#ACTUALLY i’ve found ONE dress but i need to wear something under it. killing and maiming

[shehzadi]

[homeofthelonelywriter]

K.I.A. | Oneshot

(A/N) This one could really hit hard. Please take care of yourself.

Pairing: Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: lots of angst, death of a loved one, depression, grief, alcohol, comfort in the end

Synopsis: I don't think there is a need for a synopsis. The title says it all.

It was supposed to be fine.

It was supposed to be safe.

“It’s going to be a quick and easy mission, love. I’ll be back in no time.”

That’s what he had said.

That’s what he had promised.

But he lied.

The mission wasn’t quick. It wasn’t easy. He wouldn’t be back in no time.

He was dead.

Killed in action, an honorable death.

To hell with them. To hell with their honorable death. Death isn’t honorable, death is death. And now he’s gone. And I’ll never see him again.

It’s his funeral and I can’t even look at them. The ones that survived. Price, Soap, Gaz. They all came back but he didn’t. He didn’t and he never will.

They hand me a flag, folded into a triangle. If I could, I would throw it at their heads. If I could, I would yell at them. If I could, I would I hit them. But I can’t. I can’t do anything, but stand there, hold that stupid flag and cry while they fire off their shots. I can’t do anything.

Well, I can do something. I can lie in bed. I can cry, a lot. I can ignore my hunger until I almost throw up. I can see his shadow, trick myself into thinking that he’s back. That he’s alive.

And I can think of him. Of all the good memories. How we met. The first time we kissed. How he asked me out. Our first date. The birthday he gave me the puppy.

The puppy…at the though of Riley, I sit up. At least until I realise that my mom took her after the funeral. She was safe, cared for. I was alone. So fucking alone.

I don’t know how much time passed, a week? Maybe a month. Perhaps even two.

I finally get up and take a shower. I smell after all.

The shower feels incredibly small without Simon behind me.

And that’s how I start crying again. I sit under the stream for what feels like hours before I finally find the strength to get out and dry off my body before falling back onto my bed.

But now it’s getting better.

I take showers from time to time.

Sometimes I even eat some food. I don’t cook anything, everything I’ve had, had spoiled by now, but I just order in.

It’s been four months since Price stood at my door and told me he was dead. That Simon would never come back. And I’ve finally found a way to dull the pain.

Alcohol isn’t the answer, of course. But for now it’s the only thing that is making me feel even slightly alive.

I spent most my day at the bar nearby, what else am I supposed to do?

Home makes me think about Simon.

Work makes me think about Simon.

Hanging out with my family or friends make me think of Simon.

We had never gone to this bar together, so I’m safe here. And the alcohol drowns out my thoughts of him. Well, most of them anyway. At least it leaves enough sense to find my way back home.

It’s become some sort of ritual. Get out of bed, get dressed, go to the bar, get shitfaced and go back home.

Today isn’t any different. Why should it be? But why…does it feel different.

I usually spend multiple hours there, but today I just want to get back home. After I pay for the drink I actually had, I make my way home. But I feel watched, the whole way back. At least I’ll feel better as soon as I’m in bed.

I unlock the front door and walk inside, not paying any mind to the big shadow standing in the hallway, or to how similar it looks to Simon. Instead, I lock the door behind me and shrug off the jacket I’m wearing, hanging it up.

I walk past the shadow and to the staircase leading up and to the bedroom I share…shared with Simon. But something stops me. One word.

“Love?”

I freeze not moving a single muscle. It can’t be him. But it sounds like him. But he’s dead. But it looks like him.

Stiff, almost like a robot, I turn around and look at the shadow. And I see Simon.

“You’re not real.”

I shake my head and start walking up the stairs.

“Love, it’s me. I’m sorry, I-”

I cut him off as I spin around and slap him across the face. That used to get rid of the hallucinations, but…he’s still here. His head whips to the right from the impact, but he doesn’t move.

“Simon…”

He looks at me. He is here. So I touch him.

I place my hands against his chest, against his beating heart.

And it is beating. He is alive. He is here.

I move my hands to his shoulder. They are as broad and hard as I remember.

I move them to his neck, feel his pulse. He is here. He is alive.

“Simon.”

I only realise that I’m crying when Simon lifts his hands and carefully wipes them away.

“Simon.”

A sob wracks through me and I let him wrap his arms around me.

Another sob and I let him pull me closer.

My body shakes as he holds it to his.

His body. Firm and warm. Hard, covered in muscles.

He is here. He is alive.

“You were dead.”

He tightens his hold on me.

“I know, love. I know.”

I claw at his jacket, trying to get him closer.

“I cried for you.”

Again, his hold tightens.

“I know. I wish I could’ve done something. All I could do was watch.”

I continue to cry and sob in his arms.

At some point, Simon picks me up and carries me upstairs. But not to the bed. To the bathroom.

Carefully, he sets me down on the edge of the bathtub before he turns on the shower. With hands, as gentle as I remember them, he undresses me, before he undresses himself.

He navigates me into the shower, before he carefully washes me. All the while, holding me close and consoling me whenever I have another break down.

And then, he leaves me there. He leaves the water on and it feels like he’s gone again. Maybe I just imagined him. Him being here. Him consoling me. Him taking care of me.

But I didn’t.

He joins me in the shower again after ten minutes.

“I just changed the sheets real quick. Let’s get you out of here, princess.”

Once again he picks me up and carries me to the edge of the bathtub. He had placed a towel there, so I don’t feel the cold of the metal when he sets me down.

Carefully, as if I were made out of porcelain he dried my body before he pulled one of his old t-shirts over my head. Once he is dry as well, he carries me into the bedroom and places me on the bed, before he gently tugs me in.

“I’ll be right back, my love. I’ll just get you a glass of water.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead and is about to walk away when I catch his wrist.

“Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me again.”

He turns to look at me and opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

“Simon, please. I…I can’t loose you again.”

Tears are rolling down my cheeks again. And this is what he needed.

He nods and climbs into bed beside me, immediately pulling me close against his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry my love. I’ll never leave you again. I promise. Never again.”

I nod but continue to sob into his chest. And this is how I fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning, alone in bed.

“Simon? Simon!”

Without thinking, I try to rush to the door, but my feet get tangled in the sheets. I fall to the floor, but get up immediately.

Please let him be there. Please let him be alive. Please.

Please please please please please pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple-

“Love? Are you alright?”

He is here. He is alive.

“You…you are here. You are alive.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself up, wrapping my legs around his waist. His arms immediately wrap around me and support my weight completely.

“Ssh, it’s okay my love. I’m here. I promise you I’m here.”

Like a baby, he started to gently bounce me up and down until I slowly started to calm down. Now I know why that works on babies.

For the rest of the morning, I stay there, wrapped securely in his arms, while he cooks pancakes and cleans the dishes. I even eat in his arms.

And even after that, I’m hesitant to leave them. But I do. I let him set me down on the couch and watch him as he flies through the house and cleaned the messes that had accumulated since his ‘death’.

His ‘death’.

“Why?”

Simon stops in his tracks and turns to look at me.

“Why what, my love?”

I sigh, already feeling bad about asking this question. But I need to know.

“Why did you fake your death? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Now Simon sighs. He puts away the broom and sits down next to me.

“There was a mole in the 141 and we had to flush them out. This was the only way we could think of. I’m so so sorry love. I promise, I tried my best to get them to change their mind. Or to at least let me tell you, but the mole…he had to buy it and…”

“They were afraid I wouldn’t fake it well enough.”

Simon nods, sadness clear in his eyes.

I nod. And I can’t say that I don’t understand. I knew what I was getting into when I started dating him. I just never thought it would go that far.

“Si…please never do that again.”

He shakes his head and picks me up, putting me down on his lap.

“Never, princess. I’ll never leave you again. I swear on my grave.”

At that statement I pull back slightly and look at him. His lips were pulled into a slight smile. And then I start laughing.

“You are such an idiot.”

Simon chuckles and nods before pulling me back onto his chest.

“I’m sorry, love. I just couldn’t help myself.”

I shake my head and cuddle into him and I know this is going to be alright. We are going to be alright.

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

[coltermorning]

The Hat (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You’ve taken a liking to a certain hat as well as to the rugged gunslinger who wears it. When you impulsively risk your neck to get it back for him, his anger at your foolish act turns into something surprising.

Author’s Notes: This was the first fic I ever wrote, and wow is it amazing to see how far I’ve come! This one will always have a special place in my heart though. Set during Chapter 3 in game.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, low honor Arthur Morgan, rough sex, rough oral sex, spanking

AO3 Link

~

The Hat

Word count: 6319

“Please let me go with them, Dutch. I can handle myself just fine,” you begged the gang leader as he assigned his men a lead he had been scoping out.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, miss. I don’t doubt that at all-”

“Then let me go. I’ll keep my head down and be a good extra hand. Hell, they may need me,” you said, gesturing to the men Dutch had just handpicked for the job.

You had been with the Van der Linde Gang for over a month now, fitting right in with your rough, dangerous lifestyle. Because of this, you had quickly found friendship in some of the men as well as Sadie Adler who was one of the first women you knew to dress like you and shoot like you and keep up with the rest of the men with ease like you. Well, almost all of the men. A certain handsome cowboy named Arthur had proven to be the most talented gun you had ever met, and he caught your attention early on because of it. Unsurprisingly, he was one of the men Dutch asked to go robbing. Part of you wanted to join the outing simply to watch the broad-shouldered man in action, although you would never admit to that. You couldn’t fall for someone you hardly knew when your lifestyle didn’t allow for such things.

Dutch pondered your request and finally relented. “Fine. Arthur, watch her, would you? Make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.”

“Now, Dutch, I ain’t babysitting on a job,” the rugged gun responded.

Dutch had already turned to walk back to his tent and waved Arthur’s words away, making his request final. Your blood boiled a little under the surface, mad at continually being called a kid. You stomped toward the camp’s hitching post where your horse was tied, stopping to make your anger known with Arthur. “I ain’t a baby. You look out for yourself and I’ll be just fine.” You turned to walk to your horse, not even waiting for a response.

He let out a big sigh of annoyance in return. “If you say so.” He followed you in walking to his horse, barking orders along the way. “John, Javier, let’s go. We don’t have much time if we wanna do this right.” The other two guns jogged over to their horses as well, and by the time all of you were saddled, Arthur led the group out of the Clemens Point camp and toward the latest score for the gang.

Not long into the ride, Arthur laid out a plan for the three of you to follow, telling you to stay toward the back of the wagon you were going to rob to keep an eye out. He was going to do the actual robbing and needed good protection in case anyone bold decided to show up and attempt to pick him off. Javier was to help you keep watch, and John was to hold up the driver. You were nervous about your first outing with the gang but excited too and ready to prove yourself. You were a good shot, especially with a rifle, so as long as you relied on your talent everything would turn out fine.

After a ride that lasted longer than you thought it would, Arthur spoke up. “Let’s wait under these trees here. Should be hidden well enough to wait for the wagon to pass.” The four of you turned your horses off the trail and into the woods to wait. After about ten minutes, the wagon came idling along the path. “Masks on. Here she comes,” Arthur said. You pulled up your dust-colored bandana (the damned thing used to be white, the Rhodes dirt having ruined it) to hide your face as you readied your gun. “You sure you ready for this, hotshot?” Arthur asked you. You looked over at him and nodded, not allowing him any room in your mind where your focus needed to be. “All right then. On my mark.”

The wagon crept along just past the trees where you were hidden, and Arthur waited a few seconds before barking the order, “Ride!” The four of your barreled out of the woods and toward the wagon, startling the driver enough to make him immediately stop and put his hands up.

John played his part well, riding up directly beside the driver. “That’s right, not one move or I’ll shoot you dead!”

Arthur quickly jumped into the back of the wagon to look for the money Dutch said would be hidden in it. “Javier, Y/N, keep an eye out. No guards don’t sit right with me,” he said as he searched through a trunk.

Javier looked toward the road ahead of the wagon and to the left while you took the rear and the right. You spotted movement in the wood line just in time to line up your sights. Through the crosshairs, you saw four or five mounted men hiding there, waiting to pick you off—one of them had a long-scoped rifle. “Guards!” you yelled, taking a shot at the man with the most deadly gun. You were a second too late though, as he fired just before you and came within inches of Arthur’s head, making Arthur’s hat fly off.

“Goddammit,” Arthur muttered as he ducked down into the wagon. “John stay with the driver and make sure he don’t run!”

Your first shot hit the guard right in the jaw, killing him and knocking him clean off his agitated horse. Shots rang out all around you as the remaining guards pursued and Javier and Arthur fired back. You were well-seasoned in this and took a breath, spurring your horse to move. A moving target was much harder to hit than a still one. You fired again and again, hitting one more guard. Either Arthur or Javier finished off the rest, and a silence rang out in the large space that gunshots had just filled. The two drafts pulling the wagon reared and stomped, only held from bolting by the terrified driver. “Get down from there,” John ordered him. “Get down from there now and get out of here and maybe I won’t kill you!” he yelled. The driver did as he was told, and John quickly replaced him. “I’m getting this thing out of here, Arthur. That won’t be the last of them.”

“Find a secluded spot and keep your head down then,” Arthur said as he jumped off the side of the wagon. “Don’t draw any attention. Go!” He slapped the side of the wagon and John flicked the reins hard, lurching the wagon away. “You two, be ready. He’s right, there’ll be more guards headed our-”

Before Arthur could finish his sentence, more gunshots rang out. Mounted men spilled out of the trees toward the three of you. Arthur was stuck too far away from his horse, so he jumped on John’s instead, grabbing his gun to shoot back at the men and whistling for his own mount to follow. You joined Javier in making a run for it while shooting your pursuers, but something near a big bush on the ground caught your eye—it was Arthur’s hat. “Arthur, your hat!” you yelled to him, knowing how important it was to him.

“For christ sake, leave it!” he shouted as he unloaded his sidearms.

Against all logic and rationalization, you turned your mount into a wide circle, doubling back to retrieve the hat. You loved that hat something awful, especially on the cowboy who donned it. You also weren’t scared of the mediocre guns pursuing you in the slightest. The guards in pursuit split, half following Javier and Arthur, half following you. You aimed your rifle at one of them and breathed out, firing a shot that took him down easily. As far as you could tell, that only left two more. You spurred your horse again, keeping your head low and riding in an erratic pattern as gunshots flew around you. You turned to line up your shot again and fired, taking out the second guard.

As your one pursuer continued after you, you neared the black hat on the ground. You decided (impulsively and somewhat stupidly) to grab the hat off the ground while riding. You used to practice tricks like this off of your horse all the time when you were younger, but this one would have to count or it could cost you your head. You kept your feet firmly in the stirrups, glad that you had cinched your horse up so tight, and began to lean as you neared the hat at full speed. You leaned down more and more, stretching your arm out as far as it would go, and just before you reached the hat, another gunshot split the air and skimmed across your left arm that was away from the ground. You instinctively moved away from the splitting pain and even closer to the ground, finding the hat with your fingers and picking it up. You slammed it on your head, turned angrily around to the guard who had shot you, and cut his pursuit short with a bullet between the eyes. You didn’t let up one second in case any more pursuers came and bolted back toward camp with a small grin at your triumph.

~

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Arthur yelled as you reentered camp at a trot.

As you passed him, you tipped his own hat to him, deciding not to give it back just yet. You had earned it, goddammit, not him. “Survived, didn’t I?” You stopped your horse just shy of the hitching post and dismounted, tying him and giving him loving pats down his broad neck for doing so well under pressure.

“That ain’t the point.” The angry outlaw was hot on your tail, towering over you when you turned around. “You could have gotten yourself killed. I told you to leave the damn hat.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. And I killed the rest of the guards for you. You’re welcome.” You put your hand over the hat and ducked around him, deciding to rub some salt in the wound and keep it for yourself, at least for the day.

You saw Dutch walking your way and felt a tiny bolt of panic. The job really could have gone better, and now you knew Arthur wouldn’t vouch for your talent. “What’s going on?” the gang leader asked.

“She nearly went and got herself shot up all for that stupid hat,” Arthur answered, following behind with plenty of impatience in his voice.

Dutch let out a sharp laugh. “Well, we have a brave one on our hands, don’t we? For future reference, miss, Arthur couldn’t lose that hat if his life depended on it. It always finds its way back on his head.” Dutch had a small grin on his face, and it was a little off-putting. Why wasn’t he yelling at you?

“Yeah she’s brave. Brave or stupid,” Arthur replied.

“Watch your mouth, would you?” you said, rounding on the cowboy. “I killed five of those guards with ease, no problems. Isn’t that all that matters? That we got the money and came out with our lives?”

“It ain’t about winning, it’s about being smart enough to live another day and not risk our necks unnecessarily.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was right but refusing to admit it. “Yeah, well, don’t get your hat shot off your head next time and maybe I won’t have to risk my neck.” Dutch let out another bark of a laugh at Arthur as you stormed off toward your tent.

You heard Dutch mutter “She’s got a point. It all turned out all right, Arthur, now don’t go worrying yourself into the grave,” before you reached your bedroll.

You heard Arthur reply, but his voice was too low for you to pick up words. His anger made you angry, made you want to punch something. You swiftly took the hat off your head and slammed it down on the ground beside you as you sat. The sharp movement made you wince as you remembered the graze from the bullet on your arm. You looked at your wound and saw that blood had seeped into your shirt, so you unbuttoned a few of the top buttons and brought the fabric down over your shoulder to reveal the wound. It wasn’t bad and could have been a lot worse, you decided, knowing that it would end up healing just fine. You reached over into your trunk where you kept all your belongings and pulled out a canteen and another shirt, soaking the shirt with water and pressing it to your wound to clean it out. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. You’d need to get your hands on a health cure to make sure it didn’t get infected. As you poured more water onto your shirt, Tilly passed by and saw the blood on your arm. “Didn’t go exactly as planned, did it?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” you said through a chuckle. You loved Tilly’s bluntness in everything she did. It kept all the boys in check. “Could have been worse, though.”

“Story of our lives.”

You let out another laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

“Well anyway,” she said, moving to get back to her work, “Keep on those men. They need it.” She smiled over her shoulder and you returned it.

After you finished tending to your wound and buttoned your shirt back up, you noticed Arthur eyeing you from across camp with a gaze full of anger. You had neglected to mention the graze on your arm on purpose, and knowing that he had seen it made you a little embarrassed. He would definitely bring it up later. He always had to have the last word, that much you knew about him.

You elected to ignore him and picked up his hat instead, knowing he was watching. You put it back on your head and wiped your wet hands off on your pants as you stood. You needed to go ask Strauss for a health cure. You would much rather ride into Rhodes and buy one from the general store there, but the gang members were finicky about who got to leave camp whenever they pleased. You hadn’t earned the right to do that yet. So, you made way to Strauss’ wagon, keeping a wide berth between you and Arthur. You didn’t feel like arguing anymore lest you end up boiling over with anger and saying something you didn’t mean, as you tended to do. Luckily, you saw his tall frame move from the spot where he had been leaning and retreat toward his holdings, away from you.

“Mister Strauss,” you said, making him pull his newspaper down from under his nose. “I’m afraid I find myself in need of some medicine.”

“Are you all right?”

“Fine, just need a health cure. Got grazed by a bullet.” You stopped in front of him and tilted the too-big hat up out of your eyes.

“Oh, I know the agonies of a graze,” he said, scrambling to pick something out for you. He pulled a tiny bottle from his wagon and handed it to you. “That should work well. It certainly helped me.”

“Thanks,” you said, nodding his way and retreating. “I appreciate it.”

“No trouble at all,” he said, seemingly happy to be of use. You made your way back to your tent, drinking the bitter liquid down and trying not to wince at the taste. Once again, you caught the angry outlaw’s eyes. You stopped and thought about confronting him but decided against it. No point in raising hell. Instead, the two of you stared with harsh, set gazes, locking imaginary horns without a word.

~

Night fell over camp, and after staying up and talking with Sadie for a while, you decided to retire to your bedroll. You always had trouble falling right to sleep, but the medicine had relaxed your tense muscles, and unconsciousness fell over you with ease.

That is, until you were startled awake by someone nudging you with their boot. You quickly flipped over and reached down for the sidearm you kept near while you slept until you realized nothing was wrong and it was just Arthur. “Jesus, what the hell?” you said with a grogginess from being ripped from sleep. You slumped back down on your back.

“Get up.” You opened one eye and looked up at the handsome figure that towered over you, but you didn’t move a muscle. “Don’t make me sling you over my shoulder.”

“For god’s sake, Arthur,” you said as you rose with reluctance. “What’s so important that I gotta get up in the middle of the damn night?”

“You’re coming with me. Grab my hat and your boots, we gotta ride ahead of us.”

You groaned in annoyance at the request, stretching the sleep out of your frame. “A ride? What kind of twisted punishment-” You stopped talking when you noticed Arthur had already stalked off toward the horses. “Hmph.”

You grabbed his hat and put it on your own head, disoriented and wondering why he hadn’t just taken it back already. You grabbed your two guns, holstering the sidearm and resting the rifle over your shoulder by the strap, and followed the broody bastard. When you slung your leg over your sleepy mount, Arthur made a request that only confused you further. “No questions on the ride, you got me?”

“What?”

“Yeah, that. None of those until we get there. You don’t like to listen do you?”

He turned his horse to leave camp, and you followed suit. “Where is ‘there’ exactly?” He shook his head, his sandy hair swaying in the moonlight, but neglected to answer you. You rolled your tired eyes, unhappy about the situation you found yourself in. You showed his back your middle finger, making you smile in triumph.

After a few hours had passed and you were sure the sun would be rising soon, you found yourself crossing the Dakota River with a very tired horse and a very grumpy outlaw. You had relented to his request and hadn’t spoken another word, not because he asked but because you were too drained of energy for any conversation. The pair of stallions stepped high through the rushing water, giving every bit of energy to your and Arthur’s spurring. Finally, you spoke up for your mount’s sake. “We best be stopping soon or we’ll have to walk on foot.”

Without turning to look at you, Arthur replied. “The horses will be fine. Not much longer.”

Sure enough, he held true to his word. After less than a half hour, he stopped in front of a small cabin and stepped off of his horse to hitch it. Your exhaustion had begun to wear off and give way to suspicion. What was he planning? Did he know someone here? He looked over to you still on your horse with a questioning gaze. “You want me to come with you, or...”

“Come on,” he nodded, stepping onto the cabin’s small porch. You got off of your horse and stretched your aching legs before hitching and following Arthur.

He opened the door and let you walk through only for you to discover that it was empty. Now you were really suspicious, almost to the point of fear. “Okay, just what the hell is going on? Look, I know I screwed up but this is really starting to get-”

You turned to meet his gaze as he shut the door behind him and immediately lost your words. He was looking at you like an animal would, pupils blown wide, predatory. It turned you on slightly, but you were still a little scared of him. “You told me you wouldn’t cause any fuss on that score we took.”

He slowly stepped toward you, eyes devouring you. You were, quite frankly, scared out of your wits and just as turned on by his display. “I- I know I did, but-”

“Just had to get my hat, didn’t you? Why is that?” he said, still approaching you in such an intimidating manner that you gave a little ground and started to back up.

“I like your hat,” you said, reaching up to grab it.

“Nah, that ain’t it.” He held your eyes locked as he moved close enough for you to back into a nightstand behind you. “See,” he said, stopping to lean over you, placing his forearm on the wall above your head—trapping you. “I know you ain’t an idiot. You wouldn’t risk your life all over a hat you liked, one that ain’t even yours.”

You began to tilt your head down to escape his gaze, but he used his calloused finger to tilt your chin back up to him. Your heart pounded as you began to understand why he was such a good enforcer. You also wanted him to have you right then and there, but that was another thing entirely—a wild fantasy of yours that was uncalled for at the moment. “Maybe...” you said, gaining a little confidence again. “Maybe I knew I wasn’t risking my life to get it. Knew I would come out unscathed.”

“Unscathed?” he asked in a deep growl that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “You call this unscathed?” He reached for your arm where the bullet had grazed you and gripped hard, making you wince in pain.

“Quit! Please, Arthur, I-”

“Nah, you better tell me the truth right now.” He ceased his firm grip but kept his large hand on your arm as a reminder of what pain he could cause. You began to panic. He was obviously interested in punishing you being so far away from civilization and from any other human being, and the feeling of being trapped with a very overpowered and very predatory man was making your breathing quicken. Should you tell him that you went back for it because you favored its owner so much or would that make him even angrier, gaining you worse punishment for being so impulsive? He suddenly slammed his hand on the wall behind your head, making you jump out of your skin. “Tell me!”

“Fine! I- it’s, it’s you! I grabbed it because it’s yours! Because I, well...”

“Go on,” he said with a grimace, lip curled over his teeth like a wolf. He had gotten so close to you it nearly made you turn your head away.

