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redeyerhaenyra · 5 months

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Divine Hammer

Summary: You bring up something new to Simon. He's more enthusiastic than you expected.

Warnings: What else but smut, HEAVY UK slang usage (me and si come from the same area of England our slang is v similar) Simon slaps reader once, fem reader, oral(f), fingering in BOTH holes, pussy juice as lube, anal duh, simons fat cock, sprinkling of a size kink, mean Simon, kitchen sex mmm, no beta we die like soap (sorry), lmk if I missed anything!

Notes: Listen the taboo of anal just gets me going alright , also this has been in my drafts since JAN 9TH help

Wc: 2.5k

Simon's stare was unnerving. Well, it was always unnerving, to a degree. But he found ways to utilise it. Deadpan humour, emphasising points of conversation, scaring away would-be hookups from you in the pub. But here, it was unnerving in a whole other way.

It felt… intrusive.

Simon stared at you like he could see through your clothes, your body, into your mind to expose your deepest darkest fantasies. You squirmed under his penetrating gaze, tugging at the hem of your jumper.

After a little while of silence, you shook your head, scoffing at yourself;

“-No, nevermind um.. I'm.. s-sorry that was weird-” “Didn’ say tha’ ”

You gulped, gaze nervously fixed to the floor. Simon was still. Staring. At you. Never before had you felt so exposed, too embarrassed and, if you were honest, a little scared to look at your boyfriend face-on.

“Was just wonderin’ since when my bird was such a slag.”

His baritone words rolled down your spine, sending sparks of a deep, taboo satisfaction through you. You whimpered, and hid your face in your hands.

“Don’ act like a prude love, we both heard what you wanted just now.” “I shouldn't have said anythinnnggg-”

Conceptually, anal had… a certain taboo charm to it. From your perspective at least. Sure, it wasn't technically the “right” hole… it wouldn't feel the same, but the idea had always fascinated you.. intruded your shadowed thoughts at night with your fingers rubbing your clit and edging nervously to an opening further on than your cunt.

So, gently, you'd broached the topic one time you were both in the kitchen together- thinking, in hindsight foolishly, that it'd be something he'd instantly dismiss, or at least… talk about later. In the bedroom. Not in the middle of the kitchen… but now here you stood, in the hole you'd dug for yourself;

“On the contrary, I'm relieved you've finally admitted it to yourself.” His footsteps were heavy against the floorboards as he approached you. Confused, you peeked out of the gaps between your fingers to look at him;

“W-what?” “Don't be fuckin’ coy w'me love.” Simon towered over you, cadging you next to the kitchen side.

“Always suspected there was some depraved shit up here, yeah?” He poked your temple with his index finger, “Turns out my intuitions were correct then?”

“T-thats not-” “Oh yes it is sweet’art.” Simon's eyes grew more intense by the second, even more than before- you struggled to even picture them in your mind for fear of his retribution.

“Ay- fuckin’ look at me when I'm talking to ya.”

He could have been a lot harsher with the small smack he delivered to your cheek, but that knowledge did nothing to dull the pain, and your eyes watered a little at the sensation. He grabbed your cheeks between his fingers, squishing them till you pouted and shaking your head lightly, as if to keep hold of your attention.

As if you could look anywhere else…

Forced to return his ferocious gaze, you crumbled, knees bucking like a fawn under you- Simon grabbed you and roughly hauled you back up, manhandling you to bend over the kitchen counter. You allowed him to, biting your lip in an attempt to muffle your unintentional sounds of appreciation.

It earned you a harsh smack to your rear, and Simon's big paw of a hand tugging your hair. He leaned over you, “ ‘M not ‘avin any of tha’ yeah? You're not gonna be hidin’ how much of a slut you are from me anymore sweet'art.”

The juxtaposition of his words and the way he sweetly kissed your temple after he said them was almost comical. The grip on your hair disappeared, replaced with firm and consistent pulling at your clothes until you shuffled out of them- Simon wasted no time running his warm hands up and down your body, rumbling out various admirations of your physical form.

He slunk down your body, nipping and pressing hot, open mouthed kisses down your back, and then to each of your cheeks, all the way down to your pussy. Earlier on, when you'd ridden yourself of your panties, Simon had laughed at how wet they were. “Already?” He'd asked, “Y'that turned on already? Whore. Like a bitch in heat f'me, ey?”

He had no further comments to mock you with, not now at least. He was busy approving of the view of your wet cunt in front of him- out of the corner of your eye you spied him nodding to himself as if he were appraising fine art.

You huffed, a little impatient, petulant you wiggled your bum at him- only all you got from him was another spank.

“Be patient.” He said curtly.

You whined, but otherwise did as you were told, meekly resigned to your fate as Simon's personal eye candy.

“Why ya’ into it then?” You made a noise of confusion, Simon huffed.

“This.”

One of hands had moved to idly grope and squish your bottom while he'd been down there, and now his thumb creeped ever so slowly over to press on your rim. You keened- suddenly understanding what he meant.

“Well?” His thumb pressed in deeper, you gasped- “I-i don't know!” “Hmmm…”

You could tell from his tone he didn't quite believe you. He kissed your cheek again.

“I'm sure I'll find out.”

With that said, his thumb remained almost gently rubbing at your hole, his free hand moving to pull his balaclava up over his nose- wasting no time in burying himself in your cunt. He sighed contentedly at the taste, smell, feel of you, lazily lapping at your cunny with his broad tongue. His thumb still rubbing you in slow circles, almost.. in a comforting manner.

There was no one more intimidating than Simon- at least out of all the people you've ever met, and yet here he was, eating your pussy like it was a home cooked, three-course meal. You looked over your shoulder, and bit your lip; The visual of big bad Simon Riley on his knees for you, make you shiver and clench.

Simon seemed to be secretly a telepath however, as the way he suddenly roughly pinched your clit between his index finger and thumb- tugging on it cruelly, came off as a punishment. You whined loudly, panting into the counter, drooling a little. Vaguely, you could hear Simon humming thoughtfully to himself. He released his hold on your poor clit, though quickly replaced it by rubbing small, soothing circles on it instead.

It quite quickly becomes a lot more intense, Simon grunting in approval as he plunges his thick tongue into your cunt. Your breathing is staggered, coming out in short, little huffs- you reach behind you to tug at Simon's head, shoving him closer. Again, he groans in appreciation, eagerly nuzzling between your thighs closer, the rhythm of his tongue and fingers rubbing at your clit increased a hundredfold;

Like lighting, your orgasm crashed through you, the noises that left your pussy- wet, squelching, the drip of your juices against the floor, should surely have had you feeling at least some shame, but no. You were too twitchy, too fucked stupid on Simon's tongue to care.

With much reluctantance, Simon hauled himself off of your puffy pussy. He'd gladly stay nestled between your kegs for the rest of him life, at least from further away, he could admire his work.

At this point, you thought perhaps he'd finally get to the meat of what you'd suggested.. Simon wasn't finished yet though- two of his deliciously thick fingers were swiftly shoved into your sopping pussy.

You cried out at the sudden penetration, shivering and trembling.

“What? ..silly cow.” Simon told you gruffly, somewhat annoyed that you'd dare disturb his probing at your cunt with your exclamation of surprise. You whined at his degradation, but were still coherent enough to recognise the underlying affection in his tone. Huffing, you leaned forward to lay your torso fully on the cold, sideboard. The cool temperature of the marble was sharp and sudden, but soon soft and gentle to your hot body, palliative to your hard, puffed up nipples.

He lazily pumped his fingers inside you for a few moments, before curling his fingers forward, dragging against that spongey spot deep within you, and eased his fingers out of you.

You were left huffing and panting like an animal into the counter- Simon had cupped his two fingers- the ones that was just inside of you- just under your clit.. then abruptly he slid them upwards, slowly, pressing down hard.

