my benevolent editor.

~Yet my hands are shaking

I feel my body remain,

Time's no matter, I'm on fire

On the playground, love~

It was hard to love Klaus. But you didn’t really love him, did you?

Let’s not discount your efforts. You tried at first; perfunctory, desultory, trivial tries. And maybe you did love him, in some of those moments when he blew cigarette smoke into your open mouth in the early hours of a July hell, or when he ardently kissed your cold feet warm in the late hours of a November void.

How could you not have loved him when he cleaned the vomit, spit and snot off your face with his bare hands after you drank a bit too much, not being able to bear the sheer helplessness of January rain?

When you took him in your tart mouth after days of him sweating and trembling for some humanly unknowable reason, under the window sill as the April dusk soaked through the lifeless buildings, how could he not have loved you too?

Maybe that’s what love is, those fleeting, inconsequential moments. But deep down you both knew that there was no love between the two of you. Those moments only stuck like leaves on a tree baring itself for the fast approaching winter.

You knew, and you pretended he did too.

He came and went as he pleased, habitually whimsical. Always looking a bit different than the time before, or as much as you could care to remember. His face faded from your memory every time he left. You let him ‘cause there was no reason for you to keep him on a leash.

You two weren’t close like that.

He talked. He told you all kinds of things about himself, most of which you didn’t listen to and the parts that you did, you don’t remember. Maybe that’s why he talked to you so much, he sensed your absence.

Although you were merciful to him, never really telling him anything substantial about yourself. You didn’t need to, there was no reason to.

You two weren’t close like that.

But he knew you liked his warm hands on your hips under the blanket following a cup of hot chocolate.

You don’t really remember how you met him. It’s as if he existed in your life since the beginning of cruel time but that wasn’t the case. You can clearly remember a time before him but exactly when he appeared out of thin air, you didn’t bother to keep track of.

Then why was that, you wondered, as his tongue set fire to your loin on miserable festive evenings, you let him in your life?

Then why was that, you tried to remember, as his throat pulsed under your crude grip on hollow autumn daybreaks, you let him in yourself?

Then why was that, you furrowed your brows contemplating as his hot, panting body pressed you against the wall on doleful Friday nights, you let him stick around?

It wasn’t love, that much you knew. It wasn’t kindness either, there was no rationale for you to be kind to him. And you were beyond the capabilities to conjure pity. Then why?

As he licked the disgusting maple syrup from the side of your mouth on one unbearable Tuesday morning, it occurred to you; about the invisible and invincible ties of the universe which bestowed his company onto you. Some intangible force, some abstract fate, some obscure theory about the atoms made it so that he had to exist in your vicinity every now and then, and you didn’t have it in you to defy God.

You couldn’t defy God, but you did defy compassion on multiple occasions.

Some nights when he couldn’t close those green, exhausted eyes of his with all the strength in his supernatural world, or on the afternoons when he clutched those absurd dog-tags round his neck lying on the cold bathroom floor, you defied all of your theoretical humanity as you simply just looked away. You never knew why he did what he did. He told you, maybe, but you don’t know that either.

His existence didn’t make sense to you, it was as if a glitch in the logic behind the cosmic mechanics.

It wasn't about what he was, you weren’t oblivious to his paranormal origin. You wouldn’t say it was about who he was either.

In all honesty, you didn’t really know who he was...is. Everytime he came around he’d become a different “who.”

Rather it was the very normal about him that sent you thinking in circles. It was the very normal about him that you couldn’t align with logic, you couldn’t put in perspective.

And he warped your perception when he bit your earlobe. He toyed with your logic when he let your fingers dig a bit too deep in his flesh. He loved playing Guns N’ Roses when he put his head on your lap, and maybe he loved you too, it was impossible for you to know that, implausible for you to try.

Though there was one thing that you knew about him with indubitable certainty, he wasn't afraid of death. You’d even go on to say he had a rare fascination towards it, the type of fascination star-crossed lovers seem to have. You knew that ‘cause you saw it. He tried and tired and you stood, looking over, as his sole, soul-less witness.

He never succeeded and at times, it felt to you as if even God hated him. What kind of God doesn't grant His creation even the least bit of relief? So you played God, helping him crush his violet pills when he couldn't get up.

So you played God, letting him bleed on your kitchen counter as long as he cleaned up after himself and discarded the razor blades safely.

He’d sway in your balcony afterwards, dance to some music only the doomed could hear. He’d smile affectionately at you when he caught you looking at him through your half-asleep eyes.

“Mein egoistischer Liebhaber,” he whispered once in your ears while uncut blissful rapture fell upon you, while you pathetically crumbled under him. You didn’t know what he meant, whether it even was something or just his fervid groans taking the shape of foreign words for the amusement of the same God.

Yet those words, you recall their sound, clear as an azure lake, distinct as his emerald irises.

Their meaning didn’t ignite curiosity in you, you still don’t know what they mean. Just the way he said them felt familiar to you. And for that reason alone, you remembered them.

You remembered them every time he looked into your eyes with his dilated pupils after you denied him entry to your apartment in the dead of the night because someone else’s naked body laid across your battered bed.

“I'll crash on the couch, please...”

“No.”

“I won't disturb anyone, I promise!”

“I said no.”

But you let him in tonight, and he’s talking about something, lying beside you as your phone lets you know it’s 4am.

He’s talking about something incoherent again; some apocalypse, some catastrophe, all equally meaningless to you. He talks and talks and let’s you know, finally after a long painful soliloquy, that he has to go away again and maybe this time, he won’t return. You understood that part only, the rest brushes off your skin like mere carpet dust.

Does it bother you? You can’t tell. He says he wants to be loved tonight, very well then.

You give him what he wants. You kiss him on his parched mouth, you take him in like you’re parched of him. His honeydew skin dissolves on your tongue, his fingers wander on your bitter body with endless love. Love...what was that again?

You let him come inside of you. Let a part of him linger in you just for a bit. He kisses you on the temple. You could feel him quivering, holding onto you, tight enough to leave bruises.

He says he’ll miss you.

He asks you to turn around, face him while falling asleep.

And you shouldn’t cry but you are.

It is hard to love Klaus. And you don’t really love him...do you?

#klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader smut #robert sheehan #robert sheehan x reader #robert sheehan x reader smut #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella acedmy #klaus hargreeves smut #tua klaus #tua imagine #tua #klaushargreevesedit #klaus hargreeves imagine #Spotify

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jinxfirebolt18902 · 4 years

Text

I licked it so it’s mine - JJ Maybank Imagine

Words: 1.818

Warnings: none?

Pairing: JJ Maybank x female!reader

A/N: I got this idea from a tumblr pic that read the title in a neon light sign. English isn’t my mother tongue so prob syntax mistakes AND F**** ENGLISH PREPOSITIONS other than that I love y’all, hope you enjoy.

—Okay sweetie, go have a good day and make new friends! —She heard her mom telling her as she gently pushed her by her shoulders towards the group of little girls and boys near the teacher. She took a few steps lacking confidence, not sure she wanted to actually be a part of the class. Minutes later a blonde boy with a face that already screamed ‘trouble’ despite the young age furrowed his eyebrows at her new face. He got closer and observed her attentively making her a little uncomfortable. Matching his personality, she furrowed her brows as well and asked rudely “what?!”

The boy processed the uncommon attitude coming from a girl and smiled at the change, appreciating the feisty confrontation in contrast with the so common cries or runaways of the other little girls he used to annoy. From then on they became inseparable and her mother always invited him over to play. Their play dates often involved fights, stolen toys and ice cream. As time passed, they grew out of toys but not out of ice creams, and they kept going to the small store that sells popsicles and doing their routine: buy the popsicle, go to the dock in front of the store and sit with their feet hanging as they ate the ice cream.

One of the many times, they were nine years old and just as she was about to give her popsicle the first lick he beat her to it and she whined immediately.

—JJ! —he laughed real hard and took it from her hands, provoking his best friend to become even more angrier.

—Sorry —he shrugged his shoulders innocently and then looked at the frozen candy —But I licked it so it’s mine now.

She punched him on the right shoulder and before she stood up and got away, he handed her his still packaged popsicle with a smile. She sent him another glare before sitting down again and not talking to him for the next 5 minutes.

—C’moooon! You can’t ignore me foreverrrr —he dragged some syllables of his words as he spoke close to her just to annoy her more.

—You’re disgusting JJ.

He smiled winningly at his victory. —But you love me anyways.

Years went by, their friendship grew and their group too, with the addition of John B, and years later Pope’s and Kiara’s. After Kie finished her shift at The Wreck, Pope and JJ were done with the groceries deliveries for the Kooks and John B and she were done at the Cameron’s, each with their different tasks, the crew had agreed on meeting at The Chateau to relax and drink some cheap beers.

John B was stargazing with a nostalgic look on his face; Kie was strumming her ukelele; Pope was sitting on an old foldable beach chair while she and JJ were swinging on the big hammock, beers of can in their hands. She was struggling to open hers as she tried to avoid breaking her nails on the process. She pouted as she extended her arm holding the can to the blonde. He took it and opened it easily but before handing it back he made sure she was still looking at him and carefully dug the tip of his tongue into the little hole, earning a protest from her.

—JJ!

He smirked and enjoyed the reaction he was getting from her. —What?!

—It was my beer!!

He let out a deep laugh as his head fell backwards. —You know the rules, I licked it, so…

Their friends laughed as they nodded their heads at JJ’s passion for teasing her.

Months later, summer days began and holidays welcomed free time and Tourons in Outer Banks. New faces, new adventures, new hook ups. The gang had organized one of the very famous keggers at the Boneyard. Music resonated from someone’s speaker, 5 bonfires had small groups of teenagers of all ages sitting around talking and drinking while larger groups were dancing around the beach. She and Kie were at different fires chatting with Tourons while Pope and John B made sure everyone got their refill. JJ being JJ was sweet talking a brunette into his bed at The Chateau. So far, nothing was out of the ordinary. They were all having a good time. Things got awkward the next day, when the crew woke up and saw JJ’s brunette still there, showing no intentions of leaving. She and Kie had passed out on the pull out couch while Pope slept on the other couch but they all looked a bit shocked, and uncomfortable, at the intruder walking around the kitchen as if she belonged there with them. JJ came out of his room minutes later and got his friends curious stares for breakfast. He shrugged his shoulders and twitched the corners of his lips indicating an “I-have-no-clue-why-she’s-still-here” expression when the girl couldn’t see.

In the afternoon, the intruder announced she’d go back to her family and take a shower but also planned to meet at The Wreck for dinner. Once she left the females of the group scoffed at her.

—Dude, she stuck with us like she’s part of the Pogues, what the fuck?! —Kie complained at no one in particular, but sent JJ a quick glare.

—You gotta fix this. —She pointed her index finger into her best friend’s chest. —There is no way I’m having dinner with her.

After everyone had gone back to their place and taken a shower, shared some family time and run some errands, the Pogues agreed to get together after dinner and go for some ice cream.

—Which flavour did you ask for Kie? —she asked as she licked her cookies and cream ice cream before it dripped on her clothes and hands. Kie gave her a funny look and answered.

—Watermelon, it’s really good actually. Sweet and refreshing.

The boys came walking a few steps behind them as they pushed each other like little kids. The girls rolled their eyes but stopped on their tracks as they heard a voice calling for them. Well more specifically, for the blonde surfer and their leader.

—JJ! John B! —the same brunette they were trying to avoid rushed down to the docks they were standing on.

—Hey there… —John B answered, not wanting to be rude.

Once again, the intruder stuck to the group of friends and hung out for a few hours, constantly trying to flirt with JJ. The brunette playfully hit him whenever he teased her, gently grabbed his biceps when they were sitting down on the wooden dock and tried to get him alone by walking slower than the group, her arms circling around his waist. JJ wasn’t used to his hook ups sticking to him like this, he usually made it clear he was up for a one night stand only but this one didn’t want to give him up just yet.

The brunette had also caught interest in the intense relationship between him and his best friend. The intruder wanted to have JJ’s complete attention but his friend was kind of getting in the way of that. As a girl, she sensed his friend was purposely cock blocking him, which started a silent and very subtle war between them.

The brunette laughed at JJ’s joke and got impossibly closer to him, resting her light weight on his chest. She rolled her eyes and made a signal to Kie to make her look at the intruder and then faked a vomit earning a laugh from Kie. John B and Pope furrowed their eyebrows at Kiara’s laugh, confused at why she was laughing. Kie was the only one who could see her little act.

Moments later they decided to go around the docks and throw some rocks into the water. John B felt a bit more comfortable now and teased the brunette by trying to splash her with the rocks he threw. That was the first time through the night that she had gotten away from JJ and she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to hit back.

She got closer to her best friend and challenged him with just a look. He rolled his eyes as he smirked, knowing he was in trouble.

—Get her off our backs dude. I wanna spend time with my friends, not her! —she whispered urgently looking up at his eyes as he was taller than her.

—What do you want me to do? Tell her ‘hey me and my friends want to be alone, do you mind?’—he mocked trying to make his point clear but she was having none of it. —Yep, that sounds perfect —she smiled and taped his chest as if the whole matter was solved. He raised an eyebrow and focused his eyes on hers. A second later he had a dirty smirk on his features, then it was her turn to quirk an eyebrow. —What?

—Aren’t you jealous, are you? —his smile grew wider as her scowl deepened. He was quick to snake his arms around her middle and pull her close. —Don’t touch me. Let me go, you’re an asshole. —He pouted and cooed her. —Aww c’mon baby don’t be mad I’m not giving you attention, you know I’m yours. —she just rolled her eyes and sighed deeply as Kie laughed near them, enjoying the whole show.

When she heard too much silence, or the lack of an annoying giggle, in the back, she caught a glance from the corner of her eye and saw John B and the brunette looking at them while Pope told something about dead bodies as he drew patterns in the sand with a stick he had found.

—Careful sis, remember if you play with fire, you get burnt. —John B spoke to her in a mocking tone. The rest, except for the Touron, began laughing.

She takes her chance as JJ’s face is not that far from hers and a wicked smile painted itself on her face before implementing her idea. In less than a second she had stuck her tongue out and slid it from under his jaw up to his bottom lip making the boy freeze and set his blue orbits on her. Her eyes were already on his, shining with playfulness. She was having so much fun having her way. The laughs around her turned into gasps.

She then turned to the other girl and spoke mockingly —I licked it, so it’s mine. —the girl’s jaw fell and she winked at the blonde before walking to Kie and throwing her arm over her curly haired friend, who was wearing an incredulous expression.

—Oh my God, I can’t believe you just did that! —both began to laugh as they walked back to the van and hopefully they would all drive back to The Chateau and spend a real night of friends with no intruders.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj obx #outer banks jj

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pearl-blue-musings · 4 years

Text

Let Me Down Slowly

idea: fwb + mutual pining

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Black!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ scenarios, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, fingering, oral fem receiving, angst, I think that’s it

word count: 4.6K

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His lips find that patch of your neck that has you seeing stars as his hips grind into yours. The two of you snuck away from the celebration to find a moment alone. Who cares if it was his own birthday party? He didn’t want anyone to show up, but you knew that he would have a better time with his friends.

Tsukishima Kei would never admit that he only did this because he loves you or anything. No that wouldn’t do at all. The two of you have been best friends since being assigned to a project your first year of college. He wasn’t the biggest fan of you at first, but you crept into his life and didn’t leave. You even indulged him in his pursuits as a volleyball player which most whom he’d hooked up with didn’t care. But you did.

So why were his fingers buried deep in your pussy instead of holding your hand around his friends? Simple really: he thinks he’s not good enough to be your boyfriend and thinks you have feelings for one of his friends.