“Because I know how much it means to you. Being your father’s hat and all. I’ve seen the picture on your wagon.” You hoped this was a good enough excuse for him, as it wasn’t the whole truth.

He almost seemed to sense the guilt coming off of you. “You lie.” The growling words made your blood run cold. They would mean worse punishment. “You better tell me the goddamn truth right now,” he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

You felt a heat begin to build between your legs at his closeness and his voice and his harsh way. Fuck it, you thought, what was the worst that could happen? “I grabbed the hat because I want to gain the favor of the man who wears it,” you said calmly, holding his gaze. His expression didn’t change in the slightest, and you decided, again impulsively, to throw all your chips in. “Because I want him to fuck me.”

That was all it took. He snapped, pushing you up to sit on the nightstand and pressing his lips to yours with such force it hurt. Your head hit the wood behind you as he pushed against you, and his hat got pushed up off your head as a result. You grabbed it to keep it from falling off, suddenly very glad to have it on. His tongue immediately pushed past your teeth and into your mouth, all hot and dominant, and his hips pushed right between your legs. His hands ravished your body and began to work the buttons of your shirt as you brought your own hands around to his broad, muscled back. He distractedly and sloppily kissed you as he yanked your shirt apart, pulling the bottom two buttons clean off the shirt. You wanted to scold him for it but were too lost in the heat of his mouth to care.

You moved forward to get the shirt out from behind you and took it off completely. He stopped and looked down, realizing you had nothing on underneath the shirt. He had a dark hunger in his eyes as they raked over your body, and he reached his hand up to feel your breast and flick his thumb across your nipple. The sensation made you suck in a breath, and the sound drew his attention back to you, making him continue the pursuit of devouring your mouth.

You began to undress him then, taking off his familiar brown jacket he always wore and tugging his suspenders off his shoulders. Every touch he gave you was like fire licking your skin, and you suddenly couldn’t have enough of him. You pulled him in impossibly closer by his shirt collar, letting him continue claiming every inch of your mouth and using what little room you had to unbutton his shirt and take it off.

Just as suddenly as you had pulled him into you, you shoved him away, making him stumble a few steps backward. You had the overwhelming need to see him, that body he was hiding beneath all those layers. And you were met with quite a sight—his wide chest and chiseled torso were unfairly attractive. He flexed his muscles involuntarily as he heaved in breaths, watching your mouth part in desire at the sight of him.

He stepped back toward you and picked you up with ease, cupping your backside and crashing his hips to yours as he moved to lay you down on the small bed the cabin had to offer. You both kicked off your boots, stripped each other’s socks, and fought to undo the other’s gun belt and pants buttons. You remembered just as he shoved your pants down your legs that you had neglected to put anything on under your pants either. He pulled them completely off of your legs with what could be mistaken for anger but you knew to be desire, stepping back to admire your nearly completely naked form (apart from his own hat) for only a moment before he slammed his mouth against yours again. You sat up as best you could between his arms and slid his pants off as well, taking his undergarments off along with them. His cock sprang out of them and to attention, and the sight of it alone made you let out a low sound of arousal. He had more girth than any man you had ever seen, and you knew it would stretch you wide in a way you had never felt before. He stood just by the bedside and right in front of you, and when he saw how close your mouth was to his length, he put his hand on your hatted head and shoved you toward him.

Just before you took him into your mouth, you began to try to pull the hat off, as it was starting to get in the way. He swiftly caught your wrist, and you looked up at him in surprise. “Leave it on,” he growled with a dark gaze. You were again reminded of a predatory animal. “Gonna watch you take every inch of me with that hat sat right on your head. Teach you a damn lesson about obeying.” His words made you breathe heavier, made the heat between your legs form a rising pressure.

“Yes sir,” you said as you took him into your mouth, making him emit a long breath of pleasure as he rolled his hips a little to get used to the tightness. You used your tongue like you knew how, twisting and licking around his thick cock, running it over his head, licking down the underside. You looked up to see him tilt his head back with an expression of pure pleasure, then you began to move. You held one hand at his base and the other under his balls, taking him slowly at first to get used to him, then deeper as your throat relaxed. Arthur brought his head back down and placed his hand on the back of your head under the brim of his hat, suddenly snapping his hips forward, making his cock push at the back of your throat. The sensation made you gag, but you continued your work anyway as he started to fuck your mouth harshly, using you like a toy. Tears formed in your eyes at being used like this, but it turned you on something awful. You continued to work on him as best you could before he suddenly withdrew from your mouth, pulling you up and turning you around so that you were on your hands and knees on the bed, presented to him all glistening wet.

“All ready for me ain’t you? Want me to fuck you, girl?” He gently placed one hand on your hip just above your backside.

You weren’t embarrassed in the slightest about wanting to beg him. You had never wanted anyone more in your life. “Yes, please, Arthur. Please fuck me, I- oh!”

He spanked you hard, the sound resonating in the small room. You hadn’t expected the harsh slap and were sure that his strong hand had left a mark. “Remember what I said about obeying?”

“Yes, I remember. I’ll do it from now on, I’ll be good-” He spanked your ass again right in the same spot, leaving a stinging burn on your skin.

“That’s not why we’re here, is it? Why are we here?” You pondered his question, and because you hesitated, it gained you another sharp slap. “Answer me,” he said in his low growl.

“Because I need to be punished!” you yelled, hoping the quick answer would be enough to make him stop.

Sure enough, he rubbed circles on the skin that had grown irritated instead of spanking you again. “Good. You’re right, a little minx like you needs to be punished for not following direct orders.”

“I do. I need to be taught a lesson,” you begged, hoping you would feel his thick cock pushing into you instead of his calloused hands punishing you.

“A lesson, huh? Tell you what, for every minute I was waiting, worried sick that you had gone off and gotten yourself killed, earns one slap.” You hated to hear it. The spanking turned you on, but you didn’t think Arthur realized how strong he was and how much it hurt. He spanked you again, and you let out a soft moan of pain. “That’s one. The first minute I realized you were gone.” He spanked you again, even harder, making tears prick at your eyes. “Two. When I pondered going back to find you.” He spanked you again. “Three. When I realized going back would probably mean finding you dead.” He spanked impossibly harder, making you yelp in pain. “Four. When I knew that it could be a trap for me to go back and I would just have to wait.” He gave three slaps in quick succession, not as harsh as the others. “The three minutes waiting in camp for you.”

Then, he gave you one last slap across the ass, so hard that you cried out in pain. “Arthur, please!”

“That one was for your sorry ass riding into camp like you owned the place with that hat on your head, mouthing off to me like you knew better.” You waited in silence, hoping he was finished. “And then,” he said, rubbing circles into your raised, abused skin again. “You had the bright idea to parade my hat around camp like a trophy for the rest of the day, showing everyone just who was in charge.” His words worried you, knowing you would probably get another spanking for that, but Arthur didn’t move his hand from your backside. Instead, he leaned over you enough that you could feel his cock rest against your skin, and he used his hand to grip your jaw and force you to look at him. “I’ll tell you who’s in charge girl,” he growled. You watched as he took his hat from your head and placed it on his own before digging his fingers into your hips and ramming his whole length into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Arthur!” You didn’t have a second to adjust to his girth as he started to move, slowly but completely and filling you up so much it hurt. The anticipation of him fucking you was enough to put you close to your climax before he even entered you, but his movement slowed your build back down, making you want to be completely ravished by him first.

He didn’t give you long to experience this though, as he held his grip tight on your hip with one hand but reached down with the other to brush against your clit. His touch lit your nerves on fire, and your back caved in response, giving him a better angle to hit your sweet spot. He began to run circles around that bundle of nerves, still fucking you slow and steady but fully. It drove you mad. You thought about how he had taken his hat off your head and put it back on his own, the hottest fucking image that would ever be burned into your memory, and he suddenly flicked his finger harshly across your clit, making you emit a sound so obscene that it would make anyone blush. “That’s right. Easy, girl.” His drawn out words made you pant. You were in such a deep pleasure that you were almost scared to feel how harshly your orgasm would rip through you.

Arthur didn’t give you any time to recover, speeding up slightly as he hit a perfect spot within you over and over again, circling his thick finger on your clit faster and faster until you knew you were doomed. “I’m close,” you panted.

“Look at me,” he said in a breathless voice. “Wanna see your face when I make you fall apart. Make you submit to me.” His words pushed you further, and with one last circle of his finger, he slammed into you hard, and you yelled out loud, being pushed over the edge by the most intense orgasm you’d ever had. It crashed into you in waves, and every nerve in your body rang out in pleasure. Your muscles tensed around Arthur’s length, making him groan too. His noise only stretched your pleasure out further, and your whole body went taut with it. It was a wasteland, the after effects thrumming through you.

Your audible panting finally slowed, and Arthur cooed at you. “That’s my girl.” He didn’t give you long though before he started chasing his own high. He placed both hands back on your hips and dug his fingers in so harshly you knew there would be bruises left behind. He quickened his pace that grew more and more brutal, and you grew overly sensitive as he started to snap his hips and bury his cock deep inside of you. His breathing began to be audible now, as it was his turn to use you up and lose himself. He went impossibly faster. He leaned over you then and changed his angle, and the sensation along with the overstimulation made you come for the second time and moan the same loud obscenity as before, a sound that began to push him over the edge. You could feel his movement start to stutter and lose rhythm as your muscles tightened around his cock again. He sat up suddenly and slammed into you, stopping dead as he came deep inside of you and yelled out his pleasure. You turned to see the most bliss-filled, erotic face beneath the brim of that hat. It made you want him even more, all over again. He breathed heavily as he came down from his high, leaning over you. “You’re mine,” he panted. He slipped out of you, and as his come dripped out of your entrance and slowly ran down your inner thigh, you knew he was right. “You gonna obey me now?” he asked as he moved you with him to lay on the bed.

“If that’s my punishment, maybe not,” you said with a smile. “Then again, I think you look better in that hat than I do, so I’ll think twice next time about sticking my neck out for it for my own sake.”

“Good. Don’t ever do that again,” he said, looking deep into your eyes to make his seriousness known.

“I won’t,” you replied, knowing that somehow, the words rang true—you were willing to obey him now.

He turned over and rolled on top of you, catching your gaze with a playful one of his own. “You’re wrong about the hat. You look better in it.” He reached for it again, placing it back on your head. “Saw you ride in with it on and knew I had to fuck it right off of that pretty little head.”

“Arthur Morgan!” you chided. “So crude.” You flashed him a teasing gaze.

“Mmm. Can’t resist.” You didn’t know what he was referring to resisting, but as he moved forward and gave you another long, deep kiss, pushing the hat backward on your head once more, you ceased to care.

[colter-morning]

The Hat (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You’ve taken a liking to a certain hat as well as to the rugged gunslinger who wears it. When you impulsively risk your neck to get it back for him, his anger at your foolish act turns into something surprising.

Author’s Notes: This was the first fic I ever wrote, and wow is it amazing to see how far I’ve come! But this one will always have a special place in my heart <3 Set during Chapter 3 in game.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, low honor Arthur Morgan, rough sex, rough oral sex, spanking

AO3 Link

~

The Hat

Word count: 6319

“Please let me go with them, Dutch. I can handle myself just fine,” you begged the gang leader as he assigned his men a lead he had been scoping out.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, miss. I don’t doubt that at all-”

“Then let me go. I’ll keep my head down and be a good extra hand. Hell, they may need me,” you said, gesturing to the men Dutch had just handpicked for the job.

You had been with the Van der Linde Gang for over a month now, fitting right in with your rough, dangerous lifestyle. Because of this, you had quickly found friendship in some of the men as well as Sadie Adler who was one of the first women you knew to dress like you and shoot like you and keep up with the rest of the men with ease like you. Well, almost all of the men. A certain handsome cowboy named Arthur had proven to be the most talented gun you had ever met, and he caught your attention early on because of it. Unsurprisingly, he was one of the men Dutch asked to go robbing. Part of you wanted to join the outing simply to watch the broad-shouldered man in action, although you would never admit to that. You couldn’t fall for someone you hardly knew when your lifestyle didn’t allow for such things.

Dutch pondered your request and finally relented. “Fine. Arthur, watch her, would you? Make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.”

“Now, Dutch, I ain’t babysitting on a job,” the rugged gun responded.

Dutch had already turned to walk back to his tent and waved Arthur’s words away, making his request final. Your blood boiled a little under the surface, mad at continually being called a kid. You stomped toward the camp’s hitching post where your horse was tied, stopping to make your anger known with Arthur. “I ain’t a baby. You look out for yourself and I’ll be just fine.” You turned to walk to your horse, not even waiting for a response.

He let out a big sigh of annoyance in return. “If you say so.” He followed you in walking to his horse, barking orders along the way. “John, Javier, let’s go. We don’t have much time if we wanna do this right.” The other two guns jogged over to their horses as well, and by the time all of you were saddled, Arthur led the group out of the Clemens Point camp and toward the latest score for the gang.

Not long into the ride, Arthur laid out a plan for the three of you to follow, telling you to stay toward the back of the wagon you were going to rob to keep an eye out. He was going to do the actual robbing and needed good protection in case anyone bold decided to show up and attempt to pick him off. Javier was to help you keep watch, and John was to hold up the driver. You were nervous about your first outing with the gang but excited too and ready to prove yourself. You were a good shot, especially with a rifle, so as long as you relied on your talent everything would turn out fine.

After a ride that lasted longer than you thought it would, Arthur spoke up. “Let’s wait under these trees here. Should be hidden well enough to wait for the wagon to pass.” The four of you turned your horses off the trail and into the woods to wait. After about ten minutes, the wagon came idling along the path. “Masks on. Here she comes,” Arthur said. You pulled up your dust-colored bandana (the damned thing used to be white, the Rhodes dirt having ruined it) to hide your face as you readied your gun. “You sure you ready for this, hotshot?” Arthur asked you. You looked over at him and nodded, not allowing him any room in your mind where your focus needed to be. “All right then. On my mark.”

The wagon crept along just past the trees where you were hidden, and Arthur waited a few seconds before barking the order, “Ride!” The four of your barreled out of the woods and toward the wagon, startling the driver enough to make him immediately stop and put his hands up.

John played his part well, riding up directly beside the driver. “That’s right, not one move or I’ll shoot you dead!”

Arthur quickly jumped into the back of the wagon to look for the money Dutch said would be hidden in it. “Javier, Y/N, keep an eye out. No guards don’t sit right with me,” he said as he searched through a trunk.

Javier looked toward the road ahead of the wagon and to the left while you took the rear and the right. You spotted movement in the wood line just in time to line up your sights. Through the crosshairs, you saw four or five mounted men hiding there, waiting to pick you off—one of them had a long-scoped rifle. “Guards!” you yelled, taking a shot at the man with the most deadly gun. You were a second too late though, as he fired just before you and came within inches of Arthur’s head, making Arthur’s hat fly off.

“Goddammit,” Arthur muttered as he ducked down into the wagon. “John stay with the driver and make sure he don’t run!”

Your first shot hit the guard right in the jaw, killing him and knocking him clean off his agitated horse. Shots rang out all around you as the remaining guards pursued and Javier and Arthur fired back. You were well-seasoned in this and took a breath, spurring your horse to move. A moving target was much harder to hit than a still one. You fired again and again, hitting one more guard. Either Arthur or Javier finished off the rest, and a silence rang out in the large space that gunshots had just filled. The two drafts pulling the wagon reared and stomped, only held from bolting by the terrified driver. “Get down from there,” John ordered him. “Get down from there now and get out of here and maybe I won’t kill you!” he yelled. The driver did as he was told, and John quickly replaced him. “I’m getting this thing out of here, Arthur. That won’t be the last of them.”

“Find a secluded spot and keep your head down then,” Arthur said as he jumped off the side of the wagon. “Don’t draw any attention. Go!” He slapped the side of the wagon and John flicked the reins hard, lurching the wagon away. “You two, be ready. He’s right, there’ll be more guards headed our-”

Before Arthur could finish his sentence, more gunshots rang out. Mounted men spilled out of the trees toward the three of you. Arthur was stuck too far away from his horse, so he jumped on John’s instead, grabbing his gun to shoot back at the men and whistling for his own mount to follow. You joined Javier in making a run for it while shooting your pursuers, but something near a big bush on the ground caught your eye—it was Arthur’s hat. “Arthur, your hat!” you yelled to him, knowing how important it was to him.

“For christ sake, leave it!” he shouted as he unloaded his sidearms.

Against all logic and rationalization, you turned your mount into a wide circle, doubling back to retrieve the hat. You loved that hat something awful, especially on the cowboy who donned it. You also weren’t scared of the mediocre guns pursuing you in the slightest. The guards in pursuit split, half following Javier and Arthur, half following you. You aimed your rifle at one of them and breathed out, firing a shot that took him down easily. As far as you could tell, that only left two more. You spurred your horse again, keeping your head low and riding in an erratic pattern as gunshots flew around you. You turned to line up your shot again and fired, taking out the second guard.

As your one pursuer continued after you, you neared the black hat on the ground. You decided (impulsively and somewhat stupidly) to grab the hat off the ground while riding. You used to practice tricks like this off of your horse all the time when you were younger, but this one would have to count or it could cost you your head. You kept your feet firmly in the stirrups, glad that you had cinched your horse up so tight, and began to lean as you neared the hat at full speed. You leaned down more and more, stretching your arm out as far as it would go, and just before you reached the hat, another gunshot split the air and skimmed across your left arm that was away from the ground. You instinctively moved away from the splitting pain and even closer to the ground, finding the hat with your fingers and picking it up. You slammed it on your head, turned angrily around to the guard who had shot you, and cut his pursuit short with a bullet between the eyes. You didn’t let up one second in case any more pursuers came and bolted back toward camp with a small grin at your triumph.

~

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Arthur yelled as you reentered camp at a trot.

As you passed him, you tipped his own hat to him, deciding not to give it back just yet. You had earned it, goddammit, not him. “Survived, didn’t I?” You stopped your horse just shy of the hitching post and dismounted, tying him and giving him loving pats down his broad neck for doing so well under pressure.

“That ain’t the point.” The angry outlaw was hot on your tail, towering over you when you turned around. “You could have gotten yourself killed. I told you to leave the damn hat.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. And I killed the rest of the guards for you. You’re welcome.” You put your hand over the hat and ducked around him, deciding to rub some salt in the wound and keep it for yourself, at least for the day.

You saw Dutch walking your way and felt a tiny bolt of panic. The job really could have gone better, and now you knew Arthur wouldn’t vouch for your talent. “What’s going on?” the gang leader asked.

“She nearly went and got herself shot up all for that stupid hat,” Arthur answered, following behind with plenty of impatience in his voice.

Dutch let out a sharp laugh. “Well, we have a brave one on our hands, don’t we? For future reference, miss, Arthur couldn’t lose that hat if his life depended on it. It always finds its way back on his head.” Dutch had a small grin on his face, and it was a little off-putting. Why wasn’t he yelling at you?

“Yeah she’s brave. Brave or stupid,” Arthur replied.

“Watch your mouth, would you?” you said, rounding on the cowboy. “I killed five of those guards with ease, no problems. Isn’t that all that matters? That we got the money and came out with our lives?”

“It ain’t about winning, it’s about being smart enough to live another day and not risk our necks unnecessarily.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was right but refusing to admit it. “Yeah, well, don’t get your hat shot off your head next time and maybe I won’t have to risk my neck.” Dutch let out another bark of a laugh at Arthur as you stormed off toward your tent.

You heard Dutch mutter “She’s got a point. It all turned out all right, Arthur, now don’t go worrying yourself into the grave,” before you reached your bedroll.

You heard Arthur reply, but his voice was too low for you to pick up words. His anger made you angry, made you want to punch something. You swiftly took the hat off your head and slammed it down on the ground beside you as you sat. The sharp movement made you wince as you remembered the graze from the bullet on your arm. You looked at your wound and saw that blood had seeped into your shirt, so you unbuttoned a few of the top buttons and brought the fabric down over your shoulder to reveal the wound. It wasn’t bad and could have been a lot worse, you decided, knowing that it would end up healing just fine. You reached over into your trunk where you kept all your belongings and pulled out a canteen and another shirt, soaking the shirt with water and pressing it to your wound to clean it out. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. You’d need to get your hands on a health cure to make sure it didn’t get infected. As you poured more water onto your shirt, Tilly passed by and saw the blood on your arm. “Didn’t go exactly as planned, did it?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” you said through a chuckle. You loved Tilly’s bluntness in everything she did. It kept all the boys in check. “Could have been worse, though.”

“Story of our lives.”

You let out another laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

“Well anyway,” she said, moving to get back to her work, “Keep on those men. They need it.” She smiled over her shoulder and you returned it.

After you finished tending to your wound and buttoned your shirt back up, you noticed Arthur eyeing you from across camp with a gaze full of anger. You had neglected to mention the graze on your arm on purpose, and knowing that he had seen it made you a little embarrassed. He would definitely bring it up later. He always had to have the last word, that much you knew about him.

You elected to ignore him and picked up his hat instead, knowing he was watching. You put it back on your head and wiped your wet hands off on your pants as you stood. You needed to go ask Strauss for a health cure. You would much rather ride into Rhodes and buy one from the general store there, but the gang members were finicky about who got to leave camp whenever they pleased. You hadn’t earned the right to do that yet. So, you made way to Strauss’ wagon, keeping a wide berth between you and Arthur. You didn’t feel like arguing anymore lest you end up boiling over with anger and saying something you didn’t mean, as you tended to do. Luckily, you saw his tall frame move from the spot where he had been leaning and retreat toward his holdings, away from you.

“Mister Strauss,” you said, making him pull his newspaper down from under his nose. “I’m afraid I find myself in need of some medicine.”

“Are you all right?”

“Fine, just need a health cure. Got grazed by a bullet.” You stopped in front of him and tilted the too-big hat up out of your eyes.

“Oh, I know the agonies of a graze,” he said, scrambling to pick something out for you. He pulled a tiny bottle from his wagon and handed it to you. “That should work well. It certainly helped me.”

“Thanks,” you said, nodding his way and retreating. “I appreciate it.”

“No trouble at all,” he said, seemingly happy to be of use. You made your way back to your tent, drinking the bitter liquid down and trying not to wince at the taste. Once again, you caught the angry outlaw’s eyes. You stopped and thought about confronting him but decided against it. No point in raising hell. Instead, the two of you stared with harsh, set gazes, locking imaginary horns without a word.

~

Night fell over camp, and after staying up and talking with Sadie for a while, you decided to retire to your bedroll. You always had trouble falling right to sleep, but the medicine had relaxed your tense muscles, and unconsciousness fell over you with ease.

That is, until you were startled awake by someone nudging you with their boot. You quickly flipped over and reached down for the sidearm you kept near while you slept until you realized nothing was wrong and it was just Arthur. “Jesus, what the hell?” you said with a grogginess from being ripped from sleep. You slumped back down on your back.

“Get up.” You opened one eye and looked up at the handsome figure that towered over you, but you didn’t move a muscle. “Don’t make me sling you over my shoulder.”

“For god’s sake, Arthur,” you said as you rose with reluctance. “What’s so important that I gotta get up in the middle of the damn night?”

“You’re coming with me. Grab my hat and your boots, we gotta ride ahead of us.”

You groaned in annoyance at the request, stretching the sleep out of your frame. “A ride? What kind of twisted punishment-” You stopped talking when you noticed Arthur had already stalked off toward the horses. “Hmph.”

You grabbed his hat and put it on your own head, disoriented and wondering why he hadn’t just taken it back already. You grabbed your two guns, holstering the sidearm and resting the rifle over your shoulder by the strap, and followed the broody bastard. When you slung your leg over your sleepy mount, Arthur made a request that only confused you further. “No questions on the ride, you got me?”

“What?”

“Yeah, that. None of those until we get there. You don’t like to listen do you?”

He turned his horse to leave camp, and you followed suit. “Where is ‘there’ exactly?” He shook his head, his sandy hair swaying in the moonlight, but neglected to answer you. You rolled your tired eyes, unhappy about the situation you found yourself in. You showed his back your middle finger, making you smile in triumph.

After a few hours had passed and you were sure the sun would be rising soon, you found yourself crossing the Dakota River with a very tired horse and a very grumpy outlaw. You had relented to his request and hadn’t spoken another word, not because he asked but because you were too drained of energy for any conversation. The pair of stallions stepped high through the rushing water, giving every bit of energy to your and Arthur’s spurring. Finally, you spoke up for your mount’s sake. “We best be stopping soon or we’ll have to walk on foot.”

Without turning to look at you, Arthur replied. “The horses will be fine. Not much longer.”

Sure enough, he held true to his word. After less than a half hour, he stopped in front of a small cabin and stepped off of his horse to hitch it. Your exhaustion had begun to wear off and give way to suspicion. What was he planning? Did he know someone here? He looked over to you still on your horse with a questioning gaze. “You want me to come with you, or...”