You squeaked, struggling not to quiver too hard. Simon's fingers kept creeping up and up and up, gliding firmly over your cunny, finally halting at your rim. The hot, wet sensation of Simon rubbing your own slick into your hole as lube had you trembling.

“How's tha?” You heard Simon mumble from behind you, his accent had gotten a little thicker. It always got thicker when he was “in the zone”.

“Oh.. uh..” Seemingly irked by your lack of response, your boyfriend slapped your clit harshly with the back of his hand.

“G-good!! It's good! Good!!” You choked, and whined again when you heard Simon chuckle lowly at you. He tapped his fingers twice on your hole- you nodded shyly at him;

Simon hummed, cautiously easing one of his broad fingers covered in your slick into your ass. The noise of utter debauched pleasure you let escape your throat was nothing compared to Simon's groan-

“Oh fuck that's tight..”

God it was, you felt how hard your greedy hole swallowed up his thick finger. You huffed and puffed- vainly attempting to breath consitently, but your body was too sensitive, muscles pulled too rigid inside you to keep your thoughts on one thing alone.

Simon was your rock, somewhere in the thousands of feelings inside you, was a certainty that he was holding back. Taking it slow, just for you.

You felt the hazey cloud of sex overwhelm you, rendering you more or less unable to speak, only babble incoherently into the counter, your pretty eyes filled with tears as Simon took his sweet, sweet time opening you up.

By comparison to how rough the pads of his digits were, they were remarkably soft with you, even as Simon squeezed one more of his fingers in you. You coughed and hiccups at the fullness of it.

“Tha's it.. good girl.. cmon.. open up luv.. there we go..”

You head him whisper, and you moaned impatiently. You wanted to politely express your readiness for his dick, but all the you were able to whine out was “C-cock-!”

Simon laughed, which was always a nice, comforting rumble. “I know sweet'art, gotta get you a little looser f'me first yeah?”

Even as you keened and begged, Simon would not budge. Occasionally, if he was feeling particularly mean in that moment, he'd flick your poor clit harshly, you'd squeal and twitch. This continued for a while, and by the time he deemed you “ready” you might have passed out, the electric fizzles of pleasure that sizzled between your legs kept you awake.

Simon could tell you were tired, he was gentle with the way he slipped his hand under you tummy to push your bum in the air, and tender with how he cradled your hip. Your clit was kindly soothed with slow, small circles rubbed in by his middle finger.

You sobbed into the side- “cock…” you babbled, sniffing and feeling sorry for yourself. You felt a kiss to the base of your neck;

“Mmmm.. I know baby, I know, m' so mean aren't I?”

Vaguely, you heard yourself murmuring in agreement. The metallic sound of Simon's belt loosening and then his zipper coming down had warm excitement flutter over your body.

You felt the heat of his dick before it even touched you, whimpering when it finally did. Simon rubbed his thick cock up and down the apex of your thighs, right up to hole and then back down to your clit. When you would whine at him, he'd hum right back.

God, he was so much bigger than you. He leant over you and covered your entire body with his bulk. You felt him throb at your rim. A kiss was levied at your neck- “Y’ready?” He asked, voice low, and you babbled back something that sounded like impatience. Simon chuckled and kissed your neck again, bracing one strong arm against the counter next to you.

All of a sudden he was inside you, not all the way but he was inside you and that's all you could think about. You gasped, inadvertently holding your breath and then once more remembering to breathe. Simon had stayed silent throughout this.. you reached backwards for him with one hand;

“Si?” “Y-yeah, yeah m’here, g’ve us a minute love-”

His voice came out ragged and shaky, and from the sounds of it he was doing the same forgetting-to-breath thing you were.

You both needed occasionally little breaks from him sliding his cock inside you this time, either of you would cum too quickly. But soon, all of him was pressed snugly inside you. You drooled on the counter and Simon's head had dropped to rest on your back, taking slow, steady breaths, grounding himself.

The both of you stayed like this for a while. It was almost peaceful. Soft. Till Simon decided he was fine to move and dragged his dick alllllllll the way back out and then in again in one thrust. It left you choked for breath, Simon too, he was more vocal this time than any other time you'd fucked.

Neither of you lasted long, specially not after your boyfriend had clasped his big paw of a hand under your leg, and lifted it up onto the counter next to you, an entirely new and more intimate angle. You were cumming before you even realised Simon had crept his hand down to pinch your clit. He was so mean about it too- that same hand then came up to shove to of his fingers into your mouth, creating a spit-slicked mess. And when he came it was an event:

He threw his head back and moaned more desperately than you'd ever heard from him before. The rhythmic squelch that narrated your encounter kept going even after he'd cum, if anything it was louder now. His and your cum dripping down out of you and puddling on the floor beneath you. Still, meekly, Simon kept thrusting into you, as if the orgasm was too good to end. Though finally it did, Simon's weight all but collapsing ontop of you.

You stayed like that for a while, still connected. Basking in your respective afterglows. Simon kissed your neck again and you croaked out a satisfied noise;

“Fun..” The man behind you laughed, “Yeah fun was it? Just fun eh? Just fun~?” Cruelly he reached under you to tickle your sides- you squealed; “More than f-fun!!” and that seemed to sate him, releasing you.

“Yeah, s’what I thought…..” He drummed his fingers on the counter..

“Bath?” “bath….”

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost cod #codmw2 smut #cod mw2

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pearlzier · 3 months

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⊹ 🩰 ࣪ ✶ ˖

✶ . ࣪ ׅ now playing / pink matter by frank ocean ࣪ ✶ ˖

๋࣭ ⭑ from the inbox . . . | reader thinking that matt doesn't really care about her and his priorities are always elsewhere, and he decided to worship her to make it up to her — @lovesickgrlsrh0t

๋࣭ ⭑ warnings . . . | kinda subby matt, also kinda subby reader, oral (f!receiving), barely angst but sure, riding schlong, unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap that willy LMFAOO), p in v

๋࣭ ⭑ author's note . . . | take me shopping i dont care you can take me anywhere see the wind fly through my hair make the people stop n stare 😇 i hope this is. good BYE

you know matt loves you more than anything. it was so obvious in everything he did, how he behaved around you. you love him more than anything, you're sure to make it obnoxiously clear too. he makes your heart flutter, your demeanour happier and just everything better.

so why was that quiet but insistent part of your mind trying to convince you otherwise?

it started when matt was getting consistently more busy with youtube and other influencer-y things that he and his brothers do. you were used to it, yeah, but lately it felt more intrusive and an inconvience to you more than anything. but you never mentioned it, because you never wanted to seem needy, or like that annoying girlfriend who always wants his attention on her. you do, of course, who wouldn't, but not like that.

"m'busy, baby, i can't," he'd tell you, glancing at you for a faint moment before he looked back at his computer or resumed talking with nick and chris. it shouldn't have made you as upset as it did, since it wasn't anywhere near rude or a rejection, but it did make you upset. even a—"maybe later, babe,"—was almost catastrophic, making you feel even worse.

it may seem irrational or an overreaction however you just felt.. ignored. or underappreciated, or whatever you'd call it. like, does he even care about you? insane, you know, but.. you couldn't help but feel like that. what was making you so highstrung?

and matt. oh, matt. as perceptive as ever, knew there was something wrong almost immediately. he stayed quiet about it, trying to test the waters to see whether he was wrong about it however when your reluctance to even be around him became evident, he knew something had happened. he just.. didn't know what. so, he asked chris, first. "i dunno, man, she's just—she's like, avoiding me," chris laughs, almost instantly.