Your moans break him out of his own thoughts as he releases his lips from your neck and grumbles in your ear. “You better keep it down. Unless you want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me?”

You quickly shake your head as your grip on him tightens. After hearing you moan, his fingers worked double time and his thumb started to rub circles on your clit. You’re biting your lip so hard it may start to bleed. But that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. If this is all you can get with him then it’s all you can get. Besides, there’s no way he could ever have feelings for you. You’re not even Japanese so there’s for sure no way he’d go for you. So you’ll settle, like you always do.

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand as Tsukishima drags an orgasm out of you. He keeps finger fucking you through it until your breath is even. Your lips still taste of him, having blown him before he chose to finger you behind closed doors. Both of you satisfied, you time your exits to make it seem inconspicuous.

You realize and remember then that you’d do anything to be close to Tsukishima Kei. And that fills you with love but also an immense guilt knowing that you’re just using him. You return to the party and try to cope with the fact that that’s all you’ll ever be to him. How long have the two of you had this friends with benefits relationship?

It had started in your third year of college, your ex had recently dumped you and happened to be at the same party as you. Tsukisima had taken you out to hopefully get you to stop complaining. You had off-handedly told him he’s being nice to his friends and he playfully smacked you.

Your buzz had been keeping you high and mighty until you turned the corner and saw your ex making out and getting handsy with someone and you wanted to vomit. You had momentarily forgotten your tall friend was behind you and he promptly bumped into you.

“Oi, what’s the hold up?”

He follows your shaky stare and he sees it. His eyes narrow in on your ex and some random practically humping each other against the wall. The blond rolls his eyes as he steps in front of you and taking the lead. He purposefully bumps into your exes back, distracting him momentarily. The young man interrupted, is about to shout at Tsukishima until he spots you. A sinister smirk adorns his face as he leaves his recent conquest and stalks closer toward you.

“(Y/n), you look,” he licks his lips as his body is now merely inches away from yours, “delicious.” His lips graze over your ear sending shivers you wish you could prevent. His hands began to wander close to your hips and your anxiety skyrockets. “You know, I’m suddenly starting to regret breaking up with you. You just happened to remind me just how exotic you are and-“

He’s pulled away from you roughly and stumbles backwards. You see Tsukki’s hand wrapped around the back of their shirt and glaring daggers at your ex. “If you think of finishing that statement, I will end you. If you even think of approaching (Y/n) ever again, I will destroy you.”

He drops your ex to the ground as he struggles to get up. He wipes at his mouth and shrugs. “Whatever man, have fun with your jungle-“ He doesn’t finish his insult as he’s met with a fist to his face. You were stunned into silence. You were hurt by the words your ex had spouted at you but wasn’t surprised.

But Tsukishima punching him for you? That was jaw dropping for you.

To prevent anymore drama and attention, you grab hold of his arm and drag him through the crowd at the party making your way to the exit. As you stand outside the house, you can feel Tsukishima shake in anger. You look to him and place a calming hand on his bicep. “Tsukishima…”

“That guy is such an asshat! How could you have dated someone like him?”

“Excuse me?”

“That guy was insecure in himself and he took it out on you, talking about you like you’re lesser because you’re not…” He paused his tirade as his golden hues meet yours. Your eyes were always beautiful to him, hell everything about you was beautiful to him. The way your skin would glow in the sun at sunset, the dexterity of your hair, how almost any color looked good on your skin; he loved it all. But he couldn’t tell you any of that. You wouldn’t go for someone so lame as him.

You meet his gaze, wanting him to finish his sentence. Does he love you? You sure as hell hope he does. Because no ordinary good friend would go that far for you, let alone defend you in the manner he did. God, how long have you been in love with him? Was it after you two successfully presented your project, or when he picked up your favorite snacks for your late night study session? You’re not entirely sure, but maybe just maybe something can change tonight.

But are you ready for a relationship after running into your ex? Would Tsukishima act the same way?

“Tsukki.”

“Shut up,” he breathes and leans in to kiss you. His hands find his way to your cheeks as he holds you close. Your hands find support in his arms as the kiss deepens. His hands move from your cheeks and trail down to your waist to pull you into hips, expressing his desire and want for you. You let a moan slip from your throat and fuels the fire within him. With your lips slightly open, he sneaks his tongue into your mouth deepening the kiss. When the need for air became imminent, the pair pulls away breathing heavily and getting lost in each others eyes.

His blown out and lust filled golden eyes bare into yours as thousands of thoughts run through your mind. His hands never leave your body as his fingers graze up and down your torso. “My car. Now.”

You never knew Tsukishima was so talented with his fingers. The way they perfectly fit around your ass, the way your pussy easily takes in three of them bringing you to release with his tongue, the way they taste in your mouth as you suck on them as he pounds into you with his dick. God his cock was magical. The way it hit your cervix and had you seeing stars with every thrust was euphoric. It was the drug that kept you high and dazed and you never wanted the buzz to end. His hands were practically made to cup your breasts and his tongue meant for your nipples and your clit. You lost count of how many times you came but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was how good he was making you feel. Fuck, you love him.

You love him?

If he had to make any kind of comment it would be how you were made for him. Your throat and pussy were ruined for anyone else and he wanted to keep it that way. Your slick cunt was made for his and his cock alone as he fucked you into the leather seats. His hands belong on your hips, and fuck, the contrast of your skin against his was gonna make him cum early. The way you moaned his name, called him sir and master had him shooting blanks into you and cursing your name. The taste of your juices and skin is a taste he can find himself addicted to and, shit he only wants you to make that face for him. Just for him, all for him because he loves you.

He loves you?

45 minutes later and his car windows are covered in condensation. The car smells of sweat and sex as you lay on top of Tsukishima’s strong and taut body. His hand stays on your lower back as he breathes into your ear.

“Tsukki?” Your question caught him off guard as he hums in response. “I wanna do this again.”

You feel him chuckle underneath you. He sits up a bit to turn your head and kiss him. “I mean I’m down for another round right now, I thought you needed a break.” You smack his chest which earns another laugh from him. He sees your eyes roll and some dread fills him, so he thinks of what is best for the both of you. “You mean like friends with benefits?”

That response shocks you, but you’re not surprised. This is Tsukishima Kei after all, there’s no way he’d want a relationship with you, and vice versa. “Yeah, like that,” you mumble out and lay back down on his warm skin.

Tsukishima quirks his eyebrow and sits on his elbows. “Is that what you want shortcake?”

“Don’t call me that, it’s embarrassing!”

He snickers, “well maybe I just have to call you that more often.” He kisses you softly again at your flustered state, “shortcake.”

You playfully hit him and bury your face in his chest. If only you had feelings for him back, he would revel in this moment longer and not consider it fleeting. He sighs deeply at his dilemma and nods. “Deal, we’ll just use each other for our bodies but stay friends.

“Right, shortcake?”

***************

He drank more than he should have tonight. He was with his old high school friends after watching their match, being jealous of how much better they’ve gotten but also seeing his own room for improvement. Sure this wasn’t their first matchup but still. He had invited you to the game, wanting you to hang out with his close friends from high school and to see something important to him. Your response had surprised him, and hurt but he wouldn’t let you know that.

“Oh yeah! I got invited by Hinata Shoyo! We met at the other game y’all had against each other and told me to come. So I’ll see you there?”

Tsukishima isn’t sure why that bothered him so much. So what if Hinata invited you to the same game? It’s not like you like him or something. Or maybe you do? He is a nicer guy, grew and filled out since Brazil… poor guy has so many people after him so it’s only a logical thing he thinks. Maybe you’ve fallen under his spell too. Since Hinata was overseas, he probably knows how to treat you better anyways. He’s been stuck in Japan all his life so of course the orange haired man is a viable and better choice. Not him. Never him.

But he knows he shouldn’t have responded so meanly to you.

He doesn’t even like Yachi that way. They’re just close friends and from what Tadashi has told him she and the freckled man are dating. So why did he tell you he’d only be sitting with her? He tries to erase the sadness in your expression as he tells you to sit in your boy toy’s seat seeing as you’re wearing his jersey. You stormed off then and sat by yourself. Sure you cheered for your new friend Hinata, but you couldn’t help but look to the tall bespectacled blond every now and then.

Maybe just maybe you’ll accept Hinata’s date offer…

So why was Tsukki drunk texting you as if you weren’t at the same bar?

Tsukki: heyyy

Hey??

Tsukki: is he betttt er than me???

What are you talking about?

Tsukki: don’t be stupid, that orange haired fucker

You mean Shoyo?

Tsukki: first name basis huhhh? You fuck every guy you meet after two times?

Tsukki: that’s all it took for us

Shut up, I’m not sleeping with him and you know that’s not true

Tsukki: you expect me to believe that??

I don’t have time for this, I’m fucking leaving

Tsukki: wait don’t, don’t go pls

Tsukki: Y/n?

Tsukki: fuck don’t go with him

You couldn’t deal with drunk Tsukki right now. Just what the hell is his problem? You turn off your phone and place it in your purse, sulking into your hand as you ask for another drink deciding against leaving. Being absorbed in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized the seat to your left suddenly became occupied.

“Hey! How are you doing? Did you enjoy the game?”

Your turned and are met with the bouncy Hinata, opting for a water to keep himself from being too drunk. You chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Heh, I’m doing alright and yes I enjoyed the game! I wanna thank you for inviting me.”

Hinata shyly giggled as he sips his water. “It really was nothing! I’m honored you wore my jersey! Was it comfortable?”

His energy was turning your night around and it made you smile with ease. “I really liked it. Would it be bad if I wanted to keep it?”

“No not at all! As long as you come to my other games?” When Hinata wanted something, he goes for it, and this time this something just happened to be you. He had met you, ironically, at one of Tsukishima’s birthday parties when he came back and he’s been hooked on you ever since. He knew you and the tall blond were close but was unaware of the nature of your friendship. He reached out to place his palm on yours, hoping you won’t shy away from him or his attempts at advancing on you. His hand felt warm and confident as you tried to avoid thinking of the differences from his hand and Tsukishima’s hands. Those hands that had held your thighs apart while he tongue fucked you into oblivion; the same hands that smacked your ass so hard you could barely feel it when you would ride him. Nope, not those hands. Only Hinata’s hands right now. Just those hands.

You place your other hand on top of his and tilt in closer toward him. “If I won’t be a distraction then yes, I’ll come to more of your games.”

A broad smile breaks out on the mans tanned face. “Really? That’s great! I have to admit, I was a little nervous about asking you this.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“I, uh, well. I thought you were with Tsukishima. You kept looking at him a lot and he looks at you a lot too! I noticed it at the party we met at about a year ago. So I was scared, but my teammates helped me get the courage to talk to you. Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble on.”

You chuckle a bit and reassure him it’s okay. But was it? Is it really okay for you to be thinking about Hinata like this when you’ve spent so long in love with someone else? Maybe it was time for you to move on.

“Tsukishima and I are just friends. Nothing more…” You tried to cover up your despair over saying those words out loud, but it barely passed by him. Hinata may only have volleyball on the brain, but he has gotten really good at reading people.

So he lowers his head and voice and whispers so only you can hear: “You love him, don’t you?”

You almost slap the drink on the counter when those words register in your ears. A cough emits from your throat as you try and fail to catch your breath. The sound of glass sliding on countertop and your coughs earned you a few turned heads, including a shaggy haired blond glaring daggers past you. “Hinata, that’s, that’s ridiculous. We’re just friends.”

“Aw come on you don’t have to lie to me!” His infectious smile reaches you as grab ahold of his hand again. “I’m not the one-brained person everyone thinks I am, (Y/n). Tsukki is my friend and it wouldn’t be right for me to ask you out knowing he loves you too!”

Your eyes widen at that. Tsukishima Kei, in love with you? Yeah right. Maybe when flip phones make a resurgence then maybe but never. Never. Never?

“Hinata please, don’t break my heart more than it already is. I know he doesn’t, I mean look at me. I don’t look like Yachi or, or anyone here…” you trail off as you feel a few tears fall from your eyes. Hinata is quick to wipe them away being careful of your makeup. You unknowingly lean into his touch and hold the hand caressing your cheek. When was the last time you were touched with such care? (When Tsukishima cuddled you after he fucked your brains out and you were crying over the fact that the two of you would only ever amount to this. He had no idea why he was consoling you but he just did it anyways. About three weeks ago to be exact.)

You want to kiss him. You know Hinata would treat you right despite his intense volleyball schedule. You know that he has some feelings for you and you think you could grow into them. You know you could. And you want to. It would hopefully stop the ache in your heart and what could be better than that? You’re so close, you can feel his breath on your lips but you can’t.

You can’t do it.

You start to pull away when you hear a ruckus behind you, catching your attention. Kuroo, you think, is berating someone and you see Bokuto and Atsumu, yeah him, laughing at Tsukishima’s wobbly retreating figure. You turn back around to Hinata and he has a knowing look and smile on his face.

“Go to him, okay? I’ll be alright!”

**************

Fuck that pissed him off.

How could you do that in front of him? You touched him like how he wanted you to touch him and that irked him. He couldn’t stand to see you be happy with someone that wasn’t him. Why couldn’t he just tell you? Why couldn’t he be strong and enough for once in his life where it counts and tell you he loves you. Always has, always will.

He shouldn’t have let Kuroo and Bokuto’s words get to him.

“Whoa Tsukki, I didn’t know that Hinata knew (Y/n)-chan!” Bokuto excitedly states, making everyone at the tabletop to look at you and Hinata. Tsukishima may have kept his stare neutral, but the grip on his glass told another story.

Kuroo followed his line of sight and then down to his friend’s glass. “That’s her isn’t it, Tsukki?”

“Knock it off.”

Kuroo’s smirk widens as he presses on. “Your, as you said, fuck buddy right? Do you think she’s been fucking you but dating Hinata on the side? That would suck, huh?”

Tsukishima’s hardening golden glare shifts to the cat like man as he avoids the thoughts running rampant in his brain. “I said,” he hissed, “to knock it off,” he accents every word.

That only makes Kuroo snicker. “Please, if you really had feelings for her like you’ve mentioned on many a drunken night then you would’ve done something by now. Am I right?”

The silent angry blond had nothing to say as his anger dissipates. He has a point unfortunately. He’s a coward and he knows it. But he knows you deserve the world and he doesn’t think he’s enough for you. You’re meant to be shown off and unbound, sharing your light with the world; he would only hold you back he surmises. You deserve better than him.

“She deserves better than-“

“Oh shit are they about to kiss?!”

That was the final straw for him. He abruptly stands, but spills his drink all over him. Who cares, he’s already decently drunk so one less drink is fine in his book. Kuroo tried to stop him but his buds keep on laughing, Atsumu joining in on the laughter. But Tsukishima shakily steps out of the bar, unaware that he was being followed.

The air awakens his senses a bit as he takes a deep breath. His mind contemplates his next move. He’s lost. He was too weak. Hinata had surpassed him in something else and now he has to live with that he just can’t fucking deal with-

“Tsukki?”

He feels the tug on his jacket before he hears and sees you. Your eyes look distressed as you take in his visage. Your eyes soften as you see the spill and pull out your purse to try and clean it up. You’re close to wiping it up when his hand wraps around your wrist.

“Stop it.”

“You have a stain, and unless you want to smell like liquor for the rest of the night then let me help.”

He snatches his hand back and starts to walk away from you. “I don’t need your help.”

You’re about to speed up but mumble a fuck it and step out of your heels to catch up with the tall blond. “Hey! Don’t walk away from me!”

You almost run into him since he stopped suddenly, waiting for you. “Why did you take off your shoes? Do you have any idea how gross these streets are?”

“I wouldn’t have done it,” you pant, “if you and your long noodle legs didn’t waltz away from me! Now tell me what’s wrong.”

