#I need to finish getting ready n stop scrolling but the temptation is there….

[maiteo]

trying not to reblog [redacted] posts as this game is on🧍🏽‍♀️

[mandoinevarro]

NO APPOINTMENT, NO MEETING

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Words: 9.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: so ok descriptions of blood (it’s only one sentence and I don’t think it’s too bad but just in case), remembering trauma/triggering memories, angst. now for the fun part: SMUT, one (1) thigh spank, a sprinkle of dirty talk, a dash of praise kink, spitting, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, maybe cockwarming but for like two minutes

a/n: happy 2021!!! only one chapter left after this one so enjoy. for the hornies who only want fun and sexy times: scroll to the bottom and work your way up, smut is like 3/4 in.

……………

In the blue morning light, Nevarro is almost beautiful.

The deserted lava fields spread in flat terrain as far as the eye can see, bumps and dips where magma cooled creating waves like a black ocean. Among the tide, obsidian turtle shells shimmer like dark mirrors, where Din Djarin studies his face. It startled him when he crawled from the tent to take the pram inside; when he glanced at the ground and the ground glanced back. His face cloudy and warped by irregular volcanic rock, he barely recognized it. It’s not rare for his features to blur in his memory sometimes, especially when he’s out working for days at a time unable to catch a glimpse of himself. Vanity is not one of his many shortcomings—hiding your face for decades is a mighty vaccine against it.

But today something’s different. The reflection peering up at him belongs to a stranger. Relaxed eyebrows, a hooked nose (has the curved always been so pronounced?), lips that faintly curl up. Content brown eyes. His mirrored counterpart is a sentient being below him, plump with blood and oxygen. Alive.

He looks happy.

However, morning weighs heavily on Din, he can see it in the bags below his eyes. It stings like a hangover, like the only hangover he ever had, back when he was an eighteen-year-old idiot and used the credits of his first bounty to get a flask of spotchka from some seedy bar. He remembers sitting in his crammed quarters at the old Covert, chugging the bottle on his own, methodically forcing himself to swallow against the burn. Waiting. Waiting for the alchemy to kick in, for the magic toxins that flushed drunks’ faces, lubricant that oiled their scowls into easy smiles. Waiting to feel what everyone else felt, just for a moment.

Lifting his head, Din peers ahead. Shadows of the city’s buildings creep above the horizon like a bad omen. The opposite of a promised land. Hunchbacked buildings stain the blue-gray sky, abruptly interrupt the intricate lava patterns, Nevarro the planet versus Nevarro the city. Din’s stomach crumples. One, maybe two hours by foot. One, maybe two hours, and last night will fade into a distant memory, a collection of ghost sensations.

But not yet. Right now, last night is still real. You are still real.

Crawling back into the tent, he licks his lips for the millionth time today. He can still taste you: that thick, salty-bitter taste, so much better than he could’ve imagined. He hopes it stays on his lips for a long time; or, at least, that he can replace it soon.

Inside, you’re curled up with his cape, a blooming bruise above your shoulder peeking out, the baby’s pram hovering next to you. He sits down, careful not to awake either of you, and runs a finger down your shoulder, feels the skin prickle. He buries his nose on the back of your hair and inhales: rain and earth as usual, but his soap too, a part of him that clings to you. Lips on the crook of your neck, Din smells himself on you, wonders if you’ll want to wash his scent away, or if you’ll want it to stay on you. You stir, your soft exhales gain a rasp. Din smiles. You do snore, after all.

He’ll have to wake you soon. He knows. He knows. You need to talk about last night. You need to have the frank conversation that you’ve both been postponing for way too long, back when you floated in dead space, no deadlines, no rush at all to make decisions. But things have changed, and he knows what he wants now, and he knows it can’t wait. Yet every time his fingers brush your shoulder to nudge you awake, he pulls them back. He’s never seen you so peaceful, not moving except for your expanding and contracting chest, the light fluttering of your lashes. All the fight in your body gone, those tall bridges around you down and inviting. So different from when he met you.

If there’s one thing Din’s good at, it’s sniffing out trouble. He had to be, if he wanted to make it in the Fighting Corps. In the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. He can sweep a room with a mental black light, spot the people who flare up white and bright, the ones he needs to stay away from—or approach, depending on the situation. And that day at the cantina, the first time he laid eyes on you? You glowed with it. Talking big game in Karga’s booth, laughing with your pretty smile and shuffling cards, you beamed with trouble, bright as radiation and just as dangerous. What needed to happen was clear as day. The Mandalorian needed to turn on his heels immediately, strut out of that bounty hunter hive without a second look, and never, ever, ask about you.

He’d been there before.

Mandalorians, despite common belief, are not made of beskar. Not on the inside, at least. They’re all warm blooded organics, burdened with flesh and internal organs and skeletons; pain and pleasure receptors. Older Mandalorians cautioned younger ones when they came of age and finished their training, when they were ready to become providers. Tall stern warriors, his superiors, warned that there would be temptation, situations that would make him doubt the Way. “Even the briefest taste,” Din’s former Alor said with that cavernous voice he had, “can be the point of no return.” And he was right.

Outside the Covert, there was so much…stimuli. Voices and colors and movement, a twenty-four-hour beehive, the galaxy buzzed and vibrated to no end. It was equally wonderous and grotesque, like a circus. The strenuous noises that rattled his ribcage, the strong smells, the different food, his senses had never felt more exhausted. The faces…stars, the faces. How muscles stretched in a big smile, the glint of teeth, the deep creases between eyebrows that signaled anger. Always moving, always changing, Din hadn’t seen so many uncovered heads since he was a child. His first few weeks outside he’d stare at people for hours until they scurried away or tried to fight him. Tried.

Then, when the initial shock wore out, he noticed other details. The way children’s eyes filled with admiration when they’d look at their parents, how that dimpled girl in Alderaan would blush and stutter whenever he bought something from her stall. And Din would wonder, despite all warnings, what it’d feel like to be one of them. To share so much of himself with the outside world. With time, curiosity morphed into obsession, obsession into desperation, and soon enough he found himself with Rand and the others, running rampant in an already chaotic galaxy.

One war, two decades, and a thousand regrets later, the curiosity died down. The helmet helped him tune out the outside world, made it easier to retreat into his memories. The galaxy seemed duller by the day, emptier. Lonelier, though he didn’t dwell on it.

That is, until he met you.

Until his resolve circled the drain and he asked Karga who you were and where to find you, walked into your store without an idea of what he’d say. Behind the counter, eyes shining and that silky voice asking what you could do for him, you reset the galaxy for him. Every time he visited you felt like his first day outside all over again.

But last night—that was stronger, set in stone. It felt like commitment. Something was born last night, something burgeoned in his chest and took root. Din can feel the fullness in his body, like he grew an extra limb, similar to the swell that tangled in his insides when he went back for the kid. He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but it reminds him of the day he swore the Creed. The fresh sense of purpose, the carved-out path in front of him, knowing what needs to be done:

When the siege is over, he’ll take you with him.

“Are you watching me sleep?” you mumble, cotton mouthed. “Kinda creepy.”

Din chuckles, then remembers. Stars, his heart stops beating for a second. Dread and natural reflexes throw his palm whip fast over your closed eyes. Maker. What the hell was he thinking, sitting next to you without the helmet. Maker, one second too late and you could’ve opened your eyes and—

“Didn’t see anything. Promise,” you say with a smile and pull his cape over your face. “Cover up.”

He pats around for the helmet (where the hell did he drop it last night?), finds it abandoned by your feet. When he fits it around his head, the familiar padding hugging his skull, he swears it feels heavier than it did yesterday.

“You decent?”

“Yeah.”

You lower the pseudo blanket, sleepy eyes and easy smile. As if you purposefully want to make it harder for him to strike up a conversation. But do I really need to— Yes. Yes, he does. He has to know where you stand and ask the big question: If you’d be willing to leave with him once the siege is lifted. Stars, his hands are sweating. But he can’t imagine you’d say no. Not after last night.

“Listen…”

As if on cue, whimpers and sniffles float from the closed pram. Great timing, kid. The baby’s ears droop like wilting leaves when Din places him on the ground, and the little bundle waddles with his eyes cast down until he reaches your ankle.

“What is it, kiddo?” you ask softly, your voice gentler than Din’s ever heard, sitting up as you hug his cloak tighter around your shoulders.

“I think…” Din begins, watching the baby sniffle and hug your bandaged calf. “I think he’s apologizing.”

A pair of eight-ball eyes blink at you, shiny with unshed tears, and Din feels an ache deep in his chest. This sweet little kid, all he’s been put through…

“Oh, don’t worry,” you coo, as one of your hands wriggles out the cloak and cradles the baby’s cheek. Your thumb brushes away a fat tear. “I’m tougher than your dad.” You wink at Din: Just kidding. But it’s true. Living in this planet for so long, all on your own. “Tough” is a survival skill for you, not a choice.

Also…dad. He should probably correct you. Din is not the kid’s real father, even though he’s caught himself thinking about the baby as his son once or twice, when he’s not too aware of his inner monologue. But he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. Actually, he belongs to a race of wizards that I’ve been quested to deliver him to. Can’t adopt him if I’ll eventually give him up. Not when the kid’s shedding quiet tears into your leg and you’re doing your best to soothe him. Nevarro’s not child friendly, and Din can’t imagine you’ve got much practice with baby stuff, but he can tell you’re doing your best. And that’s enough to spread warmth through his chest.

What a troop you must make: Mandalorian bounty hunter, black market dealer, magic green baby. You could set up a three-person circus and retire. Yet the image tugs at a memory tucked away in his mind, something familiar but blurred.

His rumination’s cut short when Din notices the kid’s pudgy hands extending strategically on either side of your right leg, his eyelids beginning to flicker. Shit, shit, shit.

“She forgives you,” he tells the kid hastily as he scoops him and lays him on the open pram. He doesn’t need to be the little womprat’s real father to tell he was about to whip out his favorite party trick: healing witch powers. So far it doesn’t look like it permanently harms him, but it does weaken him, and Din can’t take chances. Plus, he skipped the part about the baby having supernatural powers when he told you his story, and there’s not a hell of a lot of ways one can explain fresh wounds disappearing.

“So,” you say after the baby’s settled in his pod. “What are we going to do,” you start, and Din’s throat knots with dread and excitement, “about the jammer.”

Oh. Stars, straight to business

“You said you have one.”

“I said I might have one,” you answer, grabbing for your discarded skirts. You fumble with them under the cloak, one hand clasped tight around it. It’s funny—after everything you’ve shared, you won’t undress in front of him during the day. “I mean, jammers aren’t picky like motors, they’re more one-size-fits-all.”

“But we still have to rewire it,” Din completes, wiping dry drool from the kid’s cheek with his thumb.

“Right.” Holding the cloak with your chin while you clasp your tunic, you seem to slowly draw your way out of a maze. That restless abacus in your head adding and subtracting. Your brows relax, and Din knows you’ve figured it out. “But I’ve got my equipment in my workshop, and we’d save time not having to remove it from a ship. And, no offense, but the Crest’s jammer was an antique. Way more complicated than newer models.” You finish dressing and hand him the cloak. “Only problem is the potential trooper stakeout outside the store.”

“I’ll take care of troopers.” Din takes the cloak and hesitates. It’s day nine, that time bomb still ticks in his head. Could it be that easy? Could you really do all this in one day? “What if we don’t finish on time?”

“Then,” you say, “we’ll figure something out.”

We, Din thinks, and smiles. Somehow, that’s all the reassurance he needs.

≈

Nevarro couldn’t look more deserted if tumbleweed rolled in the streets. The city’s a populated ghost town, no man’s land that’s filled with men. Well, men is a strong word. How did Viszla put it that time? We live hidden like sand rats. Yes, rats seems more fitting. Packs of them, scurrying around the former Covert, stealing Mandalorian armor to be bartered for scraps. Karga didn’t have to spell it out when he told him about people finding the Covert. Mando is familiar with the ways of the Outer Rim: Anything unclaimed is up for the taking, and beskar’s too tempting to resist. Knowing doesn’t make his blood boil any less, though. If Din focuses, he can almost hear their squeaking echoing from the sewers, the scavengers of this gray rock serving themselves to the abandoned armor of his people.

Movement to the left. The Mandalorian draws his blaster and bars you with his forearm, to see…a tunic. A short tunic. Tiny red lights. A Jawa. He exhales and sheathes the blaster. Stars. With the vembrance turned off, he has to rely on bare eyesight to scan for danger.

The Jawa drags a sleigh behind him. On it lies a dead or unconscious trooper (it makes no difference to these creatures), its gloved fingers drawing traffic lines on the mud and ash of unpaved streets. Red stars below the cowl focus on you for half a second, the bounty hunter’s hand approaches his blaster, and…

…and the Jawa waves at you, says “hello” in its squeaky language. You wave back, smiling, and the lump of shadow continues on its way. A neighborly gesture that in this context is plain bizarre.

“Old friend of yours?” Mando asks, walking again.

“Associate,” you correct, running a finger along the kid’s left ear until it twitches and he giggles. “Jawas scavenge parts straight from the wreckage, eliminate the middle man. And they don’t report to the New Republic.”

You mean steal from the wreckage, Din almost says, but bites it back. He supposes he can’t judge you for trading with Jawas. Prospects on the Outer Rim are bleaker than ever, and everyone’s got to eat. Especially during a siege.

Maker, sometimes he can’t believe he convinced himself to leave you here. Marooned in the type of place Core World citizens only talk about with shaking heads and disapproving voices. The type of place that makes people feel better about their lives, because hey, it could be worse, at least I don’t live in Nevarro. Granted, Din didn’t know then there’d be a siege. After the fight, after he bid goodbye to Cara and Karga, he hovered on the atmosphere for longer than was safe, gazing down at your store’s roof from the Razor Crest’s cockpit. His head a seesaw, weighing his options and unable to make a decision. You were still so close. He could fly back down to the surface, knock on your door, and take you away with him like he did with the kid.

Would you say yes? Reject him?

But most importantly: what about his quest? What kind of life would you lead travelling with him, a fugitive of the Empire and the New Republic? Life for Din has been defined by survival. Every day he’s had to get up and fight; fight to an inch of his life, fight with concussions, frostbite, shattered ribs. Knife wounds, blaster wounds. Personal wounds. He didn’t want that for you. You’re young, clever, resourceful. After that day, maybe you’d decide Nevarro was too dangerous. Maybe you’d pay your passage on a cruiser and start over in the Core Worlds, make your luck own there. Find a good man, if that’s what you wanted.

So he started the thrusters—the same ones he bought from you so long ago—and jumped into hyperspace with a semi clear conscience. This was best for everyone. You probably wouldn’t have accepted his offer, anyway. For five months he lived with his decision. And then he learnt about the siege.

In the sky, a string of river pearls forms a pattern like a necklace. Imperial cruisers, tie fighters, every ship that Guideon commands, solemnly presiding over Nevarro, itching to shoot down runaways. They’re too far up in the atmosphere to make out anyone in the surface, but Mando grabs your arm and coaxes you behind him all the same, his grip on the pram tighter. The memory of that imp’s blaster on your forehead is still too fresh. The dried blood on your legs.

Din glances back at you briefly. You catch his eye and smile—not grin, not smirk—but smile, a pretty, kind smile that would put to shame any of the imaginary Naboo girls you were so worked up about two nights ago. He should know, he’s been to Naboo, and none of the women there had your kaleidoscopic face, those hints of life that send his pulse on a sprint. The Mandalorian wonders what else you could be hiding under that sharp tongue, behind those clever eyes.

“Mando,” you call and point at a blackened mass to your right. “Nursery’s this way.”

All buildings in Nevarro emerge from volcanic rock, pushing away from clumps of hardened magma. They’re half-manmade, half-volcano hybrids—it’s a useful layout that gives their structure grip against constant earthquakes. It also, however, makes the buildings look like tumors growing on the navel of an ill planet. Your store’s the only one that’s never looked malignant, more like a sprouting flower than a parasite.

And now, the cantina too. Burned to a crisp, blacker than night, the former Church of Nevarro seems to have been swallowed by its unwilling host: the volcanic rock it was built upon. It’d be near impossible to know there’s a cantina inside, if not for the wide window peering inside. And it’s far from impossible for you or Mando, who know by heart where all the doors stand. He pushes one open for you, and together you walk inside.

“Thumb on the bottom, middle and ring fingers on the top, index to the side,” instructs Cara from behind the cantina’s crisp black counter. “The other side.”

Greef Karga sits on a stool opposite her, fumbling with a deck of cards. “Got it. Then what?”

“Then…” The veteran moves aside a flask of ardees and places a matching deck on the bar. “Pressure with your index, release the thumb.” She acts out her instructions and creates an arched ribbon spread on the surface. The Mandalorian can’t remember the last time he walked into the cantina and didn’t see the hypnotic patterns on cards, didn’t hear the wing-flapping noise of their shuffle. Although if he thinks about it, it makes sense that sabacc is the local sport around here. Dumb luck is the only god in the Outer Rim, where inhabitants gaze perpetually at their uncertain future and never look back. Tomorrow they’ll get a better hand, yesterday’s lost credits are forgotten. Everyone here seems to shed their past like snake skin.

“Nice spread, Dune,” you call. Greef and Cara follow your voice, realize they have visitors. “You should job hunt at Canto Bight.”

“Oh yeah?” replies the ex-shock trooper with an impish grin, both elbows on the counter and a rag over her shoulder, all bartender swagger. “What do you know about Canto Bight, hot stuff? Heard you’ve never been off this rock.” She spies a sly glance at Mando, enough to confirm that she’s annoying him on purpose, openly flirting with you. He squares his stance, rolls the helmet to pin her down with the visor, but (he really should know this by now) it does little to intimidate her.

“No trash talk before nightfall, ladies,” quips Karga, walking towards the pram. “And certainly not in front of babies. Hello, little one!” Said little one coos and lifts his skinny arms to be lifted by the Guild Leader, who sits back down delighted at having the baby’s favor, the little rascal on his lap. “He likes me!” Greef Karga smiles wide, flashing those white glinting teeth that’ve always reminded Din of a wolf’s. He’s not happy to leave the kid here, but he can’t take him if there’s a stakeout in your store. Beggars can’t be choosers and so on. But Cara’s here, and Din knows he can trust her with the baby. Though not with you, evidently.

“Tell you what, Mando,” Cara continues, apparently not done peacocking around you. “We arm wrestle, just like last time. Winner gets a flask of spotchka and the opportunity to take the lady to Canto Bight after you lift the siege.”

“Help us lift the siege and I’ll consider winning that flask.”

Dune lets out an long whistle, giving you a complicit look. “Big words.”

Your eyes rake along the Mandalorian’s armor slowly, boots to helmet, a dark tint in your eyes. Din flushes, the oppressive heat of his clothes suddenly thicker.

You shrug and answer, “Big man.” Your fingertips dance idly around the nape of your neck, which makes Mando think about last night, about his tongue on your neck and the purple bruises he sucked, the salty taste of flesh, the heady one between your legs. The memory steers blood into…into awkward places. Which, knowing you, was your intention. Maker, he needs to talk to you about teasing him in public.

“Help you how?” asks Greef, lifting the baby into the counter, whose six little claws hold on to two of his gloved fingers.

“Look after the kid, we won’t be more than a few hours.”

“Sure thing!” booms Karga, at the same time as Cara says, “Fuck no.”

You fold your arms at the veteran. “You scared of an infant, Dune? It’s only one of him, and…” you squint at the cantina’s black shell, like something’s out of place in its burned remains, “…two of you. Where’s—” you start, before glancing at Mando and swallowing the second half.

“Duma?” supplies Karga, tapping the corners of the deck on the counter. “Don’t know, probably boiling beskar to make broth. Rumor has it she’s running out of supplies, fast. Did you ever take her up on that deal?”

Your eyes shoot vibroblades at him, your mouth a flat line.

“What deal?” Mando asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, still glaring warnings at Karga, who sighs, shakes his head, and tickles the baby’s tummy. The kid giggles and kicks half the deck off the counter. “Nothing important. We should get going.”

Outside, you guide the Mandalorian through a maze of back alleys, the ugly underbelly of a planet that’s already the galaxy’s own underbelly. Mando glues a palm to his blaster’s grip, lifting it only as muscle memory to turn on the vembrance and activate the setting to scan footprints, frustrated when he remembers his own piece of equipment would immediately snitch on him. Yet you glade past dark corners that beg for their own knife-brandishing mugger with the grace of someone frolicking in D’Qar’s moorlands, postcard-calm.

Once in your store’s backdoor, the Mandalorian ventures a glance at the front street. Empty. Like the rest of the city, it’s like curfew was declared, not an imp in sight. Certainly not a stakeout in process. Behind him, you push the door open, the busted security panel no more than a prop to discourage robbers.

“What?” you ask when he doesn’t walk inside.

“There’s nobody here,” he answers, studying the connecting alleys like a web of arteries, waiting for a trooper squadron to materialize and ambush you.

“It’s quiet too quiet?” you tease with a lopsided grin. “Lay off the thrillers, Mando. Come on.”

You step inside, he hesitates. “Could be a trap.”

Hands on the doorframe, leaning forward, your face almost touches the helmet. “Then you’ll shoot them and we’ll be back to square one. Not much of a choice here, Mando.” Those pretty eyes, your shining, wet lips. It’s a siren’s call he knows he shouldn’t answer.

The Mandalorian follows you inside.

It takes him a moment to recognize his surroundings.

Your store hibernates in the dark, stale air floating around its vault. Your store, which used to buzz with drills and neon lights and life around the clock, looms like a beast’s hollow belly, crypt-still. Lights off and furniture wrapped in sheets, it looks abandoned, the way all those family houses in deserted villages were hastily vacated during the war. He wonders how long you’ve been out of business because of the siege. Because of him.

You walk across the reception in tomb silence. In the reception signs hang next to the front desk—store policies that gave Mando more than one headache—dark and colorless, like they turned in their badges and no longer preside over this place. Only “NO IMPS” twitches, one or two agonizing flashes of neon green, before it shuts down like its colleagues. Six rules in total, although in Din’s opinion there’s a seventh that foregoes the need of a sign: “NO QUESTIONS”.

That’s a rule that everyone in Nevarro—bounty hunter or not—subscribes to. It’s the rule you followed when the Mandalorian walked into your store, still crafting some half-assed excuse about thrusters when he came face to face (helmet to face?) with you. You never asked about New Republic guidelines or what he wanted them for. Not even for his name. No questions when he came back two weeks later. No questions as weeks passed and then months, as tension thickened between you until his internal barometer cracked.

No questions when his thinning resolve broke one night. That night. He pushed you onto your workbench, you undid each other’s belts, pawed at each other’s sides. No questions when he slid into your wet heat, when he had to stop for a second to avoid a heart attack. No questions when he finished inside you, blood roaring in his ears, your sighs clouding his visor, your hand gently pushing him back.

And then, his question: “Where are you going?”

“Upstairs,” you answered, pulling your trousers back around your hips.

It dropped on his head like freezing water. Upstairs. Upstairs to your apartment, to rest. Alone. Meaning your encounter was a one-night stand, a shortcut to let off some steam. Stars, you were basically swinging the front door wide open for him, putting away a couple of wrenches and switching off the lights to signal the night was over. The Mandalorian didn’t need questions to know he’d overstayed his visit.

But…what if he’d spent the night anyway? Maybe the next morning he would’ve been upfront with you, confess he’d wanted you for so long and that he wanted it to evolve past one furtive encounter, that he wanted it to be real. No, he probably wouldn’t have. As a bounty hunter—as Mandalorian—there are things he simply can’t have. Things that are better off unspoken, better off—

“Tucked away,” you say behind him, making the Mandalorian jump.

“What?”

“The planner.” You walk behind the front desk. “I was saying I don’t remember leaving it here. I thought it was tucked away in some box.”

Oh.

It is strange. A light sheen of dust covers the counter, yet the planner is glossy clean, a painted depiction of the Manarai Mountains on its cover. A souvenir from Coruscant. He wonders who brought you that. It tugs at something sweet but sad in his chest, the fact that you have to rely on others’ cheap souvenirs to explore the galaxy. That’ll change as soon as this mess with the siege is settled.

You flip through the planner, empty for the most part but for a few scribbles on the first pages. It’s dated 5 ABY, four years ago. The Mandalorian knows from experience that your appointment rule works mostly to turn away unsavory clients. Or to get on his nerves.

“Look at that,” you murmur as if reading his mind, your finger pointing at nothing on a page. “You don’t have an appointment, Mando.”

“We don’t have time for this,” he answers, though he knows he’ll make time for it anyway. It used to drive him up the wall whenever you refused to see him using that stupid excuse. But, as with everything with you, it was more complicated than that. It took longer than he’s willing to admit to understand that it was a game. That you liked him riled up, after the push and pull, the hot and cold, the challenge. You had a taste for difficulty. Although it didn’t take as long to figure out that he liked it too. “Just let me in.”

“I don’t know,” you drawl, glancing at the dull signs on the wall. “Rules are rules.”

The Mandalorian has played this game with you enough to know what you want. He thinks of all those memories in this building. You, pinned between his armor and the doorframe; him, sitting on that battered couch upstairs with your hands on his knees. Even those calm nights, when you’d only sit and talk and make him laugh, and sometimes he’d get a laugh from you too, if he didn’t try too hard. All the sweating and the panting and the talking that these walls have witnessed. Maybe there’s time for one last memory before you both leave this planet for good. Not maybe—there’s definitely time. If this were an ambush, you’d be dodging blaster shots by now.

“So bend the rules,” he says slowly, gripping his edge of the counter and dropping his voice to the low register that gives you goosebumps. “For me.”

Your eyes twinkle like copper at the fact that he’s playing along. “And what do I get in return?”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. “Whatever you want.” Perhaps he’s known for a while, in the back of his head where he could ignore it, but last night the idea rushed to his front lobe. He’ll give you anything you want.

“I want…” you begin, mischief shining in your eyes, before a shadow clouds them. Slowly, your face goes soft, a special kind of longing in your pupils. You swallow, your voice becomes throaty, and the words sound truer than anything Din’s ever heard: “I want you. I just want you.”

He almost trips on his feet when he rounds the counter, his head already swimming. The hunter crowds you with his body, backs you up against the counter until you’re caged and looking up at him, hooded eyes and parted lips. Hot stuff. Cara’s shallow pet name. When he heard it he thought it was inappropriate. But now. As your mouth nestles on his clothed neck and breathes hot, damp air through the fabric—a mild sensation for most people, he guesses, but almost a mating call for him—he realizes it’s not untrue. The name fits you like a glove, hot stuff. It’s just…incomplete. If he’s learnt anything these nine days is that there’s so much more to you, enough sailor knots of emotion and personality inside you to loop around the galaxy if unraveled.

“Touch me,” you breathe, rubbing up against him, searching friction. “Please, please, touch me. There’s nobody here, we—we have time.”

Gloved palms on your waist, down to your hips, lower to your ass, Din tries to fondle you as best he can. He pins you between the counter and his hips, your leg curls around his back and holds him closer. His erection starts to bulge against your belly, your breaths start quickening, your hearts start pumping faster. The tell-tale signs that indicate you’re both ready to go hit all their usual beats. But something’s missing. There’s a step you’re skipping, something…something he’s not doing right.

Tentatively, you press a small kiss on his covered neck, and he can only feel its frustrating whisper, a promise of more.

A lightbulb flicks on.

Mando holds your hips and spins you around, the desk’s edge on your waist. “Bend over,” he grouses next to your ear, his voice sand-coarse. “Don’t turn around.”

Gloves off first. One palm cradles the back of your neck, feels you shiver. His left hand runs down your back and around to your tummy, savoring all those warm, secret places on you, the way your body opens up to him on instinct. The power trip when he cups your heat through your skirts and you moan into the counter. You nestle your hips on his lap, and he stiffens on command, a tug between his legs that he knows is far too insistent for foreplay. Stars, it’s like he’s conditioned to get hard in this store.

“Don’t—” he chokes out “—not so fast. Or I—I won’t—”

“What?” you pant. Din hears the grin laced in your voice and knows it’s bad news for him. He drops to his knees and both hands walk up your bandaged calves, squeeze the tops of your thighs. “You…you don’t…” He throws your skirts over your back. You inhale sharply at the cold air—or at his hands pulling the soft flesh of your backside. When he removes the helmet, your pitch sounds broken up, more desperate. “You d-don’t want…”

It’s a small victory when he parts his lips against your clothed core and it’s you, for once, who chokes on words. Small victory, but he’ll take it, especially after the way his cock twitches in his pants when he smells you. He kisses you again, just a peck over your clit, and your legs shake. Fucking…stars. If this is how you feel when you tease him…well, he gets it. You mewl and push back on his face, but he hardly thinks you want it that easy.

“Stop moving,” he tells you sternly, with a voice he’d use on quarries.

A shiver runs down your spine. “But—” You break into a whine when his open palm slaps the side of your thigh. It’s probably the surprise rather than the sting that makes you inhale sharply, and a combination of both that dampens the cotton between your legs.

“Stop moving,” he repeats, mouth pressed against your core so you can feel the vibration; that, he learnt from you. “Or you don’t get my mouth.”

Above him, you let out a displeased little grunt, too throaty to mean much. But you open your legs wider and brace yourself on the front desk, grant him full access to you. His index hooks on your underwear, moves it aside, and he buries his lips deep into the softest part of you. Din barely hears you gasp. He circles both arms around your thighs and pulls you closer, until his tongue is buried between your folds and you just have to take it. Fuck, it’s just…decadent. The taste, the smell, how soaked you are already, your little purrs and whimpers when he sucks on your lips. They’re not things he ever thought he’d get to feel. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

“Mmm, stars, Mando,” you sob, sneakily rutting your hips like you just can’t help it. He allows it, but only because he’s so rock fucking hard he’s practically doing the same thing. His cock trapped down one pant leg, he squeezes his thighs to try and soothe the ache. “Move—move up a b-bit.”

“No,” he grunts, and licks a slow line from the spot right below your clit to the back of your slit. It wasn’t so long ago that it was your mouth on him, you teasing him mercilessly inside this very store, him moaning and grunting and losing his mind. That’s how he wants you: sloppy, desperate, begging.

“Maker, don’t t-tease,” you moan, but it only encourages him. His tongue slides deep inside you where you’re hotter than sin, enjoying how your walls swell and tighten around it. You’re so fucking wet, he could push into you right now and relieve the pressure building between his legs. But not yet.

“Beg me,” Din groans, mouthing at the inside of your thighs and sucking tiny bruises there. You moan above him, deep in your throat, and he wonders which one of you is more turned on right now. “Put—fuck—put that smart mouth to use. Beg me.”

For a moment all he can hear is your labored breathing, the wheels turning in your pretty head, laying out a plan to make him give in faster. Then, soft and sweet, you hum, “Mando.”

One word. Probably the word Din hears the most, so generic and impersonal that everyone from friends to strangers to enemies call him that. That word coming from your lips makes his heart sprint, his cock pulse and scream at him to hurry up. Stars, but if it was his name—his real name—on your lips, soft and purring like you pronounced his nickname, he knows he wouldn’t be able to hold back a second longer.