"what the fuck did you do?" he's not really paying attention, considering he knows exactly why you're avoiding matt. you'd talked to him and nick about it. and he vividly remembers you saying you wanted matt to figure out why you were so upset himself; without help.

matt retorts immediately, "i don't know, if i did, i think i'd be fixing it, dumbass." he swallows thickly, feeling uncomfortable with the thought of you not wanting to be around him. he pushes up from the counter, sighing, "thanks for the help." his tone is sarcastic, snarky, as he runs a hand through his hair before heading to the living room where you were with nick.

yeah, you'd resorted to hanging out with nick, when matt was in the house—it wasn't unusual, just.. weird considering how worried he was. it was petty of you, you knew it, but..

"hey," the tension is unsettling, and he hates it. you hate it too. you both hate it. nick's in the middle of it, fiddling with the beads of the bracelet he'd been making with you with a sideways glance at matt as if to tell him that he fucked up, big time. matt knew that, of course he did. you glance up at him, a tiny bit guilty. "nick, you mind if i steal her away for a bit?" he jokes, glancing at you with soft, almost sad puppy dog eyes.

"go ahead," nick mumbles, not exactly wanting to be stuck between couple drama and kind of just wanting to make cute bracelets.

you reluctantly get up, handing the beads back to nick. a dramatic sigh slips past your lips, and you make your way over to matt, looking at him expectantly. he swallows hard, gently grasping at your arm and leading you to his room, closing the door behind him. looking back at you, he finds you standing there with your arms folded over your chest defensively. his heart melts. "baby," he starts.

you glance away, frowning. you weren't mad at him, could never be mad at him, but.. uncertain and worried and all those bad feelings that made your head hurt and stomach ache. "matt," not even a matty? now he's frowning, unsure of how to approach this without making an absolute fool of himself. you had him wrapped so tight around your pretty finger, it was unbelievable.

"you're upset with me," matt mumbles, sounding dejected and upset with himself that he'd done something to upset you. "c'mon, look at me," you won't even look at him, give him the time of day.

kind of like how he made you feel, right? he doesn't know where the thought came from, and maybe it's from how you refuse to look at him, but.. he starts to piece things together. especially when you accidentally look at him despite the whole ignoring thing you have going on. "oh, baby," he says softly, ashamed. he hadn't been looking after you the way he should, right? that's what he's thinking, and he knows he's right.

"mmph," you glance away, focusing your gaze on the ceiling. it's how a child, a particularly petulant one, would react to being neglected in the way matt had done to you. his frown only deepens, hands moving to clasp at your thighs. you flinch at the cold metal of his rings against your warm skin, however you relax moments after. "i'm sorry," he starts, knowing a simple apology won't get you to forgive him. he knows you well, after all. "c'mon, let me.." he says softly, pulling you gently towards the bed. he's careful, not too forceful in case you don't want him to touch you or anything. he's too on edge. you let out a quiet sound as the back of your knees hit the bed, and you plonk down, eyes flickering up to his.

it would seem pathetic to some, desperate to many, the way he drops to his knees infront of you. it even surprises you, and you finally look at him properly. a giggle bubbles from your throat, despite yourself, "what are you doing?" your tone is soft, upset but oozing curiosity. his baby blues meet your eyes, and he swallows hard. "makin' it up to you, ma." he runs his hands over your thighs, chest rising and falling in gentle breaths as he takes you in. all his, right? all his.

matt lets his hand gently slide over your thighs, the exhale he lets out shaky and almost whimpery in nature. "wasn't bein' nice to my girl, was i?" he shakes his head, watching the way you nod slowly, "you weren't," you say matter-of-factly, because he wasn't. matt agrees, a soft hum of acknowledgement slipping past his lips. he feels so bad for ignoring you like that, having his priorities else where even when he was busy with work.

his head dips down to suckle gently at your soft skin, tentatively kissing at it. his blue eyes lift to yours for a moment, as if asking for permission. you nod, swallowing hard. "let me make it up to you," he asks, before he continues, murmuring against your skin, "let me make it up to you. please, baby, wanna make it all better."

how could you say no to that? the sound of him begging?

"okay," you say gently, "if you'll let me rant," he moans softly against your thigh, and he nods gently, mumbling something in affirmation but you can't hear it, nor do you really care, since his touch is a little bit mind fogging. his hands grasp at your thighs, tugging you impossibly closer.

"go on," he says quietly, bringing your legs over his shoulders so he can take care of your soft skin the way he wants to, needs to. but also to hear you take your frustrations out on him, it's the least he can do, isn't it? he sounds so apologetic, it's heart melting. "i dunno, kinda feels like you don't really care about me," you say quietly, a little ashamed for even thinking it. matt lets out a whimpery sound, like it pains him to even hear that.

"no, no, no, baby," matt leaves soft marks on your skin, nibbling gently. he's only careful with you, nothing less than delicate with your body. the open mouthed kisses he leaves make a shiver run down your spine, and you continue, "it's dumb.. but, just.. i feel ignored," oh, not right now. you feel very much attended to. "and like.. i'm not really.. you don't think about me? more about your work?"

matt's hands grasp tightly at your thighs instinctively as he swallows hard, shaking his head, "ma.." it's like he doesn't even think twice as he reaches for your leggings, tugging them down quickly but gently. "lift up f'me," he mumbles quietly, pulling down the leggings with relative ease. they're discarded soon enough, and you flinch a little at the cold air on your legs. "i'm so sorry, god.." he tugs your clothed cunt closer to him with another tug to your legs, leaning in and nuzzling himself against you.

a sharp gasp slips past your lips at the friction and your fingers instantly thread through his dark hair, his groan vibrating against your core at the sensation of you tugging. "ah.." your lips part, a pretty sound escaping you. he relishes in those sounds, adores them, and he starts to coax more when he starts mouthing over your clit through the fabric. the sensation is new to you, but not at all unwarranted. his pretty groans make it even better.

"m'so sorry.." his fingers, as he wets the fabric of your underwear even more, skim over the waistband of the fabric between the two of you. he tugs, once or twice, as if asking for permission. "go on," you say softly, a giggle bubbling from you again when he pulls down your underwear with relative ease and definite eagerness. an awed groan slips past his lips at the sight of your pretty pussy, one of his favourite things in the world. "there she is.." he says softly under his breath. eyes lifting to yours.

"been neglectin' you," he addresses you directly, tone soft, then he looks to your cunt, head tilting gently, "and neglecting her, huh? how bad of me.." matt tuts, shaking his head once more. he brings you close once more, giving a gentle pat to your puffy pussy and watching as you squirm almost instantly. "should make it better for my girls, shouldn't i?" another pat, and he's diving in, letting out a groan against your folds as he kisses and slips his tongue across them.

"she tastes so good, huh? she missed me," matt's words make you cry out softly, taken off guard by how desperate he is to please you. you tighten your grip on his hair a little and even squeeze your thighs around his head a bit more, causing him to groan into your soft, wet skin. "matt, oh, shit," you whimper, and he swirls his tongue around you, shifting lower so his nose bumps against your clit with every movement of his head.

his tongue circles your entrance for a moment before he flicks his tongue into your wet hole, loving the way you practically grind down onto his face. "take what you want, that's it," his words are muffled by your heat, and how you're almost sat on his face, but you get them nonetheless, eyes fluttering down to his own meeting yours. matt's hands slide down to your ass, squeezing and kneading in his hands.

matt's not even focused on himself, no, not at all, his hips grinding into the bed slowly to gain some kind of friction at all. he might end up cumming in his pants, he doesn't care, as long as you feel good and wanted. he never wants you to feel ignored or neglected again. you're his girl, his. "holy fucking shit," he's good with his mouth, like, good. and he knows it, lord does he know it.

the moment your hips start to stutter from his mouth sucking and licking at your pretty pussy, he doesn't let up, only making his movements more intense and pleasurable for you.