He rolls his eyes and looks back down to you. “Nothing is wrong.”

“Bullshit!”

The two of you stand there waiting for the other to say something. Tsukishima reaches for his phone and starts typing.

“What are you doing,” you exasperate.

“Calling us an Uber, shortcake.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, would you prefer Hinata’s girlfriend?”

“Oh my god we’re not dating or sleeping together!”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You stand farther away from him as your anger radiates. “You’re impossible.” You sit on a nearby bench as the two of you wait for the Uber. Once it arrives, you see that you’re headed to your apartment. “Why not yours?”

“Yours is closer,” he whispers.

“Hmm.”

The ride is silent except for the soft music being played and some nightlife with your window partially rolled down. You recognize the outside of your building as the car comes to a stop. The two of you get out and the car pulls away. Tsukishima starts walking up like usual but you stop him.

“We’re not going in until you tell me what’s bothering you.”

He shrugs, “then I guess we’ll be out here for a while.”

You want to pull out your hair you’re getting so angry. “Kei I can’t keep doing this! I’m gonna go inside and you’re gonna go home and sulk and be a fucking asshole because I’m not dealing with this.”

You hadn’t called him Kei in a long time and now he wants you to say it again. But he’s met with your back as you walk forward to enter your building. “Shortcake…”

“No,” you swiftly turn around. “You don’t get to call me shortcake, or sweetie, or baby girl or, or nothing! You’ve been acting like a real douchebag all night and I’m sick of it! You won’t open up to me! What did I do to deserve this?” You hadn’t realized how frustrated you were as more tears fall down your cheeks.

“Nothing,” he whispers. “Hah, you didn’t do anything. Please don’t cry.”

You’re now rubbing at your eyes harshly, disregarding your makeup. “How can I not? You accuse me of sleeping with Hinata when I’m not. You won’t answer my questions about why you’re so upset. I really wish I didn’t…” you trail off, realizing what you were about to say. “Forget it, I’ll see you whenever Tsukki.”

“Wait, (Y/n). I’m…

“I’m sorry.”

The softness in his voice was foreign to you but it made you unclench your shoulders and turn to him. You see his hands are held together and his eyebrows are furrowed together. You’ve never seen him like this and you wonder if maybe he’s just super drunk and needs to go inside.

“Hey, I’ll take you inside to get you some water and-“

“I love you, shortcake.”

Your purse and shoes fall onto the concrete as your heart skips a beat. Your lip trembles as you want to cry, scream, shout, reach out to him. Did he really say what he said?

“What,” you stutter, “what did you say?”

Feeling more confident and less angry, he closes the distance between the two of you. “I love you, shortcake.” He kisses your forehead and lowers his voice. “Always have,” he kisses your cheek while holding your face in his hands. “Always will,” his sweet breath tickles your lips and he places his lips over yours. This kiss, was probably the softest and most sensual kiss the two of you have ever shared.

Your arms naturally wrap around his neck to pull him closer to you. Is this real? Is this actually happening? You break apart as you feel him wipe away a tear on your cheek. “Damnit,” you mutter, “I’m crying so much today what the fuck.”

Kei just chuckles and gazes into your eyes. “I said what I said, and I’m not taking it back.”

“And you think I want you to? Fuck, Kei I’ve been in love with you for so long. I thought, I thought that there was no way you could ever love me in the way I love you.”

He silently hums in accordance as he holds you to him. “I never had feelings for Yachi.”

“I only considered Hinata to try and move on from you.”

“You know we’re nothing alike right?”

You laugh and look up at him. “Shut up and kiss me.” His eyes roll a little but he captures you lips one more time in front of your building. His tongue licks at your bottom lip making you moan into his lips. His grip on your hips tightens and you can already feel him semi hard against your body.

“Really Kei? You know that it’s just whiskey dick right?”

“You really know how to ruin the mood.” He picks up your shoes and purse and using his free hand extends it to you. You had always known his hands fit your perfectly but this is almost too much perfection. As you make your way to the elevator and press the button for your floor, he leans over the whisper in your ear.

“My dick may be limp, but at least I know I can eat and finger fuck your pussy all night.”

The next morning you were sure your neighbors were going to complain but with your hoarse voice, it’d be hard to tell them your boyfriend and love of your life was just treating you right.

#tsukishima x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima kei x black!reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x black reader #my writing #i did the thing

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lizzy-williams · 4 years

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦.

★Warnings: SMUT, language, drug references, that good shit

★Theme song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTOiK8I2QsE

Cigarettes by Amir Obe

masterlist

★A/N: Holy shit my horny ass is too much-

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗛𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗛𝗜𝗠. God, you hated him. You were but a simple tag along with the band, in charge of pyrotechnic ‘mumbo jumbo’ as he would call it. You were actually a cousin of Rook’s, and some how you got roped into everything.

The worst part? The person you hated was your boss. Colson fucking Baker. An egotistical hot-head, in your opinion. But you did it for Rook, and Rook alone. He was your favorite family member, and you two were best friends as children, and best friends now.

It was the night of the release of one of the singles Colson was working on for weeks. And now that it was finally out there, he took the group out to go out and party, including you.

“Do this for Rook, do this for Rook” you would tell yourself over and over again as your car pulled up to the ‘special club’ Colson invited everyone to.

But the big red neon sign grabbed your attention as you turned off the ignition and you felt like you were gonna vomit.

“A strip club??” Rook said from the passenger seat, practically bouncing up and down like a child.

You gave him a warning look, making him shut his mouth and look away.

You took a deep breath in. “Do this for Rook, do this for Rook,”

As you walked in, you immediately were taken back by the scent of expensive cologne and cheap alcohol almost slapping you across the face. You saw neon lights everywhere, enough lighting to make anyone have a seizure.

You suddenly felt Rook take your hand, leading you to where he saw the rest of the gang. Everyone was sitting there, looking as tipsy as ever. Of course, you weren’t surprised.

“Heyyy!” Colson raised his drink to Rook, a look of happiness crossing his face.

“Hey short-fuse.” he said, unenthusiastically, making you roll your eyes.

You hated when he called you that. You weren’t usually so short with people. Some would say you were one of the sweetest people they’ve met. But with him, it was different.

You let out a short, “Hi,” before you went to the bar to get a drink.

You didn’t want to be a bitch to him all the time. In fact, you wanted to be his friend. You liked him. But his cocky attitude was the thing that you hated most, which was ultimately his downfall.

Hopefully this wasn’t going to be a night that you would regret.

The night had gone by slowly, Colson oggling at the half-naked girls on the poles. That seemed like the only way to catch his attention. Flash your tits, and your in.

Rook had already gone home with a girl, and you made sure that he was safe. Even though you knew your cousin could handle himself, it never stopped you from worrying. That was your job. You were like an older sister.

You were now left with the rest of the band. As much as you hated to admit it, you were truly staying behind to make sure that Kells didn’t do anything stupid.

Lo and behold, you heard the exact thing you were trying to prevent. You didn’t see the whole thing, but from what the rest of the band were yelling, it wasn’t fucking good. You pushed past the group surrounding the scene.

There he was, straddling a guy and beating the shit out of him, his rings leaving gashes on his face. You bolted towards him, trying to pull him off the poor guy.

“Kells, what the fuck are you doing?!! Get the fuck off!” You yelled, Baze and Slim doing their best to stop him as well.

You then were slammed in the face by Colson’s elbow, your form stumbling back, your hand automatically going right where you were hit.

THAT FUCKER BUSTED YOUR LIP.

That’s when you about lost it, and by that time, Kells was pulled off the guy, the guys holding him back. You grabbed his ear, and despite the size difference, he was pliant as you pulled him to the front doors, stepping outside.

“What the FUCK were you thinking?!” you yelled, not caring if anyone heard.

“That prick kept trying to show me up by tipping one of the girls more. He got verbal, so I got physical.” he acted like it was no big deal and your blood boiled.

“You could have been arrested.” you snapped back as you watched his eyes drift down to your lip.

“Did that guy do that to you?” he asked, furious, pointing in the direction of the guy through the glass doors, “I’ll fucking kill him.”

He gripped the handle to the door until you stopped him, “No. You did this.” you responded.

His face dropped, his eyes going soft, his hands reaching up and cupping your face. You pushed his hands away.

“You have a problem.”

“Oh, I have a problem.” he scoffed.

“You act on impulse, not logic, and that is a problem.” you retorted.

He turned to the doors of the club, until you stopped him once again, making his gaze snap to yours.

“No. No way in hell, I’m taking you home.”

“Why?” he asked, annoyed.

“Because your drunk and I doubt the manager wants you in there anymore. Now get in my car.”

As much as he wanted you to be wrong, you were actually right. And he really, really, didn’t want to deal with law enforcement.

“Fine.” he sighed out, walking over to your car and getting in the passenger side.

Me: 1. Colson: 0

As you drove, you let out a sigh in defeat. You did over react. Even if you did have a split lip.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. I just... don’t want you to get in trouble. I care about you, and I know it might not always seem like it, but I do.” your words tumbled out of your mouth as you saw him look at you with an unreadable expression.

“Thanks.” he mumbled.

You gave Kells a few sympathetic looks as he looked out the window of your car, not bothering to say anything else. You couldn’t help but have a twinge of guilt.

As your car pulled up to Colson’s house, you two awkwardly shuffled inside, Colson quiet. The silence was becoming overbearing. You walked to the kitchen, wetting a paper towel and placing it on your lip at an attempt of cleaning it.

Colson just stood there, leaning up against the counter, and you could feel his gaze burning in the back of your neck. You turned around and saw him looking at you.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” you motioned, walking up the stairs as Colson begrudgingly followed.

As you entered his room, you looked around. Christ, it was a mess. Bottles and clothes scattered about.

“Jeez, at least get a maid,” you smiled at him, trying to be playful.

Colson’s eyebrows furrowed, “Are you always going to criticize every single thing I do?”

You looked for his usual twinkle in his eyes when he would say something playful towards you, but his glare was stone cold.

“Well, I was trying to be nice!” you snapped back.

“Yeah, for once!”

“Bite me.” you growled.

“I just might.”

He suddenly grabbed you, making you let out a yell of anger.

“Let me go, jackass!” you squirmed in his grip, but he wasn’t letting up.

He held you until you calmed down, his body pressed up completely against yours. In a weird way, you felt better. You then realized the position you were in. You took note of his arms... and his hands. You had fantasize about those hands for as long as you could remember.

You were able to turn around in his grip, and you were now face to face with him. You don’t know why you made your next action, but you did. You hugged him.

And to your surprise, he hugged you back. Even though his impulsive acts made you angry at times, and he was a bad influence on your cousin in your opinion, you knew that someway, somehow, you had an attraction to the blond boy.

You pulled away, “I gotta go home.”

“You don’t have to,” he muttered, his pupils blown wide with... lust?

“Colson,” you mumbled in a defeated tone.

“Don’t go,” you heard him mutter, his lips almost touching yours.

You were pissed off. He had all this time to make a move, and he’s deciding to do it now!?

Fuck it.

You kissed him angrily, your hand gripping his shirt tightly as your lips danced with his, making him groan into your mouth.

You had never acted like this. He was the only person that could make you act out like this. And you fucking loved it. As your senses were over-taken by want and lust, you swiftly unbuttoned his shirt, panting as he detached his lips and slipped your shirt over your head, you jeans some how magically unbuttoned and pulled down.

You slipped out of everything, leaving the both of you in your underwear. All of his tattoos were on display, and normally you would look at them and admire them, maybe even counting them, but you were too wrapped up in your own scorching need to notice.

You pulled on his arm, dragging him to the bed and shoving him down on the bed harshly. He wasn’t the only one angry, leaning up and grabbing your throat, reconnecting your lips for another ravenous kiss.

You took his boxers off, discarding them behind you as you took off your own bra and underwear, pushing him back down, straddling him. Your pussy rubbed up against his hard shaft, making his groan at the contact.

He suddenly flipped you both over, kissing you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulled off.

He didn’t even bother to put a condom on. You knew you both wanted it fast, hard, and raw. He suddenly slipped in, making you let out a loud moan as he grunted in pleasure, relying on your slick to act as a lube.

Soon he stared to angrily pound into you, both of you loving the sounds of the skin contact, Colson leaning down and kissing your neck harshly, sucking, licking, and biting as you heard him whisper deviously degrading words into your ear.

“You like that huh? Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to take this tight pussy and make it mine?”

All you could do is let out noises of pleasure as he continued on, trust faster and harder with every time your core clenched around him.

“Fuck-- I-I’m gonna... c-cum,” was all you could let out.

“Go on, babygirl, cum for me. Cum for me and know that I’m the only one who can make you feel this good,” he bit your earlobe.

“FUCK!!” you cried out, your core clenching around him as you felt yourself slip into your nirvana, your pussy gushing as you felt your mind go fuzzy.

Your climax pushed your lover into his own, curses and repeats of your name spilling from his mouth like a prayer.

As you both calmed down, he laid beside you as you caught your breath.

“So. You think you like me just a little bit?” Colson asked snidely.

“Shut up, jackass.”

((This isn’t my best writing. Kinda hate it. Might delete it.))

#mgk #lace up #alpha omega #tickets to my downfall #mgk x reader #mgk x reader smut #mgk smut #machine gun kelly #hotel diablo #rookxx #slimxx #bazexx #dubxx #colson baker #the dirt #mötley crüe #tommy lee

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b1ksh88p · 3 years

Text

Be Mine Chapter 3

Plot: A storm is brewing in Valentine, and you’re in the middle of it. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Harry and there’s already been a horrendous murder. With tensions high and everyone finger pointing your ex, Edmund, makes everything worse by spreading gossip. With the sting of rejection still weighing heavy on your heart you attempt to clear everything up only to make things worse.

Describing your mood as sour would be a understatement. You were numb. A grey cloud loomed over your usual cheery exterior as you went through day to day activities. Whenever someone asked if you were alright you’d chalk it up to trivial excuses. When in actuality you were torn that you’d been stupid enough to try and have a picnic with a killer. If you were sane maybe you’d tell the Sheriff and get some of his boys in uniform to smoke Harry out somehow but you had no taste for revenge. All you wanted was to move on.

But it seemed your ex had other plans. You worked in the diner, usually taking up the night shifts to rid yourself of boredom. As you were cleaning a table you overheard a couple chatting away about you of all topics. Why your name was in their mouths you didn’t know but from what you got out of it made you want to raise hellfire.

“I heard she goes down there every night to see that killer.”

“Edmund said that the sherif saw her go in with food and came out empty handed.”

“No way, maybe she’s a killer.”

There’s no way you could allow these two peons spread such outlandish babble. You’ve never killed anyone nor would you ever. The thought of murdering another made you sick to your stomach. “Edmund is a long-nosed good for nothing asshole who spends his time making up calumniations and dumping his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day for a dumb blonde with a baby voice. You two and the rest of your bubble headed friends would be fools to believe anything that comes out his mouth.” You finish with a astute turn into the back for a extensive smoke break.

If you saw Edmund or that sleazy sheriff you’d be sure to give them a piece of your mind. And speak of the devil, there he was. Your blood was replaced with boiling water as you stomped your way towards him. He was with the sherif and some other random cop you didn’t know. Both of them saw you coming and started to drift apart before you whistle and jogged towards the two snakes.

“Where we going boys? Running away from the new killer of the town?”

“Now listen Y/N I didn’t mean to start anything.” The sheriff assured.

You weren’t impressed. “You’re just the last one seen in the mines so...it makes sense.” Edmund shrugged.

“And you were the last one fucking the blonde bimbo you cheated on me with and she has crabs....so it makes sense right?” You snap back garnering a chortle from the other cop.

“It’s not my fault you’re a boring bitch who can’t get anyone to date you except for some psycho?!” He growled.