“You always make me feel so good,” you continue, arching your back a little to test the waters. “You’re so—so good with your mouth, stars. Want you to kiss me again—kiss me everywhere. Taste me like yesterday—” Your breath catches when he sucks on your inner lips again, closer to where you want him. Maker, if you keep talking like that… “Used to th-think about it all the time, how—mmm—how your—your tongue would feel. Never, ngh, never thought you’d use it th-there, though.” Din laps at your cunt, drinks from it. Fuck, he can’t remember the last time he got this hard. An airy laugh before you continue. “You can be so d-dirty sometimes. I’d let you do—do anything to me.”

Really, Din doesn’t know what pushes him to do it. He doesn’t know what makes him pull back and spread you open with his fingers, stare at your glistening, deliciously swollen folds, and spit at their very top. You moan raggedly above him, a complete mess of sobs and whimpers, as Din simply stares. He watches the trail of spit run down your slit, the lower it goes the more precum he feels sticking to his trousers. Half-drunk on your words and your slick, Din thinks: What did you do to me? Maker, you have him wrapped around your finger.

Saliva trails down until it teardrops on your clit, clings to it, and he doesn’t need another sign. His lips latch on to your bundle of nerves and suck. You sob and whine and cry, rocking your hips hard against his mouth, and he continues sucking through his teeth. Your knees give out, but he holds them before you can hit the ground, holds you in place as he feels you give him everything, your pussy clenching around nothing. Slick trails down his chin, all the way to his neck, and—shit. He’s going to burst in his pants just from feeling you cum in his mouth.

It takes every last ounce of self-control he has left to detach his lips from your cunt and stumble to his feet. You’re still shaking, still panting, but he can’t hold it back a minute longer. Fuck, not even a second longer, he needs to have you right now.

It’s a struggle to get a hold of his fly, fingers trembling and teeth grinding. When he finally pulls the zipper down, the sound snaps your head up.

“Are you—Mando, are you going to—”

“Yes,” he grunts, digging into his waistband for his cock, lining it up against your cunt. Stars, he’s so pent up, it hurts to touch it. “Is it—is it o-okay, can—can, I—”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” you mewl, pushing your hips so tightly against his groin the head of his cock catches against your entrance. Fuck. “Please, please, please, put it inside, let me feel your big, thick, co—”

One hard shove, deep enough that he feels himself poke your cervix, and he’s cumming—hard. His spine doubles over and he grunts and moans into your hair, giving you short, stunted thrusts as he fills you to the brim. You were already so swollen before, now you feel unbearably tight, squeezing his cock so harshly his eyes roll back on his skull. And his balls keep pulling up and giving you more of his load, his teeth grinding so hard they might crack. One last thrust, nice and deep so his cum stays inside you, and his palm presses down on your eyes. Din uses that hand as leverage to turn you around and tilt your head like you showed him, just enough so he can reach your lips. And he kisses you.

Your bodies spasm and throb against each other, you clench around him involuntarily and he flinches, too sensitive to handle the aftershocks of your orgasm. Still, he could stay like this for days. Gently sucking on your tongue, running his along the roof of your mouth, feeling how your lips curve against his in a smile. Then, an alarming thought. Maybe this is the only way to do it that feels right now—sex, he means. With the helmet off, his lips on yours, his nose on your hair. Bare hands drawing circles on your hips. Every sense devoted to you. Even the briefest taste can be a point of no return.

You peck his lips and flutter sweet, short kisses around his jaw, working your way up to his ear, where you whisper, “We’re running out of time.”

The jammer. Those words are quickly becoming the bane of his existence. “I know,” he whispers back, but presses one last, long kiss to your lips that feels inexplicably sad, like a kiss goodbye. Din shakes the thought off his head. He’s too pessimistic sometimes.

You both hiss when he pulls out, slowly so he won’t hurt you.

“Keep ‘em closed,” he tells you before removing his hand from your eyes. For all he knows you could open them right there, and there’d be nothing he could do about it. Somehow, however, he’s certain you won’t. His trust is rewarded when he pulls the hand back, and your eyes are screwed shut beneath it.

It takes an awkward choreography to straighten yourselves. You try to pull your own underwear back on, but in your position it’s near impossible. So Din kneels behind you once more, fishes his helmet from the floor, tucks himself back into his trousers, and lifts your panties until they hug your hips. You push your own skirts down before Din’s upright, which results in the long fabric covering him like your furniture. You share a quick laugh before standing straight and facing each other.

“You can open them.”

Now, he tells himself, watching your sated smile and blinking eyes. The words are on the tip of his tongue: When this is over, would you like to come with me—

“If there’s a jammer here,” you say, before he can get a word out, “it’s in the workshop.”

You walk around him and open a door behind the reception desk to reveal the staircase that leads to your apartment. Din’s still telling himself that he’ll just ask you later, when you climb one step—and stop. You turn around like you can sense he’s about to ask, for the second time in this store, where you’re going.

“Gotta get some stuff from upstairs, but I’ll be down in a second.” Your voice wobbles, your foot hesitates on the step. You’re nervous. “But if you find the jammer before I come back, don’t…don’t leave.”

“Of course not.” Maker, of course he wouldn’t leave without you. Do you really think he would?

The workshop is darker than the reception. A single window, currently boarded up, so he has to use the helmet’s light. The cone of white light creates a sinister effect, like creatures lurk everywhere it doesn’t touch. Rubber tubes hang from the ceiling like lianas, circuit boards glimmer green like leaves, and yellow sensors blink from several components. Your own little ecosystem watches him dig into boxes of clutter to search for a jammer. Stars, he’s never known how you manage to find anything here. It’s probably best if he waits outside; he wouldn’t be able to find his own ship in here without you.

He’s turning to the door when the helmet’s light catches on a dark glint, like it reflected on a mirror. It stops him on his tracks. Din’s not sure what prompts his feet to carry him toward your worktable, where the mystery item lays center-front. He sees himself reflected on the dark T-visor. It’s a helmet. It’s a blue Mandalorian helmet.

At first he’s confused. Surprised to see a Mandalorian helmet here—and is it even a Madalorian helmet? Yes, yes it is. His brain lags behind his eyes, goes through different scenarios, each less likely than the last.

Is there another Mandalorian here? Did the Alor bring this? Is the Alor a client?

And then, truth.

It falls abruptly on his back like atmospheric pressure, gravity that crushes. A hot rush of blood enveloping his head, poisoning his thoughts, a ringing in his ears so sharp he thinks he might pass out. A million thoughts in less than a second—convoluted, scrambled, furious. Then an image, so clear that the Maker himself might’ve played it for him like a holo: Thieves, scammers, criminals scurrying through the tunnels of the Covert, the empty halls where his people built a refuge, where they could feel safe. The pile of beskar armor unguarded—the high price that brave Mandalorians paid to help Din, help the child—served in a silver platter for these scavengers, these fucking honorless lowlifes.

His gloved fingers grip your worktable so hard his knuckles might crack—or the table. But the Mandalorian can’t feel the pain on his joints, not when his bloodstream’s turned to acid, when it feels like somebody jammed live wires into his head.

This fucking place. This planet with its fucking people, their fucking cynicism, this fucking landfill for hazardous waste, this piece of shit skughole—

Above, the Mandalorian hears footsteps. Your footsteps. You.

He looks down at the helmet, the empty T-visor limp and black, dead. You did this. Thinking of you clears the red cloud from his mind, trades it for a gray one. A headache creeps behind his eyes, his shoulders go slack. He feels hollowed out. Like a spoon reached inside his chest and scooped away everything essential, left him a carcass. Like something died here today.

You did this.

And then the helmet is not a helmet, but a severed head. A head with a pool of blood around it, guts sprayed all over, and there’s the corrupt smell of blaster residue coming from his neighbor’s house, the taste of copper after biting his tongue running, the durasteel giants shooting red death, the deafening explosions, his parents’ screams, his school going up in a cloud of smoke, his father holding him, whispering one last sentence that he can’t hear through the sounds of war and carnage, his mother’s cheeks stained with tears and dirt and blood, their blurring faces, the darkness, the fear.

Holding the helmet, Din feels tears sting in the corners of his eyes, then hot on his cheeks. Nobody understands, why can’t anybody understand? The warrior that owned this helmet is lost forever, condemned to live like a phantom, empty without the Creed, without the Way. It’s worse than death. It’s the curse that most of the Covert was forced to carry, to walk this galaxy like living dead, violently stripped of everything that mattered. And the relic of their sacrifice sits in your workshop next to the rest of your junk, ready to be sold off to the highest bidder, somebody who’ll want to hang it in their wall like game they hunted, and how could you do this to him, how could you, how could you do this—

“Find anything yet?”

When the Mandalorian turns, his helmet’s white light locks you in place like quarry. Like guilty quarry.

You squint and raise a palm to shut out the bright beam. “Stars, Mando,” you laugh. “Are you trying to blind me? Turn that off.”

Your words are muffled by the rushing blood that wraps around his ears, loud as a waterfall, but he can understand them. The Mandalorian grips the helmet tighter between his hands and keeps the light on so you can see what he found, what he knows about you. The ugly, festered truth about you.

Once your eyes adjust to the bright light and they’re able to stay open for more than three seconds, you give him a quizzical look. The visor gives you nothing, so you drop your gaze to the hard evidence between his hands.

And you have the nerve to look even more surprised. Furrowed eyebrows and everything to add to the performance.

“Where did you get that?” you ask.

A thousand responses climb into his head in a savage, foul clutter, like army ants. I should ask you the same, where do you think?, how much are they giving you?, was it worth it?, what’s wrong with you?, what’s wrong with this fucking planet? He opens his mouth, but they swarm in his throat all at once and tie a knot around his windpipe. More tears on his cheeks, another attempt at words—nothing.

Finally, quietly: “How could you do this to me?”

The crease between your brows digs deeper, and there’s genuine worry in your eyes. Of course you’re worried, he just caught you red fucking handed. “Mando, I really don’t understand—”

“Me neither,” he hisses through his teeth, “because this is a Mandalorian helmet, and you’re no Mandalorian.” The first insect out, the rest follow like a waterfall, crawling out his mouth. “How long did you wait after I left to steal this from the Covert? An hour? Five minutes?”

Trapped under the light, where you can no longer hide in shadows, you look stricken. The harsh light shines on circles under your eyes, creases where you frown. Bleak features he never noticed before.

Your voice is low and icy when you say, “I never stole anything from the Covert.”

“Scavenge, loot, I don’t care what you people like to call it.” How could you, after everything, how could you.

“Listen to me,” you say steadily, but your eyes are hot coals and your jaw is set, your own anger rising. Good. Masks off. He wants to see who’s been hiding under his noses these nine days. All those fucking months. “I didn’t take a thing from the Covert. I have no idea where that helmet came from.”

The Mandalorian is barely listening. He’s heard more than enough lies for two lifetimes, he sure as fuck doesn’t need yours. Instead, he focuses on the one thought that manages to float in the red sea of anger and despair. He holds on to it like an anchor, clutches it until his palms bleed, but truth hurts.

“Duma.” He doesn’t ask this time around—he tells you. He knows and there’s nothing you can do about it—nothing he can do about it. Greef Karga’s words shine painful light on fog. Boiling beskar…did you take her up on that deal? “You’re selling it to her.”

“Stars, of course not.” The stoniness of your features melts for an instant, hurt revealed underneath those layers. You look devastated, tired. Maker, you’re good. Those hours of sabacc are sure paying off. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“How can I believe you?” he snarls, his head suffocating in dark quicksand—grief, anger, betrayal all clogging his nostrils, making his head throb. How could you how could you how could you. “When I know what type of people sprout from this planet, I make a living hunting them. I know you—” his voice breaks, but the words keep flowing and he hardly hears them “—I know the kind of company you keep, I know you have no principles, I know you can’t commit to shit—”

“Commit?” you snap, face hardening cold and twisted like the magma outside, but he knows too well what lies beneath the surface. Lava, hot and bubbling, your anger as raw as his. Rawer. “You wanna talk about commitment? I waited for you for five months!” The light from the helmet no longer makes you squint, but it turns your eyes red and watery. “You left. You left me here to starve through a fucking siege that you caused—”

“I came back for you!”

That gives you pause. Then you shake your head. “No, you came back because that piece of shit official asked—”

“He asked to meet me in Belderone.” Belderone, same sector as Nevarro, not even ten minutes away in hyperspace. “Told me Nevarro wasn’t safe because there was a siege, so I insisted we meet here.” The memory drains him. How worried he was about you, the type of worried that stirs bile in the stomach. How guilty he felt. “To see you again. Make sure you were okay.” The Mandalorian looks down at the helmet in his hands, a strange mirror staring up at him. Harsher than the one from this morning. His ears ring, his mouth tastes sour, his rising headache plateaus into an unbearable, incessant throb. A ghost limb aches somewhere in his body, all over it. He wants to leave your store, your planet.

How could you?

Mando doesn’t raise his head to look at you when he walks out the workshop. You don’t stop him when he reaches the main door. You don’t stop him when he walks out to the street.

The sky is jaundice-yellow when he steps outside. Gone are this morning’s blue hues, suffocated by the sickly coughing of a million volcanos, by their fumaroles and their sparks. For all the Mandalorian cares, this planet can burn.

On his way to the cantina to pick up the kid, he stares at the marker that identifies the entrance to the city: that crooked, arthritis-ridden arch. Beyond it, he spots the outline of a ship. A sleek civilian shuttle, probably a rental. The official isn’t stupid enough to fly a Republic starship past siege lines, so if the tiny shuttle fooled Guideon’s platoon in the atmosphere, well, it’ll have to do it again. Tomorrow, they’ll just have to tempt fate and avoid tempting the batallion of Imperial cruisers. Or fly out in the Crest and hope they can jump into hyperspace before imps pulverize them. All he wants is to put as many lightyears between him and this planet.

Din’s head pounds when he walks inside the cantina. The only thought hammering against his skull: How could you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 5…’tis the end

Taglist: @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon @newyorksins @leo-moon @benedrylcumbersnatch @corrupt-fvcker @seratoninforyouseratoninforme @multifandomlife22 @justanotherblonde23 @abysshaven @equalstrashflavoredtrash @16boyfriends-and-me @ihaveashield @dinispunk @bananaagurl @mstgsmy @absurdthirst @cowboy-kylo @roxypeanut @heyitmelexie @readsalot73 @krazykatkay456 @elusive-danger-noodle @lola-wolf @nikkiparthena @lifeisapitch15 @teaofpeach @auty-ren @anewrule @hyp-oh-critical​ @pascaliprincess​ @geannad​ @coaaster​ @frietiemeloen​ @yourbucky084​ @brynnstudies​ @elfwoodfae​

im pretty sure i forgot someone so please message me if i did!

[dclsbaby]

tolerate it - Dominic Calvert Lewin 🦋

Summary: despite being in love, you and dom drift apart during a career hiccup and it breaks your heart into tiny little pieces

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst? pain?

A/N: hi everyone! I took the looongest hiatus known to mankind and I just want to thank everyone who has still stuck by this blog! I haven't written in a while and this isn't by best work but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! ily!

masterlist

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I sit and watch

I notice everything you do or don’t do

Every little thing he does leaves you in awe. The man can’t do no wrong in your eyes. You notice the way he breathes, his little gestures, his subtle movements. Others can envision an entire story just by observing the way he looks at you. As you lay in bed with his body next to yours, his chest rising with every breath taken, you discover a newfound appreciation to add to the list of things you love about him. You have never felt a feeling so intense, so visceral. Love is terrifying, isn’t it? Love often leads to infatuation, and this was no different to you. You wear your heart on your sleeves, feel every emotion, from the exhilarating highs, to the excruciating lows. To be dependent on another human for happiness is a dangerous game. You fear love. And with fear comes paranoia.

It started when your conversations became shorter and shorter by the day. Then, it’s him arriving late from training, to no longer waking you up before he leaves for early morning training. No more forehead kisses when you’re still asleep, no more post-it notes on refrigerator doors telling you he’s made you breakfast, no nothing. Bodies that were once intertwined each night now rest apart with unwanted distance in between. Distance you so wanted to close.

As the weather turned cold, so did he.

I wait by the door like I’m just a kid

Use my best colours for your portrait

Lay the table with fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

Without fail, you would always wait for him to come home, run to the door when you hear his car pull over on your driveway and leap into his arms the second he steps in your shared home. He would hold you up as your legs wrap around his waist, and whisper “I’ve been waiting to come home to you all day,” in your ear. A memory you long to relive.

You knew he had been struggling, coping with a plateau in his career, playing less and less, becoming a resident of the substitution bench. It hurt you to see him hurt, but it also pained you that he did not turn to you for comfort. “Nothing is wrong,” he says, over and over. Lies, you thought. You know him better than anyone else. So you try and convince him that he could trust you, and that keeping it all in would only make it worse. I mean you would know, as you have been suppressing so much pain this whole time. But he wins this battle yet again, and with his ego intact, he shrugs it off, ignores his frustration, and pushes you away.

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural my sky

Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life

As months passed by, you were no longer his live-in partner, but a stranger he has to coexist with, leaving you lonely each night as he drifted off to sleep inches away from you. Even then your love for him is still as potent, as strong. Your loyalty is a crime.

Your efforts to make him feel better never ceased, as you continue cooking him his favourite meals after training, helping him pack his bags the night before he leaves for international duty, doing household chores so he never had to bother with them after coming home from an exhausting day, making playlists of songs you think he’d like, and putting movies and tv series you know he would enjoy in his Netflix list.

You would do anything for some form of acknowledgement.

You would do anything to bring back those first two years back.

You would do anything for a simple touch, a hug, an embrace.

You would do anything for… something.

Everything you did, you did for him. Every thought that passes your mind, involves him.

It’s just a phase. It’s just a phase. You try to convince yourself. That’s a lie, another subconscious voice says.

---

It was the night before the Merseyside derby, which happens to be the final match of the season. The most anticipated match of the year. The perfect match. The match that determines if Everton is crowned Premier League champions. Half of the city at war with the other half. Two colours, two clubs with a historic rivalry battle it out on the pitch once again.

He was nervous, you could tell. You catch him playing with his food and struggle to finish his meal as he was sick to his stomach. After months of hate comments, online trolling, and being subject to pundits’ criticism, this was the perfect match to prove all the doubters that he is worthy of wearing his blue jersey. He spent several more minutes tossing pieces of food with his fork until he got up, placed his plate on the sink, and made his way up the stairs to sleep. No “see you upstairs”, or a last goodbye before he sleeps. You had to resist every temptation to start a fight and argue that you deserve more than silence. But you knew how important tomorrow’s occasion is, and decided against it.

Shortly after you make your way into your bedroom. He was curled on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, bedroom lights dimmed. You go to your shared bathroom, take what’s left of your makeup off, and get ready for bed. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Darkened under eyes, lips cracked down the middle. You were dehydrated, tired, exhausted, and looked almost ghastly. Turns out having a broken heart does have implications on your vanity. How much longer can I do this? You thought. You felt pathetic, feeling sorry for yourself. You exhale a deep sigh and make your way back into the bedroom, joining him in bed. As you settle on the bed, you turn your body away from him, and tug the duvet your way, curling into a fetal position and tuck yourself in, and drift off to sleep.

All of a sudden, you hear sounds of shifting sheets, the bed slightly moving with every turn he makes. You could tell he was awake. You knew the events of tomorrow are playing on his mind and making him lose sleep. With only a little hesitation, you extend an arm and rest your hand on his back, causing him to shudder a little. Your touch had stopped the shifting and brought him comfort he did not know he needed. Not long after, you could hear soft snores from his side of the bed.

---

You woke up to an empty bed, which was not unusual. You forgive him though, since it is a big day and he probably had to tune into the game day mentality early in the morning.

You watch the game from home and stare at the TV screen as the cameras zoom into Dom, his face serious, ready to fight it out on the pitch. Since the second the referee blew the first while, it had already gotten intense. Both teams began attacking from the get-go, a handful of chances created even though it’s barely been a quarter of an hour.

Minutes passed, and yellow cards have been handed out for several players. Every spectator in different time zones all glued to their screens, all on the edge of their seats until half-time. The camera catches a glimpse of him walking off the pitch. He looked angry and frustrated, you could tell. He was responsible for most of the chances created during the game, though he couldn’t seem to poach one in.

Ben had made a long pass that Dom couldn’t quite convert into a goal.

Lucas had delivered a stunning, almost perfect cross that landed on Dom’s head, but it went wide.

Richy had attempted a shot on his own, which pissed Dom off.

It’s all square at half-time, but football is a game of two halves, and to decide which side of the city will celebrate tonight is determined by the next 45 minutes at least.

Every player is now back on the pitch, ready to give it their all.

10 minutes in, it’s long balls and defending, the opposition giving no room to maneuver through the box. That is until Lucas passed another strikingly accurate cross.

“MISS AGAIN! How could he have missed a cross like that a second time?”

“Everton’s number 9 squashes an open goal opportunity, what a shame, that.”

“He’s going to hate himself for that,”

“He already does, Calvert-Lewin looks like he’s about to see red.”

You listen to the commentators as they describe Dom’s frustration. You watch with anxiety, occasionally scrolling through your phone to avoid the intensity.

---

Into the final minute of the game 90+3.  Still all square at the Goodison. It’s now or never.

“Free kick!”

“The free-kick will be done 20 yards off the goal post.”

“This could be the last chance of the game!”

“It’s been decided that Sigurdsson will take the free kick, Calvert-Lewin leaps into the air, ball’s on his head—GOAL!!!”

And just like that, in the final minute of the game, his team clinches the winner, and your man is hailed the hero of the night.

You watch the screen as the referee blows the final whistle of the game, Dom doing sprints around the pitch with his teammates, bodies jumping on each other, veins popping through every neck, roars of exhilaration filling the open air as Everton is calculated to win the league.

You watch him immerse himself in the exhilaration of crowning his team champions of the Premier League. The blue confetti rained over the stadium in the crisp yet comfortable afternoon air, cheering noises blasting through the speakers. You watch the screen zoom into the love of your life, or was. You see his perfectly chiseled face, those bright green eyes, brunette locks still perfectly put together even after a hard-fought game, his sweet smile warming your heart. Your eyes glued to the screen as your man is hailed a hero, and feel an overwhelming sense of pride.

Though not even the cheering and happy faces on TV could distract you from the churning feeling in your stomach. It’s a feeling you can’t quite pinpoint. Is it confusion? Anger? Happiness? You don’t even know.

You’re happy for him, truly. But you can’t seem to shake the fact that it took him being distant from you, and completely ignoring your existence to get his head back in the game. It’s like you and football were mutually exclusive, and he can’t focus on both things he loves most at the same time. You weren’t going to make him choose either.

---

He didn’t come home that night, and you saw it coming. You knew he was going to go out with his teammates, and rightfully so, they achieved a massive milestone after all. But it bothered you that he didn’t say anything, no texts, no voicemails, nothing to tell you of his whereabouts. You thought he would at least change after all that success, but still nothing. Everything is going to stay the same, isn’t it? You thought.

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed. Again. Totally expected. You reach out for your phone and see 10 missed calls from your best friend and several text messages with picture attachments. You were not prepared for what you were about to see.

Attached were pictures of him in a club with his teammates, pictured awfully close to a woman you don’t recognise. He was smiling and looked happy. You can’t remember the last time he looked like that, or even smiled at you. You haven’t even stood as close as they way that woman is in his space, for months. He hasn’t looked at you the way he’s looking at her in those pictures for months.

You felt sick. Your mind is racing. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest. You wanted to cry and scream but nothing came out. Total silence. Pure shock. You had no tears left to cry, as you wasted it all from crying yourself to sleep just inches away from the man who broke your heart every day.

Should I have seen it coming? Has he been going out with her for months? When did it start? You try to remember every single detail over the past few months. Every single pain, every single action that you could have overlooked.

---

By the afternoon, you’ve already spent hours sitting on your bed, staring at the pictures sent to you. More links have appeared as gossip sites picked up on the story.

“Dominic Calvert-Lewin celebrates historic Merseyside win with a mystery girl who is not his missus”

“Everton Hero – Also a Cheat”

“Cursed WAGs – DCL celebrates PL win with mystery woman as his missus is MIA”

The more you read these news outlets, the number you feel. The whole of England knows your dirty laundry, you felt like a fool.

You were done.

Drawing hearts in the byline

Always taking up too much space or time

You assume I’m fine, but what would you do if I…

Break free and leave us in ruins

Took this dagger in me and removed it

Gain the weight of you, then lose it

Believe me I could do it

Shortly after you hear keys rattling downstairs, followed by the sound of doors shutting. You hear footsteps walking up the stairs, and you mentally prepare to see his face. You still don’t know how you’re going to react, not until you see him.

As he steps into the doorframe, he sees your bloodshot eyes and stops in his tracks.

“So, I presume you’ve seen what’s being said about me,” he moans.

“Yeah, yeah I’ve seen,” you shrug.

“It’s absolutely ridiculous isn’t it, shouldn’t believe everything you say,” he says.

“-is it though? Is it absolutely ridiculous that what they say could be true?” you cross your arms.

“Of course, it is! What are you even saying?” he says, offended.

“I’m saying that I have spent months slaving for you, putting you before myself without getting anything in return! I’m saying that I have been so miserable in this sad excuse of a relationship, holding onto the last memory of when you last said you loved me which was months ago! I’m saying that it would not be so unbelievable if you had been cheating on me, and that I had to find out from some tabloids!”  

“If you had been so miserable then why didn’t you say anything? You could have said something if you’ve been so unhappy!” Dom yells.

“Because I have been tiptoeing around you! Afraid of saying the wrong things to set you off, I did not want to be a burden during a time when I know you’re struggling,” you sigh.

Dom’s body nearly goes limp after hearing your confession.

“I put you before myself over and over again for the past year, and you have the nerve to assume I’m fine? Fine with what? Being ignored? Being second best? You don’t know what that does to a person,” you cry.

“Do you regret it?” he asks with tears in his eyes. “Do you regret me?” he looks at you.

“No, Dom. No, I don’t. I don’t regret you because I’ve spent the last few months giving it my all to a relationship on the brink of ruins. I never gave up on you, and I never gave up on our love, or what’s left of it,” you sigh. “Deep down, I think I knew that I deserved more than a pathetic excuse of a career hiccup, but I was prepared to stand by you through it all,” you break into cries. “My love was strong enough to ignore every warning sign, strong enough to mute fire alarm bells ringing in my head, alerting me to leave a relationship where I was no longer appreciated,” you rest your head on your hand. “Maybe we’re all allotted a certain amount of fight to give per love, and today… Today I ran out,” look up at him.

“Don’t fucking say that. Do not say that. I am not done fighting for this relationship, I know I fucked up! You don’t think I know that? I will fix everything, you don’t have to do anything, let me do everything I will fix us!” Dom begs.

“There’s no fixing us. It takes two people to fix a relationship, I learned that the hard way and I singlehandedly attempted to piece us back together only for you to break through what I’ve built and held together with my bare fucking hands,” you say as you wipe your tears away.

Dom drops to the floor as he could no longer stand the pain he feels from what you’ve just said.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what to say,” he pleads

“If it took you this long, and if it took me standing here yelling at you for you to regret what you did then we are past the point of fixing,”

“You know what football means to me, I felt stuck, everything that I had dreamed of as a kid was slowly fading, I couldn’t bear it,” Dom reasons.

“I would never get in between you and football. I would never have even considered making you choose, Dom. I would have done absolutely anything for you, anything, you said. “I just needed you to tell me what the hell is going on so I could have helped you. I did not deserve to be swept under the rug, to be left feeling useless, while you were out doing god knows what with god knows who after training every. Single. Day.”

“Are you implying that I cheated on you?! That I, me – someone you’ve known for years, is cheating on you?”

If it’s all in my head, tell me now

Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow

“Go on then! Tell me I’m making all of this up in my head. Tell me that I am not wrong to assume such insane thoughts, tell me that it is so beyond the realm of possibility that you could ever be unfaithful.”

Dom stayed silent.

You simply nodded and picked up your belongings, ready to leave.

“Nothing happened. I swear,” he pleaded.

“Your silence was enough,

Goodbye.”

I know my love should be celebrated

But you tolerate it

[gr0vndz3ro]

Hypnosis

Cop!Bakugou x Villain!Reader(NSFW)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Cursing, forced sub!bakugou, dom! reader, dub con, bondage because if you think im writing a cop au and not use hand cuffs youre dead wrong, choking, degradation, spit, oral, overstimulation, gagging, hair pulling, unprotected sex

Word count: 3973

A/N: Me and @1-800-callmekatsuki were thirsting over bakugou for hours and I HAD to write this. I ended up getting really into this so it ended up being a little longer than I expected but I hope y’all enjoy. Also this is the photo that got this whole fic started. The art is not mine.

*PSA*

A little side note I’ve gotten a few comments in regards to the current situation going on in the US and trust me I get it, but this blog is just a place for me to personally escape the things going on irl. I wasn’t writing this in correlation to anything going on and I’m sorry if people think this is bad timing but this story is free of any personal opinion and just something fun for people to read. I want my blog to be for other people what it is for me, just something to enjoy. If for any reason this story bothers you I’m really sorry🥺🥺 I’m just a horny girl who just want to write smut and I think fbi/ cop bakugou is hot 😭 If reading anything in regards to a cop (even when not negative) is something that bothers you then please feel free to keep scrolling. I don’t take any offense to people not liking this, but I did work hard on this and for those of you do read it I hope you guys enjoy it. ❤️

Arms crossed against his broad chest, Katsuki scoffed at the briefing he was just given by his chief. The criminal that the precinct had just managed to catch was believed to be tied to the League of Villains. Y/N Y/L/N, her quirk was called Sirens Song. She’s able to control men with just the sound of her voice. She had been caught trying to smuggle weapons, thought to be for the L.O.V, in a boat that she stole from two unfortunate men that happened to cross her path.

This whole thing was a waste of his time, he could be out there trying to find the actual threats. Instead he was in this meeting, listening to the description of just another wannabe villain. When the chief had finished with the case details, Katsuki got up from the chair, ready to go back to his patrol when the man spoke up again.

“We are going to be keeping her in holding for a few days to try to get as much information we can get out of her to see if she’s the connection to the League that we’ve been looking for. On the screen you will see a list of the interrogation times and who goes when, as well as who will be covering what over night watch shift. After you have checked for your name you are free to go.”

Rolling his eyes, the blond walks over to the board and sees he is set as the over night guard for tonight. He clenches his jaw, instead of being able to go home after a long day, he’s forced to work all night. Watching some criminal trying to pass as a real target. He whips his head to his boss, stomping over.

“Oi, what the hell is this supposed to be huh?! You got me working for 24 hours, ain’t that illegal or some shit?” Not being able to control his anger at the situation.

“Officer Bakugou I see that you’ve taken a look at the board. Don’t worry about the work load, you’ve been assigned to a fairly peaceful district so there shouldn’t be to much strain on you. If there any other problems you have I would recommend biting your tongue. You’re already on thin ice this week due to you run in with Officer Midoriya. Be grateful you are involved in this case in anyway. Now if that will be all.” The chief says not allowing Katsuki the time to interject, leaving afterwards to go to his office.