"that's it, fuck," he grunts, your thighs squeezing around his head once more. he doesn't even mind it, not at all. in fact, it gets him going, nose bumping against your clit enough to have you whining and squirming against his face, that familiar tight knot of arousal squeezing in your abdomen. matt can feel it too, as he eats you out like his life depends on it, which to him, it really does. "yeah, baby, there we go, that's it, come all over my face, make a mess on me, shit.."

you in fact, do, without any shame in the world. why feel shame when your man was making you feel so fucking amazing? your thighs tremble around his head and he helps you ride out your orgasm, licking slowly to bring you back down to earth without overstimulating you. soon, he pulls back, not even minding the state of well, his face. "did so good for me," he mumbles breathlessly, and you swallow hard. "that.. felt.. oh my god, matthew." a chuckle escapes him at the use of matthew and not just matt, and he gently pushes up off his knees to lay down on the bed on his back. his hands find your hips, slowly bringing you over on top of him.

"matthew, huh?" matt smiles, a gentle, loving smile that tells you exactly how much he cares for and adores you. a little grunt slips past his lips as he tugs his boxers down enough to free his cock, pre cum leaking from it due to how he was basically humping the bed earlier. your eyes flutter over him as you look down at him, swallowing hard, and he murmurs, "so pretty, ma," he gives his cock a few quick strokes, before he lines himself up with your tight hole. "i got you.."

you let out a pitiful little whine when he pulls you down onto him, the stretch making your lips part with soft noises, and matt tilts his head, taking in your form as you squirm. "relax for me.. i've got you.." his eyes flutter over your body, adoringly. his heart swells with warmth, just.. he can't believe he's so lucky. "i'm gonna fuckin'.. explode," you mumble breathlessly.

"i'll pick up the pieces, baby," he leans back against the headboard, hands squeezing at your hips. matt swallows hard, just in awe for a moment. "gorgeous, gorgeous girl. how'd i get so damn lucky?" he lets you adjust to him for a moment, waiting for the greenlight. "you'd be even luckier if you started movin'," ever the graceful, you are, he thinks to himself, and a laugh escapes him again.

"right, right, sorry," a giggle escapes you too, but it soon melts into a moan when he lifts you up, only to drop you back down. his eyes flutter to yours, baby blues dark with sheer want, and he grunts under his breath at how tight you are. "wish i could stay buried in your pussy forever, honey," he guides your movements a few more times till you find a rhythm, however his hands remain on your thighs to hold you up if you get tired.

"mmh, shit, shit, shit," your love for profanity only fuels his adoration for you, his hands squeezing at your thighs as you bounced on his cock, the sounds of skin slapping against skin hitting your ears. he didn't think about how loud the two of you were being and the fact his door was open, no, he wanted to make you feel as loved and wanted as you should. "feels so good, matt, mmh!"

he's doing a very good job at it too.

"that's it, fuck, look so pretty ridin' my dick like that, you like that, mama? yeah.." his eyes follow the way your tits bounce beneath your top, and he pushes up the fabric so he can get a good view of them. no one's ever looked at you with such adoration like that, it's intoxicating. matt greedily gropes at you, squeezing and flicking your nipples just because. and because it makes you clench around him so good. "these pretty titties, fuck."

matt swallows hard, getting lost in you as you get lost in him too, holding onto his hoodie tight as you lift your hips up and down. "never wanna make you feel bad again, never wanna do that. m'so sorry baby, fuck, you forgive me? forgive me, please, ma?" he's practically begging, hands squeezing your body all over, showing how much he loves you. "always got time for my baby, for my girl. even if i don't, gonna make it, promise, fuckin'.. promise," he mumbles, words borderline incoherent.

it makes you smile, it makes you beam, and you're not mad at him. you'd stopped being upset with him since he made you come all over his face, to be totally honest. "it's okay, it's okay," you murmur softly, "i forgive you, okay? i forgive you." matt squeezes your hips once more, bucking his own into you to drive himself deeper inside of you. the way you squeeze around him is intoxicating.

"gonna come, ma, shit," matt whimpers, and you coo softly at his whiny tone, "yeah? go on, come for me," he whines shakily, gripping your thighs tighter and thrusting up into you harder. his chest rises and falls in quick breaths, dark hair falling over his eyes as he lets out soft sounds as pretty as yours. "where d'you want it?" he asks breathlessly, eyes searching yours.

"want it inside," just the sound of your voice saying shit like that has him groaning, hips stuttering as he feels himself reach that peak, ropes of cum painting your walls as he lets go. you find yourself gushing around him around the same time too, a shaky series of moans and whines slipping past your lips. matt takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you and press your body against his. his head soon nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "i love you so much," he breathes out.

"love you too," you murmur in response, relaxing into him. you're happy to stay there for a while.

or go again.

๋࣭ ⭑ taglist / @mattslolita , @st7rnioioss , @flairdean , @mattsluv , @bepositiveforachange , @poetatorturadaa , @onlynextdoor

๋࣭ ⭑ line dividers / @rookthornesartistry

#𐙚˙ ana writes ⋆.˚#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo

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imaginingmanyfandoms · 11 days

Text

embry, i'm coming home

pairing; embry call x reader

warnings; kissing i guess idk

just getting back into this, tell me your thoughts and stuff - maybe even request a thing or two

summary; you're Quil's sister, and go over to confront Embry about ditching him, and instead, he imprints on you.

Being Quil's twin sister, you'd known Embry pretty much forever. Growing up beside each other, you'd always thought he was cute, but you never told Quil. You already knew he'd never allow it. It also wasn't something you wanted to do to them, if anything were to happen, it would shift the whole group dynamic, and no one wanted that.

You two had always loved each other, and you both knew it.

But when Embry had started ignoring all his friends... well, it really pissed you off.

Quil and Jake were left sad, upset but mostly confused. What was Embry up to that they couldn't know about? What was Sam Uley doing to these guys that turned them into such a tight lipped, secretive little club.

You were tired of seeing Quil so devastated, and one day, after he got home and locked himself in his room. You'd had enough of it.

Embry didn't have to hang out with them if he didn't want to, but he didn't have to be a dick about it either.

So you got into your mom's car, and drove over to his house. The silence of the broken car stereo just egged your anger on more, making it. And as you thought of what to say, it got more and more irritated.

Parking in the laneway of Embry's house, you saw there were no cars in the drive. And you were thankful for that, no one around to witness you yelling at him for being a shitty friend.

You knocked loudly a couple times, but no one came to the door. You tried peaking in through the window, and didn't see his mom or anyone else in the living room, so she must not have been there. You weren't leaving without answers, so you dug the spare key out of it's hidden spot in the big flower pot out front, wiping the dirt off on your pant leg, you let yourself into his house.

There was music playing softly in his room, he always let it play while he slept. Something you used to find endearing, but right now it somehow also made you mad.

You pushed open the door to his room, and there he was, laying face down, sheets tangled around his legs, back and muscles on full display. If you didn't know any better, you wouldn't even believe this was Embry, he looked so different. His short hair was messy, sticking up in random spots from tossing and turning. He'd always been a restless sleeper.

You picked a random trinket off his dresser, an unsolved rubicks cube, and threw it at him, the sharp corner hitting him on the back, and he sprung up, confused and disoriented at the sudden intrusion.

"Get up," you said, crossing your arms.

"What?" He tried to blink himself awake, holding himself off the bed, flexing his strong arms, subtly cracking your resolve without trying to. In this moment, he was Embry again. Confused, tired, looking at you with sleep in his eyes.

And when he looked at you, a wave of calm ran over you. All the yelling you planned to do washed away, and it all seemed silly now, unimportant. Your heart was beating heavily, and you wanted to run to him. Wanted to kick him, and fight him and kiss him all at once.

Embry was still Embry, you could feel it. But why did he leave you?

"I missed you," you said, voice cracking as you tried to stay calm, unable to yell at him. Unable to find the anger you'd drove over here with.