“I’m not dating anyone and I’m not a killer. Instead of gossiping like little girls how about you three go investigate and find the real killer.” You throw down the cigarette and stomp it out beneath your heel.

“We apologize if we’ve caused you any trouble Miss, we’re doing the best we can.” The Sheriff whispered.

“Keep my name out your ass licking mouths and out the fucking paper.” You demand before walking back inside the diner.

After your shift you began to walk home. The ominous glow of streetlights did little to scare you. On your way to you lovely home you stopped by the liquor store. A bit tipsy you ventured the winding fucked up roads. The quiet sounds of the night were ruined by the sounds of sirens. It had been what? 72 hours and some change since the last murder what the hell could the coppers be speeding for? Even in your mildly drunken stupor you noticed where they were heading. The mines. Sober you would’ve kept walking like any sane person but you were running on anger, worry, and rum. A mix that didn’t bode well when making good decisions.

You knew a shortcut through the trees and made haste. By the time you fought through flora and fauna two cars were already there. The sheriff and Edmund were there holding lanterns and guns. You step out from behind the trees, face bathed in red and blue lights. Softly stepping towards the shit show. “What the fuck are you two asswipes doing?!” You call out as you make your way to the entrance of the mine. Before they can stop you you’re in front of the cold entrance.

“You protecting your boyfriend again?” Edmund spat as he loaded his gun.

“You don’t have a gotdamn clue who killed those two. It takes you dumb mother fuckers months to even get close to closing a case!”

“We know he’s down there Y/N and he’s gonna fucking burn for what he did. And if you gotta burn with him so fucking be it!” He aimed the gun at you which almost made you piss yourself. You stumble back as he aims it at you. The thumping of your heart beat in your ears.

“I’m not you enemy! And neither is he!” Your words were bold but hoarse.

“That son of a bitch killed family. I don’t care what you think he’s going to die, and if I have to shoot you to get to him I fucking will!” The sheriffs attempts to calm down Edmund were futile. He had his eyes on you. They were large and red and full of rage. He looked like a rabid animal and you his prey.

“...You’re angry I get that but this is a mob attack not a lawful pick up. You have no evidence-“

“DONT GIVE ME A FUCKING LESSON IN LAW BITCH I AM THE FUCKING LAW!” He shot at the ground beneath your feet sending dirt into your eyes. The muffled scolding from the sheriff did nothing to stop your beating heart. In fact there were bigger problems.

Another shot cracked through the night sending you to the ground covering your head. The grotesque sound of choking made you gag. The Sheriff was on the ground, clambering hands grabbing at the gaping hole in his chest as he bled out. Edmund was in shock. He held the man’s dead hand with wide eyes. Perfect time to get away. You book it into the mines. It was dark and cold, even chillier with a fresh murderer on your heels. At first you didn’t hear him but a shot echoed through the caves followed by some demands for you and Harry to reveal yourselves. That wasn’t happening so you keep running, ducking into random corridors to try and throw him off your trail.

Apart of you was afraid of running into Harry. What if he was angry at you? Running into one killer to escape the other was a chance you really didn’t want to take. You’d rather wait it out and hide. Hopefully Harry would take care of Edmund and you could run away without interacting with either of them. You stop running to hide in a old mining cart that was turned over. Covering your mouth with shaking hands you listen. A heavy set of footsteps past you, Edmund more than likely. It wasn’t like Harry to be so loud. He taunted what you assumed were the shadows to face him like a real man. He didn’t really see him right? You wish you could peek but you were far to afraid you’d get your head blown off.

“So that’s what you look like. Y’know it’s crazy. You don’t look like a monster.” He cocked the gun. “Tell me how you did it. How you killed my dad you fucking monster.” He demanded.

There was no response on Harry’s end. You hear something fall to the ground and then Edmund’s smug laughter. What the hell was going on? You quietly peak from out your hiding space. The minimal lighting made the scene hard to make out but by the looks of it Harry had...given up. He had thrown his pick axe ahead of him, taken off the mask, and dropped to his knees. A gloved hand on the barrel of the gun pointing it to his head. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was he insane? Edmund goes into a end game spill about how long he’s waited to do this. How he’d pin the Sheriff’s and I’s murder on Harry and walk out the mines a hero. During this you start to crawl towards them, ready to rush him or throw a rock, anything to buy Harry time. Your chest is tight as you hold your breath. Nearing the both of them as quietly as you possibly can. Edmund cocks the gun and says something to the effect of “everyone dies, somebody should’ve take your sorry ass out long ago.” Before you hear a shot.

It hits the ceiling once you use all your might to swing Harry’s pickaxe into Edmund’s head, through his cheek. The blast was so close to Harry he fell back in pain. Edmund leans on the wall holding the left side of his face, still turned away from you. When he does look at you all the blood drains from your body. His tongue hung from the broken jaw like a salivating dog, torn flesh dangled around missing teeth, with so much flesh exposed blood spritzed out every time he moved closer to you. He couldn’t move his jaw so when he spoke it was a gurgled cacophony of rage and disbelief. You lift the pick axe once more but see him lift the shotgun and take aim. This makes you freeze like a deer in headlights. You close your eyes, bracing for impact. But to your surprise it never comes. Instead Harry had gotten up and tackled him, only problem was that he got shot.

The two men fell to the ground. Edmund kicking him off and frantically reaching into his pocket for two more shells. Without thinking you kick the gun from his hands. He tried to get up but you stomp on his chest with all the rage bottled up inside. He looks up at you with that mangled face and large eyes but mercy was the last thing on your mind. You look over him, raise the crude weapon, and allow the cold metal to pierce through his chest. You let out a exasperated scream as you continue your onslaught. Hammering down years of neglect, wasted time, slander, and abuse into what’s left of his broken body. When you’re done he’s left torn apart. Rib cage broken and organs exposed. In all the madness you vomit from the stress and overall exertion of energy you used up. The groans from Harry snap you back to reality and you go to aid him.

“Oh god oh shit hold on hold on.” You ramble. Your hands try their best to cover the wound. He was shot in the side. Luckily it wasn’t a direct hit but without medical attention it was gonna get nasty. You use Edmund’s jacket to help stop the bleeding. He was just staring at you. “What? What the hell are you gonna yell at me for now???” You yell trying not to cry. He lifts a bloody hand to your face.

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z

#harry warden #slasher #slashers #fanfic

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

Out Tonight (Part 4)

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Summary: The morning after your drunken hookup with Rafael Barba, continued. More awkwardness and unpacking the dubcon.

3,294 words

You had been nervous waking up next to a stranger. You knew you’d both been drunk, and caught up in a karaoke dream. Now that the night’s carefree energy had worn off, and the glamorous glow of stage lights were replaced by the garish light of day, you were worried things would be awkward.

Of course, you had pictured something more along the lines of, he would think you were ugly, or you would freeze up and blurt something stupid, or he’d slip his wedding ring out of his pocket, put it back on his finger, and smack you on the ass as he swaggered out, and you’d feel like an idiot.

You had not expected the shitstorm of him not remembering anything.

He was drunk, but with the way he was spouting off legal advice, you would never have imagined he was blackout drunk. You never imagined waking up to being accused of drugging him. God—this was what you got for letting loose for once. It always seemed so glamorous when your college roommates brought guys home after a night of partying, but of course the one time you do, you’re a sexual predator. Fuck!

Then again, it was starting to make sense. Because immediately after accusing you, he practically tried to arrest himself. The open, flirtatious charmer you met at the bar was so unlike this tightly-wound ball of anxiety, he must have been down to his last brain cell last night. It was just that each and every one of his brain cells happened to contain the entire New York bar exam.

But that didn’t make you a predator, did it? He was fine. Maybe not fine, but not… It wasn’t like he was unconscious. Oh, god, was that really how low you wanted to set the bar? It’s fine to take advantage of drunk people so long as they haven’t passed out yet? Or so long as they’re men? Your stomach turned. Everything he said about filing charges against him… suddenly you were certain you were the one who should be standing in front of a grand jury.

***

Barba waved the compact hotel-provided blow dryer over his freshly washed and rung out boxers. His pants and shirt would need to be ironed before he would dare leave the hotel room (it was bad enough that he had none of his usual hair product and was already dreadfully fuzzy), but the large ironing board wouldn’t fit inside the small hotel bathroom. He would have to go back out there, but he didn’t have a change of pants. He wondered if would be appropriate to walk around in just his boxers. You had already seen him naked, he supposed. Maybe. He didn’t really know what happened between you, but it seemed a bit late to be feeling shy.

Then again, he still could not be certain he wasn’t the one who pushed himself on you. As he got into the shower, he had smelled you on his fingers, and the scent was so intoxicating he had to stop himself from licking them. A little clip of memory returned, your lips warm and inviting against his, the taste of your tongue, his hips rolling desperately against yours, and he realized what that feeling was that he could not quite place. It was attachment: a deep, carnal, passionate, bond. Probably the product of oxytocin or… pheromones? Some lizard-brain part of him had developed an irresistible need for you.

It wouldn’t be unusual for a victim in your situation to act friendly toward her abuser, if you hadn’t fully processed yet. If he had taken advantage of a drunk woman at a bar, he certainly had no desire to traumatize you further by strutting around half naked.

He put on his toasty boxers and mostly-clean undershirt, and knocked at the bathroom door, poking his head out into the room, eyes averted. “Sorry to ask, but do you have a pair of sweatpants that might fit me?”

There was a flash of movement, and a loud sniff as you jolted up into a sitting position. He looked up, and noticed you hadn’t moved from the spot on the bed where he had left you, and you were facing away from him, rubbing your eyes.

“I… I might have something,” you said, trying to hide the waver in your voice.

Without thinking he rushed out, closing the distance in three steps, then stood awkwardly by the side of the bed, suddenly aware that he had no idea what to do. “Are… are you OK?” he asked. A knot tightened in his stomach. It was him, wasn’t it? You must have remembered something he did.

Your big eyes looked up at him, red and glistening with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whimpered.

Oh. He dropped onto the bed beside you, staring at his lap.

“I didn’t think you were… You wanted it so much! You didn't seem…. But you were. God, you were crying! You hugged me at the bar and cried into my shirt, I should have known you were in a vulnerable place. I took advantage of you. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to—what do I do to make this right? Are you going to press charges? I’ll do what you said you would, I’ll plead guilty.”

His lizard-brain had the strong impulse to pull you into his arms and tell you it was all alright. His lawyer voice answered automatically, “There’s no case. You committed no crime in New York State if I consented at the time, so long as I was not drugged against my will. Which you… didn’t?” he hazarded a guess. “Even if there was a sexually based offense here—a male victim and female defendant? No jury would ever convict you. The D.A. wouldn’t touch it without ironclad proof of wrongdoing.”

“Th-that’s not the issue! And that’s terrible!”

“It’s… the system,” he gave a commiserating shrug. “Justice has never been blind.”

“But if I hurt you…” You fell silent, and were quiet for awhile, not sure what to say, or do. His words were not exactly comforting, but they weren’t condemning either. You were more confused than ever.

“If you want to make it up to me, start by lending me some pants?” he asked with a smirk that was somewhere between rakish and about-to-die-of-embarrassment, dragging a corner of the blanket over his lap.

***

A tiny cloud of steam puffed from the clothing iron as Barba methodically pressed the appropriate creases back into his dress pants while smoothing the unwanted wrinkles out. His ejaculate had not left a permanent stain, and, vain as it was to admit, that had him feeling significantly relieved about the entire situation. That, and vomiting his guts out, taking an aspirin, and downing several cups of bad coffee from the coffee maker.

“Alright,” he said, taking his eyes off the iron just long enough to give you a probing look where you sat, cross-legged on the bed, “Walk me through everything that happened last night. Step by step.”

His gaze, though brief, was intense, like you were a witness for the defense and he was ready to poke holes in anything less than the full and complete truth. Yet it was harder to be intimidated now that he was wearing your pink and blue plaid Vermont Flannel pajamas, looking very domestic in front of an ironing board. And since you had noticed his pink heart socks that matched the color of his tie.

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

The flash of memory of your warm lips sprang, unwanted, into the forefront of his mind. He pushed it away, and dug further back. “The McCaskey trial ended. Everyone took the verdict hard.” His lip twitched but he restrained himself from saying aloud that it was all his fault. Nobody needed a pity-party. “Everyone else had their own Friday plans, so I went out to drink alone. Don’t give me that look, I drink alone all the time.”

The look you were giving intensified.

“OK, I see how that sounded worse. I drink moderately. I have never done anything like...” He lifted the iron and used it to gesture to the entire waking-up-drunk-in-a-strange-hotel-room situation. His brow knit as he tried to peer deeper into his memory, but everything grew dream-like from there. “I need to know how this happened.”

“Do you remember singing?” you prompted.

“I sang?”

“We did half the soundtrack of RENT.”

“Dear lord…” In his stunned embarrassment, he stopped moving the iron and nearly burned his pants, jerking the iron up at the last second.

“You have a beautiful voice,” you smirked, suddenly quite enjoying his bewilderment.

“Oh god,” he moaned woefully.

He folded his pants and set them aside on the chair with his jacket, which also needed a bit of care, but would suffice enough for the walk of shame back home. He spread his rumpled dress shirt on the ironing board.

The thin fabric of his undershirt stretched over his chest, so that every movement showed off the working of robust muscles. Its low cut neck revealed a swath of dark chest hair. The overall effect made you fight with your inner voice not to run your hands all over him.

“Anything coming back?” you asked hopefully, but he only glanced up and shrugged. They say music has a profound connection to memory, so you risked singing a few bars. “What’s the time? Well it’s gotta be close to midnight...”

At first he just gave a wry little chuckle, focusing on ironing his shirt. Then his head snapped up, eyes focused far beyond the wall of the hotel room.

“They set up karaoke in my bar?” He set the hot iron aside as his mind worked over this bizarre realization as you nodded your head, confirming it was not some weird dream he had. He covered his shameful face with a large hand, pinching the tension building in the bridge of his nose. His eyes darted down at you between his fingers. “We sang together,” he breathed. He raked his hand slowly down the length of his face. As his palm brushed over his lips, the sensation of yours came back to him again: a supple, giving pressure, your tongue wet and eager and sweet like strawberry. A racing, fluttering in his heart made his breathing hitch. He felt sweaty.

He was just breathing now, staring down at you with such intensity in those leaf-green eyes, the urge to run your hands down his chest returned. But it was more than that. For the first time since you woke up, his eyes were looking at you with something like recognition. You almost glimpsed the friend you’d made, the one whose absence you’d been feeling like a hole in the gut. Then he shook his head, and it was gone.

“Tell me what happened next,” the prosecutor said.

***

The Rafael Barba of this morning was much more like what you’d expect a big-shot city lawyer to be. Now that you had seen him sober it was obvious how drunk he was already before he got up to sing. Everything you told him turned his face and his neck a new shade of red.

By the time you finished the story, he had finished ironing and changed back in to everything but his jacket and tie. He sat down next to you on the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress so you had to resist gravity not to lean into him.

“So we didn’t have sex?”

“No. I could tell you were too drunk to consent. You just fingered me. I probably shouldn’t have let you get in my pants at all, but I… I guess I really wanted to.” You blushed and your head fell, trapped between wanting to savor the delicious memory and ashamed of your conduct.

He groaned, pressing his lips thin into a tense but smug smirk. “Legally? Everything about that statement is wrong. New York law states that someone who becomes drunk voluntarily is not deemed mentally incapacitated to give consent.”

“I know. You’ve said that twice already. What’s legal isn’t always the same as what’s right.”