“Come on,” he nodded, stepping onto the cabin’s small porch. You got off of your horse and stretched your aching legs before hitching and following Arthur.

He opened the door and let you walk through only for you to discover that it was empty. Now you were really suspicious, almost to the point of fear. “Okay, just what the hell is going on? Look, I know I screwed up but this is really starting to get-”

You turned to meet his gaze as he shut the door behind him and immediately lost your words. He was looking at you like an animal would, pupils blown wide, predatory. It turned you on slightly, but you were still a little scared of him. “You told me you wouldn’t cause any fuss on that score we took.”

He slowly stepped toward you, eyes devouring you. You were, quite frankly, scared out of your wits and just as turned on by his display. “I- I know I did, but-”

“Just had to get my hat, didn’t you? Why is that?” he said, still approaching you in such an intimidating manner that you gave a little ground and started to back up.

“I like your hat,” you said, reaching up to grab it.

“Nah, that ain’t it.” He held your eyes locked as he moved close enough for you to back into a nightstand behind you. “See,” he said, stopping to lean over you, placing his forearm on the wall above your head—trapping you. “I know you ain’t an idiot. You wouldn’t risk your life all over a hat you liked, one that ain’t even yours.”

You began to tilt your head down to escape his gaze, but he used his calloused finger to tilt your chin back up to him. Your heart pounded as you began to understand why he was such a good enforcer. You also wanted him to have you right then and there, but that was another thing entirely—a wild fantasy of yours that was uncalled for at the moment. “Maybe...” you said, gaining a little confidence again. “Maybe I knew I wasn’t risking my life to get it. Knew I would come out unscathed.”

“Unscathed?” he asked in a deep growl that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “You call this unscathed?” He reached for your arm where the bullet had grazed you and gripped hard, making you wince in pain.

“Quit! Please, Arthur, I-”

“Nah, you better tell me the truth right now.” He ceased his firm grip but kept his large hand on your arm as a reminder of what pain he could cause. You began to panic. He was obviously interested in punishing you being so far away from civilization and from any other human being, and the feeling of being trapped with a very overpowered and very predatory man was making your breathing quicken. Should you tell him that you went back for it because you favored its owner so much or would that make him even angrier, gaining you worse punishment for being so impulsive? He suddenly slammed his hand on the wall behind your head, making you jump out of your skin. “Tell me!”

“Fine! I- it’s, it’s you! I grabbed it because it’s yours! Because I, well...”

“Go on,” he said with a grimace, lip curled over his teeth like a wolf. He had gotten so close to you it nearly made you turn your head away.

“Because I know how much it means to you. Being your father’s hat and all. I’ve seen the picture on your wagon.” You hoped this was a good enough excuse for him, as it wasn’t the whole truth.

He almost seemed to sense the guilt coming off of you. “You lie.” The growling words made your blood run cold. They would mean worse punishment. “You better tell me the goddamn truth right now,” he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

You felt a heat begin to build between your legs at his closeness and his voice and his harsh way. Fuck it, you thought, what was the worst that could happen? “I grabbed the hat because I want to gain the favor of the man who wears it,” you said calmly, holding his gaze. His expression didn’t change in the slightest, and you decided, again impulsively, to throw all your chips in. “Because I want him to fuck me.”

That was all it took. He snapped, pushing you up to sit on the nightstand and pressing his lips to yours with such force it hurt. Your head hit the wood behind you as he pushed against you, and his hat got pushed up off your head as a result. You grabbed it to keep it from falling off, suddenly very glad to have it on. His tongue immediately pushed past your teeth and into your mouth, all hot and dominant, and his hips pushed right between your legs. His hands ravished your body and began to work the buttons of your shirt as you brought your own hands around to his broad, muscled back. He distractedly and sloppily kissed you as he yanked your shirt apart, pulling the bottom two buttons clean off the shirt. You wanted to scold him for it but were too lost in the heat of his mouth to care.

You moved forward to get the shirt out from behind you and took it off completely. He stopped and looked down, realizing you had nothing on underneath the shirt. He had a dark hunger in his eyes as they raked over your body, and he reached his hand up to feel your breast and flick his thumb across your nipple. The sensation made you suck in a breath, and the sound drew his attention back to you, making him continue the pursuit of devouring your mouth.

You began to undress him then, taking off his familiar brown jacket he always wore and tugging his suspenders off his shoulders. Every touch he gave you was like fire licking your skin, and you suddenly couldn’t have enough of him. You pulled him in impossibly closer by his shirt collar, letting him continue claiming every inch of your mouth and using what little room you had to unbutton his shirt and take it off.

Just as suddenly as you had pulled him into you, you shoved him away, making him stumble a few steps backward. You had the overwhelming need to see him, that body he was hiding beneath all those layers. And you were met with quite a sight—his wide chest and chiseled torso were unfairly attractive. He flexed his muscles involuntarily as he heaved in breaths, watching your mouth part in desire at the sight of him.

He stepped back toward you and picked you up with ease, cupping your backside and crashing his hips to yours as he moved to lay you down on the small bed the cabin had to offer. You both kicked off your boots, stripped each other’s socks, and fought to undo the other’s gun belt and pants buttons. You remembered just as he shoved your pants down your legs that you had neglected to put anything on under your pants either. He pulled them completely off of your legs with what could be mistaken for anger but you knew to be desire, stepping back to admire your nearly completely naked form (apart from his own hat) for only a moment before he slammed his mouth against yours again. You sat up as best you could between his arms and slid his pants off as well, taking his undergarments off along with them. His cock sprang out of them and to attention, and the sight of it alone made you let out a low sound of arousal. He had more girth than any man you had ever seen, and you knew it would stretch you wide in a way you had never felt before. He stood just by the bedside and right in front of you, and when he saw how close your mouth was to his length, he put his hand on your hatted head and shoved you toward him.

Just before you took him into your mouth, you began to try to pull the hat off, as it was starting to get in the way. He swiftly caught your wrist, and you looked up at him in surprise. “Leave it on,” he growled with a dark gaze. You were again reminded of a predatory animal. “Gonna watch you take every inch of me with that hat sat right on your head. Teach you a damn lesson about obeying.” His words made you breathe heavier, made the heat between your legs form a rising pressure.

“Yes sir,” you said as you took him into your mouth, making him emit a long breath of pleasure as he rolled his hips a little to get used to the tightness. You used your tongue like you knew how, twisting and licking around his thick cock, running it over his head, licking down the underside. You looked up to see him tilt his head back with an expression of pure pleasure, then you began to move. You held one hand at his base and the other under his balls, taking him slowly at first to get used to him, then deeper as your throat relaxed. Arthur brought his head back down and placed his hand on the back of your head under the brim of his hat, suddenly snapping his hips forward, making his cock push at the back of your throat. The sensation made you gag, but you continued your work anyway as he started to fuck your mouth harshly, using you like a toy. Tears formed in your eyes at being used like this, but it turned you on something awful. You continued to work on him as best you could before he suddenly withdrew from your mouth, pulling you up and turning you around so that you were on your hands and knees on the bed, presented to him all glistening wet.

“All ready for me ain’t you? Want me to fuck you, girl?” He gently placed one hand on your hip just above your backside.

You weren’t embarrassed in the slightest about wanting to beg him. You had never wanted anyone more in your life. “Yes, please, Arthur. Please fuck me, I- oh!”

He spanked you hard, the sound resonating in the small room. You hadn’t expected the harsh slap and were sure that his strong hand had left a mark. “Remember what I said about obeying?”

“Yes, I remember. I’ll do it from now on, I’ll be good-” He spanked your ass again right in the same spot, leaving a stinging burn on your skin.

“That’s not why we’re here, is it? Why are we here?” You pondered his question, and because you hesitated, it gained you another sharp slap. “Answer me,” he said in his low growl.

“Because I need to be punished!” you yelled, hoping the quick answer would be enough to make him stop.

Sure enough, he rubbed circles on the skin that had grown irritated instead of spanking you again. “Good. You’re right, a little minx like you needs to be punished for not following direct orders.”

“I do. I need to be taught a lesson,” you begged, hoping you would feel his thick cock pushing into you instead of his calloused hands punishing you.

“A lesson, huh? Tell you what, for every minute I was waiting, worried sick that you had gone off and gotten yourself killed, earns one slap.” You hated to hear it. The spanking turned you on, but you didn’t think Arthur realized how strong he was and how much it hurt. He spanked you again, and you let out a soft moan of pain. “That’s one. The first minute I realized you were gone.” He spanked you again, even harder, making tears prick at your eyes. “Two. When I pondered going back to find you.” He spanked you again. “Three. When I realized going back would probably mean finding you dead.” He spanked impossibly harder, making you yelp in pain. “Four. When I knew that it could be a trap for me to go back and I would just have to wait.” He gave three slaps in quick succession, not as harsh as the others. “The three minutes waiting in camp for you.”

Then, he gave you one last slap across the ass, so hard that you cried out in pain. “Arthur, please!”

“That one was for your sorry ass riding into camp like you owned the place with that hat on your head, mouthing off to me like you knew better.” You waited in silence, hoping he was finished. “And then,” he said, rubbing circles into your raised, abused skin again. “You had the bright idea to parade my hat around camp like a trophy for the rest of the day, showing everyone just who was in charge.” His words worried you, knowing you would probably get another spanking for that, but Arthur didn’t move his hand from your backside. Instead, he leaned over you enough that you could feel his cock rest against your skin, and he used his hand to grip your jaw and force you to look at him. “I’ll tell you who’s in charge girl,” he growled. You watched as he took his hat from your head and placed it on his own before digging his fingers into your hips and ramming his whole length into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Arthur!” You didn’t have a second to adjust to his girth as he started to move, slowly but completely and filling you up so much it hurt. The anticipation of him fucking you was enough to put you close to your climax before he even entered you, but his movement slowed your build back down, making you want to be completely ravished by him first.

He didn’t give you long to experience this though, as he held his grip tight on your hip with one hand but reached down with the other to brush against your clit. His touch lit your nerves on fire, and your back caved in response, giving him a better angle to hit your sweet spot. He began to run circles around that bundle of nerves, still fucking you slow and steady but fully. It drove you mad. You thought about how he had taken his hat off your head and put it back on his own, the hottest fucking image that would ever be burned into your memory, and he suddenly flicked his finger harshly across your clit, making you emit a sound so obscene that it would make anyone blush. “That’s right. Easy, girl.” His drawn out words made you pant. You were in such a deep pleasure that you were almost scared to feel how harshly your orgasm would rip through you.

Arthur didn’t give you any time to recover, speeding up slightly as he hit a perfect spot within you over and over again, circling his thick finger on your clit faster and faster until you knew you were doomed. “I’m close,” you panted.

“Look at me,” he said in a breathless voice. “Wanna see your face when I make you fall apart. Make you submit to me.” His words pushed you further, and with one last circle of his finger, he slammed into you hard, and you yelled out loud, being pushed over the edge by the most intense orgasm you’d ever had. It crashed into you in waves, and every nerve in your body rang out in pleasure. Your muscles tensed around Arthur’s length, making him groan too. His noise only stretched your pleasure out further, and your whole body went taut with it. It was a wasteland, the after effects thrumming through you.

Your audible panting finally slowed, and Arthur cooed at you. “That’s my girl.” He didn’t give you long though before he started chasing his own high. He placed both hands back on your hips and dug his fingers in so harshly you knew there would be bruises left behind. He quickened his pace that grew more and more brutal, and you grew overly sensitive as he started to snap his hips and bury his cock deep inside of you. His breathing began to be audible now, as it was his turn to use you up and lose himself. He went impossibly faster. He leaned over you then and changed his angle, and the sensation along with the overstimulation made you come for the second time and moan the same loud obscenity as before, a sound that began to push him over the edge. You could feel his movement start to stutter and lose rhythm as your muscles tightened around his cock again. He sat up suddenly and slammed into you, stopping dead as he came deep inside of you and yelled out his pleasure. You turned to see the most bliss-filled, erotic face beneath the brim of that hat. It made you want him even more, all over again. He breathed heavily as he came down from his high, leaning over you. “You’re mine,” he panted. He slipped out of you, and as his come dripped out of your entrance and slowly ran down your inner thigh, you knew he was right. “You gonna obey me now?” he asked as he moved you with him to lay on the bed.

“If that’s my punishment, maybe not,” you said with a smile. “Then again, I think you look better in that hat than I do, so I’ll think twice next time about sticking my neck out for it for my own sake.”

“Good. Don’t ever do that again,” he said, looking deep into your eyes to make his seriousness known.

“I won’t,” you replied, knowing that somehow, the words rang true—you were willing to obey him now.

He turned over and rolled on top of you, catching your gaze with a playful one of his own. “You’re wrong about the hat. You look better in it.” He reached for it again, placing it back on your head. “Saw you ride in with it on and knew I had to fuck it right off of that pretty little head.”

“Arthur Morgan!” you chided. “So crude.” You flashed him a teasing gaze.

“Mmm. Can’t resist.” You didn’t know what he was referring to resisting, but as he moved forward and gave you another long, deep kiss, pushing the hat backward on your head once more, you ceased to care.

[chazmcfreelyhater]

MSA: Naomi Arena

(In a period of particularly strong brain rot I did in fact write all of Naomi’s Dispatch Agent responses)

3 Charisma

2 Supernatural

Recruitment Message: “HIIII! I’m SO excited to uncover CRIME AND MISCONDUCT!!! LET’S GO!”

Goodbye Message: “Hey, no hard feelings! Go get ‘em, Y/N!”

(Missions are under the cut!)

Assistant Librarian:

“I hate libraries. Usually I just like to make castles out of the books and use erasers as tiny soldiers and princesses. That is a MUCH better way to spend your time.”

Legendary Cheese:

“IT COMES OUT WARM! Y/N! IT IS WAAARM!”

The Sadness Parade:

“If we run far enough we’ll have to find something, right? I’m going. If I’m not back by tonight… uh… I’ll probably show up.”

Equipment Recovery:

“You guys carry epi-pens, right? I don’t want to miss out on the mission but I… I will probably die.”

Blue Thing:

“It’s such a pretty colour! I think Makoto would look so good in a dress that shade! Don’t you?”

High School Yearbook:

“I signed her book once, but I feel like I should be doing more! Should I go pester some more students or forge the names of my family?”

(Students!)= “Bad call, Y/N. I think everyones annoyed at the both of us now. I hope Makoto isn’t angry at me…”

(Family!)= “Haha, I’d like to see them deny these signatures! Makoto’s basically a part of the family anyway, so I bet they’d be happy to have their names included! That makes another 8!”

OMG Glowsticks:

“What’s your favourite colour of glowstick? Mine is DEF purple, but it has the worst taste. Red is a lot better in that field.”

Magical Assistant:

“Oooh, if I do a good enough job do I get to wear one of those robes with stars on them? I’ve always wanted one of those!”

Yeti Begins:

“Has he tried retracing his steps? His footprints are very recognisable! If you squint a little bit they sort of look like stretched-out smiley faces!”

I Drilled Too Deep:

“Have they tried extinguishing yet? Maybe if we get it wet it won’t be a fire monster, just a regular one! Actually, that might still need thought.”

Pig, Camera, Action:

“I love the movies! I can’t go with Makoto, though, because her eyes are too bright and the security always think it’s a flashy video camera and we get kicked out.”

Ol’ Gabby’s Mine:

“I’m not claustrophobic, but this mine is a bit short, don’t you think? My head is touching the top, and I’m already crouched down. OH- maybe if I crawl I'll find more things!!!”

TOBOR’s Destiny:

“TOBOR is so cool! I think his destiny HAS to be something like “become famous” or “be super duper loved and cool”. Or maybe he’s just a robot. Robots are awesome!”

Reagent Run:

“I FOUND GRASS! That can be used! It could be garnish! Wendy better thank me for my innovation.”

Episode X:

“I LOOOVVVEEE STARCRUISER X! My favourite episode was the one where they found that planet of androids and then the tall one fell in love with one of them and- oh. Jenny just informed me that I might have dreamed that.”

Roadie Despair:

“These mics are really good! I have to remember to snag Annie’s supplier so I can get some when I perform next! I’ve got an album in the works: “Y/N is really cool but they need a nap.” Title to be secured as of yet.”

The Extremest Case:

“I have thought of sooo many stunts for him but he always says “nooooo, Naomi, that’s gonna get me killed,” or “that’s arson” or “that’s impossible’ or “no, I don’t want to come with you to the craft store.” Not my fault I’m too cool for him. He is so rude to me.”

What’s the F?:

“I actually know! It stands for “mistreatment of your daughter!””

MorcuCorp Stakeout:

“I’ve listened to every Asteroid Triplets album three times so far. When are they gonna make a move?”

Failing Forest:

“Aw, this is so sad to look at. I can tell that in full bloom this forest would be a gorgeous place to go stargazing.”

Tainted Broth:

“Can I try some? Can I try some of the frog broth? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Please?”

Snake on the Loose:

“Mr Venom was my best ever study buddy because he would slither over my books so I couldn’t see them! I hope we find him soon, Liberty takes the best care of him.”

The Bushido Case:

“SWORDS! SWORDS! SWORDS! SWORDS!”

Pizza Investigation:

“One time me and Chaz ordered pizza because we were bummed out and then I put jelly beans and marshmallows on mine and he put cheese singles and hot sauce on his and then my twin walked in and looked at us like they wanted us dead.”

The Finest Blade:

“My finest blade is a rollerblade. You should see me on the rink. I’m kidding, obviously. I’m essentially useless here.”

Train Jimmy:

“I think what he needs is some good old fashioned positive reinforcement, so whenever he rolls a good piece of sushi I’m going to sprinkle him with glitter.”

Red Buddy:

“FINALLY, I have permission to put unfamiliar and possibly dangerous subjects in my mouth. This is MY MISSION, Y/N!”

The Prominence:

“This set needs more stars on it. I think the curtains should be galaxy print- actually, no, then everyone would just be looking at the curtains. I’ll keep brainstorming.”

Gonk Need Food, Badly:

“If I was a caveman, I’d probably want something plain and acquainted to my natural-based preferences. However, I am not, and it will be reminisce of me not to give this little man some popping candy.”

Writer's Block:

“The night sky shifts slowly,

While every minute passes,

I didn’t plan this far ahead.

I just wanted it to rhyme with ‘gases’. Because toilet humour makes goth boy angry.

Thank you.”

Candypaluna:

“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Y/N I’M IN SPACE!!!!! NAOMI ARENA IS AMONGST THE COSMOS BABY!”

Prom Date:

“She’s looking for a date? What kind of date? What’s her type? I can’t just go up and ask her what her type is! Should I ask her? Y/N, do you think she wants me to ask her?”

Blade of Destiny:

“My siblings love to steal things from me as well. Like my best snacks. I act like I don’t mind but I do. This is war.”

Penguin Style:

“I’m just gonna tuck my knees under my skirt and waddle around. I’ll think of the fighting part in a second.”

Magical Disaster:

“They’re kinda owning this, actually. I think I can braid Butter’s beard and add little slips and flowers and then maybe she’ll look a bit less like she wants to commit murder.”

Music That Moves You:

“These beats are soooo good! Personally, I like to go for music that’s just noises with no pattern but Candy sure knows what she’s doing!”

Time For Toast:

“I’m back in the 1800s, I think. I am immensely underdressed! Everyone looks so cute and I still have no toast!”

Cocoa Science:

“Hot chocolate is my favourite drink next to milkshakes, smoothies, melted ice cream and mouthwash.”

F, Robot:

“WE ALREADY HAD ONE! WE DIDN’T NEED ANOTHER ONE! Unless he’s gonna build a giant TOBOR and Makoto. Double the fun.”

Sewer Search:

“This isn’t so bad! I’m becoming one with the sewage- oh. No, I changed my mind. There’s a diaper right by my head.”

Trouble With Truffles:

“Where’s the nearest truffle farm? They can’t be that rare, can they? I might just go buy some, can I use the SPA card?”

Protection Detail:

“How many weapons are we allowed? This is IMPORTANT, Y/N. How can we take this seriously without good tools? I want a flamethrower, please.”

H4XXORD3D:

“One time my Minipets account got hacked. I lost 8 tigers and a horse. It was the 15th worst day of my life.”

Justice for Justice:

“Justice has given me more temporary tattoos that I can count. I am NEVER going to anybody else. Those guys probably use doodie ink or something.”

The Longest Voyage:

“I feel like a pirate, Y/N! This is so much fun- first one to see a mermaid wins.”

Snack Thief:

“Oh this is abysmal. Anybody guilty of snack theft should be fired immediately. Unless it’s me because I’m cute and silly.”

Missing Bugs:

“They aren’t big bugs, are they? I don’t really like getting all crawled over by big bugs…”

Suckers Sabotage:

“Aw, this poor guy, he’s getting all worked up! I’m gonna make him a little flower crown to cheer him up.”

One More Time:

“Oh no! My nail is broken! Oh, and my entire family has moved out of the country without me but I’m trying my best not to address that!”

[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

Fleeting Clarity

@the-whumpers-soiree What a cool event.

Never have a completed a piece in such record time. One day. I think it went well. And it's still May, so it counts towards my monthly goal. Woo!

CW: Noncon drugging, Alcohol Consumption

Emmett dislikes parties.  He knows he dislikes them, and yet he continues to go.  He says it’s to “broaden his horizons” or some other cheap cliche, but that’s not it.  He’s looking for the best friend he’s never met.  Two months of messaging and it feels like this stranger is Emmett’s perfect, nameless, other half.  The One.  They never make demands or push Emmett to go outside his comfort zone.  But Emmett wants to be better for them, to grow.  So he seeks out social gatherings, hoping to find The One and clinging to the idea that he will just know when he meets them.

Then there is something new.  A short message “It’s been long enough.  We should meet.” and an invitation to a … soiree.  It sounds fancier than anything Emmett’s ever been to, but this is what he’s been waiting for.  He quickly sends an affirmative reply.  He receives a second message with instructions on when to show up and what to wear.  He agrees to everything.

The night of the party, Emmett arrives twenty minutes early.  He hasn’t worn his dress pants in over a year, and they fit snugly around his waist.  He fidgets and pulls at the legs, trying to keep them from looking like flood pants. Ten minutes later, he gives up on his pants and enters the penthouse.  He receives a blue glow stick which he circles through the belt loop on his right hip, just as The One had asked. 

He knows he’s early, so he goes to the bar to kill time.  The guests already there appear otherworldly under the gold lights.  The same lights make all the drinks look like potions or strange science experiments.  Emmett tries not to think too hard about it, chooses one at random, and moves away to the other side of the building where chairs are lined up along floor to ceiling windows.  Here it is bathed in softer blue light.  Emmett is instantly calmer and selects a seat in the corner to wait for his other half.  He watches the assortment of people who pass by, all impeccably dressed, most with blue bands like his, some with red bands.  He guesses those with red are somehow responsible for the party, hosts or VIP guests or … something.

In the middle of that thought, a man with a red band approaches him.  Emmett stands to greet him, clutching his drink like a lifeline.  

“You know the bracelet is supposed to go on your wrist, right?”  The stranger chuckles. 

Emmett glances down at the blue ring on his hip then back at the man.  “I… uh… meeting someone… told me… I mean… yes.  Yes, I know.”  He blushes, embarrassed by his sudden inability to form coherent thoughts.  He stares wide eyed at the man and wishes he had bought a suit that actually fit him.  

The stranger laughs again.  “It’s alright, you can wear it wherever you want as long as we can see it.  Anyways, I’ve found you now, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Oh, it’s you!”

“Yes, it’s me, live and in person.”  He smiles with all his teeth, arms spread wide like a tv announcer.

Emmett is far out of his league.  This man is everything Emmett could never be - tall, fit, tailored suit worn with the air of deliberate dishevelment.  And the red band. 

“Do you work here?” Emmett blurts. 

“No, why?”  The man raises a brow, smile never leaving his face. 

“Oh, um,” Emmett starts picking at his pant leg.  “I just thought with the red bands,  it was important to the party.  Like security.  I saw some people with red bands helping guests out.”

“They’re important, but not for security.”  The man continues to grin as if this conversation were the greatest thing to ever happen to him.  Emmett knows it can’t be.  He frowns, suddenly aware of how much of a stranger this man really is.  

“You okay?” the man asks.  “Do you need to go outside?”

Emmett shakes his head and sits back down.  “I’m fine.  Could we sit for a little while?”

“Of course.  Let me get you something else to drink.  That one there is like drinking death.”  He takes Emmett’s glass and heads to the bar.  Emmett watches as he leans over the counter, the yellow light casting a halo around him.  Emmett’s stomach rolls, and he can’t be sure if it’s excitement or nervousness. 