He scrambled to get up, confusion leaving his face. And he was looking at you like he always did. His body was different, but his eyes, his eyes were his. You felt drawn to him, like gravity had shifted entirely, like you belonged in this room with him. Like you belonged beside him at all times.

"I missed you," he said, acting as if he'd never left. As if he'd never been missing. And everything suddenly felt normal again. Like there weren't any secrets. He came closer, hesitant. Slowly making his way across the small room, stopping just before you. "I've really, really missed you."

There was no reason for it, but tears welled in your eyes, running down your cheeks before you could stop it.

"Then why did you leave?"

"I didn't have a choice," he said, "but that's different now."

"Since when?"

"Since right now."

The tears kept falling, and no one moved. Embry looking down at you sadly, his heart aching at the sight of you crying. He wondered how many times you'd cried over him before today, how many nights you wondered where he is, or why he wouldn't call you back. You had been the hardest to leave behind, even more than his friends. Maybe there was a small part of his subconscious that always knew you two were meant for each other. Like his mind knew to just wait for this moment.

He was the first to make move, bringing his hand up to wipe some of the tears off your cheek.

"It wasn't fair," you sobbed, desperate to wrap yourself around him, but you resisted.

"I know," he said.

"I called."

"I know."

"You weren’t supposed to leave me like that."

"I know," he said again, brushing your hair behind your ears. His warm touch soothing you, making the tears stop. Bringing a sense of comfort you'd been missing for weeks. "Never again."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Embry held his hands against your cheek, his long fingers grazing the edges of your hair, holding you steady and softly, keeping his eyes locked on you. "I will never let you down again." He placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "My life is yours."

"Embry," you sighed softly, confused but leaning into the moment. It all felt right. Like you believed him, you knew he was sincere. You'd barely talked about anything but he wasn't lying to you, you knew that somehow. "Will you tell me why?"

"Yes," he answered. "Anything and everything, I'll explain it all."

"No secrets?"

"Not from you," he said, "I'll never keep anything from you again."

The two of you were still standing in his doorway. And you still wanted answers, today. But... in a minute.

Embry's heart raced as he looked down at you. His imprint, his girl. The one who's always had his heart. The one who he'd already loved. Without thinking, he leaned down to scoop you up. Picking you up like you weighed nothing at all, letting you wrap your legs around his waist, faces inches apart. And he just looked at you, eyes filled with love and devotion. Like you'd been apart for hours, not weeks.

And then you kissed him. You leaned into him and pressed your lips to his, feeling the softness you always dreamed about. It was beautiful, the way your mouths moved together slowly. Him following your lead, spreading his hands over your back and holding you as close to him as possible. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, pressing your chest into his.

Nothing had ever felt more right than this. No moment ever as perfect.

He brought you to the bed, setting you down gently, barely ever breaking contact with his lips. And one of his hands moved back to your cheek, caressing the soft skin as he climbed on top of you, settling between your legs, pressing your bodies together like he belonged there. You moaned into him, inviting his tongue into mouth. It was slow and sensual, and took the time to learn what you liked, what your body reacted to.

Embry was the first to pull away, even though he didn't want to, but he had to stop. Didn't want to rush anything, take anything too far too soon. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful.

"I'm so sorry," he said kissing your nose, then your cheek, then right by your ear, making you moan and push your chest up into him. "I will be sorry for hurting you for as long as I live."

"I forgive you," you whispered, and it was like he was set free. Everything about today had set him free. Free to be with you, to tell you the full truth.

He'd never really left, watched over you and Quil. Checking in on you before and after his patrols. Making sure you got to work safe, and home again.

"Will you come see Quil again?" and you could tell by the guilty look on his face, that no, he wouldn't be able to. While things between the two of you were different now, the rift between friends have stayed the same.

"It's not like that," he said, "staying away is not something I want to do."

He rolled off of you, staying close to your side and pulling you into him, spooning you from behind and nuzzling his face into your neck. He'd never felt truly at home until this very minute.

Everything about you was home.

"I have a lot of stuff to tell you," he said. "And I'd like to get it out of the way so I can keep kissing you."

#twilight #twilight imagine #embry call #embry call imagine #embry call imagines #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagines #embry call x reader #embry call x fem!reader #embry call fanfic #embry call fanfiction

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usedtobecooler · 2 years

Note

If you’re looking for ideas: Riding Virgin Eddie’s face.

what the fuck i'm losing my absolute shit over this.

part one // part two // part three // part four

Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), oral f receiving, handjobs, corruption kink, dirty talking, lil bit of angst and confusion, lots of words of praise (being called pretty, handsome), dumbification (reader thinks eddie is a bit of an idiot).

Word Count | 3k

A/N | at this point i think i need some fucking help because what the hell am i actually playing at doing this again when i literally just posted the last part yesterday. anyway, i need to take a cold shower after this.

Things are a bit awkward for a while after your previous encounter with Eddie, which saddens you. He was acting more awkward than usual, he tensed up whenever you'd brush by him and things in general just weren't quite how they used to be. There was a shift in energy and you'd come to the conclusion that you'd scared him off.

He didn't even catch a ride home with you anymore, his van finally getting fixed just as Winter crept in, which meant you didn't get to corner him anywhere to press him on it.

Maybe Eddie just isn't interested in me, maybe he's gone out and found another girl instead (which is fine, you definitely wouldn't ponder on it too long and you definitely didn't feel a pang of hurt in your chest at the thought), maybe it had awakened something in him and he decided he wasn't interested in sex at all.

Either way, you were giving him his space and waiting for him to come to you when he was ready. Because, irregardless of how you felt about him and how you ached to have his fingers and mouth all over you again, you also were respectful of boundaries and you knew not to push him when he wasn't ready.

It's a particularly quiet Monday shift, Christmas had been and gone and that left the January slump. You're sitting perched pretty on a twirling stool, swinging it back and forth a little with your foot that's resting on a bit of wood below your feet. Your chin is in your hand as you lean onto the counter, big jumper drowning you to block out the chill of the cool, snowy air blasting through the drafty door every so often.

Eddie is... well he's Eddie. Keeping himself occupied arranging some new tapes that had come in just before Christmas when you had no time to sort them. He wasn't usually so quick to actually do the work you were paid to do, usually sat on his ass all day like you did and would flip through his weird comic books.

You break the almost tense silence with a loud sigh, getting agitated with watching and hearing Eddie doing his work, "Eddie, honey, you've been rearranging A through D for the last hour, there can't be anything left that you've missed."

He actually has the nerve to roll his eyes at you, not daring to look up and face you but you catch him doing it. What a little brat.

"Eddie, what have I actually done wrong?" And oh, there it is, tumbling out of your mouth like an intrusive thought let loose before you can catch it and swallow it back up.

"You've done nothing wrong." He mutters, letting his curls fall over his face to hide himself from your view, "I just feel... awkward, is all. Like I can't look you in the face because I keep picturing what we did."

Oh.

"Did you not like it or somethin'? Cause to me it seemed like you did." You're huffing and puffing like a spoilt kid, if you were standing up you'd of been stomping your foot.

"I-I did like it, that's the problem," Eddie sighs, defeated as he throws his head back and looks up at the ceiling like it's the most interesting thing in the world, "but how can I look at you and go on like before when you made me, well."

He's such a virgin. He can't even get the words out right without cringing and you're caught halfway between endeared and annoyed.

"You jizzed in your pants, Eds. Jesus Christ." You spit it out for him and it comes out harsher than you had meant, you inwardly cringe at yourself when you see the downtrodden look on his face, like a puppy that's been kicked, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it like that, handsome. It's just... it happened and I enjoyed it too."