His bright eyes sparkled when you said that. “Agreed. But irrelevant,” he brushed off your interruption. “For the purposes of determining criminal sexual assault, New York law also does not distinguish between penetration by penis, finger, or foreign objects. In other words—if, hypothetically, New York changed its laws regarding intoxication and consent—I would be guilty of raping you.” He said it in his callous, matter-of-fact voice, then after thinking about the weight behind his conclusion, looked as if his head might explode. His eyes fell across the marks still visible above your collar. “The way you tell it...” he began hesitantly, low and shamed, “It sounds like I’m the one who got drunk and pushed myself on you.”

“No!” you cried immediately, with a force that startled you both, and aggravated your headaches. "You didn’t push. If I said no, you would have stopped… I checked,” you added with a small laugh.

He exhaled in relief. “Really?” he raised a soft brow with a bit more blond in it than his hair.

“Yep. You’re quite the gentleman, even blackout drunk. That’s why I didn’t think you were…” You trailed off.

“Well. It’s good to know there are lines I won’t cross.”

Your hands were folded tightly in your lap. He was hunched over with his chin buried deep in his fist. You opened your mouth to speak, but he spoke first, and you apologized at the same time for talking over each other.

“You first,” he said.

“I just… I’m sorry, Rafael. Mr. Barba? I don’t…” you sighed, and gave him a weary smile. “Last night was a lot of fun. We had fun together. I liked getting to know you. I’m sorry it turned into such a shit show. I should have just gotten your number and said goodnight.”

“I don’t know which one of us to blame,” he said with finality. You looked so helpless and small, the fierce urge to protect you welled in his chest. He hated to think of you carrying guilt over his own stupid mistakes. “I don’t blame you.” He reached an arm behind you to pat your back, but his hand froze, shaking, without making contact. He didn’t know how you’d feel about him touching you.

You leaned into the open space his arm created, turning your head into his shoulder in a side-hug. The primal impulse fighting him for control screamed in victory, taking in the smell of your hair and relishing it. His hand patted your upper back stiffly, three times, like a good soldier obeying conscious, sober, higher-brain Barba. You pulled back and stammered an apology, cheeks darkening.

“Well. Then.” He stood suddenly, swallowing. He bustled about the room collecting his things, touching up his hair, getting ready to leave.

***

You leaned against the wall by the door, waiting to say goodbye, debating and mentally practicing the words you wanted to say. Finally, he stood in the narrow entryway, and you had your chance.

“Hey. Maybe this is too forward, but… do you want to hang out again?” you asked, eyes having trouble deciding whether they wanted to gaze deep into his or avoid him entirely and stare at the ground.

“What could be forward about a date after this?” he shot you a look from under his eyebrows. “The fact that I would remember it?”

Ground. Your eyes made up their mind; you stared doggedly at the ground hoping it might open up and drop you eleven stories to merciful death on the lobby floor.

“It’s nothing personal,” he began buttoning up his jacket, “it’s just… this was a mistake. I do not have time to be frolicking about like a sophomore at a liberal arts school. I let myself get out of control. Whoever you met last night is not who I am.” He tugged the jacket to straighten it for emphasis, though all the while his heart was fighting against the bounds of his rib cage. You looked so downtrodden. Apparently you had a wonderful, magical time singing musical theater karaoke with his drunk alter-ego, and in less than an hour sober he had already made you cry once, and seemed poised to do it again. “You don’t know me,” he sighed. “I know you even less. I doubt you would like me very much.”

“But maybe I would,” you said, finally returning his gaze with fragile determination. “I’d like to at least get to know you sober. To see if this… meant anything. I don’t want to believe this was all a mistake, that everything I felt—that I thought you felt, too—was a lie. I don’t know if you’ll like me, either, but how do you ever get to know anyone if you don't give getting to know them a chance?”

His jaw tightened with the obvious answer that he didn’t. Barba had work, and he had his lonely Scotch at his usual bar (which it now looked like he might have to replace if it was turning into a karaoke dive).

“Aren’t you lonely, Mr. Barba?” you asked, as if reading his mind.

“No,” he said tersely, but then softened his answer, “My work keeps me too busy for relationships. I don’t have the time.”

“Is there no room in your schedule for one date? I’m not asking for a relationship, just… a half hour to do something fun. I feel awful about how bad this was for you. I just want to leave you with something to remember me by… that you’ll actually remember.”

He did have more fun with you than he’d had in years. Even from the handful of scrambled memories that came back to him, he could tell that much—how good it felt to let go and belt out songs he only ever sang in the shower, to have a partner singing back to him, completely in sync with each other. He remembered babbling on about laws, and you patiently listening like it was actually interesting and not obnoxious. As you fidgeted nervously awaiting his answer, you added a coy, “¿Por favor?” and his mind filled in por favor, papi. It brought with it another snippet of memory. A song you were singing, together, your beautiful eyes looking right into his, pleading. “The heart may freeze, or it can burn.”

He grumbled and shifted feet. “I have a lot of prep for my next case, but I should be finished with it by nine,” he said. His tone was so flat and sharp it took you a long moment to realize what he meant. “If you want to… have dinner.”

You beamed ear to ear, pushing off from the wall to bounce on your toes so vibrantly you made yourself nauseous and had to stand still. Then your face fell. “Ah—you mean tonight? I can’t tonight, I’m going to Hamilton with my parents. How about tomorrow? I’m getting dim sum with a friend at Radiance. She’s bringing her girlfriend so I’ll be a total third wheel if I don’t have a date.”

“You want to bring the stranger from your drunken hookup to lunch date with an old friend?” he grimaced. “Won’t that be, I don’t know, awkward?”

“Oh, incredibly. But we can lean into that, for fun, and science!” you grinned dangerously.

“How about breakfast,” he offered. “Coffee?”

“Coffee would be great.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba @caked-crusader @itsjustmyfantasyroom@thatesqcrush @dianilaws @permanentlydizzy@eclecticreader2020 @mrsrafaelbarba @da-po

#Rafael Barba #Rafael Barba x Reader #Raúl Esparza #Barba x female reader #My writing

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vicegrips-fr · 3 years

Photo

Into the Black

Azizi divulges his upbringing and the horrors that came with it.

-------------------- I’ve debated sharing this on here because to be completely honest it’s very personal and not for everyone. I’ve decided to open up and share it anyway with the appropriate warnings. It’s no secret that I vent through my own ocs to explore the intense abuse I survived and this is one of those lore posts that delves into that. Hopefully some of you will take the time to read it and if not I completely understand. It’s a long one and difficult to read in many ways I’m sure.

Gustav belongs to my boyfriend @wyvernrising!

Warnings: language, themes of parental abuse, drug/alcohol abuse mentions, and unpleasantness abound.

Pings: @fusefr @kattafr @stimmy-dragons -------------------

They’re together for the night. Himself, Gogo, and the Sub Rosa sent to protect them which includes his boyfriend Gustav. There’s an injury to his hand which isn’t self-inflicted but the product of his past come back to bite him in the ass today. Since then they’ve been sharing their stories to pass the time and ease the tension, getting to know each other better and well, now it’s his turn.

“You don’t have to share,” Gogo peeps up sympathetically, scooting closer so that their thighs are pressed together.

He already knows the truth, knows how hard this will be for Azizi to talk about.

Azizi waves a dismissive hand in the air, happily allowing Gus to take hold of the injured one and press a kiss to the knuckles. Some small part of him does care what they’ll think but it’s drowned out by the stubborn I don’t give a shit what you think of me attitude he’s spent a lot of time cultivating for himself. “We’ll see about that,” he says, pouring himself a glass of wine.

He pauses, bottle in hand as his eyes land on Gustav’s glass. There’s still wine inside but he fills it back up to the top for him anyway. Whether he chooses to drink it or not is irrelevant. Maybe he doesn’t want him to; more wine for him.

Their previous compliments earlier in the night did not fall on deaf ears and bring a smile to his face when he remembers them. “Ha! I am a pleasure to be around, aren’t I?” he chuckles, licking his teeth, “If I were a bore then I wouldn’t be netting as much dick as I am on the daily.”

It’s crude but true. He’s popular for a reason and part of it is his bombastic, nasty personality. Truth is sunshine and rainbows have no place in a brothel, no matter how hard Gogo tries to change that fact.

“But you’re right about what you all said,” he sighs, “It’s an ugly story, just like the rest of you have.”

For a solid few seconds he lapses into silence, picking through the pieces of his life inside his head like dusting off an old photo album. None of the pictures inside are things he wants to see, they’re kept in a box for a reason, after all.

“Where to begin?” he muses to himself, swirling the wine in his glass around, transfixed by the dark red liquid sloshing around the sides.

“Like Gustav and Gogo I was born in Neo Necropolis. The slummy part, obviously. My mother’s name was Tiwa but she went by Candy. If that doesn’t tip you off she was a stripper. A popular one, I was told.”

He stops to sip his drink, the mere mention of his mother’s name enough to elicit that response. Jesus. How long has it been since he said her name out loud?

“My father’s name was Ayoola but everyone called him Ayo,” Azizi continues, the wine burning all the way down his throat, “And his biggest claim to fame was his appetite for men and women. He frequented just about every brothel and strip club in a fifteen mile radius.” Azizi looks up, eyes passing over everyone’s faces in favor of focusing on anything but.

“You can all put two and two together and figure out how my parents met,” he laughs without joy, “They were never married, of course, but they lived together and it wasn’t long before I was born. Not like they were kind of people to use protection, but I sort of wish they had.”

It’s a terribly dark thing to say and painfully true. Plenty of people in a bad situation have the same thought- I wish I was never born!- and he can’t count how many times he cursed the world for being forced into it. “They fought all the time,” he says, recalling the first time he was old enough to understand the words they were yelling.

------------------

”Get off of your ass and do something for once!” Tiwa screams at the top of her lungs, “I work my ass off on the pole every night and you can’t even get off the couch to get Zizi his breakfast? Pathetic!” It's early. Early enough that the sun is only just coming up, bright light streaming in through the dingy window in his bedroom despite the tall buildings that surround their home. It’s not the first time he’s been woken up this early from his parents fighting. His mama is gone all night, returning every morning and sleeping most of the day away, but not before their daily fight. Tail between his legs Azizi tiptoes quietly to the end of the short hallway, his little hands gripping the corner of the wall as he peeks out from behind it to see what’s going on. ”Oh, I’m pathetic?” Ayoola shouts back, “That’s rich coming from a pole crawler who calls herself Candy! The pipsqueak isn’t even up yet so fuck off to bed already and quit your yapping.” Azizi can’t see them from where he’s standing so he lets go of the wall and steps into the living room, ducking back into the hallway as quietly as possible when he catches a glimpse of his father laid out on the sofa, beer bottle in hand. ”No Ayo YOU fuck off,” Tiwa says loudly from the kitchen, bone tired and her tail lashing behind her in anger. “I’m not dealing with this mess when I’ve been up all fucking night, do you hear me? I’m not your mother, I’m your girlfriend and I need your help. We’re barely getting by, for fuck sake. Just… try to be responsible for once in your miserable life. Please.” ”Jesus fucking christ Candy, get a grip,” Ayoola snorts nonchalantly, rolling over so that his face is pressed into the cushions of the couch, “I’ll do the dishes and get the brat his breakfast, alright? Will that shut you up?” Tears in his eyes, Azizi shuffles off back to his bedroom and curls up on the small mattress laid on the floor of his tiny bedroom, pulling the blanket over his head. The shouting continues but it’s muffled through his hands over his ears and, after a little while, he falls back asleep.

-----------------

“It was really annoying,” he scoffs, “How they’d fight over just about everything. It was like they couldn’t help themselves. No matter how small the affront they would manage to find a way to turn it into something more.”

He’s getting off track. Blinking away the memory like it’s nothing, Azizi drinks deeply from his glass and marches forward. “Anyway,” he mutters, taking another small sip, “I was, hm, about eight or nine years old when my mother up and left. I can’t blame her, really. My father was a bum and an addict who brought other men and women home when she wasn’t around. More than once she walked in on him cheating on her and I guess that plus his allergy to contributing anything to the ‘family’ was enough to put the final nail in the coffin. We all have our breaking point.”

-----------------

”Where’s mama?” Azizi asks, tugging lightly on his father’s pant leg. It’s midday and she hasn’t come home yet. Ayoola is passed out on the couch, his dirty hair sticking up in different directions, spit and booze drying in a crust at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t respond right away. It takes Azizi asking the same question a few times before he’s finally roused awake. ”Huh?” he mumbles, cracking an eye open, “Oh. That.” Ayoola doesn’t seem particularly worried about Tiwa’s absence, just slightly annoyed to have been woken up. ”She left,” he sneers, grunting with effort as he pushes himself up and grabs a crumpled piece of paper that had been wadded up underneath him. “Don’t worry, she’ll come crawling back eventually. Until then how about you go play or something. Daddy is trying to sleep off a cold.”

It would only be a couple more years before Azizi would realize that these frequent ‘colds’ were actually hangovers of varying degrees. A week turns into a month, a few months turn into a year and Tiwa still hasn’t come back. Around the six month mark was when Azizi realized he would never see his mother again. In another three months he would grow angry and resentful, pounding his little fists into the floor because she left him behind. She left him alone with HIM. ”That selfish bitch!” Ayo yells, putting another hole in the wall with his fist, blood seeping from between his fingers, “Leaving me to take care of you by my fucking self! How the hell am I supposed to do that, huh?! Tell me how! Where’s the money going to come from?! I’m sinking here! Do you know how many people I owe money to?” Azizi sobs into his hands, tiny body curled up into a ball on the sofa as his father paces back and forth like a caged animal, ranting like a lunatic at the top of his lungs. ”I… I don’t know!” Azizi cries, far too young to understand all of the things his father is saying, “I’m sorry dad! I’m sorry!” -------------------

“After Candy split the house chores fell to me,” Azizi murmurs darkly, setting his drink down to reach for another cigarette instead, “The cooking, cleaning… Him. Ayoola was a full time job. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I had to clean him up after a blackout. Put him on his side and make sure he wouldn’t throw up and drown in his own vomit.”

Azizi pauses, takes a drag from his cigarette and sighs.

“He drank and shot up so much that the floor was littered all over with the aftermath,” Azizi chuckles bitterly, “I’d have to wade through the filth being careful not to stab myself with a used needle, turn him over and check his pulse. Clean the puke off of him with a rag and then pick it all up.”

Gogo sniffles, rubbing his eyes dry on the back of his hand. It’s at this point that he wants to interrupt, to tell Azizi that he doesn’t have to go on if he doesn’t want to. But as if reading his mind, Azizi looks over at him and smiles sadly.

“It’s okay, Gogo,” he says as soothingly as he can manage, “I’m fine.”

Another pause as he tries to collect his thoughts, memories he wishes didn’t belong to him. “As I got older we started to fight more and more,” Azizi murmurs, “At that point I really had replaced my mother in almost every way.”

----------------

”Zi! That you?”

”Yeah, it’s me dad,” Azizi replies a little flippantly, “Who the fuck else would it be? One of your booty calls?”

Ayoola snorts with laughter, looking up at him as he walks into the room with bloodshot eyes. ”Have I ever told you that you look like your mother?”

Azizi rolls his eyes, arms crossed over his chest as he leans in the doorway.

”Yeah,” he answers flatly, “Like, fifty times this week.” Ayoola nods sadly, head rolling to the side as he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep again. Frowning, Azizi goes to his room.

----------------

I won’t cry, Azizi thinks, he doesn’t deserve my tears. “Eventually I ran away,” he informs them, unable to bring himself to give them the gorier details of his life, “And I went out with a bang.” Chuckling softly at his own wording, Azizi brings the glass to his lips again. “That makes it sound like I shot him dead,” he hums, “Sadly, I didn’t. We got into a fight, another bad one where he didn’t just use his words to berate me but his fists. I shoved him backwards, he shoved me harder, I slapped him, and he told me to get the fuck out of his house- I happily obliged.”