Left there grinding his teeth, he holds back his dying urge to curse the man out and leaves the building to start his “easy” patrol. He hated easy days, it wasn’t what he had joined for. He wanted to hunt down bad guys and make them suffer for what they did. He wanted to put away thugs and criminals, not right a ticket for an unpaid parking meter. I’m to good of a cop to be a fucking meter maid. His jaw firm as he thinks about the cases other stations were working on. The good that he could be doing if he wasn’t here, having his talent go to waste. Saving people was what he wanted to do, be the hero that saves the day. But all because of his temper, he now had the “easy” shift.

He pulled back into the station at 10 pm to start the over night watch. mostly everyone had gone home, except for the few stragglers finishing up their last amounts of paperwork for the week. He heads to the break room to grab something quick to eat when the chief walked into the room.

“There is a few things I wanted to tell you about your shift tonight and about the situation at hand. The suspect quirk is very powerful, while the room they’re in cancels quirks, the effects of hers can still be felt to some degree. They are no where near her normal strength and more of a temptation that most are able to snap out of after a few seconds. Do not under estimate her Bakugou, do you hear me? I will not be filling a missing suspect report because you are to arrogant to follow commands.” The chief explain to him, belittling him the process. If the anger he felt could be seen physically, everything in the room would have been exploded.

“Yeah, yeah I hear you loud and clear. The idiot isn’t gonna be a problem.. sir.” His attitude barely peaking out at the end of his sentence, a slight smirk on his lips. With that response, his boss leaves for the night, officially leaving Katsuki alone in the station to start his second shift of the day. 

Coffee. If there was any way that he was going to get through this night it was going to be with lots of coffee. He goes to the coffee pot and makes himself a small pot. With a mug in his hand he starts his walk over to the holding cells. He turned the corner and sees you sitting there in the cell. His eye widen subtly, Damn she’s hot. Maybe he wouldn’t need coffee after all. He took his seat near your cell so keep an eye on you. There wasn’t much he could really do. There was no way for you to get out. Basically he was just there to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself until the detectives come back to investigate you more. As he sat there he got a good look at you. Your clothes were dirty a torn from you chase from the cops, rips on you pants exposing parts of your thighs, and the rip on you shirt showed just enough of your abdomen to leave him dirty thoughts. Thoughts of how soft your skin is, how it would feel under his calloused fingers. How you would react to his touch, goosebumps covering your skin. He looks up to your face. Small scratches liter it but that does nothing to hide how beautiful you are. The way your eyes catch the light and how pieces of your hair fall out of your pony tail framing you face. Your hair slightly a mess, probably due to running yet all he could think about was how much he wanted to mess it up even more. You run his hands through it and just yank your head back with a fist full of your locks. The two of you hadn’t even exchanged words to each other but he knew he wanted you. You’re eyes met his after he was done checking you out.

“Do you like what you see?...” Your eye brow raised in amusement as you caught his wandering eyes. You take this time to check out the officer who you assumed would be watching you tonight. His uniform and vest highlighting how broad his chest is, the sleeves tight around his arms due to the amount of muscle it was trying to contain. His pants tightened around his thighs. Blond hair slightly covering his eyes. He clenches his jaw and you swear that thing could cut diamonds. This man was hot and you cant help but smirk at the fact he was checking you out. You look back down to his chest to see his name tag, Bakugou. “...Officer Bakugou” His face immediately pulls into a scowl in defense. 

“Oh you fucking wish” He pulls his eyes away from you and rest his head on the back of his seat. He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, finding it impossible as this chair was a piece of shit. So he stands up and starts looking around trying to find something else to focus on. You break him out of his thoughts.

“Do you have anything else that I could wear? These clothes are ruined and I’d like to be in proper clothing.” You say in reference to your tattered clothes, ruined by jumping over fences and having them get caught and rip. You hear a ‘tsk’ and see him start to walk off. Rolling your eyes at the mans action, you sit down on the chair in your cell seeing as he walked off without giving you a response.

“Here” you look up to see him sliding a shirt and pair of pant in through the bars. You walk over and grab them from his hands, running your finger tips across his skin in the process. He yanks his hand back before you can try to touch him again. You wanted more. Frowning, you walk back near the chair and set your clothes down on it, your hands go to the edge of you shirt but you stop feeling a burning gaze on your back. You turn around to see him staring at you.

“Do you mind?” Raising your eye brow at him.

“I have to watch you to make sure you don’t attempt to do anything that could cause harm to yourself.” He says coldly, as if he wasn’t dying at the opportunity to see what was under your clothes.

“Okay then suit yourself.” With a smirk on your lips you pull you shirt off over your head, making sure that he could see everything. You slowly fold it and move down to you pants, your finger lingering at the zipper for a moment before pulling it down. Your hands make there way to waist band and tug them down, shimming out of the tight pants, making you butt sway infront of him. If he was going to watch you, you were going to make sure he got a good show out of it. Hands linger around your curves as you snake the fabric down your legs at an agonizingly slow pace. Katsuki could feel his pants tightening at the sight, his breath catching in his throat. A smirk across your face as you see his flustered reaction to your stripping. Activating your quirk you slowly walk over to the bars separating the two of you.

“Why don’t you get in here” Your words putting the man in a trance as he struggles against your suggestion. Starting to get ticked of he isn’t already subdued you speak up again, “Don’t make me repeat myself, you wont like the consequences.”  He feels himself start moving towards your cell against his better judgement. He fights against the feeling in his chest pulling him forward, but before he knows it he’s infront of you inside of the cell. A sinister shine in your eyes as you step closer to the blond, closing the distance, Katsuki could feel the room getting hotter. Your hands make its way to his chest, paralyzing him underneath your touch. 

“Look at you, now go be good boy for me and sit down.” His face burns red at the demand, no one talks to him like this, so why was it turning him on so much. He stays in his place as his last attempt at keeping his dominance over the situation. Your hand travels up to his jaw, fingers roughly grasping either side as you growl into his ear, your patience being tested “Do not test me pretty boy, do what you’re told.” 

You see him struggling against your command feeling conflicted at the switch of power. You put both of you hands on his chest and push him down onto the chair. His eyes wide unable to stop you as you reach down into his pouch grabbing his cuffs. Quickly, you rip off his vest and shirt leaving his torso bare. You walk behind him in the chair, your hands on his shoulders running down his arms, a burning trail left where ever your nails lightly scratch, until your hands make it his wrists. Roughly grabbing them and yanking them behind his back, cuffing his wrist to the chair, permanently securing him in place to allow you to do whatever you please. He assumed you were just going to take advantage of the situation and leave, but he was sorely mistaken. You travel to the front of him leaning forward to kiss his jaw, traveling down to his neck. You roam his neck, searching for his pulse, kissing it once you find it. A groan rips out past his lips, unable to stop it at the sudden pleasure coursing through him. The noise sending a wave over power over you as you start kissing more harshly, sucking and biting at the spot, desperately wanting to hear the noise again.

Once satisfied with the mark now on his neck, you back up standing in front of him, your hands moving down to his pants as you start undoing them. His eyes widen as you pull down his pants and underwear down in one swift movement, his raging boner slapping against his abdomen as he sucks in a harsh breath at the release from the tight confinement. A whine leaves his lips as your hands leave burning trails all over his body, purposely avoiding where he was starting to crave your touch most. Desperate to know how your soft touches would feel against him, the anticipation of whether you’d be gentle or not was starting to eat him alive.

“Did I hear a whine baby? Are you that desperate for me. Look at you, rock hard and I haven’t even done anything yet, absolutely disgusting.” Your words like venom. He twitches as your hand grasps the base of his cock, a deep gasp coming out at your sudden touch. Your other hand goes to his hip pushing him down. Your mouth goes to his ear, “If you fucking move again, I will stop do you understand?” Katsuki swallows hard, suddenly unable to find any words. He hisses as you hand leaves his dick to his throat, choking the man. “Answer me Bakugou”

“Yes princess” He couldn’t help it anymore. He was under your trance but he could care less, all he knew was he needed you. That evil smirk crosses your face once again at his submission. 

“Good boy” You release his neck and trail back down to his throbbing dick. Your thumb brushes over his tip collecting all of the precum oozing out of it. You slowly pump him in your hand, his breath catching in his throat. You gather the excess saliva in your mouth and spit it onto his hard cock. His eyes shoot to yours as the cool liquid meets his burning hot member.

Your hand starts a steady past as you move up and down, making sure to add pressure to the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. Your hand twisting every time you get to his tip earning a deep groan from his throat. He gets lost in ecstasy as you start picking up the pace, giving extra attention to his tip. He’s so caught up in it that when you replace your hand with your mouth he lets out a moan. You make him bottom out inside your mouth and the noises coming from the man infront of you make you let out a moan yourself, the vibrations only bringing him further pleasure. 

“Fuck princess that- ugh- feels sooo good” your tongue presses deeply into the vein all the way up to his tip, you make sure to give extra attention to the sensitive swollen head. Relaxing your throat, you take him all the way in, him pressing down your throat. But it was completely worth is for the look on his face. Eyebrows furrowed and his head thrown back in pure bliss. You move you head back up adding your hand in to meet his balls as you start massaging them. Katsuki is a moaning mess under your touch and wants nothing more than to run his hands through your hair and fuck into your mouth relentlessly. Watch as you start tearing up at the lack of air as he just gets off. But being completely under your control instead turned him on to no end. The added pleasure from your hand in combination with your mouth was sending him over board. He throws his head back as a deep groan leaves his lips along with several profanities as he shoots hot white ropes into your mouth, His orgasm taking over him with no warning. Surprised by his sudden release you swallow all of his seed, yet continue your movements. When he notice that you show no sign of stopping he lets out a whine at how sensitive he was. He tried moving away but your free hand grips his thigh, fingernails digging in as he hisses at the pain.

“Wha-what are you doing? I cant-” his voice uneasy from a mix of coming down from his high and the sensitivity he felt. You release his dick with a loud pop.

“You see I never said you could finish, but you decided to be a selfish little whore and finish anyways.” You stand up, releasing your grip from both his balls and thighs. You push his knees together and then move your hands to the clip of your bra and undo it, letting it drop to the ground. Your hands shoot to your breasts as you give them a rough squeeze, Katsuki drinking in the sight, whimpering as his sensitive cock twitches. His eyes glued to your hands as the travel down your body to the waistband of your matching underwear. Your fingers toying with the band, slightly dipping it and bringing it back up, loving how Bakugou reacted to your every move. His face flushed from the hormones rushing through his body, his dick painfully hard at the beautiful image infront of him. You pull the underwear down your thighs, strings of slick connect to the lacy clothing. Saying that everything that had been happening wasn’t turning you on severely would be dead wrong. Every moan that left his mouth sent a jolt straight to your core and you wanted, no needed, something, and you knew exactly what you were going to do.

You bring you legs on either side of one of his massive thigh and lower yourself onto him. His eyes widen as you grind yourself against him, throwing your head back as pleasure courses through you at the friction. His eyes shoot to where you were seated and watched as you shamelessly got yourself off on him. He watched as your juices drip down his leg, his cock twitches as he wanted nothing more than to be buried deep within your walls, slamming into you. He wines as you let out a loud moan, the friction feeling so good against your swollen clit.

“Please princess- fuck- let me make you feel go-” You stop his talking by shoving the lace into his mouth and grab his jaw roughly.

“All you deserve right now is to be my pretty little fuck toy okay. If you can behave then maybe ill let you fuck me.” You purr into his ear, your hot breath fanning across his neck as you move your hips grinding against him. You moan at the feeling, continuing to expertly move your hips back and forth. As you feel yourself getting close you reach your hand up to your nipples and starts tugging at them sending waves of pleasure into your core, giving you just the boost you needed. Your hand shoots to the back of Kastuki’s head tugging on his soft hair as you chaise your release. He watches your every move as you cum all over his thigh, his cock throbbing at the sight of your orgasm. Your eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed as you bit your lip, failing your attempt to hold back your moans. Once you come down from your high you move your legs so that you are no longer straddling his thigh, but now his waist, your soaking core pressed against his dick. A muffled moan attempts to leave his lips at the much needed pressure. Your hand goes to his mouth and you retrieve the now soaked pair of undies, a trail of saliva following. “Do you want to fuck me baby?”

“Yes, please Y/N. please let me fill you up.” he groans as you move your hips to grind against him.

“Do you think you deserve to touch me?” You ask the desperate man, a smile on your face at how eager he is.

“Fuck yes, let me make you feel so good” You lean down to wear his pants were grabbing the key, reaching behind him pushing the key into the cuff unlocking them. His hand immediately go to your body assaulting everything he could touch. Firmly grasping your breasts moving his  hands across your body down to your hips as you lift yourself to allow him to slip into you. A moan escapes both of you as he bottoms out due to how slick you were. Your walls clench around him holding him like a vice. He trusts into you holding onto your hips and you place your hands onto each of his shoulders, letting you stabilize yourself as he rutts into you. 

Each of his thrusts hit all of the right spots, rubbing against your walls deep inside of you. You’ve never felt this filled. You lean down and your lips meet with a fiery passion. Tongues fight for dominance as he speeds up his movements. You eventually win, not wanting him to forget his place. You break away from the kiss, a mix of both of you spit dripping from your mouth and you let it drip onto his glistening chest. You look down at his lustful face.

“You fill me up so good Bakugou, hitting every spot with your massive cock. Are you close baby?” Your hands making their way back to his hair, tugging at the blond locks as you feel the familiar feeling building in your core as he slams into your g-spot.

“uughh yes. I can feel how close you are, So fucking tight- god, fuck- let me cum with you princess.” His words enough to start the overwhelming feeling so you lean into his ear.

“Then cum with me baby” He sends a rough thrust into you and you come undone, a white flash taking over at the intensity of this second orgasm. You yank on the locks of hair in your fingers. Katsuki groans feeling you clench around him, trusting into you haphazardly as his own orgasm takes over, completely filling you with his hot cum. 

He slows his movements, riding out both of your highs, until he comes to a stop still deep inside of you. You both stay there catching your breath as you rest you head on his shoulder trying to regain your senses. After a few moments you lift yourself off of him, immediately missing the fullness. You move off of his lap and allow him to stand up to grab his clothes. He bends over grabbing his pants and pulling them back on. While fumbling with the button he is suddenly interrupted by a hard hit to the head causing him to fall to the floor. You frown slightly at him as you place the chair back on the ground. You slip on your clothes and drag him to the cell wall and sit him against the bars. You clip the cuffs in place securing him to the bar as you back up slightly, pushing the fallen hair out of his face.

“Its nothing personal I promise” You stand up and walk away from the unconscious man toward to door, key in hand. You unlock the cell door and walk out, not before turning back to him one final time.

“Plus I don’t think this is the last time we will be meeting.”

A/N: AAAAAAAAA im sORRY. If you guys enjoy this one I can do a part two were the tables are turned??? because im a slut for dom! bakugou

[stripper-patrick]

Speak to me 🤫 Chris Evans

Warnings: smut, language, daddy kink, straight up nastiness, choking, reverse cowgirl, spanking, dirty talk, silent treatment, dom!Chris, eating cat from da back, heel fetish, daddy kink

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl

Relationship: Chris Evans x black plus sized reader

“Hello” Chris pulls out his iPhone answering the incoming call “hey Scott what’s up” I’m laying on the bed on my phone when I perk up hearing Chris say “yea I’m free” this bastard

“No the hell you aren’t” I sit up crossing my legs

“Yea that sounds great I’ll meet you there” he looks at me, my face is painted with anger and frustration. I’ve been trying to plan this dinner with him at this new restaurant called Yard House but they’ve been booked since they first opened. Now tonight when I finally get us a reservation he makes plans with his brother. He got me fucked up.

Chris hangs up and I turn my head waiting for an explanation “honey I’m sorry but it’s Scott”

“Are you deadass? I told you I couldn’t get ahold of this restaurant for weeks and the second I make us a reservation you go and agree to plans with your brother” I’m furious at the moment “you know what go head”

“Y/N”

“Go” I yell. He sighs rubbing his eyes as I turn around going back on my phone. Chris leaves the room and I groan. I proceed to the shower turning it on rolling my eyes. The hot water runs down my back ultimately giving me time to think.

....

I’m woken up to the front door opening and shutting. I grab my phone seeing the picture of Chris flash on my lock screen and the time reads back 4am. I have 4 messages and 5 phone calls all from him. The door opens and I can see the tall figure moving around shimmying off his clothes.

“Hey babe” I roll my eyes turning on my stomach clutching the pillow. I hear a deep sigh come from Chris’ mouth “baby girl I’m sorry I know how important that dinner was to you” He slides in the bed next to me and his hand rests on my butt but I’m quick to move it “don’t touch me” I scoot closer to the edge closing my eyes hearing one last sigh before I drift to sleep.

....

The sun bleeds into the room brightening it up causing me to open my eyes. I get up and go to the bathroom doing my business and completing my morning facial routine. Washing my face, moisturizer, and toner. I walk out the bathroom and slip into some leggings, and a low cut crop top. I have a nail appointment today and I’m debating on making him pay just for fucking with me but I can’t allow myself to do that.

I step out of the room, the bright sun illuminating the hallway and I descend downstairs where I smell bacon and waffles cooking. I go into the kitchen crossing my arms watching him put strawberries in the batter. My favorite.

“Morning princess” I mumble sitting at the island and he sets a plate in front of me. His pretty blue eyes bore into mine just silently begging me to say something

“I’m sorry how many times do I have to say it?” He asks. I cut up my waffles and pour syrup on them without even glancing his way. I know this is torturing him. To go from talking and laughing one day to not speaking at all is destroying him especially when we live in the same household. I take a bite of the warm breakfast almost moaning at the taste. Damn he put his foot in these. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Nails” I huff

“Ah I’m going with you”

“No you’re not”

“I am and I’m paying for them and while we’re at it we can go to the mall” I roll my eyes and he smirks sitting next to me digging into his plate “what will it take for you to speak to me baby doll. I’ll do anything” a smirk appears on my lips but I keep quiet.

“You know what fine” the rest of the breakfast is filled with silence and he takes my plate cleaning it.

I sit on the couch flipping through channels as Chris disappears upstairs. Finally some peace and quiet. The tv gets boring so I turn it off and go on my phone. After about 20 minutes of scrolling I look at the time seeing I should bust a move if I wanna make it to the nail salon on time.

I stand up and walk to the door leaving. I get into my car turning on the air immediately. Chris jogs out and opens the driver door “what are you doing?” I question

“Get out”

“I don’t have time for this I’m gonna be late then I have to pay a late fee”

“Get. Out” I huff taking off my seatbelt and getting out the car. Chris gets in the drivers seat and nudges too the passenger seat “you aren’t going with me”

“Y/N I won’t tell you again” his deep voice sends a heartbeat to my core but I can’t fold like this. I groan stomping to the passenger side. He gets out opening the door for me and I swing my legs inside as he shuts it. Chris gets back in the drivers seat and putting his seatbelt on before pulling off.

...

After getting my NAILS done we ended up at the mall but I still haven’t said one word to him. I’ve kept to myself and haven’t touched him or even looked his way. This may seem extensive but he needs to understand that I deserve some time with him as well. “Babydoll lets go in here” swinging his bags in his hand he takes me in the Louis Vuitton store. I set my eyes on this beautiful bag and I see some shoes I adore.

“I’m gonna step out real fast here” he hands me his credit card and I snatch it. I’ll teach his ass a lesson. I grab the bag and the shoes in my size taking them to the register. I use his card to pay for the stuff then head across the way to Prada where I find another gorgeous purse. I grab that but I don’t see anything else I want so I just check that out. The next store I walk to is Dior where I see some cute blue and orange slides and a beautiful gold necklace. The problem is it’s 2,000 dollars and I’ve already spent at least a grand. I think about Chris and he would be somewhat upset but I’m upset at the moment so he’ll be fine.

I grab the necklace and shoes taking them to the register. I use his card and the transaction completes. The woman hands me my bags and I smile thanking her. I walk out of the store and see Chris coming back. Poker face is on.

“I got a call from the bank saying my card was nearly shut off because they thought someone stole it. You spent about 10 grand”

“Oops” I stand up and he takes all my bags from me.

“It’s time to go let’s go” I stand my ground folding my arms again

“I wanna keep shopping”

“Any other day would’ve been a smooth yes, anything to get you to talk to me but today is not the day. Let’s. Go” he says sternly

“No” Chris adjusts the bags on his arms and grabs me by my arm pulling me along outside. I let my arm go once we get in the car. He sets the bags in the trunk and I get in.

....

We get home and I walk through the double doors. He sets the bags in the living room and I go upstairs not allowing another word to be said. I strip down bare and get under the navy blue fitted sheets and comforter taking a deep breath before I feel myself drift to sleep.

...

I hear feet shuffling into the room and I see Chris dressed in a fitted black button, dark jeans, and Stacey Adams paired with a gold bracelet and a watch on his wrist. I notice he decorated my choker.

���princess” I’m still mad at him for last night and haven’t talked to him the whole day. I groan pushing my arms above my head stretching my limbs before swinging my legs off the bed letting them dangle. “Y/N get dressed and ready” he speaks again this time more stern. I’ll admit it turned me on. I stare at him and huff “Do you really wanna test my patience darling? Get dressed now”

“I’m not going anywhere with you” I cross my arms in a fit of rage breaking my silent streak and turn away from him. Chris wraps his hand around the back of my neck with a smirk. A smile spreads across my face “did it sound like I was asking? I’ve had enough of your bratty ass today”

I roll my eyes earning a slap to my ass “don’t roll your eyes at me just do as I say” I go into the closet figuring out what to wear. The wet spot in my panties has me tempted to take them off and go commando today in the warm autumn air. Temptation gets the best of me and I pull them off grabbing a short DRESS and some HEELS. I grab a jacket just in case it’s cold wherever we’re going. “Christopher where are we going”

“Don’t worry about it” he looks up at me and his jaw drops when he sees my dress. I sit at my vanity and start on a simple makeup look not really wanting to get too much into it tonight. I keep my curls the way they are as I finish everything.

“Ready?”

“Mhmm” I follow Chris hearing him sigh. I walk downstairs and he extends his arm helping me downstairs. I walk past him into the car in the passenger seat where I just sit. At this point I’m completely over the situation but he needs to learn his lesson. Chris gets in and starts the car and I look at him “where are we going”

He ignores me and I roll my eyes huffing. He sets his hand on my thigh and I leave it there. His hand creeps higher but that’s when I stop him “if you think you can get any of this tonight you got me fucked up”

“We’ll see about that”

....

Chris makes a right and I see the restaurant. I’m very confused as to why we’re here. He pulls into a parking spot and gets out. Chris opens the door for me and at this point I’m curious as to what he’s got going on. I see a long ass line of people waiting outside.

“I’m not interested in waiting in line”

“That’s a good thing you don’t have to” he shuts and locks the car door walking up with me. We walk through the doors and immediately the host recognizes him “Mr. Evans right this way”

We walk through the crowd of people into our own little section with a dim light and a table for 2. “How did you do this?”

“I bought it. Now can you stop being mad at me it’s torturing”

“Maybe” he pulls out my chair for me and I sit watching him the seat in front of me.

“I’m sorry babydoll I was inconsiderate to how much effort you put into getting us a reservation” he says

“Truth he told I stopped being mad after I ran up your card but I kept my poker face”

“Well you’re pretty damn good at it” the waitress comes over and is star struck at the Chris Evans sitting right in front of her.

“Hello my name is Tiara what can I get you guys started off with?”

“Lemme get a coors and” he looks at me “a white wine?” I nod and she writes it down flashing him a big smile before leaving to put in our drinks. “Clearly you have a fan”

“I see but she’s not important right now. You are and if you think you can pull some shit on me like that again you’ve clearly got me fucked up”

“Oohhh the spicy white is coming out. I like it” the waitress comes back with our drinks and we order the food.

....

We’ve finished dinner and Chris pays the bill. The waitress is standing there and I’ve noticed her shirt is undone a little more than usual as in I can see her purple lace bra and I know Chris can see it too.

He fishes out a 20 from his pocket handing it to her and I watch her slip it in her bra. My jaw drops as she winks at him completely stepping over boundaries.

“Excuse me” she averts her attention to me and I’m start to shake. That’s how mad I am. “Try that shit again with my man and I promise you’ll be missing a couple teeth and a job”

Her eyes go wide and she leaves without saying anything else. Chris has his bottom lip tucked in between his perfect teeth with a smirk pulled against his lips.

“You’re so sexy when you’re mad”

“Yea whatever” I shake my head

“Do me a favor” I listen waiting for his request “take off your panties”

“It’s funny that you think I’m wearing any” his blue eyes turn dark as he nods

“That ass is mine” he laughs. The waitress comes back with a small white cake. Nothing special written on it or anything. I spin it around trying to find something then I look at Chris who had a cheeky smile on his face.

“Cut into it” I grab a knife and cut into the cake revealing a blue matte box. I look at him and grab the box opening it. I see a beautiful ring and engraved inside of the box is: ‘Will You Marry Me?’ A flood of emotions drowns me and now I’m sitting here crying.

“Stop playing Christopher” I say

“Y/N I want you to make me the happiest man alive” he takes the ring and slides it on my finger

“Is this why you left me today?” He nods smiling

“I can’t see myself without you” he whispers “so what do you say?”

“Yes yes yes a thousand times yes” I hug him and he holds me tight as more tears fall. I give him a nice kiss and he smiles holding me closer.

....

As soon as we hit the front door Chris’ hands are all over me. I open the door and he shuts it sliding my dress off my body to reveal I’m completely naked just as I said. I go to take off my heels but he stops me “leave them”

Chris picks me up with ease and something in the moment just told me to let him pick me up. In the year and a half we’ve been together I’ve never let him pick me up because of my size but tonight is different.

He takes me upstairs to our shared bedroom where he lays me down “I’m going to ruin you for what you put me through today”

I smile and he turns me around face down ass up “clearly you’re enjoying it more than I thought” he collects my wetness on the tip of his finger trailing it up to my clit rubbing torturously slow. I feel his large hands part my ass and his beard scratches me. I drop my face into the mattress feeling his tongue work inside of me while his fingers massage my clit. My arms stretch back and I pull on my heels holding my legs up and arching my back more. I hear Chris moan at my current position. I don’t know how much loner I can do this position cause I’m a big bitch and this shit hurts.

He stops eating me out and I hear his pants unzip then drop “keep that position baby doll” He pumps his dick and I feel his head push inside of me with ease. He fits the rest of his cock inside of me and replaces my hands on my heels with his. My hands extend above my head as he starts pounding me out making my body rock back and forth. My hands have a mind of their own gripping the sheets.

“You like that you little slut?” He spanks me and I cry out biting my lip “you’ve been such a bad girl” he keeps a tight grip on my hips holding me in place. I couldn’t run even if I really wanted to.

“Fuck daddy it’s too much” he chuckles maniacally

“Nah you keep playing with me” Chris pushes my back into a crazy arch pushing a little more of his weight on my butt. He continues pounding on me until my body is seizing and I’m crying out his name.

“That’s it you’re gonna be a mess by the time I’m finished with you” he moans still thrusting in me. He stops and pulls out leaving me empty and my cum dripping on my thighs.

“Ride me reverse” he lays next to me placing his hands behind his head and I grab his dick and swing my legs over his thick body. I guide him inside of me placing my hands on his calves bouncing my ass.

“Fuck” I moan. He smacks my behind and keeps a firm grip on my hips guiding me harder and faster. Chris wastes no time taking control pounding into me from below. His balls are slapping against my ass while he holds my wailing arms behind me keeping them steady. My jaw drops as he growls in an animalistic form. My breasts bounce as he continues torturing me.

“You’ve been a bad girl babydoll and I don’t appreciate it” he moans. I can see his piercing blue eyes through my hazy vision. I’m still sensitive from my last orgasm so I’m close already.

“Fuck daddy you’re gonna make me cum” I scream. My legs press together not sure whether to try to get away or sink further onto him.

He keeps going and just as I’m about to release Chris stops pumping altogether. He lifts me up putting me back on my hands and knees.

Chris enters me again but this time he grabs my hair pulls my back against his chest. Once he has me where he wants me, he envelops his hand around my throat squeezing the sides constricting air. He wraps his free arm around my breasts as he starts his fast rhythmic thrusting again. His moans are prominent in my ear as his hand on my breasts drop to my clit.

At this point I’m seeing stars and my moans are uncontrollable. My body trembles from being rocked into with each powerful thrust. My shaky hands hold onto his wrist leading to my clit as he kisses my cheek, shoulder, and neck. “You look like such a pretty slut taking my dick like this”

“Cum in me please” I beg. He lets go of my throat and grabs his belt nearby tying it around my hands. My hands are bound behind my back as he uses my arms to hold me as I’m leaned forward taking his dick.

“Cum with me Y/N I feel how close you are babydoll” he was right. I’m right on the edge when he gives me a good slap to my behind making my legs clamp together shaking tremendously. His name is all that I can call out making me see stars. “That’s my good girl oh shit” he lets out a string of curses and I feel my walls being painted in his children as he continues assaulting me in the best way possible.

Our juices collect around the base of his dick dripping on the sheets. As I drop my head completely spun. Chris extracts every drop inside of me before pulling out. He lays beside me with a smirk on his face pulling his belt off my hands “where the fuck did you learn how to tie me up with a belt”

“You’d be surprised what the Internet can teach you” he says “please don’t ignore me again” he lays on my bare chest

“Well don’t do any stupid shit again” I smile taking my fingers through his hair

[kickingitwithkirk]

Regina Coeli, Regina Infernum

Pairing: Boyking!Sam Winchester x Reader x Knightofhell!Dean Winchester

Prompt: If you really wanna try it, experiment on me *Sense-Taste

Word Count: 3213

Warnings: 18+ cursing, dirty talk, flirting m/m f/m, kissing m/m m/f, oral m/f giving/receiving, p/v, p/a, dp m/f/m, grace/blood consumption, mentions of death/killing, wincest(kissing only)

**Blasphemy for content- if you are offended by religious tenets or altering of religious tenets please skip this story.

A/N: This is the original version I wrote for #bees5Ksenseschallange before realizing it was way over the max word limit. I’m linking the toned down other version too.

Edited version

Please drop me a comment, it’s appreciated.

A/N II: Latin terms: Puer Rex Infernum-boy king of hell. Regina Coeli- queen of heaven, Regina Infernum-queen of hell. Yeah, my Latin sucks

Divider: created by @writeyourmindaway​​ -I flipped original version for story.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

Sam entered the room without acknowledging his council walked straight to his throne throwing himself onto it.

“Get out.” He said flatly. They looked at each other confused. “Sir, you summoned us here...” The demon exploded in a cloud of fire and smoke before finishing.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Sam kept his voice level as he raised his left hand and placed his thumb against his middle finger ready to snap the rest of these sycophants out of existence.

Bowing deeply his subordinates back out of the room as fast as possible.

“What crawled up your ass and died today Sammy?” A disembodied voice inquired from a dark corner.

“Watch your mouth or you can get the hell out too Dean.” Sam says abrasively, not in the mood for his brother.

“Hey, I’m just concerned about you. That’s the fourth time this week you’ve called in the council and blew someone up.”

Sam tipped his head back, closing his eyes against the throbbing pain he felt. He barely hears the soughing of Dean's jeans coming towards him.

When he was human, Dean generally was loud on a regular basis unless they were hunting. As a demon, his brother can move so silently even the hell hounds, with their superior auditory senses, can’t detect him.