"Why are you doing this?" He asks eventually, looking at you now with his big, wet puppy dog eyes and your legs turn to jelly, he's just so fucking pretty, "Is it... is it like a joke or something? Did somebody put you up to it?"

You gawp at him open mouthed for a second, "Ouch, that hurt. Are you that oblivious to how much I actually like you? I've literally had to stop myself pouncing on you from the day we met. You're just so goddamn pretty. I sort of guessed you were kinda inexperienced but I didn't know you were a virgin until you admitted it to me that night. I jus' wanna show you how to make a girl feel good. You didn't even need my help, you fucked me with your fingers so good all on your own."

You can't help it, you squeeze your thighs together as the heat creeps up your neck remembering just how well Eddie had fingered you, how he'd brought you to the edge so fast with little instruction. He was perfect.

He looks at you for a second, all dumb and wide eyed, before glancing at the clock, noticing the time and realising you should've shut ten minutes ago. He prances over to lock the door, then swiftly exits through to the back where the break room and bathroom were.

You follow Eddie wordlessly, jumping down from the stool and wandering through not far behind. You're gonna talk about this before you lose your nerve and make things worse.

He makes for the bathroom and before he can shut the door you place your hand on it, shoving your way in and slamming it behind you.

It's like a fucking airplane bathroom, you're wedged up against the door and Eddie's back is up against the sink. He's looking at you all bug eyed, in a silent 'what the fuck', but he's not saying anything to get you to leave.

"You just gonna stand there and look all pretty and stupid or are you gonna talk?" You ask, folding your arms over your chest. You notice Eddie's idiotic glance down at your tits, all squished together under the pressure of your arms and you laugh sarcastically - right in his face. Incredible.

"I just wanted to take a piss." He says it like he's dumb and at this point you're starting to question if he truly is as stupid as he makes himself out to be around you.

Eddie's big, wet loser boy eyes have you captured. Have done from the get go. You find yourself relaxing a bit and losing your hard stare as you finally drink in his appearance properly for the first time in weeks. His lips are so full and red, albeit chapped from the cold weather, and his nose is all cute. Suddenly you realise all you can think about is shoving his stupid face into your cunt and riding it senseless.

He makes the first move, which. My god. His hand comes out to grip at your squishy cheeks carefully, thumb rubbing along your bottom lip and his long fingers fanning up the side of your face, the tips resting gently in your hair.

You melt into his touch, lunging forward to capture his lips and instantly you're licking into his mouth. You want Eddie all over you, consuming your entire being.

He's still so shit at kissing but he'll get there eventually with some coaching. It's hot the way that he basically drools into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours gingerly like he's frightened. One day, you think, he'll be confident enough to spit in your mouth and make you swallow it.

Baby steps, you think to yourself, trying to rewind back from that thought.

"Can I, uh, can I do something?" Eddie asks quietly once he pulls away from your mouth, a string of spit following and you have to shut your eyes and clench your thighs at the sight of it.

You nod fervently, gasping out loud when he drops to his knees in front of you like a bitch in heat. Your tummy quivers, anticipating what he's going to do next.

Eddie's hands slide up your thighs, covered in thick black tights this time because it's too cold for fishnets in this damn snow, gingerly resting just below the cut of your big sweater. He's looking up at you again with his big sparkling eyes, leaning his cheek against the meat of your left thigh, and from this angle he looks so submissive. Your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight.

"Are you insinuating what I think you are?" You ask, voice quivering a little, just to make sure you're getting this right, "You wanna lick me out?"

Eddie cringes a little at the way you word it, cheeks flushing red, but he nods and grips onto your thighs in reply, "You could - you could show me how."

"Baby boy," You coo, running your hand over his curls and gripping them a little. You don't miss the way Eddie keens into the touch, a breathy sigh shuddering out of him, "I'll show you anything you want me to show you. Slide my tights down."

It happens in a weird blur, Eddie leans back on his haunches and grips the material of your tights in between his fingers, tugging them down slowly and pulling your panties along. By accident, you'd assume, with the sheepish look he gives you when he realises.

There's no patience for you to toe your beaten Docs off to help slide your tights off, so they're left pooled around your ankles. You take it upon yourself to spread your legs and Eddie eagerly looks, eyes bugging out at the sight of your slick pussy in some real lighting.

"All that's for you, pretty boy," It's true, really. You were wet just from looking at his face and the careful way he spoke to you and asked you for things, "Y'gonna lean forward and put your mouth to work? Just start by licking flat against me so you can feel it out."

Eddie does what you tell him to without question, nudging forward in between your open legs and dipping down to lick a flat stripe up your pussy, his fat tongue gliding right between your folds, catching your clit just barely at the end.

"That's it, Eddie, fuck," You shiver, hand instinctively coming back out to grasp at the curls on top of his head. He's looking at you still, wet eyes glimmering, nose perched perfectly on your mound, he's like a wet fucking dream, "keep doing that and I'll help, 'kay?"

It's almost like Eddie was naturally made to be buried face deep in pussy because his enthusiasm is unmatched. He begins this assault on your cunt like his life depends on it, hands gripping your thighs tight for purchase, as he licks fat stripes up and down your pussy, there's no rhythm at all but that doesn't matter. He finds your clit as quickly this time as the last time and he points his tongue to lick over it lazily, flicking that bundle of nerves just right.

You can't take your eyes off of him, legs shaking and hands tightening in his hair so hard he moans. You'd need to come back to that another time, because what the fuck?

"Shit, Eddie, your mouth is sinful," You choke out, fucking your hips up against his face a little when he sucks at your clit, "you didn't need any help, you - god, right there - knew exactly what to do already."

Eddie finds his rhythm slowly but surely and you finally shut your eyes, thumping your head back against the door. He's licking at your opening, dipping his tongue in and out experimentally, nose pressed tightly into your cunt, rubbing at your clit. You don't know how he's breathing but you don't care and you're thinking he doesn't either.

Your hips move of their own accord, back and forth, the sweet catch and drag of his nose over your clit and his tongue flicking back and forth is bringing you close to your peak ridiculously quick.

You're gonna give him an ego at this rate and you can't risk that. You need him bashful and dumb for a bit longer yet.

Suddenly, a moan grumbles out of Eddie's throat and it vibrates against your cunt. You chance a peek down and you realise one of his hands is gone and pressing tightly against his covered cock. He's a fucking mess, eyes wet from tears and he's panting against you in between devouring your pussy.

"You gonna cum in your, God, pants again? With my sweet pussy in your mouth?" You're losing it but you can't help but tease Eddie, watching intently as your hips rock back and forth, the sweet drag of the bulb of his nose over your clit driving you wild.

He's moaning like crazy and you can feel him jerking into his own hand, still not even attempting to get his hand in, just happy to have the little bit of friction.

Eddie cums quick and sudden, you can tell by the way his mouth falters on your cunt and the whine that escapes him, his eyes finally leaving yours and squeezing shut.

"That's it, cum in your pants again. Fuck, this is so hot," You're whining, rubbing furiously against Eddie's face again, but now he's gripping your thighs again and back to assaulting your clit with intent, nose buried into your mound once again. He's clearly trying to get you there, you can tell by the way his brows are furrowed and he looks like he's concentrating.

"Uh, that's it, keep doing that," You're a whining, babbling mess now, the pressure in your tummy mounting fast, building hot and making goosebumps spread all over your body, "I'm cumming, shit, Eddie, fuck, fuck, fuck."

You moan so loud if anyone was around they'd of heard you clear as day, your grip in his hair so tight it's got to fucking hurt, thighs squeezing around his head as you almost double over on top of him, your orgasm shaking through you so violently your legs are buckling.

It takes you a second to come to, pulling yourself back up and releasing Eddie's hair sheepishly. He's looking at you all dumb with a big grin, his face and neck covered in your release and your cunt squeezes around nothing at the sight.