----------------

”You!” Ayoola screams, following Azizi around the house as he does his best to get away from him, “Where do you think you’re going?! I’m talking to you! Where the fuck were you?! You knew you had a client coming over! You knew and you went out anyway- hey!” His hand lashes out violently, grabbing Azizi by the arm and yanking him back. ”I’m not playing with you Zi!” Ayoola says, spittle flying and his teeth grinding together as he gets up in Azizi’s face, “You’re in big fucking trouble. If you’re going to live under this roof-” ”I don’t want to live under this roof!” Azizi screams back, slapping Ayoola in the face in an attempt to get him to let go, “I want to be as far away from you as humanly possible! You’re a fucking monster!” Ayoola doesn’t hesitate to backhand him, the force of it throwing Azizi to the floor where he sits shocked and rubbing tenderly at his freshly bruised cheek. ”Then get the fuck out!” he shouts, jabbing a finger in Azizi’s face as he looms over him, “Leave! Just like your mother did! I’ve taken care of us for how long and you’re acting out like this because I ask you to do your part?! All you have to do is put out! Easiest fucking job on the planet!” Azizi stares at him, dead behind the eyes as he’s yanked back up onto his feet and shoved hard against the kitchen wall, a hand around his throat. ”You hearin’ me? Answer me-” Azizi screams, shoving his father back so hard that he trips over his own feet and falls backwards. ”Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” he wails, shoving past Ayoola and out the front door. Ayoola gives chase, pausing in the open doorway to yell after him. ”Then go! Die on the street for all I care!”

He does not follow.

-------------------

“To make an already long story short,” he says, glancing over at Gustav and then quickly averting his eyes, “I spent a long time, years, on the street just like Gogo. I did what I knew how to do best. Eventually I ran into Chaka.”

At the mere mention of his name his blood runs cold, the events of his sad life replaying all over again. He handles it though, shoving it deep deep down inside himself where it belongs. “He took me in off the streets you know. Well, for the most part anyway,” he admits, “There were plenty of times he’d leave me on a corner. To teach me a lesson, he’d say. I mean, I do have a reckless mouth so is that any surprise to you guys?” He laughs humorlessly, eyes finding Gogo’s. “But I met Gogo because of that,” he adds very fondly, “So hey. Silver-linings.” Sighing deeply, Azizi downs the rest of his drink in one go.

“I’ll save the stuff with Chaka for another time,” he murmurs, “If I go into that right now we’ll be here all night. Needless to say I didn’t go down the best path after leaving that hellhole, but if I’m being honest I don’t regret it. Dealing with Chaka’s bullshit was a hell of a lot better than dealing with my old man’s.” Despite his best efforts there’s a wet shine to his eyes now, but the tears don’t fall. Not even when the memories are threatening to choke the air out of his lungs. “So, that’s part one of my story,” he says faux cheerfully, “Now you know I come from trash. Do with it what you will.”

End.

#flight rising lore #fr lore #lore: the velvet fang #azizi #my lore #sorry for any typos #this was a pain to format on here

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adiwriting · 4 years

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(gif by the lovely @darlingnotso)

PSA: As I’ve stated before, I will be putting money towards the Navajo Nation COVID-19 Relief Fund every time that I post Malex fic.

********Please don’t reblog***********

This is going to be the last Sunday Morning fic for awhile. Leaving it untagged with the hopes that it remains just for my followers and doesn’t attract more harassment. If you want to comment, reply or DM me please instead of reblogging.

Week 16

When the puppies start barking at their usual 6:30am time, Alex instantly regrets all of his life choices. His head is pounding, his leg aches, and his stomach is a mess. It doesn’t help in the slightest that Michael is plastered to his side, hot as hell, and making Alex sweat.

“Why did we get a dog?” Michael grumbles, nuzzling his nose into Alex’s neck and making him feel even worse.

“Why did you let us get four?” he asks, pushing at Michael’s body. “And why the hell are you so hot?”

“‘s cold,” Michael says, throwing his arm over Alex’s stomach.

Alex pushes him away. “You’re a thousand degrees and I already want to die. Roll over or something.”

Michael groans and Alex swears he hears him curse under his breath, but he thankfully rolls over and Alex feels like he can breathe a bit as cool air hits his overly heated skin. The relief he feels is only temporary though as his mind then zeroes in on how much his stomach is swirling and twisting.

The puppies continue to bark. It’s too loud and the sun streaming in through the window is too bright. Everything is just too much right now and Alex needs it to stop. The mattress shifts as Bell jumps up onto the bed, making the world spin and Alex’s stomach does a dangerous tilt. He’s not even sure if he could make it to the bathroom fast enough to throw up if he had to, and so he prays he doesn’t need to.

Michael loves him, but he doubts Michael would love it if Alex threw up in their bed.

Bell pushes her head against his shoulder, demanding cuddles. Any other day, Alex would be more than willing to give into her demands. He loves cuddling with Bell in the mornings. But right now, he can’t focus on anything aside from not vomiting. She gives up and moves to do the same to Michael, who lifts his arm up and allows her to crawl on top of him and lay down.

“Please tell me you’re as hungover as I am,” he complains, closing his eyes against the sun and willing the world to stop. He regrets not springing for blackout curtains when Michael was redoing their bedroom.

Michael chuckles and it makes the bed shake, causing Alex to groan. “No, but I had about five beers and six shots less than you did,” he says.

Alex cracks his eyes open just enough to give him a doubtful look.

“Hey, I’m not the town drunk everyone thinks I am,” Michael protests. “And somebody had to make sure that everyone got home okay. Liz and Max were a mess. Only one of you guys who held their liquor with any dignity was Maria.”

That’s probably fair. Alex doesn’t remember a lot of last night after the first two hours. Isobel had challenged him to a drinking game that he outright refused to lose on principle. But even the first two hours, he could tell that it was going to be one of those nights. He can’t blame his friends. It’s been a long few weeks of one alien drama after another but yesterday had been a surprisingly drama free Halloween night for them and they’d all just let loose. What he can remember of Michael though, is that he’d taken things slow most of the night, taking on the role of caretaker for everyone.

“You had fun though, right?” he asks, worried that Michael had perhaps seen it as his duty to take care of everyone else instead of partaking in the fun himself. Part of the argument for having the party at their place was so that they could both enjoy the party rather than having to worry about getting home or taking care of the dogs.

“Yeah, it was nice,” Michael says with a smile, running his hands over Bell, who looks perfectly content. Alex is jealous. He knows that there are few places more comfortable than Michael’s chest, but right now the thought of being anywhere near the furnace that is Michael sounds awful.

“Don’t tell Isobel I said that,” Michael adds. “I already told her we are not having Thanksgiving here under any circumstance… Which probably means I should start working on making that table I’ve been wanting to build for out back, because I’m pretty sure my protest means that we’re having Thanksgiving here.”

Alex laughs before it causes his head to pound even more and whines. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

“I bet,” he says. “I’m not sure why you thought you could out drink my sister. On her lightest days she polishes off two bottles of wine a night.”

“Because she gets annoying and smug when she wins and I refuse to put up with it,” Alex says and Michael just laughs. “Is Bell still wearing her wings?”

Michael runs his hands over the fairy wings that Bell had worn yesterday as part of her Tinkerbell costume. They’d dressed all the dogs up in Peter Pan costumes to match their namesakes. It had been adorable, if Alex does say so himself.

“She didn’t want to take them off,” Michael says with a shrug.

“Oh yeah? She tell you that herself?” he teases.

“As a matter of fact, I tried to take them off last night and she whined and moved away, so yes she did,” Michael says. “And the puppies were asleep when I came back inside so I left their costumes on as well.”

Alex reaches over tentatively, careful not to move too much of his body so that he doesn’t reignite the nausea, and pets Bell. “She does make a really cute fairy.”

“Of course she does. She’s the most beautiful fairy in the world,” he agrees, lifting his head to kiss Bell’s nose. She licks his face in return. Michael turns to look at him, “Look at what Rosa taught her yesterday when they were both hiding out in here.” Michael looks back at Bell and says, “I do believe in fairies.”

Bell howls twice as if to say, ‘I do, I do.’

Alex smiles, holding back his laugh for fear of making his stomach twist even more. Bell’s howl causes the puppies to go crazy from their spot in the kitchen though and suddenly everything is far less cute. Alex’s head pounds and he’s back to hating the world and wanting to curl up and die.

“I guess I should go walk them since you’re clearly useless today,” Michael says.

Alex throws his arm over his eyes and doesn’t bother arguing.

He hears Bell protest before the bed shifts again, making Alex suck in a breath as he fights against his body’s urge to hurl. “Why don’t you try and shower? I’ll bring you breakfast in bed when I get back from walking them.”

“Can we spend the entire day in bed?” Alex asks, hopefully.

“I’ll even let you pick the movies we watch today,” he promises, placing a kiss to Alex’s forehead.

“You smell like a distillery,” Michael says.

Alex has a flash of Isobel breaking out a bottle of whiskey as they played Two Truths and a Lie with Maria. He’s sure that he’s got liquor coming out of his pores at this point. He doesn’t even remember the last time he drank this much. Perhaps the one time he’d gotten plastered before shipping off to Iraq the last time? The time they’d gotten into that nasty fight over Alex’s decision not to tell Michael he was being deployed again. Michael had had to hear it from Maria and had been none too pleased.

Michael flips on the light and Alex whines. “I regret all of my life choices.”

“Surely not all of them,” he teases.

“Why didn’t you stop me last night?” Alex asks.

Michael snorts. “Oh, I tried. Several times. You told me that you were a grown ass man who didn’t need a babysitter.”

Alex grimaces, he doesn’t remember saying that, but he’s sure he probably did. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he says. “Max was way worse and far less cute while telling me to back off. You’re good.”

“It doesn’t sound like you had a good night,” Alex says, pushing Michael despite his earlier words, wanting to make sure that he truly did enjoy himself and wasn’t miserable.

“I promise, I enjoyed myself,” he says. “Rosa and I had a nice long talk. She’s gonna start working at the junkyard for me. I wouldn’t mind having somebody help run the office side of things. She loves her dad but needs some independence.”

“That’s understandable,” Alex says.

“Yeah, then Liz and I nerded out over science before Max stole her away. Kyle, Maria, and I played poker and I won $150. And I ended up watching Hocus Pocus for the first time and making cookies with Rosa once everyone got too shitfaced to form coherent sentences.”

“You’ve never seen Hocus Pocus?” Alex asks, shocked.

“Okay, first of all, why does everyone react like that when I say that? I watched it last night with Rosa and it was cute but it does not deserve that reaction out of people,” he says, grumpily. “And second of all, you know that I didn’t have any of that shit growing up.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Alex says, kicking himself for always doing that. Always reacting to experiences Michael says he didn’t have growing up with shock. Alex knows better. He himself grew up in a home void of normal childhood experiences. But he had the Ortechos and the DeLucas to help give him happy holiday memories. He always assumes that Michael had that in the Evans family, but he’s regularly proven wrong.

“Hey, listen, go walk the dogs,” Alex says. “I’ll hop in the shower. After breakfast we can watch all the holiday movies you never got to see growing up.”

“Can we start with Home Alone?” he asks, that light, happy tone back in his voice.

“Of course, followed up by A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving,” Alex promises.

Forty-Five minutes later, the entire family is piled in their bed, warm and comfortable. Alex is slowly eating the pancakes that Michael prepared him, keeping his plate away from Peter’s thieving paws as best he can. His stomach is starting to settle and his headache is muted thanks to the ibuprofen that Michael left for him before he took the dogs on their walk. Home Alone is playing on the TV screen and Michael is curled up with a sleeping Bell and John, smiling soft and content.

And right here, in this exact moment? Life feels utterly perfect.

#fic: sunday mornings

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brianandthemays · 5 years

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Gun on my Thigh (Four/Billy x reader)

A/N I really hope you liked this! I have another Four x reader coming out soon, another request, and then my Valentine’s Day fic for my secret lover!

Request: Hi, I'm the 6 underground anon! I might have an idea about four x eight!reader... So: the team goes on a mission and eight is at a party or smth like that, looking for the target. She's wearing a long black dress and under it she has a gun tied to a garter (like Mr and Mrs Smith). Then smth happens and there's this scene where she pulls off the gun and start shooting and four is looking at her and falls in love. I've been thinking about this for a while ♡

Warnings: Guns, a seriously gross dude, unwanted touching

Word Count: 2.1K

________________________________________

Normally you hated dressing up. Putting on a full face of make up made you feel like you were being smothered by foundation. But tonight, you couldn’t help feeling sexy as you walked into the ballroom with your hair up and your lips popping. Somewhere in the room was the target. Some asshole child trafficker that you wanted to stab over and over again. Across the room was Four, looking quite dashing in his black tux with a nice bow tie. If you weren’t focused on the mission you might pull him into a side room and let him ravage you but unfortunately, you could not.

“Ma’am would you care for a drink?” A member of the waitstaff approached you and only a quick glance showed you it was Three. He held out a champagne flute to you which you took, raising your eyebrows at him cockily.

“Why, thank you, sir,” you replied smoothly.

“Eight, he’s at the bar, go see what you can get out of him,” One’s voice shouted in your ear. You flinched and scowled at his tone. Coolly, your eyes flitted over the guests at the bar, slowly making your way towards it. Then your eyes landed on the son of a bitch. Greasy haired and sleezy smiled. You saddled up the bar right next to where he was sitting, making sure to stick out your ass and lower your cleavage to hopefully get his attention.

“Excuse me!” You called to the bartender. “Hey! I’d like a drink please!”

“A pretty girl like you doesn’t have someone getting her drinks for her? What a shame.”

Ugh, his voice was like nail on a chalk board. Though his words were slightly slurred, maybe this would be easier than you thought. He had moved quite closely to you and you felt yourself taking a step back from himself subconsciously but quickly fixed your mistake. You turned on your acting face, pouting your lips and hooding your eyes.

“My date left me earlier tonight,” you told him with a frown. “I guess I’m buying my own.”

“Nonsense.” His hand came to rest on your waist, gripping the skin their slightly. You glanced down at his hand but quickly back up to him. “What are you drinking?”

“How about, a jack and coke, hm?” you answered, licking your lips seductively.

He smirked and ordered the drink for you. Your eyes flitted to Four who was watching the scene carefully. You smirked at him, winking in his direction. He rolled his eyes at you before moving on to his next spot.

“So, my lady.” He handed you your drink, his hand on your waist shifting downward slightly. “What brings you to my humble party?”

You brought the drink to your lips, taking a small sip before replying. “Well, I was here with a guy who was looking to do some sort of business. Wouldn’t tell me much more than that.”

The man raised his eyebrows at you, sipping at his own drink. “Well, it is a business party.”

“Oh, what kind of business do you own?” you asked, feigning innocence.

He waved you off, pulling you closer to him. You wanted to vomit, his hand was wrapped around your waist so tightly, and his breath smelt like garlic. He was, all together, disgusting.

“Let’s not talk about business, let’s talk about you,” he murmured, eyeing down your cleavage. “And let’s get you another drink.” He flagged down the bartender and when he turned away you took a breath. You knew tonight was going to be difficult, but this was really testing you.

“Do you run the business locally?” you pressed, ignoring his past word.

He groaned slightly, annoyed to be back on the subject. “It’s worldwide, you could say. I got spots in Los Angeles, Mexico City, Beijing.” Then he smiled “Working on getting a spot in Berlin, too.” He handed you your drink, shoving it into your hand. “But what do you do for a living?”

You giggled, trying to act more drunk than you currently were. “I’m a model. I actually work in LA, too!”