The man returns with a short glass of blue liquid.  Emmett thinks it doesn’t look much better than the last one, but slowly sips it to be polite.  The two are quiet for a few minutes, Emmett drinking, and the man watching with that stupid, relentless grin.  Somehow, he seems more of a stranger now than when they had never met.

“So, what do you want to do this evening?”  The man leans back in his chair.  “After all, the night is young, and we are limitless.”

“Can we just talk?”  Emmett chews on a piece of ice, surprised at how fast the drink disappeared.  “I…I feel like I don’t know you that well.”

“Yes, of course. What do you want to know?”

“I…um, I,”  Emmett places his empty glass on the ground by his feet and grips the side of his chair.  His vision begins an uneven roll matching the feeling in his stomach.  “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.  We have all the time in the world.”  The stranger’s face distorts, his eyes dark, and his smile growing feral. 

Emmett’s world spins.  “What… what’s happening?” 

He is on the ground, vaguely aware of melted ice seeping into his pants.  It’s the flood pants.  He giggles at the passing thought.  The ice is surprisingly warm.

The stranger stands in front of him, reaching down to him.  Emmett pushes himself onto his knees and clutches the man’s outstretched arms.  

“Thank you,” he says.  Darkness creeps into his spiraling vision.  “What….”

“Take your time, darling,”  the man says.  He doesn’t help.  

“What’s your name?”  Emmett tries to pull himself up, but everything spins so fast, and he hits the ground with a soft thud.  

There’s a moment of clarity.

The man crouches down near Emmett’s head and strokes his cheek.

Fleeting clarity. 

“You may call me Sir.”

And then it’s gone.

[pcndoralvgood]

–– is that JESSIE MEI LI? no, its actually PANDORA LOVEGOOD! according to THEIR old hogwarts records, they are an TWENTY-SEVEN year old FORMER RAVENCLAW. they are back at hogwarts because they are working against lord voldemort and they believe in the light. that explains why they are so KIND and QUIRKY. but i’ve found that they can also be MERCIRUAL and ALOOF, so i guess people can’t be all good! they always reminded me of THE SPARK OF A SPELL ON THE TIP OF YOUR TONGUE, A CHILDS LAUGHTER, THE SMELL OF A STORM GATHERING ON THE HORIZON. i heard from albus dumbledore that they are currently working as A RESEARCHER. let’s hope that they have time to fight the dark alongside their work! 

NAME: Pandora Ophelia Lovegood (Nee Rosier)  AGE: 27 years old.  GENDER: nonbinary, they/she pronouns.  SEXUALITY: bisexual

BIOGRAPHY: 

Pandora was a child with skinned knees and dirty palms. Her hair in tangles, her pretty dresses ruined. She ran off at every moment to play with fairies in the garden, to trace the movement of the stars over the sky, to braid flowers into a crown for her to wear. She dog earred books in the library, and recieved more than one slap on the wrist for it when she was young. At a very young age she was bullied, because little girls weren’t supposed to act like she did. She was too loud, and she said strange things, and that made her different.

It was apparent from a young age that Pandora was something of a prodigy. Not in any of the things that would have made her a perfect little lady. She was awful at piano. She hated to paint. Her embroidery always ended up a tangled mess. But when it came to underage magic, Pandora was a natural. Even without a wand, she could make fireworks. Her father encouraged it, and allowed her to do almost whatever she wanted magically even before she started school. She devoured every book on magical theory he gave her.

Her mother, however, disagreed with her fathers stance on things. She thought that Pandora needed to learn how to behave properly. So her hours became dedicated to lessons on etiquette and manners. She learned to keep so much of herself hidden that she was almost a different person. Where she had once been a strange but bright girl, she became cold and aloof. Where she used to talk endlessly for hours, she started becoming quieter and quieter.

By the time she started Hogwarts she was the picture perfect daughter that her parents always wanted. She was still a prodigy, clearly, and was sorted into Ravenclaw. But she ran in the right circles and joined the right clubs, and learned to highlight her pretty and polite nature over everything else.

Pandora didn’t quite live up to what her family wanted from her. She married a man they didn’t approve of and insisted on starting a family. Pandora had begun training as an unspeakable and started working for the Ministry before Voldemort came to power. 

When she had her daughter Luna in 1981, Pandora insisted on leaving England. She didn’t want her daughter to be raised in the same environment that she was with all of the pureblood pressures. She also didn’t want her daughter to grow up in a world where prejudice was taught as fact and blood purists ruled the government. She had been friends with Alice and Frank Longbottom and she couldn’t sit quietly under the regime that killed them. 

Pandora rents a small apartment in Hogsmeade over a shop where she lives with her daughter. She works as a magical researcher, dabbles in spell invention, and collaborates with Hogwarts in her work.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

school friends – someone that pandora was close with at hogwarts. maybe they’ve drifted apart and are coming closer together again because of both being involved with this scotland rebellion type stuff with the order. 

pureblood society – someone she knows from her very old days in the pureblood circles when she was a teenager. 

bestie – her bae, her fav, her best friend in the entire world. 

hatred – someone she really really dislikes and who really dislikes her. 

honorary godparents – the people she trusts the most with luna 

[marvel-trash-bin]

Taking Risks.

(Not my Gif.)

Summary: Zemo gives you what he thinks you deserve. *Some TFATWS Ep. 3 Spoilers.*

Pairing: Zemo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smut for days baby. Dirty Talking, Possession, marking, Soft!Dom Zemo. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags: @greeneyedblondie44

A/N: Look we all know we're walking dangerous territory, simping for a war criminal. But Sugar Daddy Zemo got me feeling some type of way and also, Daniel Brüle is hot asf. Also, I don't actually know german so pls if it's off just blame google translate, I just have an insatiable language kink and I needed the pet names more than air itself. I thought about making this a chaptered fic, but I barely had the time to write this, never mind chapters of it before he likely fucks over Sam and Bucky next episode. Anyways, enjoy!

Here’s the thing.

You knew he was dangerous. You knew his past, the EKO Scorpion kill squad and everything with the Avengers, manipulating them and breaking them up from the inside. He was smart, unpredictable. You knew there was a very real potential that you could be hurt - or worse - if you went down the road.

And maybe, in a past life that would’ve been enough to stop you. But you weren’t who you used to be. You liked playing with fire now, inviting danger and chaos rather than straying from it. You had lived in - hid in, was more accurate - Madripoor for a handful of years now. You laid low, kept yourself under the radar of the Power Broker and those who worked for him. This way, no one bothered you and you could live fragments of a normal life, Trading and bartering to make a living. But living this way, like forgotten trash on a sidewalk, got old.

Maybe that’s why when you caught his attention, you didn’t shy away from it.

It had happened so fast. You were dancing, just intoxicated enough that the rubbing of strangers' bodies against yours was not just welcomed, but encouraged. So encouraged that when a new body, tall and firm behind you, took the place of another, you didn’t hesitate to back up into the warmth. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not stopping or guiding you, just resting. Turning your head slightly to see what your new dance partner looked like, you startled a little seeing the Baron.

Helmut chuckled, a low sound you felt rather than heard, and ducked his head down to speak into your ear, “You know who I am.”

You let your body relax back into his, feeling reckless enough to bless the menacing man with your flirtations, your head falling back onto his, “I’ve heard a thing or two.”

“And yet you trust me to hold you like this,” his hands flex on your hips, just hard enough to show the strength they hold, “Like a lover.”

You grab one of his hands, leading it down to your upper thigh where your knife holster sits, never once letting his hand leave your body.

“If I didn’t want you touching me, you’d know it, Baron.”

The gust of breath you felt against the side of your neck and the large hand gripping your thigh had shivers rolling pleasantly down your spine.

“You are far too beautiful to reside in these undergrounds,” he spun you around in his grasp, allowing you to get a good look at his face, “A woman like yourself should be treated with the most expensive riches, the finest wines. She should drain a man of his earnings.”

You laughed, not expecting the words that came from his mouth nor how handsome he was, even this close, “Point me to the man who’s willing.”

He smirked at you, but there was a smugness to it. A glimmer in his eye that suggested he had the riches and the desire to give you anything you wanted. You felt like you were drowning in his gaze, lost as you were under the heat of it. He looked somewhere behind you, pulling his eyes from you to nod once at whatever, or whoever, had stolen his attention from you. When they returned to you, the heat and desire were replaced with determination.

“It is with great regret that I must leave you, for now,” He captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the softness of them brushing lightly against your knuckles, “I can get you out of Madripoor, give you a life you deserve. If you meet me tomorrow morning, the airstrip.”

The world felt like it froze around you. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you. You couldn’t trust him. You Shouldn’t trust him. But as you stared into his eyes you saw nothing but honesty.

“And if I don’t?” You ask, just to buy yourself some time.

His hand travels up your arm, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger securely, “I will not pressure you. I’d leave you be, but the ghost of you would haunt me, schatzi.”

And with that, he was gone. Leaving you with nothing more than your thoughts, mentally preparing how quickly you could pack your things and leaving Madripoor behind. After all, you’ve always loved taking risks.

~

The next few weeks were a blur. Zemo was laying low, but his form of laying low was still luxury to you. It was private jets and upscale accommodations, not to mention that he was a man of his word. He spoiled you. Within three days of being in his presence, you had acquired a whole new wardrobe. Your suitcases - also new - were filled to the brim with the fanciest and latest fashion. You had rare jewels on nearly every piece of jewelry you owned. Maybe spoiled was an understatement. You’ve only dreamed of owning riches like these.

He had picked something particular for you to wear tonight, both of you making an appearance at some sort of party with some higher-ups. It was all laid out on the king-sized bed, a little black dress of sorts. It was short and sheer in its long sleeves, the sparkles in the fabric ensured that you would shimmer under any lighting. With a simple clutch, matching jewelry and a cropped, white fur jacket to keep you warm until you got to your destination. You looked good. You felt good.

He looked just as good. Sporting an outfit similar to the one you had met him in, instead choosing a dark red turtleneck to create a stunning relation between both your outfits. Nothing had happened between the two of you yet. Aside from lingering glances and innocent touches, he had been a gentleman. The chemistry was there, for sure. You were able to joke and talk with the man, matching his wit and charm every step of the way. And he loved it.

“Best behaviour tonight, schatzi.” He had said, low in your ear as you walked towards the venue.

You had smiled back at him, the perfect picture of innocence, “Always, Baron.”

And at the time, you had fully meant it. But you found yourself craving him. He looked too good, it honestly wasn’t fair. The way that ridiculous fur jacket draped over his shoulders, fostering a powerful ambience. And you knew he was faring no better himself if by the way his eyes were glued to your curves was anything to go by.

So, you decided, maybe you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour tonight. It’s not like you were making a scene or anything that would call too much attention. You were simply letting the alcohol take over your body. Whether that meant a hand on his thigh as you listened to the conversations around you, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck or dancing a little too scandalously when you knew he was watching. You felt confident. And when you felt confident, you felt dangerous.

By the end of the night, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were him. You were pushing your luck, hands trailing a little too close to the bulge in his slacks, enjoying the way his facial features changed briefly in shock before settling back into that infuriating unmovable stoic impression. The last straw was you bending in front of him, having ‘dropped’ something from your purse. You only had to bend so much before the dress, as short as it was, had ridden up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties.

In an instant, he had you standing upright, thanking whoever he had been talking to for a wonderful night, tugging your dress back down to a respectable length and steering you towards the door by the back of your neck.

“That was not best behaviour,” he growled into your ear.

You giggled, despite the tight grip on your neck, “I was just having fun.”

He had done nothing but stare at you, eyes hard with a warning that had you rethinking your actions. You had forgotten, for a moment, that this man was not just someone to give you all the pretty trinkets you wore. He was a mastermind, a criminal mastermind at that. A man most deemed dangerous enough to be locked away.

“You have been bad tonight, kleine Schlampe.” He said once he had gotten you back to his car, away from the prying eyes and ears of the party guests, “You will spend the trip back thinking of ways to make it up to me.”

The words sent heat through your core, and you did exactly as he said.

~

By the time he had gotten you up to your accommodations, you had thought of thousands of different scenarios that could earn you forgiveness for your recklessness. You were uncertain if his words earlier had implied sexual favours, or if a simple, genuine apology was all he was looking for. However, once he had turned to you, the room door closing behind him and his eyebrows raised expectantly, you fell to your knees in front of him like it was second nature.

He chuckles darkly at you as he peels his gloves off, tossing them gently onto a side table nearby before letting one hand brush away the hair that had fallen in your face.

“Seems you are meine kleine schlampe indeed,” You had no idea what it meant, but fuck it sounded good coming from him. His eyes were hard and dark as he stared down at you, “If this is the path you’ve chosen to apologize, so be it. But not here, you are meine schlampe not a common whore. Get up. Go to the bedroom.”

You did as he said, quickly pulling yourself up to a standing position and walking to the designated room. The bed, so far, had only been used by you. He hadn’t wanted to push or pressure you into sharing a space with him. He understood that just because you decided to join him, didn’t mean you wanted to be with him. But tonight, you had decided, you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to show him how grateful you were for all the gifts he’d given you so far. And if you couldn’t give him luxuries, you would give him your desire.

“So,” he began, nodding in approval at the way you resume your position on the floor in front of him, “Let’s begin with the basics.” As he talked, he rolled up his sleeves, doing so with precision, “Tell me, what exactly are you apologizing for?”

He commands every drop of your attention. There’s an aura to him that you had only previously caught a glimpse of. His eyes dark and locked onto yours, never once wavering. Waiting. Calculating.

“For teasing you.”

“And?”

You take a breath, shame flooding your core at the answer that sits on your tongue.

“For embarrassing you.”

There’s a pause. He cocks his head, gaze softening just a tad. He's quiet for several moments, analyzing your words. Your heart starts to beat a little faster at the extended silence, thinking you’ve done something wrong and you can’t keep up the eye contact. You duck your head, averting your gaze to his feet.

“Look at me, schatzi.” His voice is soft, but still with enough edge to make you listen.

Only once your eyes meet his again does he continue.

“That’s very sweet of you, to be concerned about my image. But make no mistake,” He steps closer to you, letting one hand cup your jaw, tilting it upwards. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, “You could never embarrass me,”

You dip your head, nipping softly at his thumb. He smiles softly at you, something glimmering in his eye, “I simply just don’t like to share what’s mine.”

Your breath leaves your body at his words and suddenly the need for him to claim you had you nearly vibrating in your skin. You watch, every muscle in your body clenched tightly, as he walks slowly over to the armchair in the corner, never once taking his eyes off you. He sits, legs parted, one arm draped off the side, the other rested so he could prop his head up.

“Proceed.”

Instantly, you make your way over to him. Once in front of him, you stand up on your knees, placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs. They continue its upward motion, skimming lighting over the hardness in his pants and reaching to start on his belt. You make quick work of his belt and buttons, eagerly working his pants and briefs down. He chuckles above you.

“Mein Schatz, so eager to apologize.” He purrs, almost mockingly, hand coming down to brush the fallen hair away from your face.

Once you had him free, you took a second to admire him. Your legs clenched at the size of him. Not terribly big, but big enough to anticipate the stretch, the fullness. Your eyes flicked back up, looking up at his through your lashes, leaning in but stopping just before you could actually get your mouth on him. The hand that was previously fixing your hair was now clenched in it, messing it up again and forcing your head back suddenly to look at him properly.

“It would not be wise to tease me more than you have,” he warned.

A smirk spread across your features and you quickly realized how much you liked him like this.

Powerful.

Strict.

However, you knew you were on thin ice already. With that in mind, as soon as his grip loosened you licked a wide stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. The tension his body held melted the second your tongue touched him. His mouth dropping on a soft groan. His hand stroked your hair as you sucked, encouraging the bobs of your head, not forcing but guiding. You keep your eyes trained on his face, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing him like this.

He glows in the low lamplight of the room, the shadows playing across his features delicately. You like him like this too. Reduced to a heap of gasps and moans beneath the heat of your mouth. As you suck, your hands wander, up under the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging down his sides. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t tell you to stop.

After a few minutes of your slow torture, he decides he’s had enough. His hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming less gentle and more demanding.

“That’s a good girl, take it all for me.”

You do as he asks, taking a breath before taking him as deep as you can. He groans at the feeling, hips shifting a few times to test you before beginning to thrust in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, but his eyes are on you and his thumb is tracing your bottom lip that’s stretched wide around his cock and you think for a second that you could spend eternity like this.

It’s not much longer before he pulls you off his cock, hand wrapping around his base tightly, “Apologies, schatzi. I am out of practice, and I fear I'm not quite finished with you yet.”

You laugh softly, voice rough due to your previous activity, “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You insist, more than happy to let him finish like this. Whatever he wants.

He stops you before you can dip down again, standing up and taking you with him. For the first time, his lips are on yours. He overwhelms all your senses. His breath loud in your ears, his hands on your waist, his scent. His tongue slides against yours as he walks you forward, shedding his lower clothing as he goes. He only parts to give you an order.

“Turn around.”

As you do, he finishes undressing and it kills you that can’t see him. Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as you feel his hands at the top of your dress. He slides the zipper down, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders. You take the liberty of helping the sleeves the rest of the way down, the fabric falling down around your heels once you’ve done so. He hums behind you.

“Such beauty,” he whispers against your shoulder. His hands begin to wander, around your waist, up underneath the fabric of your bra, down to your thighs and ass. He chuckles, dragging your panties down enough that they too fall, forgotten at your feet, “I can hardly stay mad at you, liebling.”

Your head falls back onto his shoulders as he works your bra off next. You shiver, feeling bare and exposed before him. You want him more than you can express and you let your whole body fall back into his embrace, whimpering at the feeling of him, hard against the swell of your ass.

“Helmut,” you moan, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair as the other rests on one of his forearms.

“Tell me you’re mine, Schatzi. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation, breathless as his hand dips between your legs, finding your clit. He hums, pleased at the arousal he finds there, “I’m yours. Only yours.”

He growls pulling his hand away from, “Lay back on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed. While you wait, you let your mind wander, listening to his rummaging somewhere in another room while your mind runs through everything you want him to do to you. At some point, your eyes must close because when you feel the bed dip, they open to see him crawling between your legs.

He’s done messing around, wasting no time before his face is buried between your thighs, hands maneuvering your legs so that they’re thrown over his shoulders, your heels crossing sweetly behind his head, no doubt scratching at his shoulders. Your breath leaves your body at the feeling of his tongue, warm and wet and fan-fucking-tastic. He alternates between dipping it in and out of your heat and flicking it against your clit. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers and guiding his movements ever so slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours, spare for the few times he closes them to moan against you.

One of his hands move, leaving its place at your hip to sink two fingers into you. Your head falls back on a moan, back arching up when he crooks his fingers and finds your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand gripping the pillow behind your head as you feel your orgasm rush towards you, “Fuck- Wait, I-”

You can’t even feel embarrassed about how easily your body has reacted to him. Before you can warn him much more, you're falling over the edge. Your thighs tensing around his head, back arching in pleasure as you ride out your high. In this moment you belong completely to him, unable to think of anything else.

“So sweet for me, liebling.” He comments, hands rubbing up and down your calves as you come down, taking a moment to unfasten your heels, letting the shoes drop to the floor before leaning back in. His lips brush against your inner thigh.

Then a bite.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me.”

And then he’s sucking harshly at the skin there, watching the shudder that rips through your sensitive body at the sensation. He doesn’t pull away until the mark is dark and flush against your skin. He continues this on the other thigh, on your ribs, your breasts and finally your neck, marking you thoroughly.

“Mine.” He growls, hot against your ear, “Mein schatz, will you let me have you?” he asks, and it’s literally all you can think about so you don’t even bother hiding the truth, the confession tumbling from your lips breathlessly.

“I’d let you do anything to me.”

He groans, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he does so. He pulls away to grab the condom that he had put next to him on the bed and leaning back on his haunches to roll it on. You’re so impatient, nails digging into his thighs and arms, whining as you watch his hands work.

“So needy,” He comments, swallowing your moan as he finally, finally, sinks into you.

The stretch as he enters you has your head rolling back on a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist the bring him the rest of the way in. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, growling against the skin there.

“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his resolve quickly slipping at the feeling of you around his cock. And to his credit, he really tries to wait, to be good. But not seconds later he’s adjusting his grip on your hips and he’s thrusting into you with a force that makes the whole bed shake.

It’s barely been 30 seconds, but the build-up that had occurred throughout the entirety of the night had you right back on the edge, your nails clawing at his shoulders, his back, his thighs. Any purchase you could get on him, you were begging for more. You’d take anything he gave you without so much as batting an eyelash. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but the pain twists into a delicious pleasure that only spurs you on.

You must be speaking, babbling something back to him about how good it feels, how much you love being fucked by him because he’s laughing through a moan against your neck. He pauses for just a second, straightening up and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before continuing to fuck you.

“That’s it Kätzchen.” He purrs, eyes moving down your body to where he enters your body, “Taking my cock so well.”

You mewl at the praise, your body arching in response to his words. Your second orgasm takes you both by surprise, having hit you like a fucking freight train when he thrusts particularly deep, hitting one of your sweet spots. You scramble for purchase on him, mouth dropped open in a near-pornographic moan that you’ll surely be embarrassed about later. But for now, all you know is pleasure.

His hips falter, stuttering as your walls tighten around him. His head falls back on a low moan, fucking you hard and slow through your release.

“Such a sweet cunt,” he gasps, “Mein Gott..”

And then he’s tangling your hands together, holding it high above your head as he pushes your thighs back, flush against your chest. He’s the one babbling now, words from God only knows what language, whispered against your skin as he chases his own release. He gives one last hard thrust and he’s done, his teeth dragging against the skin on your shoulder, moaning against you as he rides out his orgasm.

As you both come down, you stroke the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he pulls away just enough to kiss you. There’s a lingering heat and it’s a little messy due to your shared exhaustion but it’s good.

Once you’ve both caught your breath, he removes himself from your body, taking the necessary time to deal with the condom. You watch him lazily, unable to do much other than that. You’re so tired. But there’s that ache between your legs that you love so much and you think briefly that you could go another round, if he wanted to.

He must see something in your eyes when he returns because he laughs softly, “I feel I may have my hands full with you, schatzi.” he says as he crawls back into the bed with you, covering the both of you with a blanket, the cold now biting at your skin. You know you have to get up soon enough to sort yourself out before bed, but for a moment you stay with him.

His fingers brush over your face softly, following the slope of your nose and the angle of your cheeks. There’s no real purpose to his movements, just... touching. As if convincing himself that you’re real.

“You are special, schatzi.” he says softly, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I can only hope that you choose to continue to bless me with your presence.”

This man is such an enigma to you. He carries such confidence in every aspect of his life and yet he still doubts your loyalties. There’s anxiety and pain hidden within him, you can see it in his eyes as he continues to look at you. You wonder, how much of his past weighs on his shoulders. How long before he deems himself worthy of your affection? You lean in to kiss him softly, your lips dragging slowly against him. When you pull away you keep him close, brushing your noses together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[tricksters-captain]

Helmut Zemo (TFATWS) imagines - Craving Part 2

AN: Right giving you all what you really wanted... 

Summary: After playing the part as Zemo's arm candy in Madripoor, Zemo tries to confront you on your unspoken connection, only to be rudely interrupted...

In this chapter: After having a dream about the man himself, you decide to seek out Zemo...

(PART 1 HERE)

Pairing(s): Zemo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,013

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, receiving oral, choking, Zemo does use a couple phrases in his language and since Sokovia isn’t a real country or language I used Polish (I have seen several fic use German before however). 

You tossed and turned in bed as you tried to get comfortable. Your skin felt hot and uncomforatble to be in and your mind wouldn't stop replaying Zemo’s hands on you. The large bedroom made every movement sound louder than it was so every time you rolled and made the bed frame creak, the more you frustrated you grew. 

You hated Zemo for making you feel so confused. He was an attractive man, that was true, but he had torn the avengers apart. He had used Bucky’s past against him several times and even gotten you hurt because of it. Why did you all of a sudden have the desire to see what he tasted like... 

You figured he’d taste like mint toothpaste and whiskey or perhaps of coffee from earlier or perhaps.... What were you doing?! 

You buried your face into your pillow and groaned. 

You must’ve fallen asleep eventually because you had started dreaming. 

You were back in Madripoor. It was Sharon’s high town home and you had just changed for the party. Except you weren’t wearing what you actually wore that night. Instead, you were wearing a long silky black dress that dropped to the floor with a small trail. It had thin black straps that went over your shoulder and connected to the dress delicately; the dress was completely backless and the cool air from Sharon’s AC tickled your exposed skin. 

“You look beautiful.” Zemo’s voice filled the room. You looked up in the mirror to see Zemo standing at the door behind you. 

“It’s not too much?” You asked, flattening out the skirt with your hands. 

Zemo made his way towards you until he was right behind you. The hairs prickling up on your back revealed just how close he was standing. 