Dean stops next to his beautiful brother studying him. The strain of ruling hell by himself was showing the longer he sat upon this throne alone.

It had been over five decades since the Demon Curing Ritual had rendered Dean’s restraints useless allowing him to escape. After using a sigil to dispatch Castiel, he hunted Sam mercilessly throughout the bunker before knocking him out with that hammer.

Dean hauled his brother back to the dungeon and after securing him to the chair raided the infirmary searching for the blood transfusion equipment. He ignored a pleading Sam, finally begging to allow him finish the cure.

“Dean, I love you.”

He paused.

Dean’s green eyes shined with all the love he had always felt for his little brother, even before he was born saying, ”I love you too Sammy, but I like the disease,” proceeds to infuse him, pumping tainted blood until he couldn’t pass any more from his body, then sat back and waited.

The bunker's warding burned and its steel reinforced walls groaned from the pressure of an unseen power radiating outwards from the dungeon.

Receiving multiple calls of a strange glow the fire department arrived to find the multistory bunker reduced to nothing but smoldering rubble. When interviewed, the police chief decreed it to be a structure failure and the final resting place of its only known occupants, the eccentric Campbell brothers.

The inferno regions of the Underlands paled in comparison to the ferocity of the Winchester brothers as they stormed the Citadels hallowed halls.

Sam embraced his rightful place as the Puer Rex Infernum with his brother, The Knight of Hell, at his side for eternity.

Long live the Boy King of Hell.

Dean had been standing in front of him staring for nearly an half hour when Sam's sarcasm surfaced, “Take a picture, it'll last longer,” finally opening his onyx eyes. Dean knew he was physically in pain, Sam never wore those eyes otherwise when they were alone.

“What you need..”

“You made it obvious what you think I need Dean, they didn’t help.”

“How many did you get through?” His curiosity peaked.

“All of them.” Sam's voice was strangely dissociated.

Dean blinked in surprise, “You fucked all of them?”

“Fuck and drained, including the guards watching them.”

“Damn Sammy, I’m proud of you!” Dean couldn’t contain his elation, even after all these years, of his brother embracing this life.

Before giving in to their dark sides, Sam was his complete opposite when it came to sex. His encounters were few and far between, preferring, unlike Dean, to have a connection, not just a roll in the hay.

Sam should have been flying high on demon blood topped off by all that pussy and cock, but it was having the opposite effect. He was utterly melancholy.

Dean reached out and gently cupped his cheek, running a calloused thumb over his surprisingly soft, pink lips. Sam’s eyes shifted back to their engaging multi colored hues, softening with the forbidden love for his brother he’s always felt as he gazed at Dean.

Giving into temptation Dean leaned down to taste those lips, whispering against them, “Don’t worry baby brother, I’ll find what you need to stop your pain.”

Dean slammed the heavy ornate door of his private rooms having wasted his time on another fruitless, dead end pursuit. It had been nearly a year since he started his search with nothing to show for it but disappointment and a trail of corpses.

“You look like you need a drink.” A gruff voice called out from his bedroom.

***

Sam had negotiated a truce between Heaven and Hell shortly after taking over. Many of the stipulations we’re only known to the parties directly involved there was one specific item made public.

Someone was chosen to reside in the other's domain as a diplomatic hostage, anything happens to them, the truce was void and all out war would ensue on Earth.

Castiel was the obvious choice for Heaven, believing his close relationship with the brothers could be exploited. He was also granted the ability to freely go between Heaven, Hell and Earth.

What Heaven didn’t expect was his continued loyalty to the Winchesters after they became demons, informing his angelic brethren he refused to be a spy, saying he was neutral like Swedish fish.

Sam’s choice was controversial. He eventually convinced Heaven it was in their best interest for The Cage to be interred there. If it’s corrupted inhabitants were to escape, well, they’d be Heaven's problem to deal with.

Sam then eradicated all of Lucifer’s remaining followers, permitting Dean a public display of what would happen to those who challenged his reign.

***

Dean walked in to find the angel on his bed, casually reclining against the large headboard reading an ancient scroll.

“What are you doing in my bed Cas?”

“Waiting on you Dean.”

Dean’s talented tongue peaked out as he toed off his boots and climbed up onto the bed, crawling across to straddle the angels thighs leaning towards him, “Should've sent for me…” Castiel placed a firm hand in the middle of Dean’s chest halting him.

“I’m not here for that and have no intention of fornicating with you.”

“Come on, play with me Cas, you know you’re dying to know what it’s like to have a big cock deep down your throat,” Dean, using his whiskey roughened tone, blinks slowly as his sexy, makes women instantly wet smile graced his plush lips, “or would you prefer I slip it up that tight ass of yours, help you release those pent up frustrations? If you really wanna try it, experiment on me.”

“You're trying to provoke me only because you are frustrated,” Dean’s expression turned frosty, “but I have found information that will lead us to what you’ve been searching for,” Castiel holds up the scroll for him to read.

Dean takes the scroll from him frowning, “What language is this shit?” He asked, sliding off Cas onto the bed.

“An obscure form of an unpronounceable language. It has taken me the better part of the year and I called in several favors to gain access to Metatron. After persuading him to translate what he could of it, I have now obtained the location of the Regina Coeli.”

“Who?”

“The Queen of Heaven? You want me to take the Virgin Mary as my consort!”

Incredulousness was written on Sam’s face as he looked between Dean and Cas as they sat across from him in his private receiving room.

“I can just see it Sammy, you and the blessed mother. Damn, if we weren’t already in hell.” Dean smarted off, earning “It’s Sam,” and bitchface #127 in response.

Castiel released a long-suffering sigh at his friend's inappropriateness.

“No Sam, I was not referring to her nor the ancient sky goddesses erroneously given the illustrious title,” Cas points to a nondescript illustration of a woman seated upon the throne of Heaven, “I am referring to the one true queen God himself chose to rule over all of his domains in his stead.”

“Chuck's firstborn was an Archangel girl? What’d she do to piss off dear old dad, take the family car without permission for a joyride?” Dean's joke falls flat.

“The translation was vague on the specifics but she is not an Archangel, more of a composite, created from the Light and the Darkness. The rumors indicate she took the Darkness’s side in a disagreement between them. God banished her here as punishment with the stipulation that only a descendant of the First Ones of Father can lay a claim for consort and make her their queen.”

“First Ones? I thought those were the Archangels,” Dean asked, giving Cas a confused look.

“According to the eldest demons Lucifer did try on more than one occasion. Obviously, he was not the one nor any of the other rulers that followed.”

Traveling into the labyrinth beneath the Citadel, Castiel led them through an ancient part of the Underlands neither brother knew existed and stopped in front of a nondescript wall.

Dean cocked his head to the side scrutinizing it, “Fandamntastic wall Cas.”

“Yes, it is.” The Angel replied and walked through it.

Dean reached out his hand coming into contact with the solid surface, “The fuck?”

Castiel’s upper torso reappeared, “Coming Sam?”

Sam shrugs and stepping forward is pulled in. He finds himself in a large catacomb, torches placed statically around to illuminate it. He turns to ask Cas where they are and stops.

In the center sits a raised, polished, black marble obelisk.

Sam stands in front of it studying the carved inscriptions in the same language as the scroll. “It’s a nice piece of marble Cas.” He comments unimpressed.

Castiel did something strange. He smiled at Sam, a full on grinning like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland smile.

Sam’s ingrained hunter’s instincts kick in before his eyes shift to their onyx color, using his demonic powers to scan the area around them searching for an immediate threat but encounters something unexpected.

“I have been waiting a long time for you.”

Sam found himself standing in an expanse of pure white, it’s vastness of nothing surrounding him. There is the barest of sounds behind him and in what was empty space seconds ago now sits two high backed thrones. One is from illustration on the scroll, the other his. Sam wonders how he missed the fact they were matching except for color.

Drawing up to his imposing height ready to defend himself he walks towards them cautiously. Sensing no imminent danger Sam takes a seat upon his and waits for what is to happen next.

Sam's eyes snapped towards a subtle sound of feathers rustling beside him. On the throne sits a woman staring at him.

“Are you the Regina Coeli?” Sam inquires in awe that she isn’t anything like he imagined.

Slowly blinking Y/C/E, she nods once.

“Why did you bring me here?” Sam gestures to the empty space surrounding them.

“It was necessary, I have no other way of communicating otherwise.”

Sam cocked his head unable to figure out how she is projecting her thoughts to him.

Long ago he learned how to shield himself from others when one of the late Princes of Hell tried using a telepath to oust him from the throne. It had taken ages for the cleaners to remove all the bits left after Dean eviscerated them.

She dropped her chin given him a coy smile, “It is because you were made for me.”

“What do you mean made for you? I don’t understand.”

“The one who can claim me as consort is descended from the First Ones of Father and that is you.”

“The First Ones were the Archangels.”

“The Archangels were created from The Nothing. The First Ones of Father were created on Earth.”

“The First Ones...you mean Adam and Eve?”

“Adam and Lilith.”

“They didn’t have any children before God cast Lilith out as a demon.”

“Yes, they did. You and your brother are their descendants.”

“We’re descended from Cain and Abel...”

“Who were Lilith’s offspring, not Eve. It is why those directly descended from her were marked for the Apocalypse.”

Sam ponders this information a while, yet another piece of the puzzle that was their lives clicking into place.

“Lilith possessed free will, unlike Eve. It was passed on to her descendants as punishment.”

“And has led you here to me.”

“What's your name? I can’t just call you Regina Coeli.”

“Father gave me no name like his son’s, he only called me daughter.” She told him sounding sad, “what name do you like?”

“You want me to give you a name?” She nodded eagerly waiting for his answer. Sam looked at her contemplatively never having had a favorite female name, the only one that truly mattered in his life was Dean.

“I’ll call you Y/N.”

She stood up and moved to stand in front of Sam.

“Before you commit to this, know that this is a symbiotic relationship, you won’t need to feed on demon blood anymore, we’ll feed off each other.”

Y/N produces a knife more delicate than Ruby’s and runs it across her wrist leaking some of her grace, and offering it to Sam, he takes her arm and sucks on the wound briefly.

“But there’s one stipulation....”

“Whatever it is you can have it.” Sam breaths out, his body craving more than just a taste of her grace.

“All domains are mine, including the Underlands, as decreed by Father.”

Sam's eyes shifted onyx with displeasure, “Hell is my domain and I don’t play well with others who try to subvert me.”

Y/N smiled mischievously and climbed onto his lap, “I freely give it to you but remember, the others are mine and I don’t play well either. Do you agree to my terms?” she retorts in a dark, cheeky manner. Sam picks up her long braid, playing with the trailing silver ribbons tied around its end.

“Agreed.”

Sam and Y/N stepped through the wall to find a relieved Dean and pissed off Castiel, who took his leave.

As they traveled back to the Citadel Dean couldn’t take his eyes off of Y/N. This would have normally angered Sam but she had informed him even though they were technically demons, Dean was still his soulmate so she could bond with him too if Sam wished.

After introducing her to the court, who insisted their bonding was completed in front of a witness, they retreated to Sam’s private chambers.

Dean moved in front of her, caressing her cheek and licked his plush lips, “She looks so sweet Sammy.”

Sam hums in agreement moving behind her drawing her flush against him and kissing along her neck asks, “You wanna taste Y/N Dean,” as he grips the material around her waist and lifts her dress upwards, slowly unveiling her body to his brother. Dean’s eyes dilate with hunger as it teasingly travels upward, revealing she is nude under it.

“Lift your arms,” Sam tells her and pulls it completely off, dropping it and resting his chin on Y/N’s shoulder and starts playing with her nipples as she wraps her arms behind his neck for balance, spreading her legs to give Dean access between them.

Dean dropped to his knees and looking to Sam for permission, runs his tongue over her outer lips, tasting that she’s already wet before parting them, making her quiver with pleasure.

“Dean loves the taste of pussy, he could eat you out for hours. Would you like that Y/N?” Sam moaned at her response, “He will later,” reaching down gripped his brother's short hair tugging him back roughly, “it’s my turn now.”

Sam laid back on his bed high on her grace as Y/N straddles him, pinning his arms down next to his head and leaned in brushing her lips across his in a tender kiss.

“Keep your hands to yourself till I’m done with you.”

She kissed down the long line of his neck pausing below his tattoo to tease his left nipple with her tongue before biting down making him shiver in pleasure. Sam’s cock hardened even more as her lips, light as the dusting of a feather, traversed downwards over his abs halting at the v of his hips and gripping his cock in her hand dipped the tip of her tongue into his slit, tasting precum pearling out before taking just the head into her mouth sucking on it, her tongue over moving in random patterns over the sensitive nerves underneath it.

Sam groaned in pleasure feeling the sweetest sting of the blade along the crease of his leg, his hot blood pulsating to the surface. He watched as she released his cock, lowering her head and, without breaking eye contact, licked along the flowing wound, tasting his deliciously tainted blood.

Y/N continuously moved her hands over every bit of his skin she could reach while nursing at the wound. Sam started feeling light headed from being drained but at the same time euphoric with desire as he unabatedly cums on his stomach.

Dean, writhing in his seat observing them, presses down on his cock to deny himself cumming watches Y/N using her tongue to clean Sam’s spending's as he’s still spurting.

Resting her head on his hip Y/N asks Sam something making him smile, “Y/N wants to know if I will allow you to join us now,” his eyes telling Dean to hurry the hell up and get naked.

He strips in record time, climbs on the enormous bed straddling him behind Y/N, teasingly rubbing his cock through her folds. “How do you want us sweetheart? You want Sammy’s unrelenting cock pounding this scrumptious pussy and me down your throat?” Dean strokes her throat, “How about both us in your tight cunt, ravaging it together?” He trailed his left hand down Y/N’s torso and inserted two of his thick fingers in her feeling her clenching.

“Or maybe prefer me here,” tapping his cock head against her tight little hole before slipping his dripping tip in past the tight ring of muscle making her jolt then quiver with pleasure as she pushes back till he’s fully seated in her.

“That’s it, get nice and stretched out on my cock,” Dean bit his lip moaning as she worked herself up and down on him, “ ‘cause once Sammy’s been in here, you’ll know it for a long time.

Sam, unwilling to wait any longer, grabs his self and pushes in next to Dean’s thick fingers, ramming his massive cock into her drenched cunt, forcing her to stretch around him and not stopping until he was balls deep in her. Y/N gasped silently, overwhelmed by the sensations she hadn’t felt in millennia.

“Easy there tiger, we have eternity to play with our new toy.”

Forever tags: @donnaintx

[millennial-star-gazer]

Tantric Flames: Chapter: 9

Tantric Flames

Nalu lovefest 2019 Prompts: Magic, Worship, Reckless , Forbidden and Cravings (All Implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing:Nalu (Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: One look, one smouldering hooded gaze, one word, one fiery kiss, one magnetizing touch was all he needed for her to completely unravel at his mercy alone, succumbing to the sinful temptation of her inhibitions, his love, his feral passion, his raw, insatiable desires, his "Tantric Flames". Originally an Submission for Nalulovefest 2017 (on previous accounts) in which Natsu gives his mate a tantric massage-after much persuasion- she won't soon forget when it turns into so much more. Also previously featured in Nalu lovefest 2018 (on current accounts) , as well as Nalu Week 2017, Nalu Fluff Week and Nalu lovefest 2017 (as stated) with first three chapters on my previous celestialgeekmage accounts . Chapter 7 was also an entry for nalu week 2019 and Chapter 8 for Nalu Lovefest 2019. ( Nalu-centric) (Slight Au).

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Chapter 9: Tempted by A Tantric Touch

A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl Millennial StarGazer! This time I'm returning with another long-awaited installment of Tantric Flames. Once again, a major thanks to and koodos to @bmarvels, @mannyegb, @animezing-fandoms/princess-starry-night, and @allie-and-her-fandoms for helping me edit and further develop this chapter! Now without further ado, here's the story-enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

(Note: Scroll down pas the keep reading button/ cut for the designated links, legend and actual chapter.  The tagging feature and keep reading button might not show up or fully work on the desktop site but should function just fine on the app and mobile version.

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Read More of Tantric Flames and the rest of my writing on here and other plaftorms.

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1. Tantric Flames

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Chapter: 9          (Next Chapter ) (Coming Soon)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) ( or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13114990/1/Tantric-Flames-reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)

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Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics/Quotes (or flashback dialogue)

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: Empathized Word(s)

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

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"You run your fingers over every part of my body and tease me with your touch".

(Source Unknown)

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Oh God, those love bites. So many love bites that decorated the blonde's creamy skin like jewels; far too numerous to count that always sent a red-hot line fire rippling through her nerves with with every nip, every suck; each every and stroke of Natsu's velvet tongue. Plus, he's usually doing other things at the same time. Racy images of the couple's steamy moments together from the last soak flooded Lucy's mind.

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Flashback

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The celestial mage's back arching of its own accord into Natsu's touch from robust hands cupping her breast; Blazing digits kneading the twin peaks in time with lips sucking along Lucy's pulse with so much skill that she couldn't help the heady moan that escaped her throat.

"Ya feel that, Luce?" Nastu growled in his princess's ear, the dark undercurrent of his territorial voice pulling a tingly shiver from her. "My marks all over that perfect body of yours— and not just the permanent one when you swore your heart to me . All of those are symbols of my essence, my claim, my love. That you belong to me and me alone. My mate and queen, forever and always. And those sounds you're makin'? Hot as hell."

Pretty sure, dude leaves marks on me as his way of announcing to the world I'm off limits as his mate. Explains why he's always quick to leave a fresh one in its place even after I cover them— not that I'm complaining. Plus, it's not only for his benefit but mine. It's great that he knows how much I love receiving hickeys and gets off from it.

Seriously, what more could I ask for?

Not to mention how lovely it always was to unwind with Natsu after each bath. The wizard was often keen in his offer to dry the blonde's damp hair with a towel or fire-magic-powered steam; from her perch on his lap or between his legs. 

Much more relaxing than using a hair dryer if you ask me.

 The dragonslayer would sometimes even hum or sing a familiar tune from days past in that appealing, gravelly baritone of his; would usually lull the already-zen mage into the world of dreams when combined with the sooth dual sensation of fingers combing through her hair, .

"I tell you, I tell you, the dragonborn comes ..."

Anyother guild member who might be eavesdropping, however, would often be quick to lightheartedly goad the blonde mage ( much to her chargin). Natsu no doubt would find this hilarious of course; which would serve for Lucy's cheeks to flush an even deeper shade of crimson than she already was.

"Say Luce, is that a blush I see?" he once crooned, a teasing edge to his words; though the affectionate mirth sparkling in his eyes warmed her heart just a little. "Aw, is my girl a little embarrassed? That's okay though— makes ya all the more adorable and endearing than you already are. You want me to make it all better? Cuz I can! Got plenty of kisses! Come on, you know you want some which I'm more than happy to give. God I love ya' so much, you know that?"

It's amazing really... Lucy ruminated in fond awe. How Natsu can switch between the different roles and sides to him with relative ease. From Romantic and tender to dominant, playful and affectionate; then back again on top of everything else all seemingly at the drop of a hat. All an innate part of his overall nature I guess— essentially what makes up who he is. Some people may find this a bit confusing to keep up with— but I don't. Just makes him all the more complex.

Though those people would also be right when they say that the dude still has a devious streak, she couldn't help but add with wry smirk. Even with me, though never with malicious intent. German suplex, non-stop tickling, dumping me in a tub of freezing cold water during one of our baths— too many pranks to count really. At least he's always quick to follow up with plenty of affection ever since we became an item— can't complain about that."

"You ready to get started Lucy?" Natsu's keen voice broke through Lucy's reverie.

"You know it!" The celestial mage chirped, unable to mask the pure enthusiasm in her voice; earning an amused chuckle from the dragon wizard . "Can't wait. I take it you'll be hoarding me for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Mhmm" Came his content hum in response." That really a bad thing, though?"

"No, definitely not."

"I figured. Why don't we get you up on that massage bed?"

"Sure thing!"

A buzz of anticipation was practically thrumming in Lucy's blood from such tantalizing implications of his words; the stunt Natsu pulled next , though— that was what really shot a thrilling jolt up her spine.

"Let's finish what we started later, yeah?"

The dragonslayer's proposal was punctuated by a light tap on the summoner's ass for good measure,; which resulted in a delighted squeal.

"O-okay!" was said female's response in the form of a breathy giggle.

"Let me get you that towel while I'm at it."

"Sure— thanks."

"My pleasure."

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A Few Minutes Later

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"Ugh...do me a huge favor and burn this towel. Will ya?"

Lucy couldn't help but let out an audible groan along with the heat rising in her cheeks. Good god was the particularly moist spot on the white towel a truly mortifying sight to behold. Basically tell-tale remnants of liquid arousal that had been wiped clean from her legs just moments before.

Mavis only knows what would happen if Levy or Cana noticed during laundry duty.

" Okay... why though?" Natsu questioned, brows drawing together in mild confusion. "As in why do you want me to?"

"Guild Laundry day" came Lucy's automatic reply."That's why."

"Not following ya.' Natsu blinked owlishly in uncomprehension.

"Levy…..and Cana….." Lucy supplied, a finger twirling an errant strand of blonde hair in :a self-conscious display." "I... uh.."

"Still don't know what you mean here, Luce."

"It's their turn to do laundry duty." She attempted to break down what was apparently such an abstract concept into simpler terms; not able to help the aggravation rising in the back of her mind.

"Yeah? So?"

"They'll probably see the moist stain on the towel." Lucy clarified, forcing her voice to remain level.

"I see— don't see the problem though."

"Think about who'll most likely be with them ."

"Gajeel and Laxus but…...ahh—"

Realization dawned on Natsu's face. "I get it now. What you're saying is that they'll probably catch a whiff of your arousal? "

"Well, the lingering remnants of the scent anyway. Seriously though?" he tacked on, lifting a questioning brow."That's what you're worried about?"

"Yeah... I am," Lucy admitted, nerves leaking into her voice. "Aren't you?"

"Not really, no." Natsu gave a shrug of his shoulders—seemingly unfazed.

"Why's that?" Lucy couldn't help but shoot him a puzzled glance. 

"Cuz it'll show everyone how much I rocked your world." Natsu replied, flashing his mate a cheeky grin. " And what's not to love about that?"

"Pervert — of course you'd say that!" Lucy screeched, skin flushing a deep shade of crimson.

"That's me!"

"Ugh, still don't know what to do about the moist spot— those four are never gonna let me live it down."

"You know if you're that worried, I could always use my tongue to clean ya up instead." Natsu drawled with a lazy smirk that set her heart all pit-patter .

"And of course, you'd suggest that," Lucy quipped with a slight roll of her eyes. "Did I mention how much of a horn dragon you are? "

"Yeah, but only for a certain gorgeous blonde of mine and she loves it."

"Oh, she does, huh?" Lucy raised a challenging brow.

"Yep. Don't bother trying to deny it, Luce".

"Ugh fine... you're right. I do. Seriously, you and your colossal ego though."

"Why, thank you! If you're impressed by that, you'd really should see my co—"

The rest of Natsu's words were cut off by Lucy's hand swatting him with a pillow which was met with a snicker.

"Pervert" Lucy deadpanned with another eye roll. "By way, you would've found yourself in the proverbial dog house if you actually meant the other kind of 'fighting earlier."

Only for Natsu's face to instantly fall in response to her statement.

"What?" Natsu objected, gaping at her with wide eyes. " And deprive me of the chance to wake up to your beautiful face each morning for that long?!"

"Yep." Lucy gave a nod by way of reply.

"But why? You know that's not the type of fightin' I met!"

"Well yeah, I know that now. But not earlier when you originally brought up. Just be glad that you didn't bail on our date earlier."

"I didn't though! And never would— honest Luce!" Natsu's voice lifted into a petulant whine.

"Hmm.. Okay, good to know. " Lucy responded, raising her hands to placate him. "Though you'll have to be without me for a few days anyway.

"Wait, seriously?" Natsu faltered , bewildered panic flashing in his eyes. . "Come on! What is it this time?"

"Camping retreat in the woods next week that Cana, Mira, Lisanna, and Erza are organizing— ladies only."

"W-ha?" Natsu continued to sputter, his poor brain no doubt short circuiting by now." But Elfman said that it was open to anyone who's free to go!"

"Really? Lucy mused in thoughtful interest. "That's not what I heard... huh."

"What am I supposed to do without you?"

"How about something fun with the guys? Should be nice, right?"

"Yeah, but so is spending time with you Lucy! It's always more fun when we're together like you said."

"And I don't disagree. Doesn't change anything though. The trip's still happening."

"Didn't say it wasn't but it'd still suck here without you! Natsu moaned, that desperate sense of longing bleeding into his voice. " I'd miss ya' too much! So would our little buddy! Can't we tag along? Maybe Even share an air mattress in a decent-sized tent? I'd gladly help set up and keep you cozy in my arms at night."

"What about Happy?" Lucy questioned, intrigued by his suggestion. His offer does sound really tempting.

"Obviously he'd share the tent with us but would have his own sleeping bag and could hang with Wendy and Carla whenever we wanted alone time. Plus there are all these cool spots I could take you to on nature hikes!."

"Sounds great."

"Course it is! So whaddya say? You onboard?" Natsu wheedled, flashing her what could only be described as the most flawless puppy eyes she'd ever seen.

"Aw that's really tempting and" Lucy gushed, heart contracting at the adorable pout he was throwing in too. Normally I'd say yes"— but it'll have to wait. Thank you though! I'd love to take you up on that offer another day."

"Oh come on— please I wanna go!" Natsu huffed,stamping his foot as if he were a child pitching a fit over being denied a coveted toy- quite an amusing display to say the least.

"Not this time I'm afraid. Sorry, them's the brakes."

"Lucyyyyyyyyy!" Natsu whined again, dragging the syllables of her name with such melodrama that she finally decided to let him off the hook

" Jeez.. enough with the dramatics already. " Lucy yielded with an exasperated groan, You can still come— the trip is for everyone. I was only kidding after all."

Said confession was met with a noise of stunned dimsay from from the pyro.

"Wait... so ya' mean to tell me that this was a joke?! he muttered, voice coming out with a small pinch of disbelief. "You were pulling my leg the entire time?"

"Yep— consider it payback for me making think you were gonna ditch earlier."

"That's why? That's not nice, Luce— not very nice at all." Natsu grumbled, though not with any real heat.

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" Lucy baited, a daring lilt to her words.

" Oh —- wouldn't you like to know?" Natsu rumbled, eyes sparking in a such a calculating way that it sent a electrifying chill down Lucy's spine.

"I would— ngh! Nastuuuu!"

The rest of what Lucy was attempting to say Lucy's words were cut off by the lighting- fast sweep of Natsu's velvet tongue up her thighs . Not to mention that electric high-voltage jolt of ecstasy flooding her veins.

"There! that should show ya!" Natsu let out a cackle of glee. " Not to ever play dirty tricks on a dragon I mean. Guess you're not gonna need that towel after all, huh Lucy?"

"My God..."

"Yeah, I know . Just that amazing with my tongue, I guess. Natsu purred, voice laced with am indecorous promise "Plus, hearing ya' scream my name like that just gave me another hard-on that I'd love for you to see .. "

"Jeez … of course it'd would . and no real shocker that you would say something like that."

"Yep- you know me so well, Luce. and it's not like you're complain' anyway. Want me to prove it?"

" Maybe.. But God- you're such a pompous ass, you know that?"

"Yeah but all part of my charm, sweetheart."

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A/N: And that's Chapter 9 folks! My apologies for the delay by the way! I originally wanted to post this much sooner but got hit with writer's block after getting a somewhat stumped on a particular segment of this chapter. I've also been with my other ongoing fanfics, WIPs and responsibilities among other things in my life . That all aside, at least this chapter was finally posted! Now please feel free to do me a solid and let me know what you think by leaving a comment/ review! Stay tuned for Chapter 10 too! Oh and please feel free to check out the rest of my writing which can be found above, on my profiles and in master post if reading this on tumblr. All right, that's pretty much all I have to say for now! Thanks to all my mutuals/friends, readers and followers for their continuous support over the years! (Corresponding links for the master of my writing and profiles can be found above, in the navigation bar of the desktop and bio if reading this on tumblr.) Until next time-take care!

[for-fucks-sake-h]

Smooth Operator: Part Four

Word Count: 10.9k // Rated: M, mature // Story Page 

*Y/N’s texts are in italics. Harry’s texts are in bold.*

The oc version of this story can be found on Wattpad.

***

When Harry woke up the next morning he felt like he had been hit by a truck. He felt like he would have after a night of drinking tequila, only he didn’t have an ounce to drink the night before.  

Everything flooded back to him the moment his mind was awake enough to allow it, still crystal clear and burning.  When he ended the call he tossed his phone to the end of his bed and pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes, feeling the wetness seep from his lashes onto his skin.

The way he felt when he talked to Y/N was unlike anything he ever felt before, the feeling only intensifying every time they coaxed each other to their orgasms.     

The words spilled out of him the same way his orgasm did. He had no control over it, too overwhelmed with how he felt about her to stop it.  He replayed the way he practically begged for her; reached his hand out for her to take but was left standing alone.  

He watched her call come through the night before, choosing not to answer it. His throat burned with emotion as his vision blurred from the tears brimming his lash line. He rubbed his palms into his eyes as he took a deep breath before placing it face down on his nightstand.  

Normally he had an antsy feeling in the morning, eager to start the day with a message to her or to find her reply from whatever he said the night before. But not this morning. This morning he didn’t want to see another simple call me message from her.

He left his phone in his jacket during his guitar lessons.  He kept it face down when he was watching Netflix that night. The more he told himself to get over it the better off he’d be.

But when his willpower wasn’t strong enough and he found himself pulling up their text thread he couldn’t help the sinking feeling he had deep in his chest. So he muted their chat, out of sight out of mind. At least that’s what he told himself. But she wasn’t out of his mind. Not even a little bit.

***

Y/N woke up much earlier than she would have liked on a Sunday, the chill of her room making her shiver.  As her eyes blinked slowly, adjusting to the sunrise filtering in from her window, she thought the same thing she did every morning. She thought of him.  

Those first few seconds were bliss, her mind conjuring up an image of him laying next to her, pale green eyes already looking back at her. But just as quickly as she imagined it, reality snuck back in.  

They haven’t spoke in two weeks and every day broke her heart a little more. When Harry ended the call that night she tried calling him back immediately, crying harder when he ignored her.  She was overwhelmed and taken by surprise, never expecting that he actually wanted them to meet. If she had some time to process it and think it over she wondered if she would have reacted differently.  But when he sprung it on her the way he did all she felt was nervous.

She had plenty of time to think about it now.  It still made her nervous but not enough that she wanted this to continue.  She missed him. It’s crazy how he is the very first thing she thinks about when she wakes up.  But now as she thinks back, he had been her first thought for a while.  She fooled herself in thinking the reason she thought of him as soon as she opened her eyes was because of the text that was undoubtedly waiting for her. She doesn’t have his morning texts anymore but she’s still thinking about him.  

She pulled her phone from under her pillow, checking their text field to find nothing, again.  She sent him a few texts, all sitting in their chat unresponded to.  The first few he saw, the double blue checks being lit up with the rest being delivered but unread.  