He raised his eyebrows, a sly smile coming over his face. “Really, who you staying with? Family? Friends?”

“Nope, I live on my own!” you answered, laying the bait for him.

“Hm.” His hand crawled up your spine, ghosting over the bare skin on the back of your dressing, coming to tangle with your hair. “You should come by mine sometime soon.”

Oh, this was too easy. “Oh? Where do you live?”

Just as he was about to answer, a commotion started to your left. Your head snapped towards the doorway, Two and Five were standing guns raised and you knew you had run out of time. You cursed silently.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The man questioned, cocking his head.

“Um, I have to go,” you answered, trying to pull away from him.

He frowned but only slightly loosened his grip. “At least take my card.”

You glanced over his shoulder at Two, silently telling her to wait just a moment more. He pulled out his wallet and took out a small index card with his name and number along with an address on it.

“I hope to see you again,” he mused, handing you the card.

You scoffed. “Oh, I’m sure we will.”

You swiped the card from him, pushing back as far away from him as you could. You looked up at Two who nodded at you. Finally, this bastard could pay. You reached down and pulled up your dress, grabbing the gun holstered to your thigh and pointed it right at the man.

“See you in hell, asshole,” you quipped. The man didn’t even have time to react before you shot him. That’s when the yelling started. People were screaming and running, and you struggled to find Four. He was your partner. You needed to find him and get out as soon as possible.

You dodged a swing as a security guard came at you from the front. You turned quickly and shot him in the head, jumping over the bar to find some coverage.

“Fuck, I’m stuck behind the bar,” you yelled into your com. “Can anyone read me?”

You looked to your right to see another guard running towards you, but before you even had time to react, a gunshot sounded, and the guard fell. You turned around and saw Four. He slid next to you with a smirk on his face.

“I read you,” he replied, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Now next time maybe don’t trap yourself in a bar.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you snapped back. He grabbed your arm and you stood, shooting at any man in a security guard uniform. Your gun clicked, signifying out of ammo, so you reached down and grabbed the second ammo pack you’d hidden on your thigh along with the gun. You snapped it into the gun and started shooting again.

“God, I think I’m in love,” Four spoke, a lazy smile on his face. You smiled but didn’t look away from your targets.

“Hey, love birds,” One was back in your ear. “Get the fuck out of there.”

Four moved to the other side of you looking for the best escape route. His eyes spotted a shattered window to the left of the bar, not far from where they were. The jump wasn’t far down from there and he could easily guide the two of you down.

“Do you trust me?” he murmured in your ear. You looked over at him, lowering your gun slightly. He raised his eyebrows at you, questioning you again.

You let out a breath, rolling your eyes. “Of course, I do.”

“Then stay close to me.” He grabbed your hand and started off towards the window. You kept close, covering the two of you when you needed. He pulled you down to the window and nodded at you to shoot it. You shot it the rest of the way and jumped out with him. He brought you to a ledge and looked at you.

“Four, I swear.”

“You said you trust me!” He cocked his head, looking into your eyes. “It’s not far, I can keep us safe.” He squeezed your hand. “I’ll keep you safe.”

You looked down at the jump and felt your heart thudding. Then you looked back at Four and knew your decision.

“Fuck, I still hate you,” you told him. “But let’s just do it.”

Four smirked and came behind you, putting his hands on your hips. He muttered directions into your ear, pointing to wear you were going to land.

“I’m right here, it’s going to be okay,” he reassured you. “On the count of three, jump.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, bending his knees slightly.

“One.”

You took a breath, leaning back against Four.

“Two.”

You grabbed onto his hands around your waist.

“Three.”

And then you were jumping and Four’s grip on you was so tight you thought you might stop breathing. Then he flipped you around, so he was underneath you and as soon as his back touched the ground he started rolling and you let out a grunt. Eventually you stopped rolling and you felt your body start to ache.

“Ow,” you mustered out. He chuckled and let go of you, let you roll off from on top of him. “Let’s never do that again.” You looked down at your black dress, now torn and matted. “Ruined my brand-new dress.”

“God you’re fucking amazing,” Four groaned out, looking over at you. You let a smile make its way over your features as you looked over at him. He rolled over and crawled over you. “You and that thigh holster, my god. And the way that pervert was touching you I wanted to scream.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He reached down and pressed a kiss to your lips. “And I think I might love you.”

Your eyes widened. He said it earlier, but you figured it was the heat of the moment. But here he was, in the quiet of the aftermath, saying it again. You reached up and grabbed him by his jacket, pulling him down to kiss him again.

“I think I love you, too” you responded. He kissed you again more fervently this time. He reached down and brough your thigh up to swing around his back and pressed into you harder.

“Four and Eight, where the fuck are you?” Seven’s frantic voice broke you apart, you both flinching at the noise.

Four reached up and pressed on his com. “We’re out the left side, we made a detour.”

“On our way,” Seven answered.

You and Four looked at each other for a moment longer before bursting out laughing. Here you were making out like teenagers on the ground outside of a serious crime scene. He pecked your lips one last time before standing up and holding out his hand to help you up. You brushed off the dirt from your dress and reached into your bra to find the card the man had given you. Still there.

“You gotta stop being so sexy, love,” Four teased, coming right up behind you and nuzzling his face in your hair. “You’re such a fucking—”

Just as he was finishing the van whirled around the corner, alerting you of the others presence. You whapped the side of his head.

“Get off of me!” you mused, walking towards the van.

“Oh, you are so going to get it later,” Four growled, hopping into the car after you.

You approached One and handed him the card. “That’s his LA house, he says they have places in Mexico City and Beijing as well, and he said something about them working on a place in Belgium.”

“Gee, thanks sherlock,” One remarked, taking the card. “Really narrows it down.”

“You sent Two in too early, I couldn’t get much more,” you defended, crossing your arms.”

“Not my problem, but this will have to do, go get your injuries looked at,” He deflected, sending you away.

You frowned, muttering an insult under your breath before going to sit next to Four and Five. You leaned your head against the side of the truck. Four took your hand and smiled sympathetically at you.

“Dickhead,” he muttered, smirking.

“Absolute wanker,” you replied. Then you leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes.

#Ben Hardy #Ben Hardy x reader #Ben Hardy imagines #Four #Four x reader #Four imagines #Billy #Billy x reader #Billy imagines #Four/Billy #Four/Billy x reader #Four/Billy imagines #Billy/Four #Billy/Four imagines #Billy/Four x reader #6 underground #6 underground imagines #6 undergound x reader

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

but now i wanna hold you too

y’all need to read the nightrunners series. Or if you want to just read some smut, you should read this fic and then go comment on it over at Ao3

Dedicated to @minky-for-short whose just been so patient with my infodumping about this boys

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There were few things Seregil found more freeing than taking off his coat.

It was such a simple action, something most people never considered, just one step in the comforting but ultimately innocuous walk to one’s own home and hearth and bed. But as Seregil took off the too heavy coat with it’s flashy cold buttons and elaborate gold threadwork, as he abandoned it over the arm of the poor, long suffering mermaid statue in the sitting room, it was like he was taking off more than just a piece of clothing. He was taking off the name that didn’t belong to him, the lord’s face that looked like his own superficially but was different in a thousand imperceptible ways that still mattered to him. With the coat off, he knew he’d said goodbye to Lord Seregil with his effortless charm and flattery and lazy smile that took more out of him to maintain than anyone would think. He could let his shoulders fall out of the prim lord’s posture and breathe deeply, he could feel wholly himself and no one else.

For someone who had made a life out of being people other than Seregil, who’d woven deception and spying and night running into the very bones of himself, that moment where the act dropped like the curtain at the end of a play that had run just a few scenes too long was a relief.

And there was also the knowledge that, most times, hanging up his coat meant he could move further into the warm, welcoming clutter of the living space neatly hidden within the Stag and Otter and find Alec. Some nights he would be sat at the small forge, working on a project Seregil had set him some time before, though never more than a few days. Alec was one of the smartest, most quick learners Seregil had ever met. It was never long before he cracked his little tests and puzzles. Some nights he would be restringing his precious bow or oiling it’s sleek dark wood by candlelight, fletching new arrows and sharpening the iron heads of them to wicked points even though the city never offered many chances to use them. Sometimes he would be in the centre of the room with the worst of the mess pushed back from the carpet, sword in hand, practising his slash and parry back and forth across the room.

But Seregil’s favourites were nights like this one, where Alec was doing nothing more than sitting in the comfy expanse of the sofa, Ruthea curled up and purring on his lap, a cup of tea by one elbow and a book in one hand. It did Seregil’s heart good to find him content and resting, making their small rooms feel truly like a home, even with all the other homes he’d had and lost.

Tonight there seemed to be a particular fierceness to the love that gripped his chest as he saw him there, as he walked behind the sofa and bent to press a kiss to his forehead, feeling his warm skin under his own cold fingertips, the softness of his hair tickling his nose.

“I missed you,” was all Alec said, his voice cracking with disuse. He mustn’t have said a word since Seregil left in the early afternoon, lost in his book.

“I missed you too, talí,” Seregil breathed, knowing Alec was feeling his relief and commanding rush of love through the thread that tied their hearts together.

Though he wouldn’t really have needed the talimenios bond. Alec was the only other person who understood that deep, steadying inhalation you could only ever take after all the disguises and tricks fell away and you found yourself again. The sensation of coming home to safety, a hard won, precious safety, was something he’d experienced himself.

And something they should have been sharing.

“Did you miss me enough to forget you’re mad at me?” Sergeil murmured hopefully, tracing his lips along Alec’s hairline.

Alec gave a grunt, nose wrinkling, “I did until you just reminded me.”

“Now, talí,” Seregil slid his hands down Alec’s sides, feeling his friend’s warm body through the thin material of his loose shirt, “You weren’t well enough to come out tonight and you know it. What would you have told me, if I’d been the one to wake up hours before sunrise to vomit profusely out of the window?”

“But I feel fine now!” Alec protested, something more playful about how he whined now when compared to his genuine bitter disappointment that morning when Seregil had made him stay in bed, “So I would have been fine to come housebreaking with you!”

“Neither of us knew that this afternoon,” Seregil gave his hips a squeeze, “I would have spent the whole time worrying about you tumbling from some height or giving us away by throwing up into Lady Ramina’s shrubbery.”

Alec scowled, looking frankly far too adorable when he did, “Fine...and it went alright?”

“Smooth as silk,” Seregil smiled, “Any and all compromising letters have been safely returned to their rightful owner.”

“Lady Ramina actually used to hire the Rhiminee cat. You’d think she’d make sure her house would actually be safe against him.”

Seregil shrugged lazily, thumbs playing with the buttons on Alec’s trousers, “You know what nobles are like. Always thinking themselves exempt from the very worst, above any kind of poetic justice.”

“I can see why you play one so well then,” Alec teased, very well aware of where his lover’s hands were and quite deliberately not commenting on it.

Seregil huffed and nipped the lobe of one ear lightly to make him squeal, “So...you said you’re feeling better?”

“Right as summer rain, talí. Why?” Alec hummed with a maddening innocence that was doing nothing to curb the tightening Seregil felt between his own legs.

“Perhaps I can give you something to make up for being left behind?”

In their private rooms, sealed with magic and walls of thick stone, it was like the outside world didn’t exist. The noise of the city of Rhiminee was barely a murmur, quieter than the crackling of the candles or the whisper of the wind. The two of them could be anywhere, back in their little cottage in the mountains, back in the land of the Aurenfaie, on any of their adventures.

But right now there was nowhere Seregil wanted to be than here.

Alec clearly had a lot of pent up adrenaline he’d been saving for their job, all of it was now flowing into Seregil everywhere their skin pressed close, in the younger man’s arms around his neck, in the inside of his thighs as they held fast around Seregil’s hips so he could carry him towards their bed, in the fingers that pushed through his long, dark hair, in their lips crushed against each other as their kissing became manic and messy with their need.

Their clothes were abandoned back in the sitting room; both of them were naked when they finally toppled over into bed, Seregil finding himself dragged by Alec who was completely unwilling to have any space between them. The ropes creaked, the bed still not as broken in as Seregil’s old one. They’d have that fixed before too long.

Already Alec was making those noises Seregil loved so much, the keening whines, the gasps, the high, broken off moans. With his friend underneath him, he could see every beautiful moment of his arousal growing wild and all consuming. A blush had risen on his fair skin, right across his chest and up his neck and across his face, fire on snow. Seregil followed it down, kissing at the hollow of his throat to feel his pulse between his lips, licking the faint salty taste of the day from Alec’s skin then down to swirl his tongue around one nipple at a time until both were flushed and stiff even in the warm of the room.

Alec seemed to be trying to say something, his quickly kindling arousal and Seregil’s hungry attentions turning his words to pleading cries. He decided to take a little pity on his lover, rising up to grin at him with kiss swollen lips.

“My love? Deep breaths, talí, let me hear you…”

Alec swallowed, the motion making the marks Seregil had left there seconds before shine in the candle light, “I want you to...to talk to me...in that way you do, the way I like…”

Seregil’s smirk flared with delight, his eyes sparkling wickedly, “Oh. Like that you mean?”

Alec bit down on his lower lip, eyelids fluttering as he whispered, “Please?” Seregil had to steady himself a moment, the sight could have been enough to finish him then and there if he were a weaker man.

“Of course, my heart,” Seregil kissed his mouth softly, quickly, enough to undo the tension in his expression.

He knew it could still be hard for Alec sometimes, to ask for what he wanted between their sheets. Especially asking for this, this game they played that deliberately skirted the line between what Alec’s heart and body cried out for and what he’d always been raised to think of as dirty and scandalous. Seregil could have burst with pride in how far he’d come since the day they met, how much more comfortable he was with himself and what he wanted. And if this little bedroom game was proof of it, he would gladly throw himself into it whenever he was asked.

And, of course, it helped that it was hot as hell.

Seregil’s manner shifted, his expression turning salacious. He straddled Alec tighter, making sure he could feel his erection press against him, the skin hot and firm. Alec’s own cock was a hard iron bar against the small of Seregil’s back, the skin there fast becoming slick.

“Look at you,” Seregil purred, his voice smoky and low, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Alec’s gasp was half a groan. His skin flamed even more furiously and his only answer was a shudder and his cock leaking more slick against Seregil’s tailbone.

“And here I thought you were a good little Dalnan boy…” Seregil bent to mouth at him more, along the underside of his jaw where he was most sensitive, his hands coming to grip his wrists, “Supposed to be so sweet and innocent, yet here you are whining for me. Wanting me.”

Alec began to pant softly, squirming under him.

“You do want me, don’t you? Did it get too cold for you up in those mountains of yours, did it get you needing a little heat?”

He emphasised that with a roll of his hips and Alec nearly screamed, “Yes, fuck, yes…”

“Of course you do,” Seregil murmured, enjoying his role in their little two person play, “I can see it in the way you look at me, I can feel it in how hard you are. You want me to take that cock inside me and ride you until you can’t remember your own name?”

Alec practically sobbed out his affirmative and Seregil would have been worried if he didn’t know this was how he got when he took the submissive angle, and if he didn’t know that Alec adored it and could change his mind at any time. He knew the words to say if it got too much, they both did.

“So much for Dalnan modesty, eh?” Seregil smirked wickedly, rising up to leave Alec cold and trembling without his touch while he leaned over to grab the bottle of oil that never left their nightstand.

The smell of it was heaven, all citrus and deep wood smells that reminded him of Aurënen. It oozed over his fingers in a faintly amber stream, mingling wonderfully with the sharp salt of shared sweat and slick. As much as Seregil would have liked to linger in it, Alec was waiting and he’d pushed the poor thing to the very edge of his patience.