“Not at all.” Zemo brushed the tip of his finger along your shoulder, following the curve from your neck and then down your arm until he cupped your elbow gently. “You look perfect.” 

You felt your breathing stop as Zemo started to learn forward, his eyes remained locked with yours in the mirror as his lips finally met your skin. 

He kissed your shoulder lightly before opening his mouth and grazing his teeth against your flesh, biting ever so gently but with enough pressure to make the sex between your legs throb. 

“We shouldn’t.” You whispered. 

“Why not?” Zemo turned you to face him with the hand that rested on your elbow. He brought you closer to him, pressing a hand to the exposed small of your back. His strong calloused hand against you only made your legs feel weaker. 

“You know why.” You placed your hands on his chest but didn’t push him away. Yet. 

“Ahh, yes. Because of James?” Zemo tilted his head. “What would poor James do if he caught us together like this?” Zemo let his hand slide down the outside of your thigh and hook under your knee, bringing your leg up to his hip to bring you closer. 

You smirked, leaning into the man’s ear. Brushing your lips just ever so slightly against his lobe as you spoke. 

“He’d kill you.” You whispered. 

That’s when you woke up. 

You woke up covered in sweat, your chest heaving and your hair slick to your forehead. You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep for because Bucky was now asleep on the couch in the room too. 

You hoped you didn’t sleep talk anything weird during that dream but you figured that Bucky would be waiting for you to wake up to confront you if you had said Zemo's name or something similar. 

You climbed out of the bed quietly and headed towards the door. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep after that dream and you had felt gross from waking up all sweaty so you made your way to the bathroom. 

You splashed cool water on your face and wiped your neck and chest with a damp towel before you left the bathroom again.

You looked down the hall to Zemo’s room. 

You knew which one it was for safety measures. Sam had taken the room beside his so that he could keep an eye on him but you knew Sam would probably be in the living room on his laptop at this hour to keep watch. Make sure no one is sneaking in or out of the apartment. But that also meant you could creep over to Zemo’s room without the anxiety of Sam coming out of his. 

You found yourself walking before you could stop yourself. 

You hovered outside the door for what felt like an eternity before you lightly rapped on the door. 

You opened it without hearing a response. 

Zemo was sat up on the edge of the bed, tying his robe around him as he must have had been woken by the intrusion. 

“I thought you were Sam.” Zemo rose to his feet after he realised it was you who had entered. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” You apologised. 

“You didn’t. I was merely laying in the bed. I did not lie when I told you about my struggles with sleeping.” Zemo had mentioned his insomnia in the kitchen before. 

You remained in the doorway, just looking at Zemo, panicking slightly as you tried to find something to say. 

“I don’t know why I’m here.” You said lowly. 

“You don’t?” Zemo cocked his eyebrow at you but didn’t move. 

“I just...” You started, “I had this...” You failed to explain yourself.  

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” Zemo waved his hand. He slowly made his way towards you. “You don’t need to come up with excuses.” 

“I’m not.” You argued. 

“Just tell me the truth.” Zemo was now in front of you. He was close enough that you could see the slight stripe pattern on his dark pyjamas beneath his robe. You could also see slight hair poking out of the top of his shirt as the first few buttons were undone. You resisted the urge to reach out and stroke your fingers down his exposed chest, to explore what was beneath his silk pyjamas...

“I-I...” You struggled to respond. You almost felt like punching a wall at how frustrated you were at the fact that Zemo somehow managed to leave you completely speechless. 

“I often use these long nights to think.” Zemo spoke so you didn’t have to. 

“What do you think about?” You questioned. 

“A lot of things usually.” Zemo waved his hand as he spoke. “But these past couple nights I’ve found myself thinking of something more out of the ordinary.”

“And what’s that?” You asked.

“You.” Zemo cocked his head as he looked at you.

You felt a heat grow between your legs as you watched his eyes flicker to your lips for a second. 

“May I?” Zemo stepped forward, reaching his hand out to close the door behind you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his face passed yours. Zemo slowly pulled back from the door, your faces were mere inches away from each other as he hadn't bothered to go around you to close the door but over your shoulder instead. 

Your gaze met. The thick tension around you was suffocating. 

With his right hand, he reached up and cupped your jaw, firmly underneath your ear. His thumb ran over your cheek; his touch burning against you.  

Zemo leant forward, closing the space between you, and kissed you. 

It was a sweet kiss. A first kiss. He was testing the waters. 

Just as he went to pull away, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him back in. Your body flushed against his as a powerful urge took over you. 

Desperation. Need. A fire that grew in your stomach.

Zemo placed one hand in your hair and it’s counterpart on the small of your back. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as he tugged lightly at the back of your hair. 

Zemo’s mouth traveled down your jaw to your neck. His tongue sent goosebumps over your skin as he explored it. He could taste the saltiness from the result of your dream. 

“Did you get all hot and bothered for me, mały ptaszku?” He cooed as his hand moved from your hair to your shoulder. He stroked down the back of your arm until he reached your elbow. You felt your heart skip with the flashback to your dream. 

“What are we doing?” You asked breathlessly as you clung onto the man’s robe. 

“Anything you desire.” He lifted his head back to face you. 

There was a beguiling darkness in his eyes but it didn’t scare you. It only enticed you. 

Zemo took your hand and brought it to his lips. He pressed a silky kiss to your fingers all the while maintaining eye contact. The way his lips look as they curved against your fingers made your stomach tighten with want.

Zemo had noticed the blazing fire in your eyes as you watched him. He smirked, taking just one of your fingers and placing in between his teeth. He dragged it gently, grazing your finger as he pulled it down his lip; the cool night air tickled the wetness on your skin.

Zemo let go of your hand before lifting his own fingers to your lips. You let out a shaky breath as he stroked his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“So beautiful.” Zemo took a moment to admire you. Your lips were slightly plump from his kiss and your eyes were wide, glistening in the dim light. 

You reached forward and steadily untied his robe. He shrugged off the extra layer at your silent request. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Zemo’s searched your eyes for any hesitation or uncertainty but failed to find any. 

You nodded your head ever so slightly. 

“Words, kochanie.” Zemo ordered.

“Yes.” 

“Good girl.” Zemo’s mouth turned up at the corners. You felt your stomach flutter at the praise.

Zemo kissed you again. His large hands held either side of your neck as he guided you deeper into his room. 

You took one of the man’s hands and dragged it down your side, ushering it towards the inner of your legs. 

“Does my little bird want to be touched?” Zemo’s voice was low as he spoke into the kiss. 

You bit down on his lip and urged his hand closer. 

Zemo chuckled at your response. 

“Use your words.” He instructed you. 

You parted from the man when you realised just how close the bed was. You sat down and pushed yourself upwards so that Zemo would have to follow to continue kissing you. He recognised the play. 

“I told you to use your words.” Zemo tutted as he remained stood at the bottom of the bed. You felt him wrap his hand around your ankle before tugging you back down to him. 

You gasped at the sudden action, staring up at the man with lust blown eyes.

Zemo knelt down at the end of the bed. His hand moved up your ankle and began to push up your pyjama leg up. His lips pressed against your ankle, nipping and licking your skin as he worked his way up your calf. 

When he reached your thigh and could go no higher, you helped him by removing your pyjama bottoms. You suddenly felt very exposed in just a tank top and your panties. 

“Such a good girl.” Zemo smirked at your hurry to strip for him. 

Zemo held your thigh with his hand, he dragged his tongue along the inside of it, biting your skin softly but didn’t venture too close to your core. He could sense just how desperate you were for him as your legs began to slightly shake with want. But he wanted you to beg...

You reached down and buried a hand in his thick, styled hair. He only smirked and glanced up at you through his eyebrows as you tried to bring him closer to you. 

Zemo hooked his fingers around your panties and pulled them down, freeing your hot sex to him. 

Zemo sent you a dark smile just before he pressed his tongue against you. The smell of you was too much to resist, he had to taste you. You inhaled sharply as he buried himself between your legs. His tongue teased your clit as his forefinger began to circle your entrance.

“So wet for me.” Zemo murmured. 

His finger pressed inside of you and you arched your back, desperate for more. 

“It’s been a while, mały ptaszku?” Zemo was watching your every reaction as he pumped his finger in and out of you. “For me too.” He confessed. 

His tongue found your sensitive bud again and applied more pressure, causing your grip on the man’s hair to turn even tighter. Zemo groaned at your tugging. His eyes lulling back as his boxers became very tight around his member. 

You could feel your walls tensing as he entered a second finger inside you. Your stomach twisted with your approaching climax. 

“I’m gonna...” You barely managed to breathe out two words out.

“Sing for me, mały ptaszku.” Zemo commanded, his eyes glued to you as he watched you come undone around his fingers. 

Zemo retracted his hand as he allowed you a moment to recover. He wiped the slick wetness from his chin as he regained his stance. 

You leant forward and took hold of the man’s shirt, tugging him towards you. Zemo teeth scraped against your lips as he kissed you fiercely. You craved for him to be inside of you and he craved the same. Watching you cum for him only made him ache with want and need. 

“Zemo...” You used his name for the first time that night, “Please...” 

Zemo couldn’t resist your pleads. 

He tore his pyjama shirt off and stripped of his bottoms, revealing his thick member. 

You reached forward, taking hold of him to feel his impressive size. His tip dripped with precum and the groan that rumbled from his throat at your touch only made you want him more. 

Zemo placed his hands under your arms and tossed you higher up on the bed. You exhaled a shaky breath at the dominant action. He climbed on top of you, parting your legs with his knee. 

“I feel I need to remind you that it has been a very long time since I have been with a beautiful woman such as yourself so I shall try my best to hold back.” Zemo was honest as he aligned his tip to your entrance. 

He slid himself up between your folds spreading your wetness on his head, you felt your convulse at the feeling of his hard cock on your throbbing clit. 

Zemo’s jaw clenched tightly as he finally pressed himself into you, his eyes closed as he relished the feeling. 

You rocked your hips against his as he filled you completely. 

Zemo remained still a moment as he just you fully adjust before he started to move inside of you. 

His hand found your throat as he began to pick up his pace. 

Your nails dug deep into his skin as he squeezed your neck lightly. 

Zemo thrusts became deeper, harder and with every stroke, you felt that sweet spot ache inside you. 

Zemo began to murmur in Sokovian under his breath as he fucked you.

You wrapped your legs around him, your body begging him to fuck you harder. Zemo was happy to comply. 

He thrusted deep within you. Sweat was building on his forehead and his skin felt like fire against your own. 

You clawed at the hand that was wrapped around your neck. Longing for more pressure. 

Zemo eyes rolled back for a moment as he felt your walls begin to tighten around him. 

“Fuck... (Y/n)...” The sound of your name on his lips sent a wave of electricity through your body. 

Zemo released your neck to grab hold of the  headboard behind you. His knuckles turning white as he fucked you faster. 

One of your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, clinging onto him tightly and Zemo took the chance to sink his teeth into your forearm. You winced at the delicious pain and bit down on your lip to stop yourself from cursing. 

As your second climax suddenly engulfed you, your legs tensed around the baron. The feeling of you pulsing around him was enough to bring forward his own finish. He cursed in his native tongue as he filled you with his seed. 

Zemo dropped his hand from the headboard as he tried to support his weight above you. 

His hot breath danced across your face as he panted above you. 

Zemo removed himself from you and fell beside you. 

You brought your arm up and ran your fingers over the indented teeth marks in your skin. 

“You could’ve done that somewhere less visible.” You scolded the man. 

Zemo weakly smiled at you as he tried to recover. 

“I apologise.” He said through his heavy breathes. 

You reached over the side of the bed and scooped up the baron’s silk pyjama shirt. You wrapped it around you as Zemo watched you with curiosity. 

You slid off the bed and went over to the decanter by the couch in Zemo's room. You poured yourself a glass of scotch and a glass for Zemo before returning to his side. 

“This never happened.” You held out the glass to the man. He took it carefully before clinking the glass against your own. 

“What the soldiers don’t know won’t hurt them.” Zemo was referring to Sam and Bucky. “Doesn’t mean it can’t happen again, no?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” You straddled the man, downing your drink. 

Zemo placed his hands on your thighs, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. 

“What does mały ptaszku mean?” You suddenly recalled the name Zemo had kept calling you now that your mind wasn’t clouded from lust. 

“Little bird.” Zemo smirked. 

AN: Hoped you enjoyed ;)

Tags 

@montypythonsholysnail @chipster-21 @daniquehavinga @noavengers @and-claudia @moonstuffsteve​ @thanoshadtosnaptwiceforyou​ @the-reas0n-is-y0u​ @xaanyhs @soccer-100000​

[shotorozu]

their favorite clothes

— .｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ 2.5k followers milestone

character(s) : multiple characters (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] gender neutral— they/them pronouns, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, spice if you squint but not nsfw (x reader)

note(s) : this is what would be their favorite clothes (that they own) on you. thank you all for 2.5k 🤍 also im so sorry for the lack of posts, and im gonna be real about this— it was my writer’s block 💀 good news, it’s gone now :)

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

midoriya izuku

↛ honorable mention — his hero costume

↛ he absolutely loves it when you wear his shirts, like— i’m sure you know which one im talking about. the one that says ‘t シャツ’ i don’t know! his fashion sense isn’t the MOST fashionable, and the t-shirt itself isn’t very appealing to most eyes, but he absolutely adores how it looks on you. look, you can be the tallest being on this earth, to the point it makes his shirt look like a crop top on you, or you could be literally 4’5 and make the shirt look like a dress, he doesn’t care at all. he just loves how it looks on you, it makes him feel all warm on the inside, kinda like a *heart squeeze* moment, y’know? and no, there’s no exaggeration. he’ll just stop, and look at you when you wear his shirt. it’s just so personal, and he loves it.

bakugou katsuki

↛ honorable mention — though sweaty, his hero costume, and literally any other piece of clothing he has.

↛ then again, you could literally wear any kind of clothing of his, and you could have a ring adorning that finger of yours by the end of the day. he likes to pretend he’s absolutely not infatuated by the way his clothes look on you. if you force him to say what’s his favorite, he’ll mutter out ‘black tanktop’ because how could he not say that?? have you seen how delectable you look in that tanktop of his? it’s a surefire way to render him speechless, from the moment you walk into the room, to the moment you leave it— those gorgeous red irises will be on you. similar to midoriya, katsuki doesn’t care if you’re tall or short— just,,, wear his clothes, and if you want to seal in the future, then the black tanktop is the way to go. because he’ll probably get mad at you if you don’t wear his clothes to bed

todoroki shouto

↛ honorable mention — shouto’s button up shirt from his old hero costume, even though his old hero costume was HIDEOUS

↛ in his opinion, he loves anything on you (yeah, even a trashbag) but he does really love how you wear his turtle neck, he loves the fit. how it either loosely fits on you, or how it snuggly hugs your form— it really doesn’t matter. anything you wear would look really high end in his opinion, quite literally anything. but his black turtle neck really takes the cake. oh boy, when he saw you wear it for the first time, he froze up and almost charred his feet, cheeks firing up a warm red to match his scar. he has the money to buy a bunch of replicas of that exact black turtle neck, and he could give it to you but,, no. how could he do that? how do you look absolutely stunning in such a simple turtle neck? he doesn’t really know. anyways! he eventually ends up unofficially making the turtle neck yours, and he only wears it when he needs to douse his scent into the fabric once more— when it has almost completely faded away.

kirishima eijirou

↛ honorable mention — i wouldn’t say there’s an honorable mention, since he’s extremely loyal to his statements.

↛ his boxers. there, i’ve said it— and wait for a sec, let me explain. it’s not what you think, and you’d expect it to be like that but no, it’s not. at first, he thought you looked great in something simple as his sweater, or shirts but you were running out of clothes during laundry day— so you rummaged through your boyfriend’s clothing drawer, and pulled out a pair of red boxers, with black trimming. when he saw it peaking under your oversized shirt, he swear he saw the heavens. and from that moment on, you found yourself frequently wearing his boxers, but more specifically that pair. no, i’m serious— eijirou will get all pouty if you actually don’t wear his boxers, even when most of them are in the laundry. why does he like them so much? hm,, maybe it’s the security, and knowing that he’ll be the only one to see you in his boxers.

kaminari denki

↛ honorable mention — his boxers but you say no because he’s quite gross about it 🤢 anyways,

↛ his shorts. yes, they’re not the same as his boxers, but they’re the kind of shorts that you lounge in. now, i know you thought i was going to say “ooo he’s love to see you in a sweater with a lighting bolt embroidered in the middle!!”but then, the thing with these shorts was that he’s literally had them since he was in what,, the end of middle school im surprised they still fit, but they’re so dear to him? in a way that seeing you in those exact shorts makes his heart stop— only for it to start up again. thing with these shorts is that they’re oddly so,, pretty? i mean, his wardrobe is so questionable, but these shorts? there’s a mini reflective lighting bolt logo imprinted on the corner of the shorts. so quite literally, you’re seen with these shorts a lot— and the bakusquad give him hell for that 💀

monoma neito

↛ honorable mention — uh,, he does say that he ‘doesn’t know what you’re talking about! i don’t have more favorites on Y/N’ but you know damn well he does have more than one

↛ his hero costume, because well,, it’s very fashionable! but it doesn’t really look like he’s such a big fan of the entire ‘i wear your clothes!’ thing. because his clothes are his clothes, and your clothes look good on you anyway, end of the story! but if you do force him to say anything, he’ll admit that he does love seeing you in his hero costume. neito once walked in on you wearing his hero costume, and as to be expected— he made fun of you, but he did really like how it looked on you. but i suppose that’s the power you have on him, and he’ll admit it when he wants to, otherwise— he’s just teasing you for now. but pls wear it :,) he’ll basically be at your feet for the entire time

shinsou hitoshi

↛ honorable mention — a black sweater that has a silhouette of a purple cat printed at the center. it’s his favorite sweater, that’s why.

↛ his sweatpants. you and hitoshi had to switch clothes for a dare at a sleepover, and when he saw you in his lounging sweatpants, that’s what did him in. ever since then, he’s been quite obsessed with seeing you in them. hitoshi could care less about the sizing aspect, he just loves seeing you in his sweatpants— and it is quite a treat to come back from an especially gnarly day at school, and to be greeted by you lounging in his clothes, ‘instant recharge’ he says. he finds himself toying with the string of the sweatpants, when you’re on his lap, pressing kisses on his cheeks. anyways— if you want to kill him even more, then you should wear his sweater AND his sweatpants. he might as well just lock you in his room for him to keep forever (he’s not serious about that.) but it does surprise some people, because they never would’ve expected shinsou hitoshi to be the clingy/needy type. but you’re the only one that gets to see it indoors.

amajiki tamaki

↛ honorable mention — his button up shirt, i’m sure theres a gif of him wearing one in the anime somewhere, and i hope you know what i mean

↛ not really a clothing article he wears on the daily, but his cape. omg his cape. he sort of glitched out when he came back from interning, and saw you snuggling on the couch with his cape. like,, are you trying to unalive him? and he’s not slick about it either— everytime he comes back, and sees you using his cape as a blanket, draped over your shoulders, he nearly faints. it’s that intense, that’s why nejire and mirio brought his hero costume’s cape and gave it to you when it was time to sleep— he couldn’t get a wink of sleep because of the image of you with his cape, ugh! anyways, he does manage to leave it with you when he has to go away for a bit, because it says that it’s almost like he’s there with you. tamaki usually has to scramble on why he doesn’t have his usual cape.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

This Boy (George Harrison x Female!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! welcome to my first oneshot! a lot of my stories are very plot-driven and they end up becoming these long chapter fics but I'm gonna see if I can make a handful of oneshots in the next little bit to kind of give yous something to read while waiting for the longer fics to finish up. this is my first one, and it's for Georgie!

Summary: It's date night, and you're more than ready to meet your mystery date; George, however, is not.

WARNINGS: Swearing is in almost all my fics, so this one isn't safe either probably, hints of suggestive behaviour, slow burn, friends to lovers, lack of self-editing probably, etc. *This fic is also LONG AF so I would advise y'all to start reading this when you have nothing else to do*

I'll rate this one as a T. Enjoy, folks!

George checked the clock on the wall again and sighed gently.

You were still getting ready.

As much as it disappointed him, George agreed-- well, more like offered-- to drive you to your blind date one of your girlfriends set you up on.

It's not that he wasn't excited or proud of you for getting yourself out there. He knew you'd been meaning to do that since graduating school.

He was just frustrated at the fact that whichever lucky man was going on a date with you that night wasn't him.

When he found out about the date, he immediately vocalized his distrust for the mystery person, despite knowing absolutely zero about him. You seemed heartbroken at that, and to make it up to you, he offered to drive you to the date.

So there he was, sitting on the sofa in the living area of your flat, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

George had taken you to school dances in the past, and while your mother let you wear makeup to them, it never took you this long to apply it.

You were definitely dressing to impress tonight.

"Lucky man," he just mumbled under his breath at the thought of that boy.

You and George had been friends since you were children, and he deemed you his Best Friend Forever only an hour into your first playtime.

You spent your days as children riding your bikes to the park to play, and helping each other with homework at each other's houses every night.

However, that sort of platonic "buddy-buddy" dynamic changed when the both of you hit puberty.

It wasn't until a boy at George's school questioned him if you were his girlfriend, that George realized he had a crush on you. Some of his friends had girl friends, and they were always teased about whether or not they were dating, but this was the first time anyone had put you and George together.

After this discovery, (which he would endlessly thank the young boy who opened his eyes to the truth in the first place) George began to notice lots of little things about you that he hadn't before.

You would run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head during hugs, you never took your eyes away from him when he was speaking; there hadn't been one time to name that you'd ever made him upset or angry, but more or less excited, and free, and joyous.

And not to mention, the way you called him "Georgie" made his heart pound so loud and hard in his chest that he might as well have just completed a marathon...

He was in love with everything only when you were around.

Actually, as awkward as George thinks it is, Paul helped him realize he was physically attracted to you.

The boys were on their way to George's after school, a few years after George realized he had a little crush on you, and the teenagers both caught sight of you watering the front garden of your home at the request of your mother.

George stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his mouth hanging open as he watched you do your thing. After being enrolled in his boy's school, you never had much time to see one another, as much as it hurt him; so he cherished every moment he could see you.

"If her ma catches you out the window starin' at her daughter's arse the way you're doin' right now Harrison, they'll rip your tongue right out."

George's face went bright red, and he turned to look at Paul in horror, slapping him on the arm for saying such a thing. "I wasn't staring at her like that!" But he couldn't help but steal a glance at your behind since it was now the topic of discussion, though he really didn't want it to be.

Paul knew George felt compelled to say something to you, and he smirked as George awkwardly raised his hand to wave as he called to you from the other side of the street.

"H-hey, Y/n!"

You turned around, and grinned at who you'd seen.

"Hey Georgie! Hi Paulie!" You twiddled your fingers at them, and George's stomach churned in jealousy at the fact you had a nickname for Paul, as well.

"Your garden looks beautiful, Ms. Y/l/n!"

Paul stole George's line. He fucking stole his line!

"A-and you look just as lovely as ever!" George added to one-up his friend.

You put a hand to your heart. "You boys make my heart sing." George took pride in your words despite them partially being for Paul as well.

"We need to see each other more, yeah?" George never expected his question to really get him anywhere, but he was wrong.

"Why not tonight? I don't have any homework and my parents are leaving town 'round five for the weekend to visit my auntie and uncle."

George's answer came quick, and effortlessly. "I'll be 'round for six. Sound good?"

"Perfect! I'll see you tonight then." You waved to the boys again, and then went back to watering the garden after bidding farewell.

The rest of the walk home was just Paul making fun of how lovestruck George was with you, and by the time they got to his house, just down the road from yours, Paul looked over at his buddy and smiled.

"No wonder you value your time with your darlin' over there so much, Magpie. Looks like she would definitely be a fine birdie in bed."

George looked over at Paul, eyes wide, and his voice broke. "... What?!" The thought of going to bed with you never crossed his mind-- well, until that moment.

"Hey, her folks'll be gone by the time you go over! You can make your move then! It's perfect!" Paul's words laced with excitement made George feel panicked, and the boy shook his head worriedly after a moment. "M-maybe it's not the best idea to go tonight..."

"Why not? All you ever wanna do is be alone with her!" Paul set a hand on the other boy's shoulder when he didn't answer. "What's up, George?"

"Paul, I've never even kissed her. She doesn't even know I like her like that! What if she likes someone else?! What do I even do?!" Paul was the biggest heartbreaker George knew. He'd had like... ten girlfriends since they met, and he kissed a whole three of them. They didn't last long, much like the fate of other young relationships, but George took Paul's advice as serious guidance; he needed to in a time like this.

"You just need to be calm. Take some deep breaths. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I know you will."