When he ignored her first call she texted asking for him to call her back, remembering how she watched the message mark as read, waiting a few minutes for a reply that never came.  She tried again the next morning only for the same thing to happen.  Watching him read her messages and choosing not to respond felt like a knife stabbing into her stomach and twisting with every message that he ignored.  

After a while, she stopped trying to get in touch with him.  Once another call went unanswered and messages started going unread, even a voice memo of her asking him to please, please, call me not even reaching him.  

She thinks about how he sounded on the phone when he realized she wasn’t going to say yes.  When he recognized that she wasn’t going to reciprocate the yearning to meet face to face.  She thinks about it all the time and it still makes her heart drop.  He sounded so broken.  She hated that she made him feel like that.  

She turned over to face the wall, closing her eyes to force herself back to sleep, a hot tear slipping from her tear duct against her will.  

***

Harry walked from the train to his guitar studio like he did every Saturday morning, with a coffee in hand and his guitar bag slung over his shoulder.  The sun was bright for a change, casting warmth down onto his shoulders, a contrast from the chill of the wind that still bit at his face and hands.  He pulled on the strings of his Randy’s Donut hoodie, tightening the neck closer to his skin for the remainder of the walk.  

He was in a good mood.  The weather was starting to get to a more decent temperature.  He wasn’t trekking to the studio in the dark like he usually did, having his first appointment later in the morning for a change.  Even the people around him seemed happier, the first inklings of good weather raising everyone’s smiles a bit.  

The bell hanging from the front door of the shop rang when he walked in. It was a little hidden gem, situated at the end of a small strip mall with four other stores. The front was a guitar shop with all kinds of different styles lining the walls.  There were records for sale and every type of equipment you could think of or need for a guitar.  And in the back there were two small studios where lessons could be held. His room was on the right, the one with windows that surprisingly enough let some great light in.   

He got himself settled, still having some time before his lesson started.  He sat down to finish his coffee while he played on his phone.  He was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram when the thought of checking his Whatsapp came across his mind.  His thumb stopped scrolling as the temptation washed over him.  

He hasn’t spoken to Y/N in over a month.  After that last night, he resigned himself to getting way too attached, which was one of the things he always told himself not to do.  He constantly reminded himself that it was just a side job, that his website was like a brand, bringing in extra money when he had the time.  He was good at keeping people he met from there at arm’s length, both for his own good and theirs.  It was a business transaction, he thought.  

Until it wasn’t anymore.  There was a part of him that was mad at himself. Mad that he let it go that far, mad that he let himself dive in blind without any thought if she was going to be there to catch him. He completely disregarded everything that worked for him in the past, pushing it all to the side.  And look where that got him.  

The first week without her was brutal.  She was all he thought about.  There were so many instances when he wanted to give in but what good would it have done?  She made it clear that she didn’t want any part in meeting him.  She liked where they were; their little bubble they concocted.  She didn’t want to pop the bubble and let them out into reality, to give it a chance to see if they could even survive.  It was reality now though.   

Each week got a little easier for him.  He had less of an urge to call her, less of an urge to check his Whatsapp, less of an urge to know what she was doing every night at the times they use to talk.  

She still crossed his mind though. He knew that would take a while to stop, if ever.  Random things, like when he ate cereal, when The Notebook was playing on tv one night, when he heard a woman’s giggle at work, small moments in time that would make him think of her.  It felt like he was hit in the gut the first time he thought about something random she said. But every time it happened it did get a little easier.  Today - thinking about her now - he feels sad.  But he doesn’t feel wrecked.  And he can shake it off instead of letting it consume his mood for the rest of the day.  

“Hey mate,” he lifted his head to be met with a smiling boy, ready for his lesson. 

“Hey Tim, y’alright?”  

“Yeah man, you?”  

“Yeah, yeah, can’t complain,” he smiled at the young boy.  He’s been giving him guitar lessons for three years now.  It seems so long ago looking at him now, nearly ready to leave secondary.  “So we only have two more lessons, yeah?”    

“Yeah so we have to make them good. And I already know what song I want to learn,” Tim said with a small smile.  

Harry smirked at his shy demeanor, “Yeah? Something special?”  

“Yeah… there’s this girl…”  

“Ahh, I see. Wanna impress her, huh?” Harry teased with a warm smile.  

“Kinda,” Tim smiled.   

“Alright, out with it,” Harry chuckled as he stood up to grab his guitar, “what song is it?”  

“The Only Exception…” Tim replied, making Harry’s heart drop.   

“What’s your favorite song?” Harry asked.  

Y/N hesitated for a few seconds before she giggled, “I can’t tell you.”  

“Why?” he laughed as he turned on his side and placed his phone on his pillow next to his head.  

“You’ll laugh at me,” she chuckled.    

It was Sunday night and they were both winding down for bed.  They had been talking for hours already, prompted by Harry texting in the afternoon that he missed her.  Admitting that he needed her so bad that he couldn’t think straight.  He didn’t initiate sex often but when he did, it was like he didn’t know anything else other than getting them both off as quickly as possible.  And he did, as always.  

“I will not!” he said with an offended laugh.  

“You tell me yours first,” she bargained.  

“Alright, I’d probably say Can’t Help Falling In Love, Elvis,” he said easily. “That’s one that I always go back to.”  

“That’s a classic. I love that one too,” she agreed.  Her heart was beating faster than usual but she wasn’t sure why.  If anything, his answer seemed a little generic. Everyone loves that song. But she knows him now. She knows there’s nothing generic about him. There’s a reason he loves that song and it makes her heart skip.  

“Stop stalling,” he teases.  

“Okay, alright!” she laughed. “It’s hard to have a favorite, you know? I really love a lot of different songs, but… but one that really sticks with me is The Only Exception.”  

“Paramore?” he questions before hearing her soft hum in response. “Wha’s wrong with that?”  

“It’s kinda cheesy,” she says shyly.  

“I think that’s a great song,” he replied softly.  

“Yeah? I don’t know,” she laughs.  “It’s just, I don’t know.  The whole idea behind it, being fucked over in love and getting to the point where you sort of give up on it and then meeting someone that throws all that out the door? That’s powerful. Imagine meeting someone that made you feel that way, how good that must feel. You know? Just being so down and then there’s just someone who’s like, the light at the end of the tunnel. I really love that. I’m rambling,” she laughs, ”gonna shut up now.”  

She didn’t know that the more he listened to her talk, the more he never wanted her to stop.  She was so passionate when she talked about her interests, when she let herself be open enough to share them with him.  

“I like when you ramble,” he said.  “And thank you for sharing it with me.”  

“Thanks for listening,” her voice took on the shy tone he’s come to know pretty well. It always sounded the same after she told him something important to her.  “I like that you pretend you like my rambling,” she teased with a laugh.  

“I’m not pretending,” he chuckled.  

“Yeah, okay,” she mocked with a giggle.  

“I swear. Actually turns me on,” he replied, the smile evident in his tone.  

“Shut up!”  

“Everything you do turns me on,” he said slowly, swallowing thickly before his breathing quickened.  He didn’t laugh, he didn’t tease, he wanted her to know he was serious. He may have said it as a joke at first, but it wasn’t a joke. Everything about her, everything she said, every thought she had, every desire, every single thing about her turned him on.  And it was killing him not to tell her.  “Fuckin’ everything.”

Her breathing became more shallow, he could hear the difference immediately before she whispered, “Show me.”  

“Harry?” Tim’s voice pulled him out of the memory just as quickly as he fell into it.  

“She’s gonna love it. Let’s get started,” he brushed off, bringing his guitar over to sit next to the young boy.  

He got through the hour long lesson.  Barely, but did it.  They played that song more times than he could count now, having the chords memorized on his fingers.  He got through the two lessons that were after Tim’s and by the time he was headed back home a few hours later he felt completely and totally drained. It’s exhausting to walk around like everything is fine. As if there isn’t a weight on your chest that makes you want to get back into bed just so you can sleep through the pain.  

He really had started to convince himself that he was getting over it. Over her. He told himself each day was getting easier. He was just starting to believe that he could move past it. And then that song hit him square in the face, and the chest.  

***

Y/N was laying on her couch, wrapped in a blanket while she flicked through Netflix.  The girls left a little over an hour ago, leaving the rest of her day wide open.  She’s already been aimlessly clicking through the rom coms to find something that peaked her interest but it was coming up short.  

She huffed and rolled her eyes at herself as she put on yet other episode of Friends to rewatch for the hundredth time.  She scrolled through her phone as she listened to the dialogue that she knew by heart at this point.  And as soon as Phoebe starting singing Smelly Cat a sad smile pulled at her lips with the memory of how much Harry laughed at that part.    

She missed him. A lot.  

She tried not to but it was seeming to be impossible.  He somehow ingrained himself into nearly every part of her life without her really noticing. Until she didn’t have him anymore.  Now she thought about him during her day to day life. Memories of conversations they had flicking through her mind, the way his laughed sounded when it bursted from him unexpectedly, how his voice took on the softest tone after she made him come.  

She opened Whatsapp and clicked into their messages without thinking. She couldn’t bring herself to delete them and she couldn’t help going back to them to reread things he said to her.  She scrolled up a bit, thinking about a conversation they had a few days before he ended things.  

“How do I know if I give in that you won’t stop needing me anymore, huh?” Harry asked, pretending he didn’t already know the answer.  

“That isn’t the only thing that gets me off Harry,” she chuckled. “I just really like it and want to be able to hear it anytime I want.”  

“Even when I’m not around?” He questioned.  

“Yeah, sometimes I wish I could hear your voice while I’m at work.”   

“Do you?” He asked softly.  

“Yes,” she replied quietly. “So when you’re busy and can’t reply I could play it on my computer.”  

“You dirty, dirty girl. Wan’ your coworkers to hear it?” he teased.  

“Obviously I would wear headphones Harry,” she said dramatically with a light chuckle.  

“Promise you won’t get it and then disappear on me?” he asked, only a little bit serious.  

“I promise.”     

He hummed as he pondered her request, enjoying the way she huffed when he took too long for her liking.  “Alright, how ‘bout I make you a deal?” he said with a mischievous tone.  

“I’m listening…”  

“How ‘bout… I say it for real first,” he proposed, his voice taking on a lower register. “Then I’ll send you the voice memo after.”    

Her pulse always quickened against her will when his voice dropped into the low, sultry tone it took on when he was about to say something filthy.  Dripping with lust the way he wanted her dripping for him. “Hm, okay. Gotta turn me on first,” she challenged, desperately trying to keep her voice even.

“Ahh right, right,” he played along, “I could start by telling you what I wanna do to that pretty little cunt of yours.”  

She shook off the memory of how hard she came for him that night.  

The way he made her promise that she wouldn’t disappear was ironic now.  Now that he was the one to disappear.  Her thumb hovered over the voice memo.  She had listened to it a few times already.  She was a masochist with the pain she felt from missing him, wanting it to consume her.  So she clicked on the voice note.  

“Please… come for me, baby.”   

His deep, smooth voice still sent chills down her spine. The way he begged and commanded at the same time. The way he needed her pleasure just as much as his own.  She didn’t realize at the time that it was because he was falling for her.  But she knew now and it was all she could think about.  

Her throat tightened with emotion, playing the voice memo once more before setting her phone on the cushion next to her and rubbing her knuckles into her eyes.  She still went into their text thread more than she wanted to admit.  There was still a little part of her that hoped he would send her something even though she knew it was done and over with. She sucked in a deep breath, slowly released it and opened her eyes to the ceiling. There was no point for her to keep hoping. Harry made it clear that he wasn’t going to reach out to her again. She needed to let it go. She needed to delete their messages, it was the only way she would stop looking at them and start to move on.   

She picked her phone up off the couch and angrily scrolled back down to the last message she sent him. But then her heart dropped when she noticed her previously unread messages had changed to two double blue check marks, indicating the messages had been read.  

She panicked for a moment, they definitely were not read before now. She would have noticed that. And just when she thought her heart couldn’t beat any faster she saw that Harry was typing.  

She waited with her heart beating loudly in her ears but the typing stopped and a message never came.  

Harry

She watched the message mark as read. He was still in the chat. He saw all the messages and was currently still in the chat.  

Please Harry. Say something

Read again, but he still didn’t reply.  

I fucked up so bad. I know I did

I’m so sorry

I miss you  

Please let me fix it  

She brushed away a tear that silently slid down her cheek.  He read all the messages but wasn’t responding. She thought that might be worse than him ignoring them. At least before she had the knowledge that he never even saw them. Now he’s reading them and just leaving her there.  Until he was typing again.  

We can’t keep doing this Y/N  

She exhaled the large breath she was holding as she typed back quickly, her hands shaking.    

I know. Can we talk?

Please   

I can’t talk to you right now  

He knew she would be disappointed.  He could picture her sad face and it made his chest feel heavy. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, he was just… still hurt himself.      

I understand  

I just hate how we last spoke

Just give me a chance please

Let me fix it

Harry stared at his phone screen for a few moments, debating how to respond.  He did miss her, even though he was scared.  But he came into their text messages for a reason and there was no point to hold back any more.  She wanted to fix it, and so did he.      

Okay   

Maybe I can call you later?  

Or maybe we could video chat?

He wanted to feel excited but something was holding him back.  This was exactly what he wanted and she was willing to give it to him. So why did he feel so shitty?  He couldn’t help the guilt that was washing over him in that moment. He wanted to just accept her offer but his head was still messing with him.

I miss you

So much  

He inhaled deeply from her messages.  He could hear her saying it.  Imagined the way her voice would break as she spoke, the same way it did the last time they spoke.  He knew he needed to step out of his comfort zone, even though he was terrified.  

I miss you too   

Y/N blew air out of her lungs slowly, feeling the tension release from her shoulders from his simple message.  

Can I facetime you later?  

How about tomorrow night instead?     

As much as he wanted to talk to her and as much as he really did miss her, he knew he couldn’t talk to her tonight.  He wanted to get his head together first, try to mentally prepare himself for them to talk again. They left off in such an awful place and he knew she wasn’t the only one to blame for it. He just needed to give himself a little bit of time to collect himself.  

It’s a date.     

***  

When Y/N woke up Sunday morning she immediately huffed and turned over.  She knew it was early.  She wanted to fall back asleep just so she could waste some of the day away. She also knew that her nerves were not going to allow her to fall back asleep. So she got out of bed slowly, stretched her arms high above her head before she threw a sweatshirt on and took herself into the kitchen for some coffee.     

She did everything she could to distract herself the rest of the day.  Rocco got a long walk, she cleaned her entire flat, did laundry, and got dinner together in the crockpot for that evening. Even while she kept busy she couldn’t help her mind from going there, thinking of Harry.  To say she was nervous was an understatement.  She was so happy and relieved just to talk to him again but that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared.  

Obviously this was it, now or never.  And the closer she got to their agreed time for the facetime the more she felt her heart randomly drop in her chest. She had no idea what she was going to say to him or what he was going to say to her. Well, she had an idea what he was going to say and it made her even more nervous. Just because he agreed to talk now didn’t mean that he had any intention of picking up where they left off.  

If she was honest with herself, she knew it would be pretty hard to just pick things back up that easily. She knew he was hurt too. She could read him even through text messages. There was no charm to his texts, short and even a little bit cold. She really hoped his voice wouldn’t be the same.  

They agreed to talk around 7pm.  She had another couple hours to busy herself with something to kill time.  There was a small part of her that wished he would reach out to her before.  She didn’t even know what she wanted him to say, she just wanted to talk to him.  And she didn’t want it to be tense.  She knew it would be though, how could it not? She would have preferred them to just hash it out through texts but she knew that wasn’t an option. If she was going to convince him that she wanted this - wanted him - she knew he needed more of an effort than that.  

She ate her dinner in front of the TV, cleaned her kitchen again, and went to take as long of a shower as she could as she waited.   

Harry didn’t know how similar his and Y/N’s days had been, busying himself as much as he could leading up to their call.  He had fifteen minutes left and he legitimately felt like his heart was in his throat.  

He wanted it so bad. Wanted her.  

When he thought about the last couple months without her, he shook his head at himself.  He really let his stubbornness get in the way of at least trying to fight for her.  At the very first sign of rejection he fled, his ego clouding his judgment that maybe he sprung them meeting on her in the wrong way.  And now they we’re in this uncomfortable space and he couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault.  He didn’t even give her a chance.    

In that moment, he really felt like there was nothing he could do.  He convinced himself so quickly that if she didn’t want to meet him by then, she probably never would. And the thought broke his heart.   But he knew he probably broke her heart too.    

When he saw all the missed texts from her, the phone calls, the voice memos she left for him even though she knew he wasn’t even looking at them, his heart sunk.  

He had to push that out of his mind now though. He missed her. He wanted her and he hoped she wanted him too.   

Hiiiiiii. I’m ready when you are…  

He sent her a text a little before 7pm, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he took deep breaths to calm his nerves as he waited for her reply.  He watched his message turn to read and waited for her to start typing but it never came.  A few minutes passed and then his phone was lighting up with her video call.   

He took a deep breathe, lifted the phone in front of his face and answered, waiting for the connection to clearly show her face.  

“Hiiiii,” he strung out once he could see her face, a small smile lifting on her lips.   

“Hey,” she spoke softly.  He could tell she was nervous as her eyes flicked across the screen.  

“How are you?” He asked.  

“I’m okay,” her voice sounded sad even though she was desperately trying to hide it. “How are you?”  

“Okay, yeah I’m okay,” he spoke quietly.  

They were both quiet for a moment, just looking at each other through the phone. He thought she was even more beautiful than her photo let on and under any other circumstances he would have told her exactly that.  

He watched her lips turn down and her brow furrow, feeling himself mirror her expression as they searched each others eyes on where to go from here.  

“Harry,” she choked out quietly. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes welled up as she looked at him. Of course he had been falling for her, it was written all over his face.  Maybe they should have done this sooner, maybe that would have helped this mess be avoided. “I don’t even know what to say. It feels so awkward and I haven’t felt this awkward around you in so long I don’t know what to do now,” she sucked in a breath as she hesitated for a second.  “I miss you,” she cried.  

He watched a single tear fall down her cheek and he wanted nothing more to make it stop. He didn’t want her crying over him and all it was doing now was making him realize how much she had probably already cried because of him.  

“Y/N,” he sighed, tears welling in his eyes.  

“No, I fucked everything up and now I don’t even know how to fix it,” she cried again, “tell me how to fix it.”  

She seemed so defeated and she was putting all the blame on herself.  It wasn’t fair. Harry knew he was just as much at fault.  

“It wasn’t just you, Y/N.”  He shook his head, scanning her face as she sniffled before continuing, “I should have talked to you about it more. Should have really told you what I was thinking.”  

“You did! You did tell me and I completely shut you down,” her voice shook as she spoke, wiping tears from her eyes as they fell. “I never meant to make you feel like that,” she shook her head with her lips turned down into a frown.   

“Hey, hey, I know you didn’t. I know that now,” he reassured. “Come on, calm down,” he spoke softly, giving her a minute to try to collect herself.  “I think when you didn’t really say anything… I just shut down, you know?  You didn’t- you just didn’t say anything, Y/N. I got scared,” his voice shook as he spoke, his vision blurry with tears he was praying wouldn’t fall.    

“I know,” she agreed with a sniffle. “I was taken off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say any of that and then you just, did.”  

“I get it, I know I bombarded you with it. I wasn’t expecting to say anything honestly. It just, all started coming out and I couldn’t stop it.”

“How long?” she whispered.  

“How long what?” he replied with a confused crease to his brow.  

“How long did you feel like that? Like you… like it was more?”  

He was quiet for a moment, watching her look at him like she was begging for him to never stop talking. He didn’t realize how much actually looking at her while he spoke to her would make him know what she was thinking before she said it. “A while…” he trailed off.

“Fuck,” she blew air from her mouth, a piece of hair falling out from behind her ear and into her face.  

He wanted to be able to push it back away from her face, to hold it back while he felt the warm skin of her neck under his palm as he pulled her closer.  As much as he tried to get over her, he knew he didn’t.  Looking at her now, he felt exactly the same as he did before he ended it.  

“Nothing’s changed,” he spoke lowly, watching her eyes lift back up to meet his through the screen.  

“H,” she whispered, her brows creasing as soon as she said it.

“You never called me that before,” he acknowledged, his pulse picking up at the nickname and the way she said it so softly.       

“I know, I… I don’t know why I said that.” she spoke with a shake of her head as her eyes fell down.   

“You can call me H, I like it,” he assured, watching as her eyes lifted back up to his.  

She released a deep breath before speaking, “Where do we go from here?”  

He wanted them to ease back into things, if that was something she wanted too.   

“We could… talk like this more?” he suggested, continuing before he gave her a chance to respond, “I mean, through video chat. I know you’re nervous to meet face to face. Maybe this will help… lessen the nerves?”   

She watched the hopefulness brighten his eyes as he spoke, making her heart beat loudly in her ears and thump against her chest harshly.  He really was beautiful.  

“I would love that,” she nodded, her eyes welling again as she looked at him.  She felt hopeful. This was a new start for them and even though she was nervous, she was more excited to see where it went.  

“Cool,” he smiled, making his dimple indent his cheek for the first time. “So, how’s my boy? Can I see him?”  

She laughed as she wiped a tear that threatened to fall before she turned her phone to show Rocco laying next to her.

“Hey buddy!”  He spoke to the dog in a baby voice, asking him how his day was as the dog’s tail wagged excitedly.  

They caught each other up on their lives, conversation flowing pretty steadily, especially from where the call had started.  They felt good as they made plans to talk tomorrow. They were both hopeful and happy and ready to see what could happen.  

***  

“I have to stop thinking about it! Distract me,” she whined with a smile.  

It was Sunday night and in the upcoming week Y/N had a huge entry for the case her and her team had been working on for months.  She was completely overwhelmed and nervous, which she willingly admitted to Harry.  She couldn’t say much about the details of the case but she could complain about how worried she was.  She had been complaining for a while now and was starting to get annoyed with herself, only imagining how Harry must have felt.  He never showed it though, always listening intently and offering comfort when he could. He was sweet but she couldn’t torture him anymore with it.  

He laughed at the way she pouted her lips as a beg, “Okay then let’s talk about something else.”      

“Okay!” She tapped her first finger on her chin as she thought about a new topic. “How many tattoos do you have?”  

Y/N crawled into bed after she spoke, laying on her side with her hand tucked under her cheek and her phone propped up against a pillow.  She watched Harry as he did the same, smiling when he let out a deep sigh once he was comfortable. He looked unbelievably soft in yet another overworn band tee shirt.  It was actually annoying how good he looked just relaxing. His hair was pulled back into a bun and his cheek was pushed up on his pillow making the most endearing crease at the corner of his eye.   

“Uhh, a lot. I’ve lost count,” he chuckled.  

“If you had to guess,” she smiled.  

She watched his eyes lift up as if he was counting in his head, a warm smile spreading across his face as he started to laugh. “At least fifty,” he confirmed matter of factly.  

“Wow, that’s a lot,” she teased in an exaggerated, impressed tone.  

“I know, super tough love,” he smiled, making the creases around his eye more prominent as they competed for her attention with his ever present dimple.   

It’s been two weeks since they started talking again and things were going well.  It was a little awkward in the beginning, needing time to warm up to each other at the start of their call.  But now they talked easily with less and less uncertainty each time.  

“Right,” she laughed. “Okay, which one’s your favorite?”  

“There’s no way I could answer that!”  

“Come on, just pick one,” she rolled her eyes, trying to keep a straight face but it was impossible. Not with the way Harry was looking at her with soft eyes and an even softer smile. “Fine, top three?”  

He groaned as he rolled onto his back, his head tilting back into his pillow as he looked up to the ceiling, pondering the countless tattoos he had scattered across his body.  She watched his jaw flex after he licked his lips.  His profile was… annoyingly perfect. Everything from the straight line of his nose to the sharp cut of his jaw to his absurdly beautiful skin made her attracted to him.  And that was just his looks, not the way he spoke to her or his character, his overall warmth and kindness that mindlessly poured out of him.  

“Alright, I’m just gonna say the first ones that came to my mind,” he only turned his face towards his phone as he spoke, his eyebrows lifted higher on his forehead with his warning. “I have a butterfly on my chest, the anchor on my wrist,” he lifted his hand to the phone to show the tattoo, “and my newest one is a tiger on my leg.”  

“I’ve noticed that one, I like it,” She smiled. “Are there reasons? You know, for why you thought of them first or, why you like them even?”  

“The anchor was a cover up actually. I don’t know, it use to say ‘I can’t change’ and I just, didn’t believe that anymore. Anyone can change, if they really want to.” He spoke softly, his lips caressing every word. Y/N was mesmerized both by what he was saying and just watching him say it.  She thought if she could keep him talking like this forever, she would.  

“Agreed,” she murmured, not being able to help but think how his reasoning applied to their situation as well. “And a butterfly? Where’s that?”    

He lifted the phone from where it was resting against a pillow to hold it above him, lifting his shirt to show the butterfly that occupied the area just below his chest.  She was surprised how big it was and where it was placed. It was detailed and dark but beautiful in it’s own way.  

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting that,” she smiled.  

“No one ever does,” he chuckled as he put the phone back down against the pillow.     

“And the story?”   

“I don’t know, I think I just like the thought of coming into your own, you know?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed, her eyebrows raised in agreement, “do you think you’ve come into your own?”

“I do, yeah,” he confirmed. “When I was younger, I use to care what people thought about me a lot. It made me do things… and also not do things that I wanted because I was afraid of people’s reaction.  But you know what Dr. Seuss says right?” he asked with a smile curling up the left side of his mouth.  

“Yup, I do,” she chuckled, her heart warming listening to him speak freely.  

“So yeah, that’s pretty much the meaning.”  

She nodded as she smiled, “And the tiger?”

“That’s… on my thigh,” he spoke with a small smirk.  He was still laying on his back with his face turned toward the phone screen. His neck was strained in the position, elongated as he looked at her. Her eyes scanned the side of his face that was on display. His cheek looked smooth and soft even with his sharp cheekbone, and his ear was completely visible with his hair pulled back.  She could see the very beginning of one of his collar bones before it disappeared into his shirt and watched the way his chest rose and fell slightly with his breathing.  

“Not gonna show it?” she laughed with a quirked brow.  

He tried to stop his mouth from pulling into a smile as he spoke, “I would, but I’m not- I’m not wearing any…  pants.”

They looked at each other for a moment, not saying anything as they both started to smile.  

“Are you serious?” she laughed.  

“Completely,” he replied, smug and playful.  

Y/N laughed with him as a warm blush rose on her cheeks.  She realized how much she missed talking to him like this. When he was being playful and cheeky.  Their laughter died down together and she couldn’t help feeling a little sad at the time they wasted while they were apart. She should have noticed sooner how much she cared about him.  It was so much more than just enjoying his company.  

“I really missed you H,” she spoke softly, a slight frown on her lips.  

“I missed you too-” he cut himself off abruptly, his mouth closing quickly before he could finish the sentence.  

She sighed, knowing what he was keeping himself from saying. It fell from his lips so easily before and she completely took it for granted. She took for granted the way it made her feel.  She wanted so desperately for him to use the pet name he used so freely before.  

“Do you think you’ll be able to say it again?” she spoke quietly as she looked down at the design on her comforter, keeping her eyes low before she clarified, “maybe not now, but eventually.”     

“I want to,” he paused, swallowing thickly as he watched her avoid his eyes, “so badly.”  

Her eyes flicked back to his through the screen, a soft crease forming between her brows that he couldn’t read. She looked sad, he knew that, but there was something else.  

It was quiet for a few beats before she spoke again, “It… it made me feel really good. You made me feel really good,” she corrected.  

He took a deep breath before his breathing increased slightly.  She was being so vulnerable and it made his chest tighten.  She never spoke like this before, never one to really express her feelings very often, always trying to keep the conversation light and fun.  

“You still make me feel good,” he spoke softly, watching her eyes scan across the screen.  

“Yeah?”  

He hummed in response, watching her eyebrows furrow even further with his admission. He couldn’t help his heart beat picking up as he watched her tilt her face into her pillow more as she tried to hide, only keeping one eye on him for a moment before she started to smile as she turned her face towards the phone again.  

She licked her lips softly before she spoke, “I wanna… kiss you, so bad right now.”  

Her confession was barely above a whisper.  She tried not to let the fear of him possibly rejecting her keep her from saying it.  She was making an effort to be honest with him and tell him the things she was thinking as soon as she thought them.  And right now, as he looked at her with soft eyes and even softer, beautifully puffy lips, she wanted to kiss him.    

“Baby,” he sighed softly, making her entire body ignite with goosebumps.  He turned onto his side again before he spoke, “I wanna kiss you too.”  

Her chest felt like it was pounding for how hard her heart was beating.  Her breathing audibly increasing as she looked at him. The pet name - her pet name - sounded so beautiful coming from him again.  His simple confession made warmth pool in her belly and her core flutter lightly with need.  She still wanted him just as much as she did before, happy that she hadn’t lost that feeling along the way.  But what she wanted even more was to know that Harry didn’t lose it either.  

“Where?” she prompted softly.   

He scanned her face slowly, realizing that the slight crease between her brows was from her need for him.  He swallowed thickly, feeling his cock twitch slightly from the thought of her still wanting him that way.  

“Everywhere,” he whispered.  

They were both quiet for another moment, just being in this space again that they both missed so much. They had no issues with this before. If anything, this was the strongest part of their relationship. If you could call it a relationship. They were always connected this way. But now there were feelings involved from both ends that made both of their bodies tingle.  

“Fuck,” she sighed, trying to wet her lips even though her mouth had already gone completely dry. “Tell me, please.”  

Harry swallowed thickly again, feeling himself straining against his joggers. He didn’t dare touch himself even though he desperately wanted to, refusing to go there until she did.  

“God, I wanna- I wanna taste your mouth. I wanna, taste every inch of your skin. I wanna press my lips to your neck and feel your heart beating.”  

“It’s racing right now,” she confirmed softly, her cheeks warm as she tried to calm her breathing.  Everything he said turned her on and he barely said anything.  

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” she replied quietly, “are you?”  

“A little,” he spoke with a shy smile. “But I want you,” he breathed his admission as if he had been holding his breath the entire time.  

“I want you too,” she replied immediately, wanting to reach out and stroke her fingers along the side of his neck as reassurance.  

“Trust me?” he asked softly, holding his breath again as he waited for her answer.  

Even after everything, she knew she did. She knew he was a good guy. She knew she cared about him and he cared about her. She knew he wasn’t going to run away again and she knew she wasn’t going to keep herself from him anymore.  

“Yes,” she breathed, “and I want you to trust me too.”  

“I do,” he confirmed with a soft nod against his pillow. “I want…”  

“What?” she whispered when he trailed off, begging him to continue.  

He swallowed thickly as he reeled in the courage to speak, “There are more spots I wanna taste.”  

Y/N’s breath caught as her stomach clenched deeply. His voice was low with his confession, deep and raspy from how dry his throat was. Her lashes fluttered softly as she imagined his lips caressing her skin. “Tell me,” she encouraged again, needing him to say it.  

“Fuck,” he whispered as his head extended back in a stretch for a moment, his chin tilted upwards to his headboard before he brought his face back down to be eye level with the phone again. “Wanna taste your cunt,” he groaned softly between his breathes, “see if you’re wet.”  