Preparing himself was a quick, hasty task, risen up on his knees with his hand reaching between his legs. He took no special attention over it, he liked it to still sting a little when he took Alec in.

He would never get used to it. Whether they had each other a million more times, and Seregil hoped they would, he couldn’t ever imagine himself getting used to that moment when he slid down slowly on Alec’s cock and felt every movement of his muscles acquiescing, the hollow in himself opening wide, his body stretching and reshaping to fit him so close that they were more one and whole than two and separate. Even though he was meant to be playing the conqueror tonight, Seregil couldn’t help but gasp and tip his head back, surrendering if only for a moment.

He guided Alec’s hands to his hips, holding them there as he began to rock, rising and falling with aching slowness at first.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he growled, hair falling across his face.

Alec’s fingers bit into his narrow hips and his voice was a breathy moan, “So good. By Illor, by the Maker, by every single one of them, damn me, damn me but it feels so good…”

Seregil sped up slightly, relying on his knees to lever him. They’d ache in the morning but right now, all that thought did was turn him on more.

“You were made for this,” Seregil gasped, having to reach back and steady himself with one arm as he rode him harder and faster, “Fuck what they all said, you are mine and you were made for this.”

“Yes,” Alec cried out, determined to hold still and let Seregil take the lead but he couldn’t help rising and falling to meet him just a little, it was too natural for their bodies to follow each other, “I’m yours, Seregil, I’m yours…”

“My heart,” Seregil grunted, face tightening, “My talí.”

Alec’s ability to form words fell away as he was gripped utterly by need, clearly close in the way the muscles in his neck were standing out like tense chords, how his fingers were tight enough to leave bruises on his lover’s waist, how he grunted with every thrust . Seregil was almost there himself and in no mood to deny them any longer. He pushed himself that last little bit more, until he couldn’t give anything else.

But it was enough. Alec could only roar wordlessly as his climax pulled him under but Seregil, frozen in place as his lover’s heat flooded him so deep he could feel it in his stomach and, hell, even below his ribs, he managed to gasp his name like a prayer, as if suddenly he were playing the fallen devotee.

Alec was limp and trembling under him, completely undone. Seregil leaned back on both his arms now, catching his breath in slow, even pants.

“I love you,” he heard Alec murmur, voice so soft and sincere it broke his heart.

Seregil gently pulled Alec free of him but quickly made up for the loss by taking his lover in his arms. In recent years, the Dalnan had grown to overtop him by a few inches but that didn’t stop him from lying on his back and letting Alec rest on his chest, arms safe and secure around him.

“I love you too, talí,” he murmured into the darkness as the candles began to gutter out, leaving them in a room of shadows and the heady smell of sex, “So, so much.”

The different face and the name that didn’t fit right, they weighed on Seregil if he wore them too long. The expectations he had to fill, the seemingly endless rules a Rhiminee noble had to abide by, the way he had to smile and simper and be buoyed along by gossip, it grew so weary sometimes. That coat could be heavy, for such a simple piece of clothing.

But there would always be a moment, as they toured the gambling halls or the parlous of the city’s upper class or even the grand balls of the palace in an endless cycle, when Seregil would catch Alec’s eye. And he’d see the love shining there under his own disguise, like a light you could still see, just under the surface of a cool, still lake.

And Seregil would know that no matter what coat he wore, Alec saw him. Alec knew him, he knew his heart inside and out, he could feel it beating just behind his own.

Alec would always call him by the only name that had ever mattered.

#nightrunners #nightrunner series #seregil i korit #alec i amasa #seregil x alec #shameless smut #gay fantasy #book recommendations #please consider leaving a comment

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cowboisadness · 4 years

Text

Hang Em’ High {FemOC x Arthur Morgan} Chapter 8

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summary: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

.....

Today it was back to doing the ever so mundane chores around camp, conversing with the other girls whenever we got the chance and when we knew Grimshaw wouldn't scold us for not doing work. Dutch was the leader of the gang, but Grimshaw kept everything running, kept everyone in line when doing the daily duties within the camp. God forbid anyone that crossed her, whether she thought us girls were taking our sweet time or the guys lacking in keeping up with their personal hygiene, she wouldn't go easy, even on her good days. Thankfully I haven't been on the receiving end of her fury, well, not yet anyway. When supper was ready in the evening and all chores were done, I thought it best to take a bowl over to the poor boy they had tied to a tree when I arrived. Kieran, his name is, apparently one of the O’Driscoll boys. Although he didn't seem like the type that would run with them, given the information I had been given regarding the rival gang. Kieran was now able to wander the camp, under the watchful eye of the others that saw him with nothing but contempt. He wouldn't get fed if it wasn't for us ladies. He kept himself busy with the horses most of the time, they wouldn't hurt or insult him after all. I approached him with a hot bowl, disturbing him as he brushed through The Counts mane, the beautiful white Arabian belonging to Dutch. Handing him the bowl he looked to me with hesitation, a few seconds passing by before he reached out to retrieve it.

“Don't worry, me nor the stew bite.”

“Thank you, Miss…”

“Bella”

“...Miss Bella. I hope you won't get a tellin’ for giving me this. Some of the other girls have.”

“Ya gotta eat. Besides, I'd give them a tallin’ back if they do.” He smiles slightly, finally taking a spoonful of the stew.

“How's my girl doing then?” walking over to my mare, stroking her nose and getting a playful nudge to the palm.

“She's a bit feisty sometimes but she's a good one. Does she have a name?”

A name. There's a lot of meaning in a name. I'd need something strong, something steadfast and with purpose. She's feisty but that means she knows what she wants. She seems the type that will set her mind to something and be determined to get it, like a hunter. Looking up to the darkening sky, clouds clearing to present itself with the most beautiful array of blues and blacks, adorned with tiny kisses of light.

“Orion.” I say with a point, keeping my eyes on the constellations above. “After the hunter in the stars. Yeah, I quite like that.” I look back down as she nudges me again, looking for any sweet treats I may have on my person. I give her another rub on her nose before turning back, giving a bye to Kieran as I make my way back to the stew pot.

After everyone had ate and the sun had fallen beyond the horizon most of the camp gathered around the main fire to share a few drinks. Arthur and Lenny decided to head into town for a few drinks instead, promising they will be back in a few hours and to keep out of trouble. Hosea gave them a doubtful look, reminding them that they were laying low. Pearson shared a few stories of his time in the Navy, everyone listening as they drank. Abigail soon retired to bed with a tired Jack in her arms, bidding everyone a goodnight. Couple of bottles later, Hosea was now the one to share stories. Ones of gripping heists and hilarious cons they carried out many years ago before the gang grew into what it is today. Laughter shared amongst everyone over the fire, rising into the air with the smoke. Before the alcohol could hit me in a way I would regret in the morning, I left the others to their merry stories and drunken tales. Curling up on the bedroll I let the distant chatter lull me to sleep.

…

By Morning I was woken by Karen, snaking me side to side, willing to awake with a loud whisper.

“What's wrong Karen?”

“Them two idiots must have got themselves locked up last night. Come with me to get them out?”

“Why me?” Sitting up I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked to her, confused.

“The others are too hungover or are still asleep.”

“Okay, just give me a moment to get sorted.”

“Wear something instead of pants.” She ordered before walking off.

I did as instructed, donning a simple collared white blouse, sleeves stopping just past the elbow. Blue skirt and blank belt to tie it all together as one. Meeting Karen at the horses we decided to take Arthurs and Lennys horses, given that they chose to walk to Valentine last night.

It didn't take long to get to Valentine, the town quickly waking up and going about its usual business. Men tending to their livestock and other men drunkenly stumbling home, or wherever they went to sleep off the alcohol. We made our way through the mud ridden street, stopping outside the Saloon to hitch the horses.

“You a good lier?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't want to risk the Sheriff or a Deputy noticing me. You go in and pretend you're a close relative of those fools. Flash that smile and flutter your eyes at the guy. Persuade him to release them for little to no cost.”

“Would he really fall for that?”

She began to ponder for a few seconds, thinking of something that will be easy and would with minimum effort“Do you have a ring?”

“No. I sold mine.”

“Here, take one of mine. Play as a disgruntled wife that is getting sick of her husbands' shenanigans. Sweet talk him.” She said, removing one of her rings, a dainty gold band and handing it out towards me,

“You mean flirt with a lawman?”

“Sure. He's a man it will be easy.” She could see I wasn’t unsure about this whole thing. Sure I know how to lie. Quickly learning a few weeks after being married then keeping it up for months. It was one thing to lie to that bastard and random people that didn't matter, but to lie to the law, well, that's something I didn't want to involve myself with.

“If he somehow finds out who they are and the bounties they have it will take a lot more than this to get them out.” With that I took the ring from her that was still in her outstretched hand, fitting it snugly onto my finger before turning away towards the Sheriff's building, leaving Karen with the horses and without another word. Seems like lying to the law is just something I'm going to have to get used to. Lucky for them I'm a good liar.

Standing outside of the door I inhaled deeply, putting on a slight scowl and pushing the door open. I didn't pay any mind to the man sat at the desk, instead making my way to the cells. Arthur and Lenny were in separate cells, the latter awake and looking very sorry for himself. He looked up, blinking a few times to make sure he was seeing correctly, shaking my head at him before turning to the man that was trying to get my attention while still sat at the desk. It wasn't the Sheriff, just a Deputy, a young one. This should be easy.

“I can only apologise for whatever trouble my husband and his friend caused Deputy”

“A pair of drunken fools starting fights they are.”

“It seems my husband won't accept that he has a low tolerance when it comes to whiskey. I hope it wasn't too serious.”

“We have a low tolerance for violent drunkards in this town miss.”

Placing my hands onto the table and swaying myself towards him slightly to minimise the distance between us and ignoring the chatter behind me as I looked down at my hands “I’m really at the end of my whits with him. Why couldn't I have married a decent man? I hope he didn't cause you trouble when bringing him in. Although... he might be a big oaf I’m sure you would have no trouble against him”

“Well, it didn't take much to fling him in that cell.”

“I bet you're used to more dangerous and violent bad guys huh? Your girl must get so worried knowing what sort of monsters you have to deal with.”

“I have no girl to call my own miss.”

Moving to sit partly on the desk, giving him a delicate smile and keeping my attention on the boy below. “Really? Any woman would be lucky to have a brave, principled man like yourself. Instead of a fool that spends all their money on drink and can't even handle it. A man that can take care of a town knows how to take care of his lady.”

“Bella” Arthur calls

“I’m not speaking with you!” I didn't look away, keeping my eyes locked with the young deputy, faintly trembling in his seat. Leaning over towards him, now peering at him through my lashes and lowering my voice for just him to hear. “I promise these idiots won't be any more trouble for you, But if they even cause the slightest disturbance...I'm willing to be punished personally for it.” I smirked at him then licking my lips and leaning over his desk to the point I could feel his quickening breaths on my face. He was frozen in place, looking to me like a cornered doe. Without faltering eye contact I shot him a wink, breaking him out of the trance. Breaking away from the intense eye contact he fumbled with the keys attached to his belt.

The keys rattled in his hands faintly as he went to open the cell doors. I blessed the stars that it was a naive deputy I faced instead of the Sheriff. It could have gone completely different and not as smoothly if it had been.

Leading the boys outside without a word to them, I turned to the Deputy as I approached the door, fiddling with the knob so plainly with delicate fingers. “Thank you. I will remember to hopefully repay you some time.” Shooting him a wink I walked out the door before he could say a word.

What a sad site they were. Lenny vomited on himself once outside and Arthur was sat leaning against the post. Both unable to open their eyes properly as the morning light burned and made their heads throb.

“I’m just gunna have a little sit-down and...feel sorry for myself”

“Oh no you ain't. You and a few others have to go rescue that Sean fella.” He grumbled as I stood beside him, waving off Lenny who had been found by Karen, both of them setting off back to camp.

“What happened last night?”

“Don't remember.”

I huffed at that. Alcohol does one hell of a job on folk. I pulled him up, steadying him on his feet before practically dragging him to his horse, deciding that I would sit up front to take us back to camp.

Javier, Charles, Arthur and Trelawny were the ones going to rescue Sean, who was being held at Blackwater. Everyone was on edge for their safe arrival, none of them wanted to be anywhere near Blackwater right now. It was late afternoon before the beat of hooves could be heard coming up the path. Javier had returned with a loud Irishman at his back. The camp ran to meet the two, thankful for Sean's safe return and Sean replied with a shout about needing a strong drink or five. The camp's whole demeanour was flipped on its head in a matter of minutes with crates of beer and whiskey being pulled from Pearson's wagon and placed around the fire. It was time to celebrate. Arthur and Charles arrived as the first bottles were being passed around and opened, everyone collecting around the fire. Dutch gave some words on how happy he was that Sean was finally back and safe and everyone was soon talking merrily. Javier retrieving his guitar and some joined in on his song. Sean shared stories of his capture, though obviously exaggerated. Hands waving in the air for dramatic effect. Karen sat closely by his side. Arthur came to sit in the space between me and Sadie with a bottle in hand. Looking between him and the bottle he just shrugged. It seemed the rescue mission helped him get over his hangover.

“And who is this lady?” Sean bellowed as he approached.

“Annabelle, but you can call me Bella.” I smiled up at him, raising my hand for him to shake,

“Well, well. It is my pleasure miss Bella” He took my hand but instead of shaking it as I expected he pressed his lips to the back. “Where did they find you then?”

“Long story. Arthur helped me escape a less than ideal situation I would say”

“Swept up another high society lady hey Arthur”

“Shut it, Sean” Sean raised his hands in mock defeat at that.

“Just jesting Englishman. But I would love to know how you do it. I'd say she's prettier than the last. Hopefully a bit wilder.” Sean began to back away, hands still in the air but with a grin on his face.

“I wish I left you hanging from that tree.”

I couldn't help but laugh slightly, pursing my lips together to stop as Arthur looked at me with disgust that I would even entertain the Irishman.

The drinks went quickly throughout the night. Everyone singing, Uncle breaking out his banjo and others got up to dance. The alcohol was starting to take effect on me too, despite telling myself to only have a couple. It was obvious that everyone needed this. Needed some good news and a reason to celebrate.

Abigail and Jack were the first to leave even though Jack was very much awake and enjoying the liveliness around him. As the moon got higher and the night was truly set, one by one people stumbled to their tents or bedrolls. Leaving only a handful of us around the fire, sharing stories of alcohol-fueled shenanigans they got up to over the years. I had none to contribute, seeing as this was the drunkest I have ever been. I was dizzy and euphoric at the same time. My balance was unsteady and I felt like I was spinning even while seated. My body felt lighter, more at ease. Any worries I had were gone and buried. Living in the joy of the moment. Arthur and Sadie and I sat in front of the log instead of on it as we all progressively got more inebriated. The log keeping us upright and more stable. The fire before us began to die down as the celebrations did, the rest going to bed. Just Arthur and I left around the dying fire, still supping what little was left of the bottles in our hands. I didn't want to sleep, I wanted the celebrations and singing to carry on till daybreak. But my eyes started to feel heavy.

“How was the rescue?” I slurred, turning to Arthur

“Fine. Didn’t die.” His accent even thicker thanks to his drunken state.

I exhaled a laugh and a loud snort followed. My hand shot up to cover my mouth, basically slapping myself in the face, eyes wide at the noise I just made. Arthur looked at me wide-eyed also, equally taken back. He began to laugh, I soon followed. The two of us giggling into the night. My eyes were getting heavier and heavier by the minute, along with my body quickly losing its feather-light feeling. Moving myself I leaned into the log, resting my head on my hands upon it. In my current state, this was more comfort than any plush bed could provide. Before I knew it my eyes were closed, sleep overtaking me.

#hang em high #hang em high fic #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemtion 2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan x oc #rdr2 fic

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