That night, George had many opportunities to dive in for a kiss, or mention his feelings for you; some of those opportunities he even believed you encouraged, but he didn't budge out of utter fear of rejection. George knew for a fact that Paul was going to facepalm when he asks him for details on the visit to your place.

Instead, the night only consisted of talking, and the only contact you made were a couple of hugs and a kiss on the cheek (which left George a stumbling mess again), though you did agree to spend more time together, which is how your friendship lasted so long.

He was so close to having you, and because he was too scared to make the move Paul (and maybe you) were encouraging him to make so long ago, you slipped through his fingers; and since, the thought of not being able to have you that way never left his mind.

Especially not when you were now a gorgeous young lady, blindly torturing poor George, who beat himself up every day because he lost his chance.

You were like a piece of artwork to George. You could be loved, admired, and looked at by him, but he could never hold you or touch you.

And George hated that.

George wanted you to be his girl.

And you were his girl-- well, in a twisted way. You were always with him, smiling and laughing about nothing and everything, holding onto each other in your darkest nights and guiding one another through personal struggles...

But when other boys started to want you too, George wanted to make it a point to keep the majority of them away.

Some didn't heed George's threats and went on to pursue you anyways, only to be turned down on your front steps by yourself. George never understood why you never reciprocated anybody's feelings, but it's not like he was verbally complaining.

And that's what lead up to tonight. George had wanted you for so long, and the sudden knowledge of a blind date had him in shock, especially since this was your very first time giving in and agreeing to go.

It killed him to know some rando was going to appear out of thin air to whisk you away, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and eventually put his hands on you, thinking his love for you is stronger than any other despite knowing absolutely nothing about how you should be loved, and treated...

But George hid his fury from you because you were excited about this date.

And he would do anything for you.

George's rage-inducing, mind-racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut from behind him. He turned his head, heart in his throat, and you stepped into the room.

You wore a lovely high-waisted navy dress, and a pair of black flats. Your hair was half down, the rest coming together at the back of your head by a matching clip-on bow.

As expected, your makeup was quite noticeable. The burgundy colour of your lips and dark brown eyeshadow had George's head spinning, and he couldn't resist ogling at the way that dress fit you so well...

"So… How do I look? Like, if we were about to go on a date..."

A date? Us? We?!

George's palms began to sweat, and his heart did somersaults. If only.

It was only then that he realized his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and after snapping it shut, he swallowed in embarrassment, not daring to look anywhere but your eyes again in fear of falling victim to your appearance again.

Imagine not being able to trust your eyes?

"... What would you think?"

George squeaked, his lips moving hesitantly though he didn't make a sound. His face was surely an embarrassing shade of red, and the longer he waited into answer, the more anticipated you looked for a response.

George rose to his feet and approached you, bravely deciding to give you another good onceover after a deep breath, though he kind of lost all sense of feeling in his legs when you smiled at him with that perfect mouth of yours...

"Wow." George sighed, eyelids falling heavy over his brown irises as he admired you.

"I just... you... wow, Y/n." He couldn't come up with a coherent sentence with the way you were staring at him like that.

God, he was absolutely smitten with you.

Your eyes shone joyously as you placed your hand on your heart, and George, as impossible to him as it seemed, fell so much more in love with you than he was just moments before. Your presence rendered him speechless, and the thought inflated your ego a lot more than you would have expected it to.

George remained silent, but his gaze was still glued to you. He'd looked at you for long enough in his life to probably draw you perfectly by memory, but he still took his time to drink in what he was given; because who knew if he'd ever be able to see more of you than this?

"I... I'm-- I'm speechless, is what I am." He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "I... honestly hope my eyes are doing all the talking for me."

"Aw, you're just a sweetiepie, aren't you?"

You beamed at George, blushing as you took another step toward him. "Well Georgie... if you keep looking at me and sweet-talking the way you are..." your warm words were carefully chosen, and it was obvious that George was hanging into every single word you were saying.

"I may just have to pass on this date and spend tonight with you." Your eyelids fell heavy over your eyes, and you offered George a smile that was suggesting something maybe not so innocent.

"Wh-what?!"

"... I said I'm ready to go." You raised your eyebrow in a little confusion at George's flustered state.

Oh my fucking God she didn't even say that?!

Idiot.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

"... R-right, yes, of course." George shook his head as if to rid his brain of the idea of tricking him like that again. He offered his arm out to you, and you linked yours with his before walking to the door together.

You passed a mirror on the way out, and George caught a glimpse of the both of your reflections, and his chest felt like it was on fire.

He looked so happy to be with you in that moment.

And you looked so happy to be leaving to spend time with another man.

George just hoped at least the reflection of him and you were going on this date together, and both of those smiles were meant for each other.

George pulled up to whatever restaurant this guy wanted to meet you at, which was on the other side of town. George did not approve of this and even reminded you of this on the way there, though you insisted you'd be fine, like you had the couple of times he mentioned this before.

You looked at him after he threw his car into park, and he gave you a little smile after a moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You do look beautiful, Y/n. This guy... he's very lucky."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you believe me."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss George's cheek. His skin darkened to pink beneath your lips before you could pull away and leave the car with another goodbye, though his ears were ringing and he missed your final farewell.

She doesn't believe me...

George waited until he saw you were seated in the restaurant to put his car back into drive, but something kept him from lifting his foot off the brake. He watched you adjust your silverware at your table, and clasp your hands together in wait.

... Maybe George wanted to wait for this guy to show up.

But would he really want to kill himself by spying on you and watching you fall for someone who wasn't him over the course of one night?

That was the question that made him decide to look back, and pull out of his parking space before he could spot anyone even go near the building. He was in drive and speeding home moments later.

The car ride back to his flat was a quiet one. George kept the radio off, and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole time as if he were almost impatient to get home and do nothing.

Every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw his eyes stare back at him, it just reminded him that his reflection left that restaurant alone and just as disappointed as his real counterpart.

It wasn't long before George pulled into his building's parking space and sulked out of his car, slamming the door shut. His eyes and nose were burning from the assault of unfallen tears.

He dropped you off to meet this guy. This was all on him this time.

George loved you. He loved you with all his heart, enough to swallow his pride-- sacrifice his happiness for your own.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, dropping you off that night felt like he was letting you go.

And was he?

He pretty much stumbled through the door because his fucks to give for himself were pretty much nonexistent at this point. He kicked his shoes off, not caring if he scuffed up the wall with black marks.

He just wanted to have a long hot shower, crawl into bed, and hide from everyone.

And that's just what he did.

His shower was well over an hour long, and that's where he broke down and cried for the majority of the time. He cried about you, and the situation his own decisions put himself in. He cried in jealousy for the threat sweeping you off your feet right now, and he cried as if that was the last night he'd ever see you again.

When he got out of the shower, well after the stream went cold, he had no more tears to shed. He was dehydrated, and he felt broken. He did a half-assed job of drying himself off before leaving the bathroom and collapsing into bed, only a towel secured around his hips.

His face was pressed into his pillow, and he tucked his arms beneath it and submerged himself even further into the soft fabric.

He recently switched detergent to whichever one you regularly used, and he just took in the familiar scent; anything to make him feel more at home without you actually being present...

George had no idea how long he was in that position for, but he fell asleep like that, only to wake to the sound of the phone ringing.

He got up and stumbled out of his room to ease the obnoxiously loud phone by picking up the call, shouting, and hanging up on whoever decided to phone at this hour-- whichever hour it was.

"Yeah," George rasped through the receiver, his tone laced with underlying irritation. He just wanted to be left alone in his sadness.

"George..."

"... Y/n?" He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand before you spoke, but your voice made him freeze.

"Oh Georgie..." your voice was breaking over the phone, and he could tell it wasn't the connection.

"Y/n, my Love, what's the matter?!"

"George he... He didn't show." George's heart stopped.

He didn't show.

George's grip closed tighter and tighter on the phone receiver, and he could feel the pure rage bubbling in his chest, and the plastic receiver crackling from the force under his fingers.

"Where are you?" He demanded. "I'm coming right now to get you," George was about to start throwing his shoes on, despite wearing absolutely nothing to start off with, his towel discarded and still on the bed from when he passed out.

"The same place you dropped me off."

God dammit, this fucking guy had you go to the other side of town just to be forgotten about.

It was finally settled: if George ever found out who this guy was, he'd kill him for doing this to you.

"Don't move. Be there in five." As soon as George hung up the phone, he took off to his room. He was ready in record time: under a minute. Up until the day he died, George wouldn't have been able to dress as quick as he did that night, and he never knew how he did it.

What really mattered was that George got to the other side of town in about five minutes, as he said over the phone.

George whipped into the parking lot and got out of the car. He hurried over to the front of the building to go in and search for you, but he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the curb as he grabbed the door handle.

His grip eased on the lockset, and he slowly turned to you. You were facing away from him, arms folded as you tried to shield yourself from the cool evening wind. You had no clue he was even behind you.

George sighed gently, shedding his jacket off and placing it on your shoulders without another word. He could see your whole body relax from the weighted piece of clothing, and he wondered if his scent was comforting for you too, as it was vice versa.

George heard you breathe out, but you sniffled afterwards. It broke his heart to see you like this. George looked around to see if anyone was watching, because if there was a chance this guy was cackling away in a parked car at the sight of you in tears, George would have had no problem kicking his headlights in and slashing his tires.

He dropped to the curb and sat down right next to you, not hesitating to circle his arm around your body.

At his touch, you curled yourself into a ball, and George scooped you up to squeeze you tight. And against his chest, when you knew you were safe from all harm, you gently sobbed.

George let you cry it all out, and the tighter you held onto him, the tighter he held onto you.

"Am I just unlovable George...? Is that it?" Your words were quiet and muffled, but George heard every syllable you mustered.

He pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, and his grip on your arms were firm, but not tight. "Now Y/n, you do not for one second even think you're unlovable. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His eyebrows were lowered in anger at the very idea of you feeling unloved.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, and George's expression softened. He reached his hand up to your face, and he could feel you shaking. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow again.

George wished then more than ever that he was the one who was supposed to see you. He would have shown up.

"Y/n, you deserve so much better than this. If you were mine, I’d make sure sitting alone on the curb, stood up, would be the last place you'd ever find yourself, especially when you were so excited to go out..."

George didn't know where his little spurt of confidence came from, but he was more focused on the words he was choosing to use with you, and what he was all going to say.

"... If I were yours...?" You sniffled again, cheeks and the tip of your nose turning pink and George paused at the sudden realization.

You still had a chance to be his.

And all because that boy didn't show up, he still had time to figure out how he could pull it all off; but it had to be tonight.

He took a deep breath.

"I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you. I just... I sometimes wonder why you were never mine. Why you're not mine..." his voice lowered throughout the sentence, and the end of his confession was barely above a whisper.

You watched George for a moment, lips parted, as if you couldn't believe your ears, and the young man panicked a little, deciding to disregard his last words before it suddenly became the topic of discussion.

"Oh, my Love," George's eyes suddenly saddened as he reached out to wipe away your fresh tears and smeared makeup with his thumb. Your bottom lip trembled at the contact, and he sighed.

"Just because he didn't show up doesn't mean your evening has gone to waste." He stood up and turned to look down at you.

"The night is still young." He then held his hand out in front of you, and you looked at it for a moment as if you didn't know what he wanted from you.

"Y/n... give me one night. Let me show you how a man should always treat you."

He wasn't quite sure if he just unintentionally asked you on a real life date, or if you thought of all this as an act, but even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it gave George the chance of a lifetime to at least pretend you were his, even if this opportunity only lasted one night.

"Please."

You didn't move at first, but George was patient. You eventually slowly reached your hand out, and George helped you up, not making the effort to let go of you afterwards.

George looked up at the restaurant, and did a double take. "... You... you don't even like fancy places like this, am I wrong?"  All you could think about when looking at him was that he knew you so well.

"A place like this on a first date is a clear sign he'd leave halfway through and I'd be stuck with the bill." George smiled a little, and so did you.

You wiped your final stray tear from your cheek and George gave your other hand a squeeze. "... I'd rather get a burger and go for a walk, to be honest."

"Then that's what we'll do," George confirmed with a nod. It was settled, then.

George and you strolled to the car, still hand-in-hand, and he courteously opened your door to help you in. He ran over to the other side afterwards and climbed in behind the wheel before pulling out and taking off to find somewhere for you both to eat.

You both came across this quiet burger place downtown, and the both of you were able to get a booth in the back for privacy so you could both scarf down your meals in peace.

George ordered the same food you did, and you both settled on sharing a milkshake together (a single milkshake eventually became two).

"God," you looked around the nearly empty joint before turning your gaze back to George. "Do you know how much more comfortable I feel in here?"

"Even when you're dressed like you belong in a dress shop window?" George smiled around his straw and you matched his grin. "Shut up. At least my hair is brushed out."

The poor guy had no clue until now that he forgot to comb his hair out after his depression shower, embarrassingly clawing his fingers through his locks to at least tidy up the mess on his head.

You just laughed out that you were teasing him, and the joyous hiccups from your laughter had George briefly forgetting everything negative that had happened so far that night.

After settling down a little, your food was brought out and you both started eating.

There wasn't much for the both of you to talk about other than the part of your day when you weren't together, and it wasn't like George wanted to mention what happened to him in the last two hours or make you upset by talking about your night.

Instead you both settled on joking about old times. Before the both of you knew it, George had you giggling and smiling once again before your dessert even came, and when the waitress came around to your table with your two-person cookie skillet, you grinned even wider.

You thanked the waitress before she went on her way, and you looked up across the treat to George, whom you were half expecting to be drooling over the cookie. Instead, he was in a dream-like trance, soft gaze fixed on you, and only you. You weren't too sure if he even knew the skillet was in front of him, he was so distracted.

"George...?" You called to him gently as to not frighten him when coming back down to reality. His response was almost immediate, like he could hear you.

And maybe he did.

"... I'm sorry, I don't know how many times I've tried to say this already tonight but have chickened out, but you look just..." George was examining every inch of you that he could see and you blushed, casting your eyes down to the table.

"Angel, look at me." George reached over the table and rested his hand over yours. You lifted your head to look him in the eye, and he hesitated for a moment. Your full attention flustered him, then again it always did, but he took a deep breath.

"You look heavenly, Y/n."

You said nothing. This time, he had you speechless, but nothing wasn't the response he was looking for.

"Dontcha believe me...?" His question echoed through your brain, and you blinked. George scanned your eyes after giving your hand a squeeze. He knew you had something to say, and he was at the edge of his seat in anticipation for your words.

"... Do you really think so?"

"Are you kidding me?! Y/n, I... when you came out of your room tonight I just... looking at you right now, I'm at a loss for words. Heavenly doesn't even scratch the surface. No word exists that perfectly describes how you look to me. Now, or ever."

There was yet another spurt of confidence that washed over George. He had a feeling his words and actions were getting the both of you somewhere, especially when his final sentence had you blushing the way you were.

At least he knew he was doing something right.

George's grip on your hand tightened a little, and he flipped your hands over so your palm was face-up in his. He brought your hand closer to him, and he kissed your fingertips before leaving a final one at the centre of your palm. His eyes never left your red face as he did this, and he grinned against your hand when you offered him a shy smile.

Oh... she IS actually liking this.

When he pulled away, George looked down at the still-untouched dessert, and he smiled, releasing another nervous breath he was holding as he finally let go of your hand. "Let's finish up so we can go on our walk. Sound good, my Love?"

You only nodded before digging in with him, every nudge of his hand against yours reducing you to a blushing mess, and George, who was gaining more confidence as every second passed, would just smile to himself knowing he was successfully turning the tables on you.

But it wasn't yet the time to give in and confess, as much as George wanted to. He still had a nice long walk to woo you on, and then he had to do the important step of walking you to your apartment door at the end of the night, and God knows that was the part he was dying to get to.

You finished your dessert not long after and George payed the bill. After helping you out of the booth, you'd left hand-in-hand again.

The both of you stepped out into the cool night and you looked up at George. "Are you cold? Did you want your jacket back?"

You were holding it in your other hand since you'd taken it off at dinner, and you shoved it in his direction without another word.

He laughed and took the jacket from you, unfolding it and pulling it back around your shoulders before rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm.

"You'll catch a cold without it. Besides, you look better in it anyways." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, smiling proudly to himself when he pulled away and continued to lead you to the car, deciding it'd be smoother to not turn around and gauge for a reaction from you.

Like before, George courteously opened the car door for you, and closed it when you were in. Their destination was his place. It wasn't for the reason one would think, but the idea of driving you to his home and inviting you in with every intention of walking right past the kettle made George's legs restless.

In reality there was a park down the road from his flat that cut pretty much directly to your own humble abode. You'd walked the trail hundreds of times together to look at the pretty flowers growing in the garden, but something told George that this time, like everything else happening that day, was going to be very different.

When you pulled up to his building he raced you to get to your door for the second time of the night; the first being at the burger place when you first arrived. He took your hand and helped you out of the car, and he didn't let go, even after locking the doors to his car and leading you both down the road.

There was a silence that fell between the both of you. It wasn't bad. You took this time to think about your night, as did George. With every step down the road and into the park you took, the smile on your face only grew wider. As for George, he began to sweat with every step he took.

Every foot forward led him closer and closer to your door, where he was going to finally let everything off his chest and confess to you. The problem was that George's confidence was quickly draining, and this was something he needed to do.

He eventually let go of your hand to wipe his palms off on his pant leg, and at the immediate loss of contact, you were turning to him with a confused look on your face.

"Sorry uh..." he breathed out slowly, cheeks dusted pink. "I-I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."

Your look of confusion faded into an unreadable one. "Was it holding my hand?"

George shook his head. "No no, not that, I want to hold your hand."

"So what's the problem?"

He just shook his head again. "Maybe it's just... the stress of making sure tonight is perfect for you."

"What?!" Your reaction was sudden, and George's eyebrows were raised high up on his forehead at your exclamation.

"George, tonight has already been perfect for me! I had a great meal, I'm on a lovely walk with you..." you reached out to take his hand again, and he lifted his gaze from his shoes to look you in the eye. You smiled up at him from under the streetlight, and George smiled back a little.

"Georgie, I would never have asked for a better night." You squeezed his fingers with yours and tugged him forward gently. "C'mon, Magpie. Let's get home. It'll be cooling down soon, and I don't want you walking outside much longer than needed tonight."

George followed behind, but you still took your time coming home since the both of you got caught up in another conversation. This time, it was about the flowers you were passing in the park.

"... I used to water those for you, y'know." He pointed to a cluster of marigolds. To think that was ten years earlier and they still stayed put, growing outwards and stronger than ever.

"I used to check on them every day to make sure they weren't dying. You told me one time you really liked those flowers and I just..." he smiled a little at the memory. "I just couldn't get enough of your smile every time you saw them."

You turned to look up at him. You had absolutely no clue he did that for you. It made you love the flowers even more, and your heart jumped a little when you realized that the marigolds were the very reason George insisted you both took the trail all the tine.

"I'll still come across them when passing flower shops. I always think of you when I see them."

"Wow. George, I... I never knew you paid that much attention to me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."

And George didn't say anything after that, especially when you didn't respond to his last comment, which he didn't even mean to say.

By the time George could think up a sentence to save himself from friend-zoning the both of you right then and there, he felt like he'd left it for too long.

His heart was sinking, and he tried to shake off the comment best he could, and walked you the rest of the way home.

His stomach was in a knot as he looked up at your apartment building. The front door to the lobby looked intimidating, and his palms began to sweat again. You slipped your hand out of George's, and it distracted him from his racing thoughts.

"You think I'm gonna just leave you here?" His question was sudden, and you blinked once.

"I'm sorry?" You looked from George, to the apartment door which was ten feet away from the both of you. "But George, I'm home?"

"I have to walk you to your door." You laughed at his response, head thrown back as you sighed. "You mean to tell me you, George Harrison, are gonna walk up five flights of stairs in the next two minutes just to make sure you can hear me lock my door and know I'm safe?"

"Would it be a real date if I didn't?"

There was another beat of silence as George watched your eyes shift from left to right in thought. You pursed your lips a little, and then looked him in the eye.

"... Suppose it wouldn't be then, no."

"Then may I walk you to your door, Y/n?"

You finally answered him with a simple nod of your head, and George reached out to take your hand again. He wordlessly led you to the door which he opened for you, and then brought you to the flight of stairs. Nowhere else to go but up.

In about two minutes, you and George got to the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the hall, it felt like the walls were slowly closing together as you both took quiet, careful steps towards the end of the way.

The entire time, your hands were glued together, and no one let go, even when you were both finally stopped, and standing in front of your door.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Y/n. I know you were saying earlier tonight turned out perfect and everything but..." George's brain was still on that platonic comment he made on the walk.

"George, there is no one I would have rather spent tonight with than you. No one."

George squeezed your hand, and then sighed. "I just wish tonight happened under different circumstances."

"Different circumstances?" You repeated a little confused, and the boy in front of you pursed his lips and nodded his head.

Deep breaths. Here it goes.

"Y/n, ever since I found out about this date, my blood has just been boiling with jealousy for that boy. Hell, I still don't even know his name and I could tell you he isn't good for you."

You looked taken aback. Jealousy was definitely not where you thought he was going with all of this.

"I fell in love with you, Y/n. Years ago. And because I feared rejection, I didn't want to take my chances and say anything. But the truth of the matter is that I'd be the happiest person alive just to be able to love you openly. I can't stand to see you cry the way he made you tonight."

Again, you stood there, no words coming to mind to respond with. Your silence didn't make George stop.

"To think for years my feelings for you haven't gone away. I've always thought you felt the same, yet you were never mine." George paused. "When can this boy get you back again, Y/n?"

There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours for your answer, and you were staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

"I-- if I'd known-- I never thought-- George, I had no clue." He could see the lost look on your face, and it made his heart ache, especially when your lip began to tremble and your eyes started filling to the brim with tears.

"Why do you think I turned down every guy who's tried to get with me? I just... I never thought you'd love me back, Georgie." His emotions sank into a deep dark guilt. All this time, and you felt the same way about him...

And then he blinked.

You feel the same way about him!

George reached out to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your tears began to fall, and he pulled you into his chest tightly for a moment. "My Love," he mumbled, pulling away just far enough for him to see your face again.

"Oh, even when you're crying, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on..." There was a beat of nothing; just the sound of shallow breaths shared between the both of you before George began to inch in slowly towards you.

"... George, what are you doing...?" Your question was gentle, and you didn't stop him from coming any closer. You didn't want to stop him.

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

His attention fixated to your mouth once before your lips finally clashed together.

For over a decade, George had waited for the moment he tasted your lips; and now that it was here, he was almost scared he wouldn't know what to do.

The both of you were holding your breath since you both felt a little unsure at first, but it was a given, he was kissing his childhood best friend, and you were, too. You kissed back a little, and George exhaled lightly through his nose, a little relieved knowing you were getting a little more comfortable with the situation.

George's hands fell to your waist, fingers curling around your body as he eventually pulled you even closer. You parted your lips a little, and he bit down on your bottom lip, pulling away after hearing you gasp.

"Oh! Did I hurt you? I'm--" George could barely rush an apology out before you pulled him down to kiss him again, and pushing him backwards until his back was flat against your door. He watched as you closed the space between you again, and your lips were on his again.

His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and all the boy could remember thinking about was how blissful it all was in that moment. George threw his arms around you and started pushing back just a little.

You pulled away from him to gasp in a breath, George's hands grabbing your arms and pinning you against your door so he could put you in the place he was moments before; to give you the moment to experience just a fraction of all the love he would be able to eventually give to you.

His lips briefly found the crook of your neck and you moaned quietly as George sucked at your skin a little, which only resulted in him pulling away just to lean back in to kiss your lips and swallow your pleasant hums.

You eventually pulled away to face him again, lips swelled and pink, and breaths quick. You never thought you'd have so much trouble breathing while kissing someone.

Then again, it's not everyday that the man you're kissing is George Harrison.

"I know it's rare to ask this on a first date but..." George leaned down to attach his lips to the column of your throat, and he hummed against your skin when you moaned gently, delaying your question for a moment.

"... Did you maybe wanna, I don't know, come in, stick around for some tea?"

"Is that even a question?" George asked lowly against your neck, and you smiled. You reached into your purse to retrieve your apartment keys, which you blindly stuck into the keyhole since George was back to kissing you again, and the both of you stumbled through the door as soon as you got it open.

You and George kicked your shoes off after shutting the door, and you pushed him up against the wall in the front corridor to kiss him once again.

Ten years was way too long for the both of you to be deprived of one another any further, and George gladly let you migrate your lips to his neck after a moment, tilting his head back for you to make things a little easier.

With your head buried into his neck and your arms circled around one another, George lazily opened this eyes to watch himself in that same mirror across the hall he looked into a few hours prior.

All the boy could do was smile to himself, breathing heavily as he watched your reflection switch to the other side of his neck after leaving a mark on the right side of his throat.