“I’m fucking soaked,” she confirmed quietly.  She could feel her desire pooling deep in her belly throughout their conversation, her slickness uncomfortably noticeable if she shifted at all.  

The knowledge made Harry groan more deeply as he scanned her face, needing her pleasure just as much as she did. “Please touch yourself for me, please,” he spoke roughly.  

He watched her face intently as her shoulder raised slightly, knowing exactly when she slipped her fingers between her folds from the way her mouth opened in an almost completely silent gasp.     

“Harry,” she breathed as she dipped her middle finger into herself before pulling the wetness up to her clit.  

“Shit, I want you so bad,” he groaned as he pushed his joggers down his thighs to wrap his hand around his hard length.  Hearing her say his name like that again, with pure desire and need, made his cock throb even more. And watching her face as she said it, seeing the way her features formed into a silent beg, turned him on more than he thought was possible.   

“I want you,” she sighed, “wish you were here.”  

“Yeah?” he moaned softly as he pumped his hand over himself, taking his time to twist his wrist as his palm glided over his cock. “Wanna feel me fill you, love?”  

“God, yes” her head tilted back as she spoke, her voice having the slight whine Harry had come to love, “wanna feel how hard you are.”

“Got me fuckin’ throbbing for you,” he confirmed in a strained voice.  

His tip was leaking precum already, his balls tight as he fucked himself.  But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. When her head wasn’t tilted back, exposing her neck that was practically begging to be bitten, her eyes were intently on his as her mouth hung open in pleasure.   He knew watching her like this would be ingrained in his brain.  

“Oh my god,” she moaned deeply as she watched him lick his palm before it disappeared below the screen again, “Harry.”

“Don’t fucking stop,” he spoke roughly, watching her eyebrows furrow in time with his, her pleasure written all over her face.  Her soft moans made his skin tingle. Her face made his cock throb even harder in his hand.  

She was breathing rapidly, her chest heaving before she spoke, “Fuck, I’ve never wanted someone as much as you.” She exhaled her admission in one breath, sucking in a deeper breath as her eyes fluttered. “Fuck,” she admonished, her voice sounding like she was surprised by her confession.   

Her fingers were soaked as she rubbed slow circles into her clit.  She watched his eyes roll back slowly before he leaned away from the phone a bit to lay on his back again.  She could see his bicep twitching with his movements. His chest rose and fell deeply with his moans and grunts.  His profile was beautifully visible to her as his mouth fell open when he looked down at where he was stroking himself.

He turned his face towards her again, licking his lips as he kept his pace on his cock. “Gonna come,” he warned quietly before a deep grunt fell from his lips when he glided his thumb over his tip.  

“Please, please,” she whispered, “want you to.”  

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment before flicking back to hers, “you have to- you have to come. Please Y/N,” he begged quietly.

“I will,” she nodded as she dipped two fingers into herself, “I’m so close.”  

She pulled her fingers back up to her clit again, the circles smaller as she pushed herself closer to her orgasm. Each time she dipped her fingers inside herself she felt even more wet than the time before.  She was warm and slick, begging to be slid into.  Begging for Harry to slide into her.  

“Have to see you,” he swallowed thickly, a moan getting caught in his throat when he tried to speak again. “Come on, baby.”  

“Fuck,” Y/N’s core tightened harshly as her hips chased her fingers movements against her clit until her mouth fell open in silence.  And then she was gasping, her orgasm shooting up her spine and throughout her body so roughly she felt like she couldn’t breathe.  Her moans were thick and wet as she kept her eyes on Harry.  

He watched in awe, his bottom lip bitten between his teeth for a second before his mouth fell open as well.  He couldn’t look away from her, watching as she absorbed every ounce of pleasure shooting through her body.  

“Oh god,” he moaned deeply.  His cock twitched harshly before he was grunting as rope after rope of cum spilled over his tip to glide down his fingers and pool on his pelvis.  Each pulse from his cock made him groan and whine in his throat, feeling like his orgasm went on forever.  

His hand fell away when he became too sensitive, his cock softening as he tried to catch his breath.  Y/N’s eyes fell closed when she pushed away from the phone to lay on her back.  He watched her as she came down, her face blissed out as she started to relax.    

She turned her face towards the phone after a moment, finding Harry’s eyes immediately.  Neither of them said anything at first as they tried to read the others expression.  

Harry broke first, his lips twitching before the left side of his mouth starting to pull up into a smile.  Y/N giggled softly as she released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.  

“Y’alright?” he asked softly.  

Her heart felt like it was expanding in her chest from his soft tone, “Mhm, are you?”  

“Fuckin’ fantastic,” he breathed with a smile, “bit of a mess, though.”  

“Yeah, me too,” she chuckled.  

“Do you… do you wanna get cleaned up? We could put a movie on?” he asked, his voice sounding shy with his suggestion.  

Her eyebrows creased as her lips started to pull into a smile from the memory of the first time her asked her to watch a movie with him, her cheeks warming slightly.  “Okay,” she whispered.  

“Okay,” he smiled back.    

They both left their phones behind as they went to clean themselves up.  Once they got themselves settled back in their beds with their lights off they found a movie on Netflix that they both had already seen.  And even though their rooms were dark, only flashes of light from their TV’s illuminating their faces here and there, they still propped their phones up so they could see each other.   

It wasn’t long into the movie before Harry spoke quietly, “still nervous about the case?”  

He had a smirk on his face when Y/N looked away from her TV. His eyes looked bright even in the dimly lit room, the shadows making his dimple appear even deeper.  

“Think I’m too fucked out to be worried about it right now,” she laughed softly.  

“Good,” he said with a slight moan.   

They smiled softly before turning their attention back to the movie.  Y/N could feel her eyes getting heavy shortly after, never being able to stay awake long after an orgasm.  

“Harry?” she whispered.  

“Hmm,” he hummed with his eyes still on his TV.  

“Will you stay on if I fall asleep?”  

Her voice was so soft, making him turn his attention to the phone to look at her.  She had turned onto her side, facing the phone with her blanket pulled up over her shoulder.  She looked soft, and comfortable, and incredibly warm, and Harry couldn’t help but think of wrapping her up in his arms.  Imagining pulling her closer to his chest and pressing his face into her hair.  

“Course, love” he agreed softly.  He watched her smile slightly as she burrowed herself into her bed more.  

It was quiet for a few minutes as he focused his attention on the movie before he heard her whisper his name again.  When he pulled his eyes back to his phone, he was met with her sleepy eyes already peering back at him.  

“I’m definitely falling,” she said quietly.   

His heart flipped from her soft confession, his eyebrows furrowing slightly with admiration for the vulnerable girl looking back at him.  

“Me too, baby.”  

***

It had been a long week for Y/N as she prepared for the last presentation for her case.  But it was finally Friday and she was ready.  Her knee bounced with nerves as she waited with her team to be called into the presentation room.  

She hadn’t spoken to Harry much since he distracted her from the case, preoccupied with this case even as her other assignments piled up.  They had a few brief text exchanges throughout the week.  She was even too tired by the end of the day to call him, passing out as soon as she laid down.  Three times it was on her couch shortly after she got home, getting home late each night as she put the finishing touches on her work.  

She was pulled from her thoughts when her and her team were called into the room, taking a deep breath as she smoothed her skirt and walked into the full room with her head held high.

It was only two hours later when she and her co workers were pouring champagne in her bosses office, celebrating the win.      

Her boss raised her glass, everyone in the room mirroring her action as they waited for her to speak.

“Cheers to team work, to making it happen, and to every single one of you brilliant people. It’s an honor to work beside you all.”  

“Cheers!” everyone was beaming as they clicked glasses before taking sips.  

“And to Y/N,” she continued, focusing her extended glass in Y/N’s direction, “for leading this case with as much integrity and dedication as she has with every other assignment.”    

“Cheers!” the room said in unison again.  

Y/N smiled softly with a blush to her cheeks, her eyes welling with tears.  This was what she was meant to do.  She worked hard for this and she was proud of herself.   

The entire office engaged in a celebratory luncheon with a huge spread of food and drinks.  Everyone was smiling as they discussed details from the case and things that they thought sealed the deal.  

Y/N was so happy. Truly.  But there was one person she really wanted to celebrate with.  

Once she had the chance, she snuck away to climb the flight of stairs that led to the rooftop.  The sun was bright, warming her face even further as she tapped on Harry’s contact.  

“Hello?”  

“We won,” she breathed into the phone, feeling her throat tighten when she heard his sigh.  

“Congratulations, love” he spoke softly, “knew you would.”  

“Did you?” she asked with a raised brow and a small chuckle.    

“Course,” he confirmed, the smile evident in his tone, “told you that you can do anything, didn’t I?”  

“Yeah, you did,” she agreed, thinking of all the times he told her to stop worrying about a case, that she would do great.   

She was quiet as her eyes filled with tears again, sniffling softly before she spoke, “Let’s celebrate.”  

He laughed softly, “Okay?”  

“Tonight. Let’s have dinner,” she spoke quickly, pushing the words out of her mouth while she still had the nerve and overwhelming need to share this with him.   

He was quiet on the other line, making her heart sink in her chest. “Really?” he asked softly.

“Unless you have plans,” she trailed off.

“No, no, I don’t. It’s just, you sure?” he stammered slightly.   

“Positive,” she replied instantly. “I wanna share this with you, Harry.”  

His lips formed into a smile as his heart rate spiked, “Okay, we can meet at Bocca di Lupo?”

“Great, is seven okay?”  

He glanced at his watch, seeing that it was nearly four already. “Yeah, seven works.”  

“Okay,” she said shyly.  

“Okay.”  

It was quiet for a few seconds before Y/N spoke again, “I can’t wait to see you.” 

“Me too, love,” Harry’s heart felt like it was going to leap from his throat, his nerves erupting beneath his skin as he slowly came to terms that they were actually meeting tonight.  

“So I’ll see you later?” she confirmed again, looking for any reason to stay on the phone.  

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Hey,” he paused, “congratulations again, baby.”  

Her throat tightened from the sincerity in his tone, making her reply with a soft, “thank you.”

“I’ll see you later,” he confirmed, listening to her quiet agreement and goodbye. 

As soon as the called ended he grabbed his keys and wallet and headed out the front door, looking up the restaurants number to reserve a table.  He had just enough time to go grab a new shirt.  He hardly went to nice restaurants that required him to be dressed in anything other than a tee shirt and he definitely thought this warranted a new shirt.  

He returned home a little over an hour later with a light blue button down.  When he told the sales woman what he needed a new shirt for, she excitedly brought him over to the display, picking up the shirt that she said, ‘closely resembled the Gucci Bee Jacquard Oxford Duke’, minus the hefty price tag.  

He showered quickly, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him as he wrapped a towel around his waist.  He grabbed his razor and lathered his face, opting to be clean shaven instead of sporting the slight stubble he had been accustomed to lately.  He couldn’t help but wonder where tonight was going to lead, and if he was granted the opportunity to be that close to Y/N, he wanted his face to be soft.  

His mind got the best of him, making his hand shake slightly and cause a small nick on his chin.  He stood at his sink, setting his razor down slowly to take to gripping the sinks edge as he took a deep breath to steady himself. He was nervous. The unknown of the evening making his mind run wild. But after a few steadying breathes, he pressed a small piece of a tissue onto the cut and went back to finishing the rest of his face, adding a tiny bit of after shave to his skin once he was finished.      

Dressed in all black skinny jeans and boots and a sleek black blazer over his new shirt, he left the top three buttons of the shirt open, his chest on display as his cross glistened in the light.  His hair was drying in loose curls that he tucked behind one ear slightly.    

He looked at himself in the mirror hanging in his bedroom as he adjusted the collar of his shirt.  He took a deep breath as he extended his arms forward quickly so that the blazer would lay effortlessly against his shoulders.  

This is it, he thought.  

The drive over felt longer than it should have as he tried to make conversation with his uber driver to distract himself from his nerves.  He was fifteen minutes early and followed the hostess back to their reserved table situated in the corner of the restaurant.  

It was busy, waiters hustling around the floor, groups of people laughing as they enjoyed their meals.  He thanked the hostess as she placed the menus in front of the two seats, his heart racing as he sat down to wait for Y/N.   

He had a perfectly clear view to the entrance that he tried to keep his eyes from flicking to every few seconds.  For as loud as the restaurant was, he could hear his heart beating even more. He mindlessly smoothed out his shirt and adjusted his collar for the third time already.  He was fidgeting, looking for anything to distract himself from the front door.  

He took to looking at the menu, reading it over twice as he pulled on his bottom lip nervously. His heart sank when the sudden thought of what if she doesn’t come? popped into his head.  He shook the feeling off quickly.  She would never do that.

With his head down, he took a deep breath to try to settle himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment right before a waiter came over to fill his water glass.  

When he looked up to thank him, his eyes flicked to the door at the exact moment Y/N pulled it open.  The late sunlight shone through behind her, bright and illuminating around her beautiful face as she entered the restaurant.       

He watched her walk to the host, feeling his heart beating faster than it ever had.  She looked… stunning. He knew she would. But to finally see her in person; to see her mouth as she spoke to the hostess and the warm smile that spread across her face as she thanked her, made him feel like he could stop breathing at any minute.  

As the hostess turned around to lead the way, Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting his immediately.

Saying she was nervous leading up to this date could not even begin to cover how she was feeling.  Her anxiety was at an all time high. Her palms were sweating and her heart felt like it needed to be physically removed from her body.  There were so many things running through her head at once. What if it was weird? What if he wasn’t attracted to her in person? What if they didn’t click as much once they were face to face? But then she saw him, and remembered that he was Harry. Her Harry. He had become her Harry over the last few months. And it couldn’t not be everything she wanted and more, just because it was him.     

Her eyes didn’t pull from his at all as she slowly followed the host through the restaurant.  Her heart was pounding as everyone and everything around her disappeared, her sole attention focused on Harry.  

As she got closer to the table, she felt her mouth pull into the smallest, most knowing smile. Unable to fight it even if she tried.  And as she watched Harry’s expression mirror hers, his expression warm and full of wonder, dimples poking into his cheeks beautifully, she knew this was it.    

“Hi, baby.”    

***

masterlist || talk to me

Extra: I’m With You 

[rambling-at-midnight]

Inferno: Part 3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

God I love Peter Parker so much. Anyways, he’s a dork even when he’s Spiderman. This is so fluffy I’m gonna get cavities. I have so many great ideas for next chapter! Also, I lied; there’s gonna be at least 5 parts.

You’re thankful for your fans. You really are. A good majority of them are sweet, caring individuals completely appalled at the blatant lies the American government sent out as a reason for your arrest. It’s nice to see people promoting positivity.

Unfortunately, being rich and having fans can sometimes lead people to hate you for no other reasons. You’re not saying there are rich people that don’t deserve to be loathed. Of course not. And maybe you do deserve to be hated. You’ve certainly done enough questionable stuff.

But at this point scrolling through your notifications feels like playing Russian Roulette with every chamber loaded.

cap2n/merica: Hey @Y/N_Stark, just do us all a favor and turn yourself into the authorities before you start melting people again.

bigbossbitch: @Y/N_Stark is another case of gross celebrity misconduct. Yes, her jail time was wrong, but now that she’s been released she’s just another spoiled celeb kid born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She gets away with murder just like her father does because of their wealth and it’s a sign of the American government’s (1/2)

You don’t feel like finding the second part of that tweet.

givemebackmymeat: @Y/N_Stark is an ice bitch

Stacey-Toland: yeah it’s great and all that New York gets Spiderman and @Y/N_Stark , but if they really cared about people they would branch out and help people in cities with a lot more crime. New York doesn’t need the Avengers, Spiderman, AND Inferno!

just-a-dumbass: y’all Inferno is the dumbest superhero name i’ve heard in a long time @Y/N_Stark

With a sigh, you turn your phone off. The public outcry will quiet down after the official statements are released. Everyone needs some time to cool off.

The pesky bandages on your hip crinkle as you sit up. You rip them off without looking. Tony insisted that you wear them last night after Helen Cho fished the bullet out of your hip. There’s no pain this morning, and you don’t even need to check to know there’s no scar.

The temptation is too great. Maybe you’re a masochist. You grab the phone before sitting down on the toilet, determined to find at least one positive comment about you in your feed. You try Instagram instead of Twitter this time. Since your public appearance last night, comments on your last post about a year ago have been flooding in.

spideyismydaddy: hey @The-Official-Spiderman what do you think about @Y/N_Stark? She invading your territory or what?

You click on @The-Official-Spiderman. It’s got to be a spoof or fan account, right? Sure enough, the account isn’t verified. You almost swipe out of it but your eyes catch on some of the photos he’s got uploaded. Either he’s super good at photoshop, or...

Is this really Spiderman’s account?

The photos look exactly like the crime-fighting spider you’d encountered last night. He doesn’t have a recent story that you can watch, but he does have a highlight story that you click on. In the first one, he does a backflip. The second clip is of him racing a train and winning. The third one is a pretty picture of the sunset.

You rest your hand on your cheek. Before you know it, you’ve watched his entire highlight story and wasted fifteen minutes sitting on the toilet.

“Miss Stark, your father wanted me to inform you that breakfast is ready,” FRIDAY says, making you jump a little bit. At first it had been a struggle to stop talking to her. The amount of times you’d say, “FRIDAY, turn off the lights,” or “FRIDAY, what time is it?” is a little bit embarrassing. No doubt how many times she’ll startle you will be embarrassing too.

“Sure,” you grunt, throwing a MIT sweatshirt on and shoving your phone in its pocket. “Coming.”

“Morning, sweetie,” Tony says cheerfully, attempting a smile when he looks at you. “I made your favorite—waffles.”

“Great.” You try a smile yourself. “I haven’t—that’s—thanks, Dad.” You’d been about to comment that you haven’t had waffles for over a year, but that would probably bring down both your spirits.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” You take a big bite of waffle and look as innocently as you can at your father. “Just peachy.”

Tony gestures to his own hip. “No... pain? Bleeding? Scar?”

You shake your head and shrug. “Healed overnight.”

“Good.” Your dad actually fiddles with his fingers as you take another bite. “I, um... I don’t know what you want to do.”

I want to spend time with you is the first thing that crosses your mind but it sounds way too sappy and weak. You settle on a shrug. The familiar fire under your skin wavers and you scowl to bring it back to a simmer.

The next time they try to take you away, you’ll be prepared. Even if you have to take out thousands of agents. But you can’t let go of your anger for even a second.

“I have an idea,” you say after another awkward silence, struck with a great idea that would involve time with your dad but doesn’t involve actually asking for it outright. “I couldn’t keep up with all the new shows and movies that came out. Maybe we could get Disney+ and, I don’t know, watch The Mandalorian? I saw a lot of Baby Yoda memes online and it looks like a cool show.”

“That’s the new Star Wars show that came out, right?” Tony checks. “With the ugly green baby?”

“Hey! He’s not ugly!”

“Well,” he starts. You already know he’s about to suggest a bad idea. “Star Wars is probably Parker’s expertise. Considering both of us won’t know what’s going on, maybe we should call him and have him here? Just to translate the nerd stuff to the non-nerds?”

The hand holding your waffle clenches. You should have known that Tony would try to involve his precious Peter Parker so he wouldn’t have to spend time alone with you.

The waffle starts to smoke and you drop it with disgust. “I’m going to the training room.”

“Come on, Y/N—” Tony starts but you stomp off. Why won’t you understand that he just wants you to make a friend? He’s not trying to replace you with Peter—he’s trying to get you to replace Tony, at least a little bit, with Peter.

Tony eyes the waffle you hadn’t finished. A clear outline of fingers is burnt onto its surface.

You stalk through the compound angrily, halfway expecting a team member to jump out at you. You were the last one to be released, after all. Then again, they’re all under house arrest or on the run. But what about the ones that had sided with Tony? “Where are they?” You’d love to run drills with Nat or talk with Rhodey.

“Tony cleared his schedule for the next week,” FRIDAY informs you. “He wanted this to be a more relaxed homecoming so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed before more enthusiastic well-wishers arrived.”

“He cleared out his schedule for everyone except Peter fuckin’ Parker,” you mutter. Jesus, how important is this kid to Tony? First he never stops talking about him to you, takes him to pick you up from jail, and now he’s banned everyone but him from the compound?

For lack of sparring partners, you decide that lifting weights and running on the treadmill wouldn’t be too bad. Thankfully your muscles didn’t atrophy too much while you were locked up, though you rarely mustered the energy for exercises. You left the heat simmering under your skin at all hours. Judging by how many times you woke up to singed blankets, you started doing it in your sleep too.

No doubt due to the Extremis, you can lift every weight in the weight room—together. It’s too easy, so you move to the treadmill.

Your feet pound on the track. With every step, another thought bombards your mind: Peter Parker smiling, how you spent three months in the cage before they consented to giving you a plant, the cell smaller than your whole bed, you never even saw the sun for months, Tony coming to brag about Peter fucking Parker—

Only when your foot hits the ground do you realize that you’re running hot. “Shit,” you mutter, reaching for the ‘off’ button. Your whole body is glowing bright red and instead of turning off, the keypad melts at your touch just like how your shoes had melted off and how the track is hardly more than a melted pile of goo around your red-hot feet. The poor treadmill gurgles unhappily and its gears stop churning.

“Miss Stark, you are not wearing your fireproof clothes,” FRIDAY points out.

“Yeah, I got that, FRI,” you respond through gritted teeth, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You need to calm down before your clothes burst into flame.

The red hue to your skin fades slightly.

You need to get your excess anger out. And you know exactly how to do that.

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

Some guy swings a metal bar into your face. Something definitely cracks but heals within seconds, so quickly you almost don’t register the pain. It doesn’t slow you down, anyway, and you grab the man’s arm before he can whack you again with the bar. You slam his head against the side of a brick building and he slumps to the ground. If he doesn’t wake up in thirty seconds, you’ve either given him brain damage or flat-out killed him. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Before you can turn around, your back burns. Not the comforting burn of your anger, but a stinging burn that takes your breath away.

You turn around slowly. The man’s partner backs away, his hands in the air as a scared expression takes over his face.

You reach behind you. Your hand hits something hard that makes the pain in your back worse. It’s the handle of a knife, you presume. With a wince, you pull it out of your back. The blade is dark with blood that you already feel dripping down your back. The wound will knit together, scab, scar, and fade. A body’s week- or month-long process of healing occurring in seconds.

You’re not thinking when you brandish the weapon, but thankfully a weird thwip sound interrupts you. The man’s raised hands find themselves stuck against a wall by a white, sticky substance.

“Shit!” a vaguely familiar voice hisses after a second thwip. “Oh Jesus! You killed him!”

You turn around. The man you’d knocked against the wall still hasn’t moved, but there’s a dark puddle spreading around his head. Spider-man takes a quick look at him, shakes his head, and looks at you.

“And you got stabbed!” Sounding sort of like a smothering grandmother, he spins you around and lifts up your shirt. “Oh, shit, that’s a lot of blood...”

“The wound’s probably closed by now,” you mutter. The ground sort of leans away from your feet and strong arms wrap around your waist as something swipes at your back.

“I don’t see an opening.” He gingerly takes the knife from your hand places it on the ground. Then you find that the ground is underneath your butt. Spider-man’s mask swims in your vision.

“I killed him?” you ask blearily. Shit. You can’t afford to be murdering people not two days after being released from prison. They’ll send you back. They’ll lock you in that cage! Is Spider-man here with them? You smack his hands away. He’s here to get you, he’s here to take you—

“Whoa, whoa, let’s calm down a little bit,” Spidey says beseechingly. “You don’t have any wounds, but you lost a lot of blood.”

“It’ll replenish soon,” you mutter. After some sugar. Sustenance. That would help. As if he’d heard your thoughts, Spidey waves something in front of you. It takes a hot second for your eyes to focus on it, but when you realize it’s a churro your mouth waters.

“I did not mean for this to go this way,” he mutters. Almost shyly, he thrusts it at you, saying, “Here. I got it for you.”

You’re not one to refuse free food. If he’s poisoned it, chances are the poison won’t affect you much, anyway. You’ll take your chances.

You wolf the churro down in record time. Now that you’re feeling less woozy, knots are starting to form in your stomach. Spider-man, a superhero largely known for helping people out, just witnessed you accidentally murdering someone.

And you just murdered someone. You need to take that knife and burn it in an alley far from here and toss it in the trash.

Heat rises in your cheeks, but it’s not anger-heat that can be used as a weapon or self-defense. Letting Spider-man see you like that is embarrassing.

“Are you feeling better? I can get you another churro, if you’d like, or maybe a burrito, I think I have enough cash for that...” Spider-man reaches into his back pocket, but maybe his tone is too light, maybe he’s not being nice and he’s trying to lull you into a false sense of safety.

Quick as a whip, you take the knife and hold it in Spider-man’s direction. The superhero falls back, his voice cracking as he exclaims, “Hey! Whoa! Please don’t stick me with that! Do you have any idea the potential ramifications of mixing blood? Not that I think you have STDs or something, but still, I could still get alien bacteria in me! The Extremis is still in your system, right? Well, of course it is! I really don’t need that in me because it might make me blow up! Please—”

You blink. He sounds like a kid. Like someone your age. He’s in no way your father’s age. And he’s definitely not a threat. “Relax.” You close your fist around the knife and channel your anger into that extremity. It melts within seconds and drips to the ground. You shake your hand of the last bit of molten metal and allow the flesh to return to regular temperature. “You’re not going to hurt me for killing him?” Your heart still races in his presence, but it’s starting to calm down.

“I saw everything.” Spider-man stands up awkwardly, especially for someone that can do backflips and crawl up walls, and points up to the top of a nearby skyscraper. “They attacked you. It was self-defense. Besides, these two killed a bystander in a shootout recently. I’m not saying they deserved it, because that would be really mean to say, but I’m also not saying that you’re a terrible person. You know?”

“You certainly talk a lot,” you comment. It’s amusing.

“Do you want me to stop talking?” Spider-man rubs his neck. “I know it can be annoying. My friends—”

You shrug. “Why were you watching?”

“Well, last night you got shot, right? And I see you out again fighting crime. So I’m like, ‘Holy crap, is she in pain, she’s probably not all right, maybe she’s getting mugged because she slept on the streets because I didn’t help her when she got shot in the hip and then you slammed that dude against the wall and I saw the other dude stab you and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the point.” You stuff your hands in your pockets. “It was my fault, anyway. If I was wearing my suit the knife wouldn’t have gotten so deep in. It probably wouldn’t have gotten in at all.”

“Why are you just wearing a MIT sweatshirt and sweatpants, by the way?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t be bothered to change.”

“Well, I think you’re going to have to now. There’s a big hole in your sweatshirt and your whole back is bloody.”

“Shit,” you mutter. “But that’ll lead people back to... him.” You shoot a glance at the dead man. “And he’s going to snitch on me.” You shoot a nervous glance at Spider-man. You have no idea how he’ll react to you considering a tied-up would-be mugger.

Spider-man shakes his head. “People will see my webs. They’ll blame me.”

“So we’ll both be blamed,” you say grimly. “Great.”

“Yeah, The Daily Bugle is going to have a field day. But we should get out of here.” Spider-man puts a hand on the small of your back (right where you’d been stabbed) and gently applies just enough pressure to get you moving. Shocked at the gentlemanly gesture, you take a few steps before remembering your bloodstained clothes. “I’ll get you new ones,” Spider-man says grimly when you voice your concern. “But then I won’t be able to get you a burrito.”

The sweet concern is touching. “It’s really okay,” you say. If you had your credit card, or any cash on you, you’d buy the poor boy as many burritos as he wanted. “You gave me your churro. You’ve done more than enough.”

“Well, I wanted to make a good impression!” His voice cracks again.

“Really?” you shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye. “Why?”

“I don’t know a lot of other teenaged superheroes,” he shrugs. “I thought we could be friends.”

See, Dad? You think viciously. I can make friends without your interference. I’ve found a friend loads better than Peter Parker. “Get me a change of clothes and we’ll talk.”

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

“A radioactive spider, huh?”

“Yeah. And I know all about the Extremis. Killian.”

“Yeah. He murdered my mother and then tried to blow me up but my body didn’t reject the serum.”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Your mother’s death is like a bruise; tender when you poke at it but livable with. “What about your parents?”

“Oh, they’re both dead.” Spider-man gives you a half-shrug. “I live with my aunt. My uncle used to live with us until he died.”

“Shit, dude.” You lay down on the skyscraper, hesitant, and fold your hands together over your stomach clad in the I <3 NEW YORK sweatshirt Spider-man bought you. Goosebumps rise on your exposed legs, courtesy of the NEW YORK sleep shorts he’d barely had enough money to buy at that sleazy mart. What would you want someone to say to you?

“Like you said. I’ve dealt.” Spider-man lies down next to you, watching the sun set.

“I guess we kinda have to be friends, right?” You say after a brief pause of silence. “We got all the heavy stuff out of the way.”

“Sweet!” His phone buzzes. He pulls it out and types a quick text to someone. You presume his aunt, considering that’s the only family he has. Or one of his friends.

You can hear the smile in his voice and it makes a smile spread across your face too. For the first time you feel the wind whipping and realize you’re not angry. You call the heat back immediately, both to warm yourself and to protect yourself. What if—?

“Can I do a livestream?” Spider-man props himself up on his elbow and holds up his phone, which displays his Instagram page.

“Sure?”

Spider-man rolls up his suit to just under his nose and starts recording a video. You notice he lowers his voice slightly, probably to make himself seem more mature, and roll your eyes. “Hey guys! You’ll never believe who I’m with right now.”

Immediately comments start to roll in and people start sending emojis, mainly hearts.

You wave at the camera before unlocking your phone and following him on Instagram, now that you know it is actually him. A minute ago you’d gotten the notification he’d followed you, so you figured it was only fair.

Spider-man starts to do a run-down of his day, leaving out the man you’d killed. “Then I gave Inferno here a churro and we went shopping because we’re besties.” He nudges you with his arm. “No, but seriously, we had to burn her clothes. I can’t believe that dude threw her in the dumpster. It was disgusting.”

You wrinkle your nose at the camera, actually enjoying playing along. It does make you wonder exactly how much he says on his social media is a cover-up of some sinister stuff. He seems perfectly fine at lying about why you needed new clothes.

“Okay, now I’ll answer some questions...” Spider-man browses the flood of questions. “Okay, well, you guys know I can’t just tell you my name. No, I haven’t seen Iron Man recently. No, I’m not an Avenger. Still. And no, I do not have a girlfriend... Why is everyone asking if Inferno is—no, she’s not!” His voice cracks again and you glance curiously at him, tucking your wild hair behind your ear. The wind is whipping it everywhere.

“What?”

Spider-man just waves a hand at you. “I can’t tell you guys my schedule, either, because the bad guys will take advantage of it. You guys know that. Sheesh. Okay, well, since you guys are being jealous and immature, I’m going to log off now. Bye!”

“Let me guess,” you say sarcastically. “Mostly female fans, huh?”

“It’ll be such a shock when they all find out I’m gay,” Spider-man jokes. At least, you think he’s kidding. After a beat, he clarifies. “I’m not. By the way.”