"You really do have me losing my mind here, handsome," You sigh, helping him up off of his knees and cringing at the cracking his bones do as he straightens himself out.

You can't help it, peaking down to see the wet patch formed on the front of his worn in jeans, but you notice this time his cock is still straining against the zipper, "Are you... are you hard again?" You ask, eyes lighting up.

Eddie nods, "Sorry, s'just. That was so hot and I really liked it," He's all bashful, red in the face and his brown eyes glistening like a puppy who's being played with.

"Don't be sorry," You puff out a little laugh as you bend down to pull your panties and tights back up, snapping them against your belly, "can I touch you?"

"Are- are you sure? You don't have to, shit," Eddie's stumbling over his words, gasping when your hands effortlessly work on his button and zip on his jeans. You didn't have to wait any longer, the green light was there and you were taking full advantage.

You pull down his soiled pants and boxers just enough for his cock to spring out, all flushed red at the tip and begging to be touched. It's so much prettier than you hoped it'd be, matches Eddie perfectly, it's thick and long and you want your mouth around it.

That'd wait for another day, though.

Eddie is flush with embarrassment but he can't take his eyes off of you, choking on his tongue when you lean over to spit directly onto the hot head of his cock.

"Sorry handsome, this'll probably be quick for you," You admit, hand wrapping tight over the head and then spreading the spit down his shaft. You don't miss the high pitched whine that escapes his lips, you don't miss how he looks down to watch your fist fuck him expertly with wide eyes and curiosity.

"God, sweetheart, y-your hand feels so good," Eddie sounds like he's crying, voice wet and needy, but you can't tear your eyes away from his pretty cock sliding in and out of your tight fist to look. He's blurting out so much precum that your hand is slicking up and down effortlessly, you know this is gonna be over before you know it.

"Shit, shit," Eddie's gasping, hand clinging onto your shoulder for purchase. You finally look back up at him now, not wanting to miss the look on his face when he cums, thumb flicking over the head of his cock and wrist twisting, bringing him closer and closer.

"Yeah? Y'gonna cum for me? I know you want to," Your words are hot and heavy, you don't mean to sound as dirty as you do but that's the way it comes out and it works, because Eddie is fucking losing it, moaning and whining all high pitched and cute and cumming all over your fist.

You surge forward and capture his lips with yours, working him through the last of it as his cum drips down your fingers, making a mess of your sweater and his own shirt. He moans into your mouth all hot and needy, fingers still clenching your shoulder tight enough to bruise.

When you finally release his slowly softening cock and take a step back, you take in the full mess in front of you. Eddie is so red in the face, hair dripping with sweat, clothes all crumpled up and dishevelled looking.

He whines, leaning his head on your shoulder and burying his face in, "You're gonna be the death of me. Thank you, thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet, pretty boy. You can do that next time when you fuck me over the top of this sink."

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goldsbitch · 6 months

Text

Just don't talk---------

-and listen too.

p11 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. It's time to talk. Taking a spin on the whole fake dating.

mentions of Olivia Rodrigo lyrics - all rights belong to the respectable owners.

warnings: unprotected sex, squirting, minors DNI

"I WAS HALF MYSELF WITHOUT YOU, NOW I FEEL SO COMPLETE AND IF I'M NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU'RE NOT IN LOVE WITH ME!!!"

"You know those are not the actual lyrics, right?"

"WHATEVER!"

For a moment if felt nice to think she "pulled" someone like Lando. Bittersweet afterthought came just a second later.

Y/N did not go to the bathroom, in fact she sprinted over back to her hotel, sunglasses on and trying to avoid anyone stopping her. It must have been a record time in which she got back. Phone on silent do-not-disturb mode, apart from one one her best friends, back from her home town. Actively ignoring any resposibilities she was to attend to. Let her bloody PR team handle that for once. She could also be a diva for once. Always playing by their books, someone else's rules and thinking twice before opening any doors. Fuck that now.

She told her everything - only the best of friends give up their sleep for the heartbreak of others. Time zones were playing against them.

There they were, screaming Olivia Rodrigo lyrics out loud as if there was no tomorrow.

It felt good to get out of her system - she realized that she did not properly tell anyone, with all the feelings and complications involved in her recent fling with a racing driver. Fling. That's all it was ever to be.

The two screamed, danced and sang. One in a hotel room, the other in her own flat shared with a partner. Y/N was just a little bit jealous.

Lando stayed with the rest of the attendees of that forsaken meeting in silence, while they waited for Y/N to rejoin. As silence goes, this was one for the history books. He texted he few times, without any response. While he was worried, he had to get his own head in check first. When she did not return in about twenty minutes, they inevitably dissolved that meeting without rescheduling. But, since this gave Lando some time to think, he took a copy of the contract with him, cancelled all of the engagements of the day and immediately scheduled a call with his lawyers. He paid them enough for them to be available within thirty minutes.

He disclosed with them their situation fully - leaving out only the explicit details. Lando's lawyers have seen some thing with him over the years, this was a first one. As he did many times, he danced around the fact that he started to crush on this girl, which was making the whole conversation harder than needed. But, his team quickly came up with a clause to add should they go though with this - Recognition of Potential Emotional Development. It was all a bit bizarre, but Lando changed his mind from the initial shock he got. They were wrapped up in their own game anyway. He was getting weirdly excited by this.

Y/N ended their Facetime little party after an hour and kept herself locked up in the hotel room. No point in joining her team back for the rest of the day. It was all a little too much and far removed from racing - it was getting annoying. She was determined to get her emotion in check for the following days. It involved room service, some angsty tv show and phone on silent mode. So naturally, she missed Lando's text announcing that he is on his way to her room.

It felt like a strange deja vu. A knock on the door. He was the first one to cross her mind, like an intrusive thought you can't get rid off. She wanted it to be him knocking. And it was.

He let out a big sigh as he saw her open the door.

"Do you always ignore your phone when it matters the most?" he asked, fairly tired after the strange day they'd had.

She refused to answer his comment, simply stepped away to let him pass in her room.

"I was worried about you, you know?" he asked, not letting go as easily as she'd like to.

"Had to get out and clear my head. I'm not obligated to answer any calls or texts," she said in her defense, feeling like she was pushed into a corner.

Another sigh left Lando's lips. "Y/N, let's not go back this again. It's been a little mental for both of us, but we can't let it rule our life."

Was this when he was going to tell her that they should end their "whatever-this-is" affair? Y/N was getting mad - he could have at least wait after the race. There'd be a two week break where she could process all of this.

"Do we really need to do this now?" she asked, giving up on all hope.

Lando was firm on his stance, no more dancing around. "Yes, we do."

"Alright, let me get dressed," as it felt strange to talk like that only in her pyjama. Normally, Lando would drop a comment on how he did not want to hear these types of sentences ever again.

"Great, I'll wait in there," he said, pointing to the living room part of the suite.

The pseudo formal feeling Lando brought with him went out of the window pretty soon. He was nervous beyond belief and her overly-panicky mind was already five steps ahead, overcoming their relation before it even ended.

"So, Norris. What brings you here at this hour?" she asked with a hint sarcasm.

He chucked and observed for a moment, recalculating the angle from which to untangle this. In front of him sat slightly disheveled girl, someone who he wanted to know everything about. It seemed like she deliberately did not join him at the couch and opted for a chair nearby.

"It's been a little crazy lately."

"When was it not?"

"Touché, you're right."

He recalled something his mom used to tell him - it usually only takes 30 seconds to be brave, the rest is dealing with the aftermath.

"I've been thinking," he said and only then has Y/N noticed a folder with the devil contract which got her blood raging once again.

"A unique event, yes," she commented dryly.

"Come on. Stop it. I've thought about it and spoke to my lawyers."

"You did what?!"