Not only was his reflection successful in this date tonight, but George himself pulled off the biggest risk he could imagine and it paid off.

He finally got the girl of his dreams.

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

A/A/N: honestly, this fic lives rent free in my head and it has been since I wrote it, so I gotta show it off to y'all. Again, I know it was long, but I really hope you enjoy it <3

PERMENANT TAG LIST

@culturefiendtrashqueen​

@rogermeddow

(message me if you want to be added to any of my oneshot/queen/beatles/chapter taglists)

[yourtamaki]

history doesn’t repeat, it rhymes

sakusa x gn!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, elements of depersonalization, non-explicit mentions of sex

dedicated to: @onyxoverride (thank you for beta reading) & @saintdabi

you can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection.

it wasn’t deliberate, the way you turned your back to the full length mirror in your closet every morning when you got dressed, how you usually dodged your reflection coming out of the shower like you did just now. at least, not at first. not until you realized how much better you felt now that you didn’t have to come face to face with a stranger everyday. that was the only word to describe whatever lived in the mirror. a stranger. any recognizable part of you had rotted away long ago. all that remained now was an empty husk with dead eyes and a selfish heart. the same selfish heart that set you on this path in the first place. 

was it worth it? you wanted to ask your past self. was his love worth what you did to yourself?

the very first night you met sakusa set the tone for the rest of your relationship. you’re still not entirely sure why you accepted your roommate, hinata’s, invitation to his team’s party to celebrate their record win streak. it probably had something to do with the puppy dog eyes he threw you. regardless, you went, wearing an outfit you were losing confidence in by the second and leaning against a wall as far from the drunk crowd as you could get. you never liked parties like this. too many people, too loud. but for your best friend, you were willing to grit your teeth and bare it. 

a part of you, larger than you would ever admit, wishes you never looked to your left that day. wishes that you never spotted the curly haired man looking so sullen despite half his face being covered with a mask, that you didn’t notice the way his eyes flickered from his empty red cup to where you knew the kitchen to be, how he wearily eyed the crowd of people that separated him from it. 

“i was about to grab a drink. i can bring something back for you if you’d like?” the first thing you ever said to the love of your life was a lie. you were planning on staying tucked in your corner all night, safe from the dancing drunks who had no concept of personal space until hinata was ready to leave. and yet the words were almost ripped out of you the moment your eyes landed on him, a fierce need to help the man flaring up from nowhere. you could only assume he had separated himself from the party for the same reason you had and it pulled on your heartstrings. no one ever noticed when you needed help so why not extend that courtesy to him instead? he blinked at you as though he had to process your offer before he nodded. 

“yes, please i’d appreciate it.” his voice was different than you expected it to be. slow and calm despite the way his fist clenched and unclenched.  “just water. a closed bottle if you can find it.” 

his brows furrowed for a moment when you held out your hand before letting out a quiet ah and handing you his empty cup. it was endearing how he placed it in your hand, balancing it carefully on your palm. 

“be right back.” you shot him a smile and started to make your way across the floor, getting pushed and jostled the entire way there. you made quick work of tossing the garbage into the overflowing trash bag and dug out two water bottles from behind a rack of beer cans in the fridge. the trip back was no easier and you breathed a sigh of relief when you were once again in your small private bubble with the man. the discomfort you endured, the skin crawling sensation of all those bodies too close to you was worth the way his eyes lit up when he saw you’d returned. 

he accepted the cool bottle with a murmured thanks, pulling his mask down and tucking it under his chin. handsome was your first thought and his name was your second. the two distinct moles on his brow should’ve given it away that you were talking to sakusa kiyoomi. you’d seen enough of hinata’s games, heard enough stories to put a name to the face. he held your stare as you placed him in your mind, taking a sip from the bottle as he did. an urge to say something, anything to keep those eyes on you bubbled up hot and fast and you said the first thing that came to mind. 

“my roommate’s your teammate.” 

“is he? which one?” 

“hinata. shoyo.” you added as though there was another hinata on the msby roster.

“ah. my condolences.” the corner of his lips quirked up when you snorted. “i’ve seen how he leaves a locker room. i don’t want to imagine what his room looks like.” 

“it’s not pretty, that’s for sure.” you said, leaning your shoulder against the wall and taking a moment to regard him. “can i ask why you’re here? shoyo told me you don’t like crowds so a party must be hard on you.” 

“would you believe me if i said contractual obligations?” 

“nope cause i helped shoyo go through his contract and i don’t remember ragers being a part of the deal.” a small burst of pride bloomed in your chest when he laughed, a quick huff from his nose and amused eyes as though he didn’t expect it. 

“you got me.” you waited for him to explain and deflated a bit when he remained silent. that is, until you followed where his eyes had wandered. it was easy to spot hinata from across the party. he sat high above the rest of the crowd on bokuto’s shoulders, leaning back occasionally to test bokuto’s reaction time and giggling every time he was caught at the last moment. meian was trying in vain to pull the ginger down while atsumu seemed to be on facetime with someone recording the whole thing, his loud laughter ringing out clearly over the music. 

“you’re here for them?” you said just as the realization dawned on you. sakusa twitched, so small you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been watching him so closely. 

“spending time with your teammates promotes better gameplay on the court.” 

“i’m sure it does. but wanting to hang out with your friends isn’t a crime.” 

“we are hanging out. i’m here, aren’t i? if they wanted to talk to me, they know where to find me.” the bitterness in his tone wasn’t enough to mask the acceptance behind his words, of being resigned to his fate as the forgotten one. 

“well, i found you.” he looked over at you, something unreadable swimming behind his eyes before they softened.

“yeah. you did. you know, you’ve talked a lot about shoyo but i don’t know anything about you. i don’t even know your name.” he said. heat raced to your cheeks, flustered that he seemed to be paying as much attention to you that you were to him.

“i didn’t even notice, sorry.” you said before offering your name. he repeated it back, once, twice, rolling it around on his tongue and you watched his mouth, mesmerized by how it curled around a word you’ve heard your whole life until it sounded new again. he spoke your name in a soft, hushed whisper and you wondered if his lips would feel just as soft. half-lidded, his gaze flickered downwards like he was wondering the same thing.

the rest of the night was a blur in your mind. all you could recall was that you chatted with sakusa until the others found you and you drove a passed-out hinata home with a new contact saved to your phone.  

the reminiscing left you drained, clutching your phone in your hands, the screen frozen on that same contact as you collapsed into bed and yet you couldn’t stop the rest of the memories from flooding through your mind, the truth you’ve been holding off for too long. you’ve picked at a festering wound that was best left alone. if you didn’t think too hard about it, if you ignored how it grew and ate away at you, it wouldn’t hurt as much. right? but it was too late. you’ve pulled the string and now you’re left to deal with your own unraveling. 

you scrolled through your texts for what feels like a lifetime, the entirety of your relationship flashing by and disappearing in an instant until you could scroll no higher. of course you sent the first text. a formal message that didn’t look anything like how you actually text with one too many exclamation points in your desperation to come across friendly. 

your fingers moved across the screen and when your mind caught up, your thumb was hovering over the button to delete the entire conversation. you never wanted to see evidence of who you used to be ever again. you didn’t want to be reminded of the person you cut and broke and killed until they fit into sakusa’s neat life. but sentimentality stilled your hand, the phone dropping from your limp fingers and crashing to the floor. you didn’t bother reaching for it.

the accursed memories refuse to let you be, another bobbing up to the surface from the murky depths and pulling you under before you could stop it. one that showed what little agency you had in your own life.

it started the way it always did. you noticed him. noticed how tired he was every time you spoke. how you went from going out on dates to always staying in to maybe being lucky enough to say good night over the phone before he crashed for the day. and sure, you were lonely. so starved for him it ached. but that was overshadowed by your worry for him. you would lay awake wondering if he’d remember to eat that day, if he had the energy to clean his apartment and if he didn’t, how much was that adding to his stress? 

so you swung by his place the next morning after he had left for practice, spent the day cleaning, restocked his fridge and were nearly done making dinner when he returned. his exhaustion was truly hammered home when he walked straight past the kitchen on autopilot before doubling back, tilting his head at you in confusion. 

“what are you doing here, darling?” 

“helping out.” you turned back to the stove and busied yourself with mindless stirring, afraid that you’d been too eager and overstepped. “you seemed pretty tired these days so i wanted to do something for you but you’re back earlier than i expected so i can just go if you want to be alone just let me-” 

your rambling was cut off when a force barrelled into you and sakusa hugged you tight from behind, head buried in the crook of your shoulder. all at once, whatever anxiety had been growing fled you and you relaxed into his touch. 

“thank you.” it wasn’t the words that made your heart leap to your throat. it was the sincerity, the slight crack at the end that told you he had more he wanted to say but didn’t know how. 

you fell into a routine of going over to his apartment, looking after things, kissing him when he returned and staying over at night. at first, it was once a week. then over the weekend, then every other day. 

“you should move in.” even though you half expected your relationship to take this next step, it still took you by surprise the casual way sakusa brought it up. you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to move in with him just yet. you built a home with hinata and that apartment meant everything to you, all your happiest memories were made there and oh no sakusa was still waiting for an answer.  

“i should?”

“yeah.” 

and that was the end of it. you were packed and out of hinata’s apartment (because it was his now. his and atsumu’s. not yours, it’ll never be yours again) by the end of the month. most of your things didn’t come with you but that was fine, right? so what if you still felt like a guest in your home even to this day with none of yourself being reflected in the apartment? you got to wake up to see the love of your life every day and that made everything worth it. 

until you started waking up alone.  

extra training, he said. the team drafted new players and he had to get used to their play style, he said. and you believed him, trusted that he’d be home with you if he could. so you took the crushing loneliness and swallowed it down like a bitter pill. you smiled wide when he came home late with only the moon to light your bedroom and let him use your body to rid the stress of the day.

the dead of night was the only time you’d have him all to yourself. you could be greedy for his attention when he was buried inside you. it was easy to pretend you clawed up and down his back because you were caught up in the moment and not because you were desperate to keep him close to you. easy to pretend the tears in your eyes were from pleasure and not from how much you missed his voice. 

and when he was empty and spent, you would stroke his hair until he fell asleep and then, only then, would you whisper all the things you couldn’t tell him during the day. small, meaningless anecdotes that you knew would earn you a wry smile if he was awake to hear them, the one he used when he didn’t want to let on how close he was to laughing. the stolen moments were a salve on your fractured heart but it was never enough to heal it. in the end, when you were once again alone in your too-wide bed, it only served to remind you just how deep the cracks were. 

maybe that’s where you went wrong. you gave away your heart to someone and got nothing in return, nothing to plug up the all-consuming void in your chest. there was nothing left of you. no, that wasn’t quite true. there was nothing good left of you. you gave him your best parts and all you had now was pure resentment that burned hot and fierce in your core, so acidic it ate everything in its path. it burned away the dredges of your soul until all you could do was allow it to climb up and scorch your throat in a silent scream. 

another memory. it’s strange what your brain chose to latch onto as you spiralled. on the surface, you remember this to be a happier time. but as it overtook you, you’re reminded almost violently that the edges of this memory are stained with the early decay of your identity. 

before the early mornings and late nights, before you got into the habit of staring at your ceiling and wondering how you got to that point, you and sakusa had a tradition. you’d both find something, a story, a movie, that you think the other doesn’t know and share it with them. that day sakusa came to you with the myth of orpheus and eurydice. 

he told you the story of a man so in love with his wife he journeys to the underworld after she dies to find her, how hades tells him he can guide her to the land of the living but orpheus must trust that eurydice is following him. if he turns around, eurydice’s fate is sealed. sakusa explained how in every version of the myth, orpheus turned around at the very end out of an uncontrollable, unfiltered love for his wife. whether it was because he was excited to see the end of the tunnel and wanted to share his joy with her or because he feared she got lost, either one stems from the love he has for her. the love that sent him to find her is the same love that doomed her in the end. but the more sakusa spoke about orpheus, the more you wondered about the other protagonist of the story. 

“why didn’t eurydice try to let orpheus know she was there? she could’ve held his hand or touched his back or something.” you asked. you were laying your head on sakusa’s chest, letting the low rumble wash over you as he read you the tale. the question had been bugging you as the story came to its conclusion though you couldn’t place your finger as to why.

“she was a spirit. she would pass right through him.” 

“yeah but…” you searched for the words to explain your confusion. “she didn’t even try.” 

“it wouldn’t have mattered either way.” 

you opened your mouth to press the issue further, too stubborn to let it go just yet when you heard sakusa sigh out of his nose. it was enough for any question to die on your tongue and all that came out was a quiet, “i guess so.” 

it was a nothing memory. an empty thing to remind you of better times that you’ve had no need to look back on. so why did that moment swirl around your head now, as you crumbled in your lowest moments? scattered pieces start to form together in the recesses of your mind but before you could call them forth to make a full image, the bedroom door swung open and sakusa walked in. 

for once, you don’t slip on your well worn porcelain mask. you don’t school your expression and force it to mold into something that couldn’t quite be called happy. instead, you sat up straight in bed, held his gaze and did nothing to hide the maelstrom of hurt that raged inside you. a sick satisfaction shot through your veins when his steps faltered at the force of your stare. 

“what’s wrong?” he asked. 

what isn’t? you thought but instead said, “nothing. i was just thinking. about us.” 

“oh.” his eyes are already sliding away from you, a quiet detachment in his voice that made you grind your teeth in frustration. 

“remember that greek story you told me about?” 

“mhmm.” 

“tell me again why eurydice didn’t reach out.” there it is again. a short, sharp exhale from his nose. he opened his mouth but you spoke before he could. “humour me.”

“she was dead, darling. she couldn’t touch him, he couldn’t hear her so there was no point.” 

“no point? there was no point in trying to tell orpheus that she was behind him? he climbed into the underworld for her and she couldn’t try?” 

“could you--?” he cut himself off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “it’s late. i’m exhausted and really not in the mood so can we go to bed?” 

“doesn’t that sound familiar?” you continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “one person bending heaven and hell for the person they love while the other can’t even meet them halfway. remind you of anything?” 

now you had his full attention. his brows scrunched together and you’re not sure if he’s trying to figure out the meaning behind your words or the reason for your hostile tone. you don’t feel like helping him out either and instead watched the gears turn in his head with something akin to glee. it’s his turn to be paranoid, to overthink, to pick apart every moment of your relationship and dissect it piece by rotted piece. 

“please don’t be vague. if you’re upset with me, tell me.” it was the most emotion you’ve heard from him in so long, you were taken aback for a moment. 

“i’m a bit past ‘upset’, omi.”

“i’m sorry.”

you scoffed. “you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” 

“you’re hurt and it’s my fault. that's enough for me to say sorry.” 

“you don’t understand.” he crossed the room in three large strides, sitting on the edge of the bed to leave space between you. 

“then help me understand.” 

you floundered for the right words to explain the mountain of revelations you’ve uncovered and settled for, “how do i take my coffee, kiyoomi?” 

he took your use of his full name in stride. “black. one sugar.” 

“no that’s how you take your coffee. that’s the only way you ever make coffee. i had to learn to like it.” 

“what, you’re mad i don’t know how you like your coffee?” you know he didn’t mean anything by it, that’s he's always been more blunt that he means to be but it doesn’t stop you from feeling patronized and the hurt loosened your tongue. 

“it’s not about the coffee! it’s not about the fact that eurydice was a ghost. it’s the effort, omi. you haven’t put an ounce of effort into this relationship. i’m the one who has to bend. i’m the one that has to change, it’s never you.” 

“i never asked you to.” the truth of the statement knocked the air out of your lungs. because that's the worst part, isn’t it? you have no one to blame your misery on but yourself. 

“i don’t know how to love you without sacrificing pieces of myself. and i’m empty, kiyoomi, i've given you all of me. and it feels like you’ve given me nothing in return.”  

his head was bowed while he listened but from how tight he laced his fingers together, you know he was fighting to stay calm. “you know i love you, right?”

“do you? do you love me or love that i’m convenient? love that i clean your place and make you food and have a hole you can--” 

“stop.” you didn’t know it was possible for so much heartbreak to be packed into a single word. it sobered you of your venom and in its place, shame came rushing in. 

“i’m sorry. i'm pissed at myself for letting it get this far and i’m taking it out on you. i don’t regret loving you. but it feels like that’s the only thing living inside me. like i’m not even a person anymore.”

“i should’ve noticed. it shouldn’t have taken you snapping for me to realize what was going on.” 

“maybe.” 

silence, suffocating silence, stretched and morphed time until it felt like you’ve aged a decade in a moment. and then sakusa spoke.

“you’ll help a stranger just because they look like they might need it and ask for nothing in return. you’ll make someone food just so you can be sure they ate that day. you’ll tell me about your day while i fall asleep and i don’t think i could sleep without hearing your voice. you’re kind and too selfless for your own good and the best person i’ve ever met. it kills me that i’ve been the cause of your pain.”

it was strange hearing those traits spun in a good light when you’ve thought of them negatively for so long. strange knowing where you saw faults he saw things worth admiring. “you hear me at night?” 

“and you like focusing on minor details. yes, darling. every night.” 

“oh.” 

“i understand if you need… space, if you want to spend some time apart. but give me a chance. please. give me a chance to prove how important you are to me. i’m sorry that i’ve failed you. i’m sorry i've been taking you for granted. but that ends now. never again. 

“and i can help you, too. i can remind you of all the parts you say you’ve lost. i’ll tell you all about the person i fell in love with everyday if you need it. i’d never run out of things to say. please. you found me once, let me return the favour and help you find yourself. if-if you’ll have me.” 

his small speech wasn’t the reason tears stung the back of your eyes. as he finished speaking, sakusa reached out across the space between you and offered you his hand. a lifeline that you took, the lump in your throat to keeping everything you wanted to say stuck inside you. thankfully, you needed no words for sakusa to understand you. he brought your joined fingers to his lips and let out a shaky breath against them. the two of you stayed like that for a small eternity, drifted apart yet holding together with a bridge to link you. you’ve been fueled by resentment and anger for so long, you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to let them go. but you did know that you didn’t want to try without him by your side. 

[cower-before-power]

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon.  “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles.  “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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

Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey​ @chaotic-nick​ @manjiroarchiviste​

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 1

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

A slightly different than usual house call leads you to a temporary stay at a mansion to care for 7 young men. It’s the first day of moving in and meeting the family you would be sharing a house with. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

As you walked around your apartment, you made sure everything was packed into your bags. Even if you did earn enough money, you never needed anything bigger than a two bedroom apartment. Your job needed you to travel and live in other locations anyway. 

“Hmm...” You headed into your office and took your bag out, making sure you had all your equipment that you needed inside. 

KNOCK KNOCK

“Coming.” You turned off the lights and headed out, opening the front door. You were greeted by a male in a suit. He looked up from his phone, blinking at you while you just headed back into the house. 

“Dr (y/l/n)?” You heard him. 

“You’re early. Your boss told me you would be arriving at 2:30. It’s not even 2 yet.” You replied, continuing to gather the remainder of your things. 

“My boss?” 

“Yeah, your boss. Mr Kim Namjoon? The one who I have been speaking to on the phone.” You looked up at him, who was now standing in the doorway of your home, staring at you with an amused look on his face. You locked your bag after throwing your toiletries in. He let out a chuckle, making you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Ah, yes. My brother.” He said. 

“Oh, you’re not- My bad.” You laughed in embarrassment, placing all your bags together. 

“Jung Hoseok.” He held his hand out to you. You straightened up, shaking his hand, realising that he’s probably one of your ‘employers’. Namjoon had mentioned that the house consisted of 7 family members. 

“(y/l/n) (y/n).” You introduced yourself. 

“I’ll call my boys to bring your things. You ride with me.” Hoseok gestured to the door way and you followed him out. As you headed down, you saw more men come and bring your things down. 

“Sir, madam.” A chauffeur came out of a Rolls Royce and opened the door for you and Hoseok to enter. 

“Bosses don’t usually come all the way to pick me up personally.” You stated as the chauffeur closed the door after you entered. Your eyes followed as he ran to the driver’s seat and enter. 

“Well, you’re gonna be a new, important member of the house. You’re not going to be like the other employees around. My brothers and I thought it would be best to welcome you the right way.” He laughed. You could tell Hoseok was quite a cheery, friendly person. You gave a small smile. 

The drive was rather long. You looked out the window, watching as the car finally stopped in front of an iron gate. The driver poked his head out to greet a man by the gate. 

“We’re here.” Hoseok looked up from his phone. As the car pulled through the gates, there was a long driveway in before a mansion came to view.

“Wow.” You looked up at the mansion. 

“Impressed?” Hoseok asked. 

“It’s one of the nicer houses that I’ve seen.” You said as the chauffeur opened the door for you. There was a butler and maid waiting at the front door for you and Hoseok. Seeing Hoseok, they bowed respectfully. You and Hoseok walked in first, the people with your things following behind you. The inside of the house was sleek and elegant. 

“I have to go attend to some business. The head butler will take you to your room and office.” Hoseok said and you nodded. 

“Bye.” You waved him off. 

“You’re funny. I’ll see you later, (y/n).” Hoseok patted your shoulder.

“Take care of the doctor and make sure to get whatever she needs. She’s more a guest than employee here.” Hoseok commanded. The butler bowed his head to you and gestured down the hallway. You were brought to your room first. 

“Thanks.” You placed your bag down. The other staff came in with your things, placing them neatly in the corner. 

“Are you ready to see your office, doctor?” The butler asked. You hummed with a nod. You went to the stack of things, picking out some things to bring to the office with you. 

“Please, let us bring it for you.” The butler waved his hand and the other staff took the items from you. The butler pointed to the door and you followed him out, closing the bedroom door behind you. This place was like a maze, it was just too big that you already knew you would be getting lost in the future. 

“Here is your office. Master Namjoon has prepared everything in the list you provided.” He informed. You walked around. It definitely had everything you asked for and they were all the latest models. 

“Thank you. Where is Namjoon sshi?” You asked. 

“Master Namjoon is currently out for a meeting. But he should be back soon.” He informed. 

“Alright. I’ll just unpack for now.” You said, sitting down behind the desk. 

“If you need any assistance, please feel free to approach us.” He spoke with another bow of the head before he left you alone. 

This was your job. You were a freelance doctor that worked for private clients. Depending on the contract and requirements, you would decide whether to live in their place of residence to care for them privately, as needed. The residents of this house specifically requested you live here.

It wasn’t a common job but you earned more than an average doctor would and it was less stressful since you were your own employee.

“There we go.” You unboxed everything, rearranging other items to make it more convenient for you. As you sat back down in front of your desk, you found a stack of files in the cupboard. There were 7 folders to be exact. You guessed that these were the profiles of your new clients. You began to flip through each of them. They contained the health records of the 7 men. 

“Recent posterior labrum surgery.” You scribbled down some notes on a notepad. Min Yoongi seemed to be the one with the most recent health problem. 

“Well.” You shut the folders and tucked them under your arm, leaving the home clinic. Thankfully, you managed to make your way back to your room to continue unpacking your own items. 

After unpacking, you took a shower and changed into something more comfortable, a sweater and some jeans. 

“(y/n)! Did you settle in well?” You ran into Hoseok outside. 

“Yes, I did. Thank you. The office is truly impressive.” You spoke as you walked with him.

“We are the ones going to benefit for your services. If anything, we should get the state of the art equipment for you. Anyway, you should meet the rest of the family soon.” Hoseok said.

“Get some tea and snacks.” Hoseok said to a passing maid, who nodded and scurried off towards the kitchen. You’ve seen how rich clients treat their staff, it’s not new. Although you didn’t feel as comfortable, it wasn’t your place to comment or question it. 

“Please, sit.” Hoseok gestured for you to sit in the living room. 

“Ah, the first two. Jin hyung, Jungkook.” Hoseok called out to two males. Both were dressed in suits as well, one not wearing a blazer. You saw a full sleeve of tattoos through his white shirt. 

“Dr (y/l/n), this is Jin hyung, the oldest. And this is Jungkook, the youngest.” Hoseok introduced.

“Ah, yes. The house doctor.” Jin nodded his head. 

“I look forward to working together.” You shook hands with them. 

“You’re the one who had heel stitches.” You said to Jungkook. Namjoon was kind enough to put a small description of everyone in the profiles. Jungkook had the doe eyes and tattoo sleeve that matched the profile.

“Yeah. But it happened a while back. Yoongi hyung-”

“Had a recent shoulder surgery.” You finished his sentence. Jin threw his head back in laughter. 

“You’re funny, doc. I look forward to having you around. I think it’ll be fun..” Jin complimented and you chuckled as well. Jin and Jungkook took a seat, both enjoying the array of snacks that had been laid out. You watched their behaviours, Hoseok was definitely the most outgoing and Jungkook was the most introverted. 

“Have you been to your room?” Jin asked. 