You shrug and transfer your gaze back to the skyline. The sky is starting to turn orange and pink. “I wouldn’t really care if you were.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Hey, you know what isn’t fair?”

“What?”

“You obviously know who I am. Everyone does.” Not to sound conceited or anything, Y/N, good going... “But the only thing I know about you is that your parents and uncle are dead and you got your powers from a radioactive spider.”

So what, you’re curious about who’s under the mask. Sue you.

“My middle name is Benjamin,” Spidey suggests. “But I’m not going to tell you the rest of it.”

“So I should refer to you as Benjamin?” You don’t take your eyes off the horizon, not wanting to seem or sound pushy.

“Please don’t.” You giggle as he pretends to gag. “You can call me Spidey. I know Spider-man is a long title. As long as I get to call you Y/N instead of Inferno.”

“Sure thing... Benjamin.”

“I should not have told you that,” Spidey sighs. “Um, what else... I, uh, go to high school.”

You nod. “I should still be in high school.”

“You graduated high school when you were fifteen and went to MIT, same as your dad, for two years, same as your dad, and graduated college summa cum laude...”

“Also same as my dad.” You sigh.

“Sorry. I’m just... kind of a fan.”

A weird warm feeling spreads in your stomach, but it’s not Extremis-heat. “That’s okay.”

“And then you were arrested.” Spidey’s tone turns a little bit dark. “You turned eighteen in the Raft.”

“Happy birthday to me,” you sigh.

“It was shitty what happened to you.”

“I’m out now.”

“Still,” he persists. “It sucks I can’t make it better.”

You laugh. “What would you do? We only became friends maybe fifteen minutes ago.”

Spidey sighs. “I know. It just sucks, right? All these powers and we still can barely make a difference in the world.”

You sit up halfway, propped up by your arm. Desperate to make the subject lighter, you say, “Speaking of powers. I know you’re sticky and all. What else?”

“Fast and strong.” Spidey shrugs. “Not much else.”

“Wanna race?”

Inferno Taglist:

@paullrud @eridanuswave @loveissupernatural @moistpotatobear @oh-annaa

Peter Parker x Reader Taglist:

@iconicbabesss

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight

[webcricket]

Looking Glass

Chapter 12 - A Funny Thing Happened on the Road to Amarillo

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 2913

Summary: On route to Texas hot on the heels of an archangel, the consequences of a kiss and a fateful choice begin to unfold.

A/N: Next week’s chapter will be delayed until Saturday 8/18. Thank you to those of you still reading this little adventure! Your “likes” and feedback are mush appreciated!

Miss a chapter? Have a Masterlist Link!

Everything happened so fast.

Flinching from the scald of water running over fingers ruddy with heat, you jab shakily at the faucet and reach up to swipe at the film of soap and steam clouding the mirror above the sink. Stopped at a diner less than a stone’s throw from Amarillo – a kitschy Tex-Mex joint named The Cool Cactus which, when you last laid eyes on it in another world fleeing from the city with your family, stood as an ironically lobular cactus-like heap of rubble with protruding steal rebar for thorns – you understand the ruse has already gone too far. It should have ended at the bunker before it began; Cas would’ve understood then, but now . . . it’s evolved into something you can’t undo without hurting him.

Leaning nearer the smeared glass surface, you peer at the dull reflection therein; the squared edge of porcelain bites painfully at your hips as you angle closer to search the hazy recesses of your face for evidence of the lie. With the heaviness weighing on your soul, it shocks you to find absolute blankness of expression staring back; no visible confession is scrolled in the fine lines etched thereon – no shapes of unspoken words lodge at the angular corners of your mouth waiting for life’s breath to give any indication something is amiss.

Given what’s at stake, the passive calm of your façade – a mask refined over many years of fighting hardship and finagling survival – shocks you. You wonder when you became this person; if, perhaps, you were always so selfish and this is the reason you survived. Time and again, that fickle bitch fate provided you alone another path forward. Alone. Only now, for the first time in a long time, you’re not alone – love of an angel, of all the unlikely beings it could beat out a song for, drums your heart. You dab the pink swell of your trembling lips; the delicate flesh blanches under the pressure. You close your eyes in feeble shield against the waterworks threatening to erupt along with the blissful memory of his kiss.

Knelt at your feet, forgotten feather strewn aside, tears of pain streaming his unshaven cheeks, the spark of something worshipful kindling in a gaze imploring mercy, his vulnerability pulls you in; as soon as the warmth of your lips caress his – the tender kiss barely a brush of breath – any hesitation Cas harbors concerning the revelation of his own emotion dissipates. Latent love unbridled by your advance, he abandons controlled celestial resolve in favor of the reactive desire instinctually driving his vessel.

Dispelling all space separating you, he suspends, it seems, time itself; for a breathless interlude the energy of his grace envelopes you beyond the purely physical in a corporeally transcendent blaze of devotion so luminous it would appear to anyone outside the intimate vantage point that the whole of creation revolves around your magnetically tangled figures – surely no star burns brighter in the universe. Within this light burst of entwined eternity there exists only the wet heat of his mouth ravishing yours, the pulse of your flesh rising beneath his scrabbling fingers, and the cushioned crush of your spine against the wall of wings encasing you unyieldingly in his embrace.

In your heart you know you need to tell him; he needs to hear it from you. Perhaps then . . . you twist the flats of your palms to daub weepy eyes. It’s not your lie, and yet you’re not exactly an unwitting accomplice. Silence makes you complicit; continued silence means you deserve whatever happens next. But part of you wanted this – wants it still even at the real risk of losing a love you never imagined. Crackle of a sob catching in your throat, your bleary focus falls to the mustard yellow plastic plaque mounted above the tap reminding employees to wash their hands before returning to work. The black letters blend as tears cascade over your lashes to splash the sink without a sound. Damn temptation. Damn weakness. Damn the witch.

Cas groans low at the interrupting thud of knuckles rapping on the door.

The sonorous gravel rub of the sound courses through your body to curl your toes.

“You okay in there?” Dean demands through the wood. He jiggles the locked knob.

Releasing the kiss-bruised tract of flesh above your clavicle with a soft suck, the angel nuzzles and scrapes the scruff of his chin along the exposed column of your throat.

You whimper partly in protest over the ill-timed interruption and partly in response to the sting of pleasure delighting sensitive skin.

The hunter knocks again. “Come on Cas. Open up. How long does it take to pull one out? I figure two, three minutes tops given your lack of feathery action these days.”

Giggling, you grab a fistful of Cas’ hair to swivel his lust-blown concentration from where he scatters tiny ticklish kisses into the hollow of your neck to your love-drunk grinning countenance. “I don’t think he’s planning on leaving without that feather,” you simper.

“No,” Cas grumbles and steals a quick peck of pliant lips when you loosen your grip on his locks. “I suppose he’s not.” Sighing in resignation, conflict creasing his crestfallen mouth, he rolls his half-clothed body to one side of the bed. “And he’s right not to – finding Gabriel takes precedence over all else. Even-”

“Pleasure?” You don’t hide your disappointed frown. Sitting up, you fumble for and shrug on the evidently too hastily discarded sweatshirt and smooth your fingers through disheveled hair.

Observing your fidgeting form, it occurs to the angel, in times of war, the regret infused in those certain regrettable actions applies not only to the ones actually undertaken, but also to the ones denied. He reaches for your hand and presses his fingers into your palm to reassure you the adjournment of his affection isn’t on permanent hiatus.

You squeeze his hand in return to let him know you expect him to make up for it at a sooner, rather than later, date; first a rainstorm, then a Winchester – the third time is sure to be the charm. “Do you boys ever get to have any fun?”

“Historically speaking?” Mollified by your discreet acceptance of the delay despite his dissenting vessel visibly begging more tangible terms of satisfaction, Cas swings his legs off the mattress and unsuccessfully tries to tame the bulge of his trousers into submission by buckling his belt. He peers back over his shoulder before standing, sheer solemnity shrouds his expression. “No.”

“Are you-” Shadow shifting beneath the door, Dean’s voice cracks, “is Y/N in there?”

Blues rolling in response to the astonishment lacing the tone of Dean’s deduction, Cas circles to the end of the bed and lifts his damp dress shirt from where it drapes over the corner; he scowls at the limp garment and shakes it out.

“I got this.” You leap to the floor, retrieve the feather, and move to the door. Hand poised over the knob, you spin to flash a suggestive smile at the seraph and wink. “Might as well finish at least one thing I started tonight, eh?” You fling wide the door.

For an awkward few seconds, Dean’s arms undulate like tentacles at your sudden appearance until he decides shoving them in his pockets is the appropriate course of action. “You two, uh, too busy to open the door or something?”

“Or something,” your smile resets into a sardonic half-grin.

Amusement dimpling his mien, Dean totters sideways on one foot to peer beyond you into the dim room where his friend struggles to shove a soggy suit coat over his shoulders.

Clearing your throat, you ask, “You looking for this?” You hold up the coal black-colored plume and rotate the translucent barb between your fingertips as it glints, tip to base, a metallic silvery-grey hue in the hall light.

Dean’s greens divert back to you. He hums in approval. “That kinky winged bastard.”

When he attempts to pluck the shimmering feather from your grasp, you clutch it to your heart and scoldingly narrow your gaze. “I’ll deliver it myself, thanks. Where is she?”

Blaming Rowena is childish. You had a choice; and across the anxiety-filled miles stretching between the bunker and Texas – Cas’ adorable attempts at conversation, the sweet small strokes of his fingers at your knee entreating you to take his hand, the abiding concern for your comfort, happiness, hunger, thirst, tiredness, current state of your bladder, and inquiries as to the source of your uncharacteristic quietude – you realize you chose wrong. Sniffling sharply, the rough intake of salty tears scratches and sears your sinuses. Swallowing, they stir sickeningly with the bile in your stomach.

“Ah child, good evening.” Rowena’s heavy lashes flit upward in elegant profile to eye you and the feather with equal levels of disinterest. “I see you’ve got the final ingredient for our little spell. Must’ve spent some time cavorting with that dashing angel then.”

Regard roving over the assemblage of odd ingredients and an oversized ancient tome sprawled on the surface of the table filling the expanse between you and the witch, you shrug in matched overt indifference. “Yes, I guess I must’ve.”

Rising, she sashays in a fluid choreography of motion around the table to extend her upturned palm toward you. Pursing her crimson mouth, she says knowingly, “Feeling a wee more relaxed, are we?” Eggplant purple painted nails gleam as she waves her fingers beseechingly.

You drop the feather into the lily white palm. “What’s it to you?”

She spins, curt. “Simply a bit of friendly banter, dear. If it’s more to your fancy, you may scurry off and let the boys know I’m nearly ready.” A bird-like cluck passes her lips suggesting that’s that and she tosses the feather in a wide-brimmed wooden bowl to resume consulting the book.

Wondering about the feather’s role in the mix, you dawdle.

Sensing your continued curious presence in spite of a coolness of conduct on both sides, she marks her place in the text with a fine-boned finger and looks up. Suspicions confirmed of your stubborn intent to linger as you prod at the gnarled remnants of a mandrake root, she inhales a bothered breath. “So . . . where’re you from?”

You steady a wobbling vial of unidentified putrid-smelling olive-brown liquid knocked by your sleeve before glancing up, stupefied by the question. “I-I thought they told you – I’m from the other world.”

Gold-dusted lids dart upward to summon patience and nicety from the thin air for the blundering human that is you. She sighs, “Yes, yes, of course you are, but the world’s a big place, isn’t it? Surely you must be from somewhere a sight smaller than a whole planet.”

“Amarillo,” you mumble, not a particular fan of the mundanity of such small talk.

The mishap of her own motherhood rooted within the redemption on her mind, she meditates aloud, “And your family’s there? Your mum?”

“I imagine what’s left of them is there, if the angel’s left anything at all after the bombing.” You should have been with them. “You know, I never even got to say-” you choke up. It’s a fluke you weren’t with them; you got left behind in a medical camp – back when those beacons of hope still existed – with a taped up injured ankle while your family backtracked home after the initial chaos of the apocalypse to see what remained of your lives there and to determine if it was safe. None of you had any way of knowing about the bomb – a last ditch nuclear effort by some unknown person with their finger on a powerful button to destroy angels en masse where they were rumored to be gathered in Houston planning the next massacre of humankind. Turns out the angels weren’t the ones responsible for that particular massacre of millions.

Blenching, Rowena tucks her chin to her chest. A sincerely somber note lilts her voice, “Ach, that’s terrible.”

Hiding your horror from her at the freshened memory, you flee the room without another word to fetch the brothers and Cas.

Lashes fluttering, a contemplative trickle of a smile twitches the witch’s cheek in your absence. “Truly, truly terrible to never have the chance to say goodbye. To have resolution.” Wistful, she swipes a tendril of red hair behind her ear and redoubles her examination of the book.

Shock, fear, and the part of you holding out hope of seeing the family you thought you lost forever kept you quiet when Rowena grandiosely proclaimed upon completion of the spell’s incantation and smoky climax that Gabriel was in one of two locations. “Central City, Colorado and wait . . . possibly, yes, possibly Amarillo, Texas,” she cooed the name of the second city to everyone’s collective surprise, no one more stunned than you. Smiling, she reserved a special twinkle of her eye for you indicating the rest was in your hands. Wink wink.

Sam questioned the precision of a spell so, well, imprecise. Dean declared it to be the best lead in weeks regardless. The brothers could’ve just as easily laid claim to Amarillo, but they didn’t; Dean called dibs on Colorado after Sam’s knotted brow wordlessly warned his brother this was an archangel hunt, not an episode of Gunsmoke. Cas advocated you join him for the road trip to Amarillo if you felt up to it and as long as you agreed to stay out of the fracas when it came to confronting Gabriel. Dazedly, you agreed. The pieces of the puzzle fitted together so perfectly without your meddling it seemed like destiny, and not the angel you deceived by doing nothing, drove you here.

A tray of dishes clatters to the tile outside the bathroom door. Jeers. Laughter. The tinny clinking of cracked glass and clay being swept into a metal dustpan. You push open the door slowly and peek toward the seating area. The angel waits for you in a booth along the UV-tinted row of front windows. Hands folded on the faux-granite tabletop, his gaze swerves outside.

“I said excuse me!” A waitress in a retro cactus-green dress crowds past you in a hurry.

“Sorry,” you mumble. When your eyes alight again on the angel, he’s peering at you with the sparkle of a smile subverting his stoic visage. You dislodge yourself from the door and stride toward him, weakly endeavoring to emulate his delight. He stands – stands! – trench-coated frame oozing chivalrous charm when you approach the booth and slide in the seat across; this heavenly knight in black-winged armor shtick he has going on for your benefit isn’t making what you need to say any easier. “Cas, there’s something I-”

“One double stack of blueberry flapjacks, extra whipped cream, extra blueberries for the lady, and one cup of coffee, black, for you, sir,” the server interrupts, plopping a plate of scrumptious pancakes under your nose. “Can I get you anything else?”

Cas shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

“Enjoy!” The server smiles and drifts away to check on another customer.

“I hope you don’t mind – I took the liberty of ordering for you. Dean said women find the gesture romantic. I know it’s only a diner, but-” Cas reaches for your hand across the table, stumbling over his words when you yank it out of reach.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You state mechanically, sinking further down into your seat to commence poking at the contents of the plate with a fork – sugary blue syrup swirls into the cloudy foam of cream and all you can think about are the pair of gentle blues fixed on you, caring but confused, and how that shade of kindness will change to anger once he knows the truth.

He might be oblivious to some social cues, but your avoidance and disquiet are too obvious to mistake or ignore. He defaults to the assumption he’s at fault. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything. I-” you falter. You didn’t do anything either, which is the problem. “I-”

His cell phone rings; sitting up straighter, he rifles through his pockets to locate the device.

Pain circles and compresses your temples. A wave of dizziness washes over you and tunnels your vision.

“It’s Dean.” Squinting and tapping at the screen, he sends the call to voicemail. “I’ll call him back.” Gaze returning to you, he rushes to his feet to move next to you. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“My head.” You push aside the plate, overwhelmed by nausea and the situation – stress, exhaustion, dehydration, low blood-sugar, it’s a toxic combination.

He flattens a fretful calloused palm to your forehead. “You said the headaches had stopped.”

You swat him away and put a distance of several more inches between you by moving flush to the window. “They did – this, it’s just a regular headache, okay? I get them too . . . just need a couple of Aspirin, not an angel.” You fear if he touches you, he’ll sense the unsaid. You’re not wrong.

He studies you for a moment as you practically cower in the corner of the booth. “You’re afraid.” Unease hardens his aspect. “There’s something you wanted to say to me . . . before the waitress came, before Dean called.” He motions to lay his hand on your leg; on final approach he decides better of it. “Y/N, you don’t have to be afraid. Not of me.”

Next: Ch. 13 - Lost & Found

[moonyxnights]

“He just said I’m gonna die.” || Suicide Forest- Colby Brock

hunterbunter123: Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Colby imagine based on when they were in Japan in Suicide forest and he protects the reader? Thanks!!

“We need to be prepared that we will see something,” Elton said. Everyone was sat around the hotel room before they headed off to the Suicide Forest.

“What do you mean?” Brennen asked, tapping his foot nervously on the floor.

“He means we’ll see a body,” you spoke up, not looking at anyone as you scrolled through your phone on the directions to the place. “I don’t know if I want to be surrounded by that much sadness, though, guys.”

“I don’t think any of us actually want to go but,” Jay stopped. “I guess it’s just something we have to do.”

You put your phone down, looking up at everyone. “Yeah but you guys know what I’ve been through,” you explained. “I don’t know if I want to backtrack, you know?”

Colby rubbed your back comfortingly. “I’m the same, in a place where you’re finally at ease, but you’ll be fine.” He saw you bite your lip, something he noticed that you did when you were filled with anxiety. “It’s like an alcoholic. They get rid of the temptation of having drinks in their home, which yeah that’s great. But once they’re in the outside world, when they’re at festivals or they walk passed bars or when they’re in bars. They fight that temptation. There’ll be sticky beer on the table that they just wanna tap with their finger and lick it but they don’t ‘cause they fight the urge to and it makes them stronger.” He explained and everyone had listened to him intently, in awe of his example. “By you coming with us, you’ll be fighting against everything you’ve ever been through and you’ll be stronger.”

“Or I’ll be mentally fucked, Colby,” you joked, but you weren’t really joking. You knew everyone was feeling the same way, but you were just being more open about it.

He sighed. “Yeah maybe, maybe not, or maybe both.” He shrugged. “You won’t know though, I’ve been through some things but I’m going because I know I’m surrounded by people who will make me feel okay. You’ll have me and the others. We won’t let you get bad and if you don’t like it then I’ll take you back. I’ll protect you.” He looked around as everyone agreed, nodding their heads and saying their own words of comfort.

“You guys promise?” you laughed lightly.

“When have we ever broken a promise?” Elton said, checking things off through his bag.”

“True-“ you said.

“Yeah, that’s what got us into this situation,” Brennen muttered, attempting to make light of the situation.

“Fine,” you sighed. “But when I say bananas, we’re straight out, okay?” Colby nodded but laughed.

“That’s your safe word?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I like the fruit,” you defended. “It’s filled with potassium.”

“Forest will be scared of how cute you are,” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Fuck off.”

                                                        ***

You were all stood in front of the rope that would lead you into the forbidden part of the forest. You were surprisingly okay, but it was Brennen who was holding a firm grip onto your upper-arm. He would hold onto you and Colby, walking in between you, every time something scared him.

“This is it,” Elton spoke to the camera. “We ready guys?”

All of you stepped over the rope and suddenly you felt a heaviness on your body. You hadn’t felt it at all prior and you began to breathe rapidly.

“Shit, you okay?” Colby asked as you nodded, waving him off. You had gotten your breathe back and were now perfectly fine. “What happened?”

“I just felt a weight on myself, like,” you stumbled over your words. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“I had the same thing,” Jay spoke from the other side of Elton. “Felt like walking into humidity.”

“Yeah,” you said. “It was really hard to breathe for a second.”

You all walked on into the forest, stopping when you heard noises then carrying on again. It had only been half an hour but it had felt like hours. When you came to an area where Brennen felt an uncomfortable presence, he suggested playing the Kokkuri-san. Everyone was sceptical until Colby agreed to do it. You all stood back, apart from Elton as he felt ill, watching them play.

“Kokkuri-san, Kokkuri-san, if you’re here, please move this coin,” Brennen spoke barely above a whisper. “Please move the coin to yes if you’re here with us,” Colby looked up at you.

“This is bullshit, guys, why do you- holy shit,” your eyes widened and Colby quickly looked back to his hand as it moved. You crouched down behind Colby, resting your hands on his back. You were looking for safety, even though Colby was playing the game he still made you feel comfortable. You looked to Elton, knowing that he wasn’t feeling too good, as he stared down at the board. Once he noticed you looking, he looked to you as well.

“Crazy, huh?” Elton joked, seeing your face in shock. You’d never experienced this in person before so you were pretty freaked out.

“It’s fucked shit,” you laughed quietly but hysterically, feeling scared. Colby turned to you to make sure you were okay, kissing your hand that was on his arm.

They carried the game on for a while, asking humorous questions and serious ones. Jay walked around and noticed scratch markings in the trees.

“Guys,” he said. “Look at these,” Brennen stood up to take a look as you stayed put, Colby turned and put his arm around you so that you were now leaning against his chest. He rubbed your arm to both keep you warm and to comfort you. He looked up at the guys as they talked about the tree markings. When Brennen sat back down, they carried on with the game and you went back to sitting behind Colby. You and Jay heard a faint squeal in the distance that nobody else seemed to have heard, but the two of you looked in the same direction and then to each other. You gripped onto Colby tighter.

“You guys hear something?” Elton asked, feeling some sort of tension from your looks.

“Heard a squeal or a scream,” Jay said.

“Like a little girl,” you quivered as you spoke.

“Not a little girl,” Brennen whined. “Anything but that.” He took a deep breathe. “Was that a scream that Jay and (Y/N) heard?” he asked the board. They waited but weren’t answered, “Was that you in the distance?”

Colby laughed. “Sounds like some emo lyrics.” Everyone laughed, feeling at ease since the coin wasn’t moving. “Was that a spirit or a person?” The coin slowly moved towards No then back to Yes. “What the fuck?”

“That means it’s a-“ Jay started to frantically flash his torch in all directions.

“Person.” Elton finished.

“Could be lying, though,” Brennen calmed everyone down. “Remember, they like to lie. What else to fuck with us than to think there’s someone here with-“ You let out a scream, sending everyone into panic.

“What?” Colby turned sharply, making sure you were okay. “Did you see something or someone?”

“A moth tried to fly in my mouth,” you spoke loudly, forgetting where you were. Everyone rolled their eyes jokingly until Brennen realised something.

“Aren’t moths like a sign of death and stuff?”

“Oh great, so you’re saying I’m gonna fucking die?” you wailed your arms about, both Colby and Brennen couldn’t help but laugh at the sarcastic fear in your voice.

“Don’t make me laugh I feel bad,” Colby said.

“Well, he just said I’m gonna die.”

“I didn’t say that,” Brennen whispered. “I said they’re a sign of death.”

“So you think I’m already dead, is that it? Because that shit tried to fly in my mouth and I brushed my teeth this morning.”

After a while of bickering, everyone calmed down but everyone was feeling nauseous apart from Brennen. Colby brought it up first and everyone agreed.

“Kokkuri- san, are you making my friends feel sick?”

“Awh,” you said. “Friends.” Brennen glared at you as his hand quickly moved to Yes, along with Colby’s. “Well, fuck off, because it’s not a nice feeling, damn,” you spoke to the board, speaking before your mind had time to process what you were going to say. Everyone stared at you.

“Seriously?” Elton laughed. “You’re worse than Colby in these situations, now I can see why you’re together.”

Colby and Brennen decided to switch with Jay and Elton to see if there was any change in the way that board communicated. Whilst playing Brennen kept hearing noises and feeling things close by.

“Woah shit,” Brennen said. “What was that?” Everyone was confused, but you faced your torch into the direction of where Brennen was looking.

“Guys, move,” you said urgently. “Like now, there’s some sort of animal or thing over there.” Everyone ran and Colby had a firm hold on your hand, almost crushing it at how tight he was holding it. “Jesus,” you finally breathed as all of you had run to a further place. “Almost broke my hand.”

“Would rather that than see you get mauled,” he pulled you into a hug as you got a mouthful of sweaty clothing.

“You got the board?” Brennen asked. Jay nodded. “You got the coin?”

“No, we can just use another one-“

“No,” Brennen began pacing back and forth. “I have to use the same one, I have to spend it within 24hours, or otherwise shits got me.” Brennen’s breathe became heavier, and he began to panic. Jay stayed quiet.

“Look, time’s almost up,” you said, out of breathe. “Just rip up the board and let’s get out of here.”

Brennen spoke to the camera as he ripped up the paper. “So this, here, destroying the board will end the game for sure, you’re meant to spend the coin but we don’t have that anymore,” Brennen tried to compose himself as he sighed.

“Sorry,” Jay apologised but Brennen just nodded.

“Is something seriously bad going to happen to you?” Colby asked and you hit his chest lightly, causing the camera to shake.

“Probably, but I mean I can’t really do anything, you know?” he shrugged, giving Jay a side glance.

“Look, I think we’ve said we’re sorry and made it clear,” he said, obviously feeling guilty and uncomfortable.

“Yeah, but this isn’t just some I punched you in the face, sorry, like this is serious shit, Jay-“

“Dude,” you yelled. “Stop making him feel bad, okay? It was an easy mistake and you never said anything to begin with, anyone of us could’ve made that mistake. There was something in the forest in the trees, and if we didn’t run we would’ve been killed right there.” You breathed heavily. “Would you rather him forget the coin and there being a possibility of something happening to you, or would you rather him have been killed or better yet, all of us killed for real? Because it’s just a coin, it’s just a board, and we don’t know how it will affect you because it may do fuck all. But, I know that if we’d stayed, we’d be dead, for sure.” Everyone stayed quiet for a second.

“You’re right,” Brennen said. He hugged Jay and apologised as Colby came up to you.

“Wow,” Colby said, draping an arm round your shoulder. As he did you pushed it off of you.

“I’ve had enough of your sweat near me,” you laughed.

[kgyeomiex]

Acquainted

“You can try to forget what happened, but you can never forget what you felt.”

Summary: Seeing you that night was just a careless mistake. It was just another party and another one night stand… But why was it so hard to get rid of you… Why did you have to be around? Why couldn’t I seem to let you go? Was this fate… or just a coincidence?

“What’s the matter? Afraid of a little temptation?”

Previous Parts:

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // 

Part 8 is finally here~ 

More Parts:

Part 9 // Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13 // Part 14 // Part 15 // Part 16 // Part 17 

Masterlist

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

The rest of the boys eventually seemed okay with it, however, I could feel eyes glued to me and I looked at Mark and he doesn’t show any type of face expression, instead he just stares right at me. Jaebum leaves the room and then I couldn’t help but to question Mark right away.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I blurted out and that’s when I caught all of the boys attention this time.

“Because.. I know you like Y/N.”

Wait they bought it? But weren’t they questioning me before? I was about to speak up but I got caught off when the boys looked all at one direction and see Jaebum standing there.

Fuck.

~

What the hell? I swear Jaebum just left the room, but now here we all are standing in the same room having a staring contest with one another... I have no idea what’s going on? I just told the boys exactly what they wanted to hear and they decide to throw me under the bus like that? Fuck man.

“What?” Jaebum blurts out staring right me and I looked at Jaebum and scratched at the back of my neck.

“How much did you hear?” 

“Enough to know you like Y/N.” Jaebum responds and I quickly looked over at Mark and gave him a glare. Ugh now Jaebum is probably going to make this a bigger deal than it actually is. 

But then again they aren’t even going on. They both haven’t announced whether they were boyfriend or girlfriends or not. 

“Oh..”

I could see how annoyed Jaebum looked at my response or the fact that I may like Y/N, but clearly she’s not interested in me if she’s in the room with Jaebum. Shouldn’t he be with her anyways instead of standing right here getting jealous over me?

Instead of Jaebum saying a word, he continued to stare me and smiles. I’m not going to lie I was slightly terrified because Jaebum is someone you get scared of especially when he’s angry... But only because you have no idea what to actually expect from this guy. 

“Um Jaebum?” Bambam blurts out and the rest of the guys stared at him confused along with me. So I’m not the only one who confused. 

“It’s okay. Just as long as Jackson here knows not to interfere with Y/N and I.” Jaebum says and instead of responding and agreeing with him, I just continued to stare at him and he smiles one more time and walks off.

What?

~

Your Point of View 

You were scrolling through your phone till Jaebum walks in the room and smiles. 

“Sorry about that.” Jaebum apologizes as he approaches the bed and you quickly placed your phone to the side and gave him your undivided attention.

“It’s all good.”

You could tell something was bothering Jaebum by body language, however you just didn’t know how to ask him without getting him mad. Well you didn’t know if he would get mad... But you didn’t know how Jaebum would react if you were to question him so what should you do?

“So..”

“Can I ask you something?” Jaebum asks looking right at you and for some reason you were scared at whatever question he possibly had especially because it just came out of the blue.

“Sure...” You responded very hesitant and you could tell it was going to be a serious question. He brought his hand on the back of his neck and looked at you.

“Do you possibly like... Jackson?” Where was this coming from? You were going to question him, however you knew if you were to change the subject Jaebum would probably think you do like Jackson.. Wait.. Do you like Jackson?

Just as you thought of the name Jackson, the flashback of Jackson’s lips brushing against yours appeared in your mind and you felt completely guilting being in the same bed as Jaebum..

“No..” You responded trying to hide the fact that you were possibly lying and you could feel Jaebum eyes glued to you trying to read body language but you knew exactly how to hid it. You looked at Jaebum in the eyes and cupped his face.

“I don’t like Jackson. I have no idea what makes you ask that, but if I did wouldn’t you think I would be with him and not with you right now?” You questioned Jaebum and he looks at you and smiles.

“Sorry...”

To be honest you were completely curious why Jaebum even asked you about Jackson but you had to keep it cool. You had to act like you didn’t care. 

“Sorry for what?” You questioned him and he smiles.

“I just really like you.. I just want to make sure.. you feel the same way.” Jaebum blurts out and to be honest you had no idea what came over you, but you were inches away from Jaebum and without giving him any type of warning you leaned in and had your lips touch his.

You were surprised to feel Jaebum kissing right back, but kissing Jaebum was what you needed. The touch of his lips cleared the image of Jackson out of your mind. The two of you pulled away and a huge grin was glued to his face.

“Wow..”

“I couldn’t wait.”

Jaebum shakes his head and the two of you pulled each other back into a kiss.

~

Jackson’s Point of View 

“I’m surprised that Jaebum kept his cool.” Bambam says making the rest of us stare at him with a “are you serious?” look and he smiles.

“Well I’m not the one who threw you under the bus.” Bambam says as he glanced at Mark and Mark looks away and all I could do was just give him a glare.

Because of Mark Jaebum is possibly going to make me have my distance with Y/N. He had probably already set boundaries and he was probably now going to be more distance towards me because of the rest of the boys.

“Whatever.” I mumbled as I got up from the couch and Mark got up as well.

“Are you mad?”

“Not one single bit.” With that being said I walked off and just went into my room. 

I don’t know what it is but for some reason I don’t want to keep my distance away from Y/N. I know I should and only because of guy code. I shouldn’t interfere with Y/N and Jaebum especially because they went on a date and by the looks of things it looks like the two are hitting it off pretty well but I can’t help it..

I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I should just let this go. Only for the sake of being a good friend.. Let Y/N go.. Even though she was never mine to begin with.

~

THE NEXT DAY

“We have practice in 2 hours, I suggest you get ready.” I could hear Mark say and I opened one eye looked around and then threw my head back on my pillow. 

Ugh why am I so tired. I mean I used to being tired but today my body feels extremely exhausted. I forced myself out of bed and I stretched and yawned trying to find some type of energy in me. 

Without even thinking I walked out of the room and walked straight to kitchen still with my eyes half closed. Ugh I feel so dead.

I rubbed my eyes trying to find some way to wake myself up till all of sudden. I feel myself bump into someone and I stopped and looked forward and see Y/N right in front of me.

Shit! I forgot she was over at the dorms. Instead of yelling at me, she stared at me confused and walked off. Was she not going to talk to me? Did Jaebum tell her something? Last night it really did happen? Jaebum found out I like Y/N...

Wow this whole time I thought it was all some crazy ass dream.. But nope I really did kiss Y/N, and we did get stuck in the bathroom with Y/N and on top of that Jaebum is probably more protective over that girl.

~

Your Point of View

The moment you noticed Jackson walking into the kitchen, you weren’t going to avoid him however yesterday Jaebum basically confessed he really liked you and he even shared a kiss with you. Distancing yourself from Jackson is probably a good idea... After all yesterday the two of you did kiss after going on a date with Jaebum... 

You walked back into Jaebum’s room and noticed him still asleep. You approached the bed and sat down and smiled. You didn’t technically know what to call Jaebum and your relationship, however whatever it was.. you were happy to be with him at the moment.

“Good Morning.” You shook your thoughts off and noticed Jaebum’s eyes slowly opening with a huge smirk forming on his face. You smiled and looked at him.

“How did you sleep?”

“I had you by my side didn’t I?” Jaebum says and the next thing you know, he makes a move that catches you completely off guard. He grabbed your hand and gently and lightly pulled it referring for you to lay back down. 

You obviously couldn’t object, so you laid by his side and in no time you had his arm wrapped around your waist and he hid his face in the crack of your neck. You were not used to being like this with a guy after all it’s been awhile since you were in a relationship, however you would be lying if you were to say you didn’t enjoy this.

You could feel a small smile forming on your face and Jaebum lifts up his head and smiles.

“Jaebum we h-” before Jinyoung could finish his sentence and before he could step any father from walking in the room, he stopped and stared at the two of you completely forgetting you were even here. 

“Shit... I’m sorry.” Jinyoung was about to walk off but Jaebum stops him.

“Jinyoung.” 

He turns around and looks at the two of you smiling feeling like a complete fool.

“What’s up?” Jaebum asks as he sat up and you sat up just staring at the two having no idea what to say or do.

“We have practice in 2 hours.” Is that like a cue for you to leave. Jaebum and Jinyoung both gave a look and then Jinyoung left the room and you were now alone with Jaebum.

“Oh.. I should probably head back home.” You said trying to get up from the bed but you felt a hand on yours and you looked at Jaebum staring right at you.

“I have two hours.”

You didn’t know what Jaebum had planned for two hours but instead of rejecting him and leaving him to get ready for practice, you decided to stay and see what was in store for the two of you. 

~

Jackson’s Point of View 

I didn’t know why but the moment Y/N passed by me and completely ignored me it kept replaying in my head. Did I do something wrong? Should I talk to her? Should I try talking to her? Or will Jaebum have a mini spaz attack? Should I just ignore it? 

“Jackson.” I stopped my train of thought and looked up and see Bambam in front of me.

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to join us to get breakfast?” Bambam asks me and I was still lost in my thoughts about Y/N but then I realized Bambam just asked to get breakfast. 

When did we ever get breakfast before practice? What? I got up and and continued to stare at Bambam confused.

“Wait what?”

“Do you want to join us in getting breakfast”

“Since when do we get breakfast?” I asked and instead of Bambam responding to me, he points at the doorway and there I see Y/N and Jaebum talking and the two laughing and that’s when I knew it was for her.

I was going to reject the offer just cause I knew it would be awkward but then again I can’t let things be awkward between Jaebum, Y/N and I.  

“Sure.”

“Yay! I’ll let Jaebum know.” I was about to let him walk off but I grabbed his arm and smiled.

“Don’t let him know, it will be our little surprise.”

Bambam was a bit confused but he nodded his head and walked off. I wasn’t going to go with the rest of the guys but I was going to meet them up and Jaebum won’t have no idea. I mean if Jaebum is in front of Y/N he can’t really say or do much. 

~

Your Point of View

Jaebum decided to be a doll and invite the boys and you to breakfast and to be honest you were thankful. Jaebum was putting the effort that we wanted to spend time with you after last night and you actually were happy he wanted to be around you more. 

All the boys agreed to come to get breakfast with the two of you expect for Jackson. You had no idea why Jackson didn’t want to join. Was it because of yesterday? Or was it because of this morning, just because you didn’t speak to him? You just thought maybe distancing yourself from him was a good idea.. But for some reason you weren't liking this idea.

“Y/N,” You noticed Jaebum calling you out trying to get your attention and you looked up right at him and looked concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

You were so busy lost in your thoughts you didn’t happen to notice that you were making a puss face the whole time.

“Oh... Nothing!” You forced a smile and Jaebum gave you a smile before continuing the conversation with the rest of the group.

“Hey guys!”

You looked up and there you see Jackson standing in front of you all.

~

To Be Continued  

[thepatricktreestump]

Fully Exposed: Ryan Ross

Y/N: hey y’all I’m not a total pornhub livestream genius so I don’t know exactly how it works, like if there’s a chat or it’s one on one or you need an account or anything, but I tried to write something similar! Also, my first ryan fic! :)

Anonymous said: Hey, could you do an imagine where you're dating Ryan Ross and he finds out you do livestreams on pornhub but he finds it super hot? Thank you!!

*female reader, smut

Incognito window. Type in the link. Sign into your account. Click the livestream button. Ease into your chair. Watch as the viewers filed in, eyes fixed on you. And let the fun begin. Honestly, you had been doing it before you even met Ryan. In a way, it was your own secret guilty pleasure. Why would you put perfectly good lingerie and sex toys to waste when you could spend a couple hours fooling around with your web cam and a couple submissive men on the internet? It was such an easy catch every single time. Hell, half of the time they’d get boners before you even uncovered anything. Just a flirty wink and a seductive lip bite and you had them wrapped around your finger. Especially the public livestreams, where everyone could see you, the comments filing in as your hands roamed your body… It was an adrenaline rush, a great orgasm, and a thrilling experience. So when you started dating Ryan, it only became even better. It was like your own small sexy secret, something to keep to yourself, your own small naughty little sin.

“Hey babe,” Ryan greeted when he entered the apartment and you quickly logged out, shutting down the incognito window, slamming down your laptop screen, hopping in the bed and snuggling under the blankets in just enough time for him to open up the door and give you a sly smile.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“Is this what you’ve been doing while I’m in the studio?” he rolled his eyes, sitting on the bed next to you. “Geez I’m tempted to join you.”

“Then join me,” you smirked.

“I’d love to,” he hummed, laying down and placing his head right beside yours on the pillow. “But I’ve got work I have to do.”

“Come on,” you whined playfully, wrapping an arm around him when he looked down, glancing up at you.

“Are you wearing any clothes, baby?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” you shrugged, eyeing him carefully.

“So this is what you do when I’m gone,” he chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around you and kicking off the blanket, leaving your body exposed. “Just lay in bed without any clothes on, probably waiting for me to get back, hmm?”

“Sure,” you teased, placing a kiss on his lips before rolling out of bed, picking up a random baggy shirt from the floor and putting it on. “I think I’m going to take a shower. You go finish up that work.”

“I just got here,” he argued. “It’s so comfy.”

“Later tonight,” you promised. You loved leading him on just to turn him down. It often built up the anticipation for what was to follow.

“Fine,” he complied. “You go take a shower.” You were halfway out the door when he spoke up again. “And hey?”

“Yeah?” you turned around, staring at him.

“You look really fucking great in my t-shirt,” he murmured.

“I know I do,” you grinned before walking out the door and heading towards the bathroom. “Try not to moan so loud when you’re touching yourself in there!” he called out playfully and you smirked.

“Whatever!” you shouted back jokingly.

You slipped off the fabric of his t-shirt, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of warm maple syrup and calming tea before turning on the warm water. Humming softly, you stepped into the shower, letting the droplets scatter upon your shoulders before sliding down your back, closing your eyes, mind slipping off into a distant memory. It felt like just yesterday you were in the crowd, making your way to the front of the bar, desperate to know who was playing the music, locking eyes with the skinny boy with the Peter Pan hair and the innocent lips, fingers traveling up the neck of his bass, the same boy who you’d escape with later that night. You remembered the smoke in the air and the taste of his lips and the way he smiled and how gentle and fragile he felt in your arms but how desperate and persistent his body felt against yours, and when you were both nothing but fabric shed on the floor and skin craving for something more. It was then that you both knew very well this wouldn’t be the last time you’d share a night alone in a room.

When you stepped out, shutting off the stream, wrapping a towel around your body and squeezing the water from your hair, you heard the soft acoustic melody meet your ears from the sofa in the living room. You gave a small smile, walking out into the room and listening to him sing as he strummed on the strings, a melancholy sort of song. The tune was soft and sweet, slow and delicate, lyrics along the lines of diamonds and broken glass. “That’s beautiful,” you whispered when he finished, and he turned around, surprised to see you there.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he responded with a grin and you rolled your eyes.

“Come here,” he instructed, placing the guitar on the ground as you walked over to him. “Drop the towel for me, baby.”

“Magic word?” you teased.

“Please,” he looked up at you, pleading puppy dog eyes and pleading expression on his face.

“Only for you,” you smirked, dropping the towel to the floor and sitting on his lap, wrapping your legs around him as he pulled you in for a soft kiss, his hands roaming your body.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed against your neck, placing soft kisses down your skin.

“Don’t let me distract you,” you shook your head, pulling away and scooping up the towel and sliding off his lap. “Get back to work.”

“You always distract me,” he rolled his eyes, and you blew him a kiss before exiting the room, giving a soft smile when you heard the return of soft guitar chords and the faint singing. Sometimes you couldn’t tell whether he was singing song lyrics or reciting poetry, the words were so sweet.

Entering the bedroom, your eyes flickered at the laptop laying on the desk. You were already practically naked, plus Ryan was busy with his songs, a couple minutes of a public livestream wouldn’t hurt, right? Temptation lingered in your mind before you reached for the laptop, locking the door of the bedroom and positioning it at the edge of the mattress while you typed in the familiar website, signed into your account, and scrolled until you found the livestream button. You wrapped your towel around yourself and clicked the button, smirking as the viewers filed in, keeping the towel loosely wrapped around your body, showing off just enough cleavage and biting your lower lip. “You like that?” you whispered for them to hear. You chuckled softly to yourself as you read the comments.

What a dirty little slut. Be a good girl and drop the towel, sweetheart. Let us see that body!

“So pushy,” you clicked your tongue with teasing hint of disapproval, watching the rest of the comments scroll by. There was a good handful of people in by now, and you were just about ready to start. You paused a moment just to listen to the faint noise of guitar chord strums, knowing very well Ryan wasn’t paying any attention, and then flickered your eyes back to the screen. “Ready for some fun?”

Fuck, she’s taking forever. Enough with the teasing, give us what we want. Come on, you whore. Show us something!

“Show you something?” you smirked, dropping the towel instantly and giving them a great view of your tits. “How about this? Hmm?”

Holy shit. That’s what I’m talking about! Give us more! Hot damn….

A smile crept on your lips as you took one of your breasts in your hands, giving it a good squeeze and letting out a soft moan, slowly opening your eyes and watching the comments slide down quickly. More viewers filed in and you gave a slight chuckle.

Move the camera lower! Absolutely gorgeous. Let’s see some more of what you have to offer, baby.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow. “You want to see more?”

Yes please! Stop being a brat and show us that good pussy. Behave for us, princess. Come on you whore.

“I don’t know…” you sighed, resisting the urge to grin as they became more agitated. You loved playing with them like this. That’s when you shoved your towel off the bed, ready to tilt your laptop screen at just the right angle when the last thing you expected happened. There was a knock on the door.

Not so alone, huh? Naughty, naughty girl. Who might that be? Mm something’s going down! Ignore it and give us a good show, baby! Was that a knock on the door?

You cringed at the comments and frantically searched for the small x on the corner of the screen when there was another knock on the door and then a voice, practically giving you a heart attack. “What are you up to in there?” Ryan wondered and you froze, instantly paralyzed with guilt.

“Nothing…” your faint voice responded, deciding to instead just shut the motherfucking laptop and place it behind you in a panicked sweat, then whipping your head around the room searching for some clothes. “Uh, just getting changed.”

“I think I heard you say something earlier,” he argued. “Come on babe, open up the door.”

“Hold on-” you begged, picking up another one of his shirts up off the floor in a rush and sliding it on before racing to the door and opening it, trying your best to catch your breath and look as composed as comfortable as possible. “Hey.”

“You okay, y/n?” he inquired, eyeing you up and down.

“Yup,” you nodded a little too quickly for his liking, your brain still frantically trying to piece this all together. Plus, what the fuck were you supposed to do with the viewers in the livestream?

“Y/n,” Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Come on.”

“What?” you tried to argue as innocently as possible. “I was just changing!”

“Into one of my dirty t-shirts,” he stated flatly.

“You know I love your clothes,” you counteracted, actually proud of yourself for coming up with a quick fix and a believable lie.

“You just got out of the shower,” he rolled his eyes. “Plus, you’re wearing it inside out.”

“Huh?” you looked down instantly to find that indeed, you were wearing one of his shirts inside out, and you turned red with embarrassment.

“Seriously, I mean, I can even tell you’re not even wearing a bra or underwear baby,” he sighed. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing,” you persisted.

“I heard you talking and I’m pretty sure it was not to yourself,” he pointed out. “And now my shirt and… what’s on the bed?” He craned his neck and saw the discarded towel on the floor, the laptop not even fully closed laying on the mattress, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating.

“Ryan-” his name barely even escaped your lips and you watched in horror as he crossed the room slowly, eyeing you carefully before picking up the laptop.

“Do you want to explain or should I find out on my own?” he gave you a last chance, but it was useless. You were a blubbering, stammering, nervous wreck, your mind not even able to string together a coherent sentence.

“J-just look for yourself,” you choked out defeated.

Ryan stared at you strangely before opening the laptop, blinking twice with a blank expression on his face, swallowing uncomfortably before slowly shifting his gaze back to you. “Were you, uh, on a porn website?” he wondered. The second his eyes meet yours you feel like you just might shrink. Except there was something in his gaze you couldn’t seem to recognize. Lust, almost, maybe jealousy. You couldn’t quite tell. He returned his attention back to the computer screen and you could tell from the way his expression changed that he was just now fully understanding what was going on, his expression turning to curiosity, and you knew very well he was probably reading the comments. His brown eyes grew dark, his brow furrowed, biting down on his lower lip. There was a moment of silence that passed before he spoke again. You could practically hear your heart beating out of its chest. “The livestream’s still on, you know.”

“Yeah,” you were barely able to whisper back.

“Then continue what you were doing,” he stated.

“What?” your eyes almost fell out of their sockets.

“I want to see you, y/n,” he rephrased it. “Come on, continue the livestream. Show them what they want, baby. I’m sure you know what to do.”

“Babe…” you stared at him in disbelief, your feet frozen in place, not daring to even inhale another breath. There was no way you were doing that.

“Go on,” he urged, handing you the laptop. You watched as he pulled a chair from the desk across the room and positioned it in front of the bed, perfect view of where you had been sitting previously, crossing his hands over his chest, eyes fixed on you. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

You inhaled a shaky breath and then placed the laptop on the edge of the bed, sitting in front of it and closing your eyes tight before opening them up again, staring at the screen and trying to forget that Ryan was sitting right there watching you. Glancing at the comments you surprised a grin. “Miss me much?” you smirked.

There she is. What the fuck was that all about? Cute boyfriend!!! Did he leave? Show us that beautiful body!

“You want to see me, hmm?” you raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I’ve made you all wait long enough, yeah?”

Come on, give us something! I’m dying over here. Take off the shirt!

Smiling, you slipped the shirt up off your body and tucked your hair behind your ear, trying to ignore the fact that Ryan was there and you looked at the comments which were now sliding down the screen at a rather reckless pace. You could barely read them all.

Spread those gorgeous legs, baby. Fuck that’s what I’ve been waiting for. Body to kill for! Holy motherfucking shit.

“You like this?” you raised an eyebrow, slipping a hand down your chest towards your stomach and even lower, separating your legs slowly and sliding your hand over your center. You heard a gasp and you looked up, realizing it wasn’t from your lips, but instead, Ryan’s. You gave a sly smile and watched as he blushed, caught with his own hand in between his legs, making you even more turned on. The comments never stopped.

God that’s hot. You’re so fucking wet for us, you dirty whore. Show us more of that pretty pussy, baby! Be a good slut and let out a moan. Finger yourself so fucking good.

“Damn,” you sighed, easing your back into the bed and slipping a finger into your core, closing your eyes. You pumped it in and out, rubbing your clit in small circles and letting out some soft moans before inserting another finger, this time gasping and knowing very well Ryan was watching. However, instead of being embarrassed, shy, or hesitant this time, you fucking owned it. Let him watch if he wanted. Hell, why would you ever deny someone a good show?

“Fuck baby, I can’t stand it,” you heard him mutter and you looked up, confused, when you realized Ryan was getting up from his chair, exposing an extremely obvious hard on inside his skinny jeans. “I need you.”

“Hey-” you began to protest when he climbed on top of you on the mattress. He was capturing your lips in a kiss and pushing you down, his hands pinning yours above your head, sliding his tongue into your mouth before trailing his lips down your jaw, your neck, your breasts, your stomach, licking a stripe down your folds before working its way up again. “You’re all mine, baby.”

“Goddammit Ryan,” you let out a shaky breath as his hands and mouth roamed your body.

“That’s right,” he whispered in your ear, kissing you on the lips before unzipping his jeans and tugging them down with his boxers, kicking them aside and lining up with your entrance. “All mine.” He thrust into you and you gasped. He started to gain a rhythm and you wrapped your legs around his waist, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he rocked your body back and forth in sync with his, sinking deeper and deeper every time.

“Shit you feel so good baby,” you moaned softly against his neck as he got faster, edging you close to your climax.

“Better than all that teasing with the camera, hmm?” he wondered, letting go of his grip on your wrists and letting your hands instantly fall to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you, his hands on your hips to steady him. “You. Are. Mine.”

“Fuck,” you gasped, feeling a familiar warmth pool within your stomach. “Ryan…”

“Come on baby,” he urged. “You’re not going to give in that quick, are you?”

“I can’t-” you barely choked out before cumming, moaning out his name and digging your fingernails into his shoulders, your body shaking with waves of euphoria as he kept sliding in and out. It wasn’t long before he came too, gasping and losing control as an orgasm took him, burying his face in the crook of your neck and mumbling a string of curse words.

“Fuck y/n,” he sighed, slowly pulling out and then curling you up in his arms, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, struggling to catch your breath.

“You’re so fucking good,” he murmured, kissing your lips. The two of you laid there with arms wrapped around each other, struggling to catch your breath, recovering from the amazing sex you had both just experienced. Several moments passed before you came to a realization, taking a couple seconds to let it sink in before you decided to draw attention to it.

“You know they were watching all of that right?” you smirked.

“What?” Ryan’s eyes went wide, just now realizing what had gone down.

“Yup,” you chuckled softly, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “You’re fully exposed now, baby.”

“Shit,” he mumbled, looking at the laptop that was still miraculously perfectly positioned at the edge of the bed, instantly shutting it closed with his foot.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, amused. “You embarrassed?”

“Huh?” he looked at you, the obvious blush in his cheeks and worried eyes saying it all.

“You’re cute you know,” you reassured. “I bet they thought you were hella hot.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m just the cranky over possessive boyfriend.”

“Yeah but being dominant is sexy,” you winked.

“Being dominant means I get to give out punishments,” he reminded and you swallowed uncomfortably, starting to let the entire reality of the situation sink in.

“So…” you trailed out the word. “Am I, uh, going to get in trouble for being naughty?”

“What do you mean?” he wondered, confused.

“The whole livestreaming on Pornhub thing,” you reminded. “Remember?”

“Oh, that?” he laughed. “Babe, I thought that was fucking hot as hell.”

“Really?” you raised your eyebrows, surprised. “You like that?”

“Shit y/n, that was, that was…” he searched for the right word but failed to find it. “Just really fucking hot.”

“What did you like about it?” you gave a sly smile.

“The teasing and the putting on a show and how cocky and arrogant you were and just, fuck. It was such a turn on,” he closed his eyes tight and opened them again. “Surprised me.”

“So you didn’t mind?” you asked carefully.

“I was kind of jealous,” he confessed.

“But you enjoyed it,” you pointed out. “You loved it.”

“I did love it,” Ryan admitted shyly.

“So you’d do it again?” you inquired.

“Huh?” his eyes went wide.

“You’d do it again?” you repeated, hopeful gaze meeting his.

“I don’t know,” he smirked. “Looks like we’ll just have to wait until next time to find out.”

[kgyeomiex]

Temptations (M)

“Nothing lasts forever. Forever is a lie. All that we have, is what’s between hello and goodbye.”

Summary: Sometimes when you have everything you asked for…. it’s never enough. You have a fiance you are about to get married with soon and life is good, until that one guy changes it all… He’s that something that you need to have a bit excitement in your life… He was full of surprises and brought you feelings you haven’t felt in a long time… But was he just a temptation or someone worth the trouble to get involved with?

Previous Parts:

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13 // Part 14 //

Part 15 is here~

More Parts:

Part 16 // Part 17 // Part 18 // Part 19 // Part 20 // Part 21

Masterlist

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

Stepping in the boys dorm was like a second home for you. You slipped off your shoes and walked over to the couch where Mark and Bambam were. Bambam here taking selfies and then Mark glued to his phone doing who knows what.

But where was Jinyoung?

Wait why do you care?

You shook your head and tried to ignore your thoughts of Jinyoung.

“Bambam, you don’t need to take anymore selfies, your gorgeous.” Bambam froze with the phone still in his hand and he looked at you and a huge smile smile spread across his face.

“Y/N! When did you get here?” Bambam asks smiling and he kicked Mark making Mark look up from his phone and up at you.

“Y/N!”

You giggled and sat between the two and at last everyone joined and you all were sitting in the couched together except for one person.

You wanted to ask where did Jinyoung go.. But what was the point?

Bambam approached you with his phone and smiled.

“Time to take selfies with me.”

You were getting ready to pose till…. you overheard Jackson’s and Youngjae’s conversation.

“Hey, guess who now has a secret girlfriend,”

“Who?”

“Jinyoung… I guess you’re not the only one who seems to be lucky in the group.”

Girlfriend?!

Your eyes widen and just as you were lost in your thoughts, you heard someone clear their throat making you look up and Jinyoung has entered the living room…

~

Did Jackson just say that Jinyoung had a girlfriend? Did he have a girlfriend when we kissed? Was he seeing someone the whole time?

You felt like everything around you stop and your felt like your heart dropped. Why are you so upset? You could feel that you were ready to cry but you pushed the feeling away and closed your eyes trying to keep a strong act on.

Plus... it would be bad enough to cry over Jinyoung..

After all Jinyoung wasn’t yours.. You belonged to someone else..

“Jinyoung! I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!” Youngjae says excitedly and you just watched your fiance excited for Jinyoung but you couldn’t dare to look at jinyoung.

You pulled out your phone and began to just randomly scroll through any social media you could get your hand on.

“Oh.. Jackson told you?” Jinyoung responds back and you didn’t want to hear the conversation anymore.. You had to walk out.

“Yugyeom...”

“Yeah Noona!”

“Have you finally finished the dance routine you’ve been learning?” You asked Yugyeom and he quickly nodded his head excited that you even mentioned it.

“When are you planning to show me?”

“Now?!” He asks and you nodded your head and lifted yourself up from the couch.

You could feel Jinyoung eyeing you down but you ignored his glare and walked off with Yugyeom.

~

Jinyoung’s Point of View 

Why did Jackson have to mention that I had a “girlfriend?” Y/N is here probably overthinking everything..

She could think two things. One thing could be that she thinks that I called her my girlfriend and put her in a sticky situation that’s why she’s avoiding me.. Or even worse! She thinks that I actually have a girlfriend...

I have to talk to her...

“Jinyoung! tell us about your girlfriend! How long have you kept this secret from us?” Youngjae asks and I looked at my phone and then back at him.

“Um..we’ve been together for a month..” I lied and everyone looked at me completely surprised.

“Her name is Soyou!” Bambam blurts out and my eyes widen. How does he know?

“Jackson told me,” Bambam response reading the question off my face and again I just stared back at Jackson. 

What is going on here? One little lie begins to spread and I basically made my situation worse.

Shit..

“Now we have two members in the group with two lucky ladies,” Mark comments and the rest of the boys agree..

Little does Youngjae know... I was referring to his own fiancee..

~

Your Point of View

You didn’t mean to use Yugyeom as distraction but you felt as if you were stuck in a room with Jinyoung any longer.. you would of probably blurted something out to get not only Jinyoung in trouble but you as well...

Your biggest fear in life was to be alone.

What will happen when Youngjae finds out you slept with someone in his own group? You fucked up bad...

Yugyeom finished his new dance and you snapped out of your thoughts and back to reality. You clapped as Yugyeom striked a pose and he chuckled and sat down on the ground looking right at you.

“Can I ask you something?” Yugyeom asks and it throws you completely off guard. Does he know about Jinyoung and you?

“Yeah?”

“How did you know Youngjae was the one?”

You looked at Yugyeom slowly and were actually surprised.

“Why do you ask?”

Yugyeom looked down and then looked at you.

“I mean.. I never been in a relationship before.. and I know eventually I’m going to find someone.. but I want to know when you think the person is the right one for you.” Yugyeom says causing you to smile. 

You keep forgetting Yugyeom was the maknae of the group. He has no experience yet.

You got up from the seat and walked over to Yugyeom and sat down on the ground right next to him.

“When you know the person is the one... you don’t truly know.. It could be the least expected person. You have to give a person a chance to give them the time of day. You two could become enemies one day but the more you two hang out you could be lovers.. Or sometimes you two automatically click.. But you know the person is the one by the way they make you feel..”

You stopped and looked down at your heads.

“If that person makes your heart race and everytime they touch a part of your body, or even smile at you...  that person brings an unfamiliar feeling in your stomach... it makes you just makes you want to be around them all the time.. there is a high chance that their the one...”

“But don’t get me wrong... you can meet someone and think their the one... but it takes time to be fully sure.” You said as you looked at Yugyeom and he looked at you.

“So is Youngjae the one?”

Was Youngjae the one? 

When the two of you started to go out, you felt everything you mentioned but now it’s different. You two did love each other but it was the type of love that you two used to have... Maybe... Youngjae wasn’t the one...

But maybe you’re just confused..

“Yeah.. I guess.” You replied and Yugyeom smiled and you noticed him get lost in his thoughts.

Sometimes you feel as if... maybe Jinyoung could be the one... but what do you know?

~

Jinyoung’s Point of View

After getting asked 21 questions by the guys and making up answers... I kept trying to find away to leave the living room and go find Y/N... But how was i supposed to approach Yugyeom and Y/N...

I walked over to the yard where I assumed Yugyeom would take her but I stopped when I began to hear Yugyeom and Y/N talk. The topic was finding the one...

I leaned against the wall began to hear every detail Y/N did to describe when she knew she found the one... It was everything I experience when I’m around her... 

But just as a small smile spread across my face... it quickly left from hearing Yugyeom’s question.

“So is Youngjae the one?”

Is he?

I continued to listen but there was a pause. Was she thinking about it? 

“Yeah... I guess so.”

Hearing those words escape her mouth for some reason caused my heart to drop. Aish.. of course she would choose Youngjae over me... Why am I stupid...

Here I am thinking maybe Y/N had feelings for me and maybe I can change her mind and tell her I’m the one for her...

But by the looks of things... no matter what I do... I will never be the one.

I took a deep breath and decided to walk away before hearing anything else she had to say..

Maybe I just need to sit out in the front alone..

~

(Listen to Can You Heart my Heart by Epik Hight ft Lee Hi while reading this)

Your Point of View

After spending time with Yugyeom, you could feel your stomach growl and you decided to treat the boys with some food.

“Babe are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Youngjae asks and you smiled.

“Stay. I’ll be quick.. I promise.” You got on your tippy toes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

The next thing you know you were off. You quickly slipped on your shoes and as you opened the door you were so busy worrying about what you were going to buy you didn’t even notice Jinyoung sitting right there in the front steps.

“Jinyoung?”

“Hm...”

You looked behind you and then closed the door and sat down next to him. You know you should avoid him but there was two things stopping you.. You were curious on whether Jinyoung did have a girlfriend this whole time and... why was he looking so upset. 

“What brings you here?” You asked looking at Jinyoung but you noticed he didn’t even bother looking at you.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jinyoung replies coldly and you sighed. Shouldn’t you be the one to get mad? Why would he acting so cold with you.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nope... not at all..”

Again the answer was so dry. You wouldn’t usually push him to have you talk to you but you began to feel more annoyed with the fact that if there was something wrong he wouldn’t bother try talking to you.

“Jinyoung...”

“What?”

“Why... why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?”

That’s when you knew you captured his attention. He slowly turned his head to face you and you continued to stare at him. Well...

“Are you serious right now?”

You stood quiet and Jinyoung chuckles. It wasn’t a sincere chuckle but more like a forced one.

“So you can have a fiance but if I had a girlfriend you get mad? Are you serious right now?”

You continued to stare at Jinyoung and he gets up but stares at you.

“You don’t have the right to come up to me and be mad at me or question me whether I am seeing anyone or not. Here I am trying everything I possibly can to make you mine but your so ungrateful! You come to me when you get bored of your own fiance and you can’t deny it. I tried... I tried to show that mean a lot to me and I’ll make you feel special.. But now.. I want nothing to do with you. you’re not even worth fighting for.”

Jinyoung spatted annoyed for some reason those words stung.. hard... 

“Jinyou-”

“Save it. You can go back to your old life and i’ll back to mine.”

You got up and looked at him.

“I have feelings... You can’t just use me the way you do. You took enough advantage of me and I’m done trying. Let’s pretend we don’t know each other.. I have no desire to argue with you anymore, I’m choosing to walk away because.. I want peace..”

You suddenly feel tears stream down your face and Jinyoung took one last look at them and then turned around.

You were so caught up at the moment you didn’t even hear the sound of the door open behind you.

“What’s going on here?” You hear someone say behind you.

You turned around and found Youngjae standing there looking Jinyoung and you.

~

To Be Continued