“Yes. I do need to unpack more tonight though.” You said, seeing Jungkook eye a cookie on your side of the tray. You picked it up, handing it to him. He blinked with wide eyes, receiving it. 

“A pretty girl in the house?” A new voice arrived and you turned your head to see a shorter, pretty male there. 

“She’s more than a pretty girl, Chim. This is Dr (y/l/n).” Hoseok introduced you. You stood up and held your hand out. He blinked at your outstretched hand before him.

“Interesting...” He nodded his head slowly as he shook your hand. 

“Nice to meet you, doc.” He spoke. 

“The pleasure is all mine.” You let go of his hand, eyes shifting to see a figure running in behind Jimin. He crashed into the smaller male, making Jimin stumbled forward slightly. He had a boxy, yet playful grin on his face as he wrapped an arm around Jimin’s shoulders. 

“You must be Taehyung sshi?” You clarified. The male’s eyes moved up to meet yours, finally realising your presence. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“You are...?” 

“The doctor that Namjoon hyung was talking about.” Jimin said softly, elbowing Taehyung’s side to get out of his grip. Taehyung pulled away and took a step to the side, eyeing you up and down. 

“Yoongi hyung’s babysitter?” Taehyung stifled a laugh. 

“He’s gonna kill you if he hears that.” Jungkook said with an eye roll. 

“Technically, when it comes to all of your healths, I am a babysitter to all of you, not only Yoongi.” You said. Jimin threw his head back with laughter but nodded in agreement. 

“Where can I find Namjoon sshi?” You asked Hoseok. 

“Someone looking for me?” Another voice appeared. Two more males entered the living room, one of them in a sling. Min Yoongi. The male that spoke had a authoritative aura but he sent you a smile, dimples appearing on his cheeks. Yoongi fell back into one of the armchairs. Finally, you could see all 7 brothers gathered together. 

“You must be Dr (y/l/n). Apologies for not greeting you when you arrived. I hope you settled in well?” Namjoon shook hands with you. 

“Yes, nice to meet you. And don’t worry, I’ve been getting well acquainted with the rest of your brothers.” You nodded over to the 5 males that you have been chatting with.

“I see, that’s good. That is Yoongi hyung.” Namjoon gestured. 

“Yes, the sling was a giveaway.” You nodded. 

“I can see you’re going to be a great addition to the household. If you follow me to my office, we can talk more there.” Namjoon said and you nodded, giving the others a lazy wave before walking with Namjoon. 

“Please, take a seat.” Namjoon said as he closed his office door behind you. You sat down while he sat in his comfy armchair opposite you, the oak desk in between the both of you. You eyed the books on his shelf, the little figurines on the glass racks. 

“Analysing me?” He chuckled. 

“A little.” You shrugged. Namjoon pulled out a folder, similar to the one he had provided you about the 7 boys. 

“You’re quite experienced for someone your age, doctor. I must admit, I was almost in disbelief when I first came across your profile.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Age and experience are two different things, Namjoon sshi.” You pointed out and Namjoon nodded his head in agreement. 

“I can tell you’re quite a strong character. I hope the boys don’t cause too much trouble for you, if they haven’t already done so.” Namjoon said and you shook your head with a laugh. 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” You said. 

“Yes, I have no doubt that you can handle them. Aren’t you’re curious as to why 7 healthy, young men would need a house doctor on call?” Namjoon asked. 

“Unfortunately, no. I don’t question clients when it comes to livelihood or what they do, unless it has something to do with their health, the less I know, the better. My only condition is, as long as you let me do my job with no problems, I’ll stay out of the way.” You said. Namjoon didn’t even hide his slight surprise by your answer. 

“You’re very different, doc.” Namjoon said with a smile. 

“I hear that a lot.” You smiled back. 

“Yoongi hyung is the main one that needs medical attention now. But I must warn you, he can be a little stubborn.” He spoke. 

“Yes, you can say I was already warned about him by Taehyung.” You chuckled with a small shrug. Namjoon nodded his head and you bowed your head, standing up. 

“But I’ll see how he is for his first assessment. I like a challenge.” You turned to smirk at him.

“It’s good to remain optimistic, doc.” Namjoon smiled. 

“Shall I send him to you?” Namjoon offered. 

“I appreciate the offer. But like I said, you let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours.” You sent him a sweet smile and walked out of there, leaving him in his office. You hummed to yourself, your hands behind your back. As you walked, Yoongi was walking in the opposite direction. 

“Yoongi sshi.” You acknowledged with a wave and he remained emotionless, only giving you a side eye before continuing his way. A smile made way to your face as you walked to your room to continue unpacking and relaxing. 

-

KNOCK KNOCK

“My apologies for the interruption, doctor. It’s time for dinner.” The butler bowed as you poked your head out. 

“Sure.” You stepped out, closing the door behind you. You followed behind him, through more hallways until he cleared his throat and stopped. He bowed and you looked out to see the 7 owners of the mansion sitting at the dinner table. 

“She’s eating with us?” Yoongi scowled.

“Oh, lighten up, hyung. She’s new, a nice dinner would be the proper way to introduce her.” Hoseok grinned. 

“Plus, I like her!” Jin grinned. You blinked, raising an eyebrow as you watched their exchange. Jimin had an arm over the back of his chair, a smirk on his face. Hoseok came over and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to the table. He placed his hands on your shoulders to sit you down. Never once have you eaten with the family or your clients. 

“I think I should-” You started to stand.

“Stay. (y/n).” Namjoon looked over to you and you pursed your lips, staying glued to your seat. Him using your first name and authoritative voice made you comply easily. 

“(y/n)’s not a normal employee, we talked about this. She’s an important member of the household now.” Namjoon said to the others. Yoongi rolled his eyes but didn’t protest any further.

“Enough, let’s eat.” Jin waved to the maid, who served the food. The butler poured wine into everyone’s glasses. 

“No, thanks.” You shook your head. 

“Come on, doc. Let loose a little.” Jungkook smirked. 

“I’m here to work. I don’t exactly let loose on the job.” You said to him, picking up the glass of water to drink. Jungkook grinned at your reply and began to eat. You silently observed them, Yoongi eating his pre cut steak with his free hand, Jungkook stealing Jin’s food and Jimin playing around with Taehyung. 

“So doc, what do your parents do?” Jimin tilted his head. 

“My father is a psychiatrist. Mother is a surgeon.” You said briefly, picking up a green bean to eat. 

“That explains all the analysing then.” Namjoon chuckled, sipping his wine. You shrugged in response, your parents have very much involved you in their jobs from a very young age. 

“Is that why you wanted to become a doctor? Because your parents are doctors too?” Jin asked. 

“I guess.” You said with another shrug. A ring cut the conversation. Jungkook looked down at his phone that was ringing. The other boys stopped eating, casting wary glances towards the youngest. Taehyung cast you a side glance.

“I’ll excuse myself, thank you for the dinner,. I’ll see you tomorrow for rehab.” You wiped your mouth with a napkin as you stood up from your seat and pointed at Yoongi with a wink. He gave you an emotionless stare. You bowed your head and left the dining room, heading back to your room. The butlers closed the doors behind you. 

“Talk about tension.” You shivered and headed to your office to grab some books to read. After some exploring, you found the garden in the backyard. 

“Can I go out there?” You asked a passing maid. 

“Of course.” She nodded her head, even pushing open the glass door and grabbing you a pair of outdoor slippers. You bowed your head gratefully and stepped out into the night. 

The breeze was cooling and comfortable. In the middle of the big garden, there was a lighted gazebo, perfect for night reading. 

“Hey.” Someone said and you lifted your head up from the book in your lap to see Jimin standing there. You just stared at him. Jimin shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before sliding onto the seat opposite you. You continued reading. 

“Can I help you, Jimin sshi?” You spoke, not looking at him. 

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ sound, giggling at the end. You hummed in response, continuing to read. Jimin huffed, moving to lie down on the bench, a hand behind his head. 

“You’re very different than any employee that we’ve had around here.” Jimin spoke, looking at the ceiling. 

“I see...” You weren’t really interested in the small talk.

“What are you reading?” All of a sudden, you felt Jimin’s body pressed against your side, his head tilted slightly, trying to read what you were reading. He scrunched his nose as his eyes skimmed through the words. 

“Boring.” He scoffed, pulling away. 

“Everyone has their own taste, Jimin sshi.” 

“Ugh, stop with the Jimin sshi. It’s weird hearing you say that. Just call me Jimin.” He scowled in disgust. You couldn’t help but laugh at him but nodded your head anyway. Jimin was surprisingly comfortable to be around even if you only knew each other for a few hours. He reminded you of a playful child, who was trying to get your attention. 

“It’s late. You should go to bed, doc. Remember, at least 8 hours of sleep.” Jimin chided. 

“Yes, Jimin.” You chuckled at how he was trying to doctor you, standing up. He walked into the house with you. Surprisingly, he followed you all the way to your room instead of leaving you. 

“Goodnight, doc.” Jimin smiled. 

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You gave a small nod before opening your door. 

~

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[whorefordazai]

Ayo, I know ur requests are closed, but I saw your gender bent hc, and honestly the boys being the ones genderbent would be 👌👌👌

I had too much fun writing this 😏 and was kinda confused on what pronouns to use when describing them so uhh (him/her???)

bsd boys: gender bend edition

ft. dazai | chuuya | oda | aku x reader

genre: fluff, slight nsfw

warnings: slight depictions of sex

Dazai

Y’all think normal dazai is pretty? Just imagine him as a woman 🙈 FUCKIDN LORD🏃🏼‍♀️

Just imagine him with long messy brown hair, the same outfit but like hotter.

If he were to become a woman out of nowhere, the first thing he’d do is flash himself in the mirror to inspect his boobs🕺

“Wow...these look so majestic, I feel so lucky😧 is this what you do every time you’re in front of a mirror, belladonna?”

“...not every time...ಥ‿ಥ”

Would definitely boost his ego 100x more because now he can seduce men too😏

But dazai, why was seducing men your first thought 😄

Imagine giving dazai head oh fuck

“Y-y/n...” Dazai’s soft moans whimper from under you. You chuckle onto the soft skin between his legs. His hands grip the sheets and he tilt his head back in pleasure.

“Make some more noise for me, pretty girl.”

Anyways😏🤚

Getting his first fucking period. He has no idea what to do haha! Blood is everywhere, his stomach hurts, he feels as though he really wants to kill himself right this moment.

“I hate being a woman ಠ_ಠ”

“Babe, you should get used to this.”

You help him clean up and get him some light snacks along with a heating pad. Both of you snuggle up on the couch. Your arms wrapped around Dazai’s small figure🥺

“Y/n, can you sleep on my boobs?”

“...why ᇂ_ᇂ?”

“I wanna see what it feels like ◕ ◡ ◕”

“...okay ʘ‿ʘ?”

You softly lower your head onto his chest, careful not to hurt him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you bury your face in his shirt.

A giggle escapes Dazai’s lips. “Wait, that tickles!”

“Squish...squish...” you mumble, softly squeezing his boobs like a plushie.

“Okay, how do they feel ^ｰ^?”

“...very nice. They feel very nice ಠ◡ಠ”

He wears some of your clothes on the daily, but now he’ll wear almost half your wardrobe.

He feels really pretty in all those dresses you have oh my🙂

Chuuya

He’s already so hot and pretty, just imagine him as a girl. HOLY FUCK🏃🏼‍♀️

Curly red hair, that signature fedora, and even that choker around his neck. BUT ADD BLACK EYELINER OSHHS

He would definitely feel a little weird in his new body. Wouldn’t exactly like it at first and will definitely be complaining.

Give it a few days and let him look in the mirror and see how hot he looks as a woman😏

“Y/n...you’re still...attracted to me, right?”

“...babe, you have no idea ●‿●”

His attitude is the same so now people are even more scared of him. At first glance someone would think he’s just a cute little sweet girl but then BOOM he kicks them 20 feet into the air (only if they piss him off)

He now has the double struggle of being short and being a girl 👩‍🦯

FASHION SHOWS !!

This mf loves styling himself and looking really damn good, so once he finds out there’s a whole new world of outfits he can try on as a woman...just know you’ll be shopping for a while.

He’s a fucking mafiosa, always dressed in sleek black outfits with a hat that lets his red curls peek out. The black lace veil hiding his blue eyes just pulls the whole outfit together so well

He sometimes lets you do his makeup cuz he thinks he looks prettier with. The both of you will paint each other’s nails (he is somehow is very good at it. Anything you wanna tell us, Chuuya🧐?)

You thought you liked chuuya dominant as a male? Honey, you ain’t ready for him as a woman🏃🏼‍♀️

“Am I making you feel good, baby?” Chuuya looks up from the space between your legs. A few strands of his red hair fall onto your skin as he moves them away. You shiver, feeling his smooth fingertips dangerously graze against your core.

You can only nod, feeling his soft lips leave a trail of kisses on your inner thigh. The faint print of red lipstick followed the trail.

RED LIPSTICK ON YOUR INNER THIGH HOLY FUCKSJ🏃🏼‍♀️💨

Oda

I’M GONNA CRY he would be (already is) SO HOT

At first he wouldn’t have much of a reaction like, okay? I’m a woman now.

Little does he know there’s more to it than that😆

He’d go about his day like normal, sometimes even forgetting that he’s a woman now. But his hair keeps getting in his face?? Men keep staring at him?? Some kid thought he was his grandma??

It was sweet at first, but it was so overwhelming and uncomfortable.

He comes home, in slight frustration. Exhaling as he closes the door and begins to take off his coat, something harshly tugs at his hair.

His hair was stuck on the mf zipper ಠ_ಠ

You try to hold in your laughter at his misfortune. “Here, let me help.”

While you’re untangling his hair, his face remains still and stoic. “When will this be over ᇂ_ᇂ?”

He is actually very suddenly interested in skincare. Why? Not sure.

He sometimes sees you putting on all these serums and face masks but never felt the need to ask you about it. Plus, you sometimes helped him shave-that was the closest thing to skin care this man has ever gotten to.

But now he has a face of a woman, so his skin feels a lot smoother and softer. He thinks to himself, should I be taking care of it?? What were all those things y/n was putting on her face🧐?

WAIT THATS SO CUTE OSKJS🏃🏼‍♀️💨

So you help tie his hair into a pony tail and the both of you put on face masks😆

He somehow really enjoys doing all these self care tasks that he’s never thought about in his life🤔

Imagine the both of you sitting in a bathtub, rose petals covering the water. Your heads are wrapped up in towels as you sip on wine. Cucumbers are placed on Oda’s eyes.

He could get used to this😏

Sexy time🙈

He’s a very quiet dom on the usual, but suddenly he’s very vocal when he gets his pussy ate‼️

He’ll love it when you top. Now he kinda knows how you feel when he’s pounding into you 😏

If oda actually had kids as a woman, he would a A HOT MILF😳

Akutagawa

He’d be like what the fuck is happening ಠ_ಠ?

Wouldn’t give much of a reaction on the outside (pretending to play it cool) but on the inside he’s having 20 mental breakdowns at the same time.

Please help him😁

He’ll definitely dismiss you saying “I can handle it myself ಠ_ಠ”

“Ryu, your hair is in knots and you’re limping on your heels ◔_◔”

“...ಠ~ಠ”

Taking a bath is now even more difficult for him. He feels embarrassed even looking at himself. His chest has these two lumps and his hips suddenly have curves and his skin feels smoother and softer.

His boobs catch his eye in every outfit he wears. No one else really notices or cares except him. Finally one day, he’s had enough. He stomps to you with a determined face, pointing at his chest.

“I want these off. Now ᇂ_ᇂ”

“...I don’t think it works like that...◕ ◡ ◕?”

Eventually he’ll have to adapt. He’s still the same person but just imagine aku as a hot emo goth girl 🕺

Will be 10x scarier than before now that he’s discovered black eyeliner and actually likes growing his nails out (reminds him of claws to rip off people eyeballs)

It’s a love/hate relationship tbh LMAO sometimes he loves how powerful he feels in high heels. Other times, he hates how others look down on him just because they underestimate how powerful he is (even as a woman)

Can I just add, Atsushi almost did a double take and called aku “the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” before he found out it was aku ಥ‿ಥ

Aku noticed, Atsushi noticed that he noticed, and they both just decided to keep silent and move on as if it never happened 🤝

[mmvalentine]

Can I please get a moonstone palace bathtub smut for feysand???

Pleaseeeeeee

Honey I'm sorry this took me soooo long, this was actually the last one on my list before I decided to cut off my prompt intake so I did always mean to write it I've just not been having as much motivation lately! But yes, let's do this, let's get SOAPY!

Moonshine

Rhys was a little drunk.

Feyre had been at the Summer Court with Amren all day, up to their necks in meetings. Rhys had been doing the same at the day court and Helion conducted his official court business... differently. And so it was that Rhys got home just after Feyre, rather worse for wear.

"Feyre!" he called, slurring a little.

"In here," she called back, in the middle of folding some clothes away. Rhys poked his head round the door.

"Oh," he said. "There you are."

"In... our room? Yes, where else would I be?"

Rhys sighed. "I couldn't remember which house I was supposed to be at. I went to the house by the river, but it's all covered up."

"Yes," Feyre agreed, her lips twitching. "Renovations, remember?"

"So then I went to the House of the Wind," Rhys continued. "But Cassian and Nesta were there and kicked me out, so I went to the townhouse, and then remembered that Nyx lives there now- did you know our son is an adult who lives alone?"

"I did know that."

"So then I went to the cabin but you weren't there either... and here you are in the moonshine palace." He shook his head, and corrected himself. "The moonstone palace. Feyre we have so many houses."

"We do," Feyre smiled. "And you have had so much to drink. Moonshine indeed."

"Yes, well, you know Helion's rules. You have to do a shot every time you raise a new point. Or win a point. Or concede a point. Next time, I'm going to see Tarquin and you can deal with Helion."

"Tarquin doesn't like you, and you know I can't get through the agenda with Helion's rules."

Rhys looked outraged for a second. "Why?" he demanded.

"Because I am half the size of Helion. Maybe less."

"No, why doesn't Tarquin like me? Everybody likes me."

"Darling I have a more pressing question."

"Yes, what is it?"

"What... is all over you?"

Rhys looked down at himself, and appeared to think about it for a second. "It's marmalade," he said eventually.

"It's what?"

"A delegate from the human realm brought it."

"Okay," Feyre said slowly. "But why is it all over you?"

"You know, I have no idea."

"And how did you get it on your wings?"

Rhys turned his head quickly. "My wings are out?"

Feyre laughed. "Okay, never mind. Let's just get you cleaned up and into bed."

Rhys' expression shifted then, and bewilderment became something much more wicked.

"You know," he said, "the marmalade is quite delicious. You should give it a try. You could clean me off with your tongue."

Feyre rolled her eyes, and pushed her mate toward the large bathtub. Around the bathroom, candles flickered to life of their own accord.

"Or I could just clean you off with a sponge like a regular fae."

"Oh so you are going to be doing the cleaning," Rhys said, his eyes lighting. And with that, his orange stained suit disappeared and he pulled her against his naked chest.

Feyre landed with her hands on his skin, and her breath caught at the sudden movement. She made to push him away, but when she looked up at his face Rhys was looking at her with an intensity she did not think he was capable of in his inebriated state.

"You're joining me, yes?" Rhys purred, and already his hands were pulling at the fastenings behind her back.

"Well I-"

"Of course you are," and then faster than she expected he had the dress falling around her feet, and his teeth on her left nipple.

"Woah, okay, down boy," she struggled out. "You have sticky stuff in your hair."

"Marmalade," Rhys reminded her.

"Right." She led Rhys to the tub, and they both climbed in. Feyre bundled her hair on top of her head while Rhys located the aforementioned sponge, and handed it to her. He waved his hand and the tub filled with bubbles, and beneath them Rhys pulled Feyre's legs to circle around his waist. She slid along the smooth bottom of the tub, and when she reached Rhys she found him suddenly hard between her legs.

Her eyes went wide, but she did not acknowledge it. Instead, plunged the sponge into the water and then rubbed it over Rhys' chest and neck where the sticky substance had gotten under his shirt. Rhys, his hands idle, scooped hot water up Feyre's back and shoulders, and let his fingertips follow the line of her spine.

"We haven't had a bath together in ages," he said softly, eyes on her ear where his thumb stroked, as his palm rested against the side of her throat.

"Well," Feyre said, trying to concentrate on cleaning him up, "it's not often you're in need of such thorough cleaning."

Rhys reached forward and pulled Feyre up onto his lap, his cock now pressing insistently against her.

"Maybe I should get dirty more often then," he murmured, and then Feyre was avoiding his gaze as she dunked the sponge again and used it to clean the stuff out of his hair. A sweet orange smell was drifting through the steam as she went.

"You know you don't have to go to such extreme measures for us to spend time together," Feyre said, and then swiped the soapy sponge all the way down one of Rhys' wings.

Rhys shuddered violently in shock and pleasure as Feyre collected more water and rubbed down his other wing.

"Ohhh darling," he groaned. "Do that again."

Feyre bit back a smile and moved the sponge in circles, peering over Rhys' shoulder and carefully wiping away all the marks on the leathery surface. Rhys' hands had left her back and were now gripping the edges of the tub. His forehead was leaning against her chest, and she made sure to get her sponge into the curves of his joints, and around the base of his wing's talon. She lifted a wing back to get the underside, and pretended to not notice the way Rhys' cock twitched beneath her as she wiped rough strokes down the inside edge.

Rhys groaned again, and put his teeth in her shoulder. Feyre was fairly satisfied that she had gotten the muck off him, and was now squeezing water over him to clear the suds off.

"Is that better?" she crooned.

"Mmm it's the most exquisite torture," Rhys replied, and started to move her hips with his hands so that she was sliding up and down in his lap while she swirled more hot water over his wings. His motion stuttered when she ran the sponge over a particularly sensitive spot, and then he had his arms tight around her and then he had his mouth on hers and was leaning forward to kiss her harder.

Feyre dropped the sponge and tangled her hands in his hair. She had always loved how he looked with his hair wet and slicked back. Rhys kissed her greedily, and she had to admit she was also quite fond of fooling around when Rhys was tipsy. There was just something a little looser, a little messy but sexy about him when he was handsy-drunk, and even though Feyre hadn't been drinking, the intoxication seemed to be contagious.

Feyre drank the taste of moonshine off Rhys' lips and got lost in the tingling sensation where his fingers gripped her. And then he lifted her hips and brought her right down on his cock under the water.

It should be so familiar by now. A hundred years together, and one might think this wouldn't surprise Feyre anymore. But every time, every single time the pleasure of Rhys inside her was almost too much to bear. Feyre cried out and grabbed a hold of his shoulders, hanging on tightly as he started to bounce her in his lap.

"Fuuuck Feyre, fuck," Rhys groaned, as his head fell back against the edge of the tub and his hips tilted up to get deeper inside her. His eyes closed but his hands clutched tighter, and then Feyre took a hold of the sides of the tub to get leverage as they quickened their pace. "Gods you could kill a male fucking like this."

Rhys sat up suddenly, water sloshing noisily as closed his mouth over one of her breasts. His hand came up to massage the other, and his free hand squeezed her backside. Feyre moaned as his teeth touched her nipple, and changed her motion so that she was grinding into his lap instead of moving up and down. Rhys' tongue flicked over her peaked nipple and it seemed to echo in her clit, over and over until she was clawing at his neck and pushing back her orgasm, trying to stretch the feeling out.

Rhys saw it coming, dragged her mouth back to his and then kissed her with her tongue sucked into his mouth as he got his hands back on her hips and slammed into her exactly how he wanted it and not letting her hold anything back. And then she was screaming as she climaxed, head tipped back and sweat and steam and bubbles plastering the stray strands to her face as she came apart in the bathtub. Rhys was not far behind, and Feyre reveled in the unguarded, unrestrained sounds that he made, too.

When they had stopped moving, they sat for minutes just curled together like that. Eventually, Rhys yawned and Feyre kissed his head before whispering "Let's go to bed."

"I'll just sleep here," Rhys mumbled.

"You can't sleep in the bathtub," Feyre argued.

"Sure I can," Rhys said. "I'm doing it right now."

Feyre rolled her eyes, and disentangled herself from Rhys' arms. He growled in protest, but she managed to climb out of the tub and wrap a towel around herself.

"Alright your turn, come on."

Rhys slid down in the bath.

"Come on you big baby." Feyre reached in and hauled her giant, heavy mate out of the water with some difficulty, and decided it would be easier to magic him dry.

Rhys practically fell into bed and was asleep within seconds- but not before he managed to grab a hold of Feyre, pull her tight into his body, and kiss the back of her neck while his arms wound round her middle.

"Good night my love," Feyre said quietly, and then used magic again to send their clothes to the laundry and snuff the candles out, since once Rhys was unconscious and wrapped around her like this, there was no getting up until morning.

****

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