"Hear me out, you muppet," another sigh and gestured to her to calm down before getting a wrong idea. "I think our little game of cat and mouse has gotten out of hand. I don't think we can go on like this before it blows up in our faces. It's better to control the narrative."

She shifted in her chair, sitting a little too far away from him on the couch. It felt uncomfortable. "So you want to end it?"

Lando was taken back. "Obviously not? Do you?"

She was quit to respond, fuck it now, right? "No, but I'm not the one who protested again the fake dating thing as if it was a request to walk into an open fire," she said defensively. She could not fathom how he could just run around this world, giving these mixed vibes all the time. And Lando was having the same kind of questions.

He stared her deeply in the eyes. His 30 seconds counting.

"Y/N. I think we're past the whole hatered thing. I really like you and it feels stupid to say it like that. But apparently, I need to say it in order for you to start believing me." He wanted to add few sentences about how he will leave her alone immediately if she didn't feel the same. But he didn't. Stopped avoiding.

Now it was her taken back. Stripped down to the core. Time to come forward, to herself and the gorgeous boy she wanted to devour.

"You once said no strings attached. I want strings attached. If we were to continue, I can't do something casual with you. I'm already beside that point," she said slowly, picking the right words in order to get point out.

He smiled. "Good. Feels nice being on the same page." She let out a smirk and a small laugh. The tension in the room gone and waves of relief washing them over.

"Do you realize we sound like high schoolers with a crush?" she commented with a noticeable ease.

"The truth is I believe not so far away from that." She made him feel all those feelings. Excitement. Butterflies. Healthy amount of nervousness. Because he cared. Because they both did.

"Can you come closer to me?" he asked, pointing at the blank space at the couch. More than wiling, she got up and sat next to him.

"Can I kiss you before I ask you to about the lawyers?" she pleaded, while he held her hand gently. He did not need any convincing. In fact, this was all he needed. He approached her face slowly, taking his time to take in the moment. And when he ultimately lock his lips with hers, it was like unlocking a whole new level in the game. Tender, vulnerable and soft. For her, it was like letting go of the biggest worry, she could finally let herself loose and be herself. With all the strings attached. He caressed her lips once more before they both reached for a short breath. He took a lock of her hair in his fingertips and played with it. She kept touching his hands, that were sending her all the way to hell.

"So, are we going with the whole dating thing?" she asked, mainly for confirmation.

"I hope so...It feels exciting to think about that," he said quietly, as if he just began to realize that.

"Yes, it does," she said, before she finally ended their moment of soft whispers and pulled back a bit. "So, the fuck you're talking about some lawyers shit. Are you planning on suing me?"

He laughed. "I find it funny that your mind went immediately towards that."

"Well you know, child of divorced parents, you never know," she said with a hint of sarcasm masking the true feeling of traumatic memories.

"Right, I understand," he said seriously and made a mental not to ask her about this another time. He longed to know absolutely everything. He shuffled to position himself in less of a slag off position. "So, I've been thinking. The whole "PR relationship thing" - at first I thought it was the worst idea known to human kind. I want to try it with you for real, not to dance like a puppy and not following my feelings," he said as her heart danced the happiest of dances. She nodded at him, letting him finish. Lando was surprised at how much she shifted towards listening instead of constantly jumping into his sentences. He was growing to like that. It was hard for him not to smile. "Right, stop giving me these looks, it's hard for me to get to the point," he said, smiles escaping left and right.

"Hard, you're saying?" she said cheekily. Oh, he was going to make her night really difficult later.

"Anyway, as I was saying. The whole PR thing will be an issue, or more like a thing to tackle together in the future anyway, so why not have some control over it."

She was trying to let this idea sink in. "So you're saying, like date for real and let people think it's for PR?"

He was happy that she appeared to be on the same page. "Exactly. Do whatever we want and just let them worry about our story. And at some point, when we see how this goes, we'll just say we managed to fall for each other because of them and it will a whole happy story for everyone. I feel like if we disclose now, we're robbing ourselves of precious time to get to know each other. What do you think?"

She thought about it for a moment - but her gut feeling was telling her to trust Lando. If she was to start dating him, it would be good to become a team. And he was around this stuff, better than she was. "I think what you're saying makes a lot of sense."

"Pardon? I did not quite catch what you're saying," he said, making fun of her.

"You idiot, you've heard me perfectly fine!" she responded, the corners of her mouth going up again.

"No, I did not, you're gonna have to come closer to say that," he winked at her and got dangerously close to her once again. "Closer, still far away," he said as he licked his lips before kissing her again. While having a way faster battle of tongues this time, she cupped his face as he gently pushed her down to lay on the couch they were sharing.

"There are few things to change in the contract," he said in between kisses, his voice getting characteristically high, as it always did when he was excited. "We need to add a Recognition of Potential Feeling clause, or whatever," he remarked as his mouth found her neck. "And few things regarding the physical aspect of the relation," he whispered to her neck, as she started to let out gentle moans.

"Physical aspects?" she let out suggestively. "Could you be more specific?"

His hands started to roam under her shirt. "I'm happy to show you everything that contract is banning us from doing. First point being not having any physical contact alone."

"Poor Oscar, he's gonna be mortified when he finds out he has to watch," she joked, as she began to touch his dick through his pants.

He bit her lower lip. "Do you like that? When people watch?"

"Depends. I want you all for myself."

"Oh, finally something we agree on. I'm going to be very territorial, you know? Let everyone know that this," he pointed at her torso, "this and this is mine," he said as his hand went in between her legs and lastly to her head. He looked her deeply in the eyes before speaking again. "I've fucked your body, but I feel like mind-fucking you is going to be fun."

Her eyes were wide open and she felt herself getting wetter and wetter. "Lando, show me everything this contract is prohibiting us to do."

It was like giving him three shots of espresso. He smirked, as he began to take off his shirt. "You're going to have to strip for me, honey." She more than happily obliged.

Lando observed like a hungry animal. She was finally his, fully. Her hands crept up his torso, lining his muscles all the way in.

"No touching here," he said as he roamed around her cleavage, "definitely not this," he continued as he kissed her nipple and let her grab his hair firmly. "Oh and most definitely not this," he ended with his hand reaching out all the way down and circled around her clit.

Blood rushed into her head and she arched herself on the sofa handle, giving him a sight to remember during lonely nights. Dim light hitting her body with shadows highlighting the curves. He watched, as his fingers made her lips turn into a smile. It was intoxicating. He flicked them like scissors, gently and watching his tempo. Then he took them out and licked them while maintaining eye contact.

"I want a taste of you," she said before thinking and gestured to come over to her face. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes, starting at the very tip and playing with it gently. She moved her hand up and down his shaft and started taking him in more and more.

Lando was never fan of slow sex. But her moves made him curious to see how far he can push her and himself. Her tongue and lips felt like a soft feather, making his now wet dick sensitive. He got shivers down his lower back, something he rarely did. It was like pleasure started flowing though his whole body. He reached out to hold her other hand and he began slowly moving his hips. He was sliding up and down her tongue as she wrapped her lips around without any plans of letting him go. He on the other hand slit out of her mouth completely, albeit reluctantly. He locked eyes with her and they both knew what was coming next. "I want to try something new this time," he whispered with a hint of excitement in his voice. She was more than happy to try new things with him, knowing all too well that he was perceptive enough to stop the moment she'd feel uncomfortable.

She expected a meriad of different things - but not him, sliding in as slow as possible. It was the sweetest form of torture. Her body, used to his deep hard thrusts was now tightly wrapped around his cock. Lando felt heavenly. Feeling every inch of her body that was around him more intensively than ever before. He kept his slow tempo she she arched her back again, providing him with his favorite view and an angle, that made his moves feel deeper now. Y/n never understood before this moment why some people really likes slow sex. There was tenderness, focus and a pelicular pleasure coming in longer waves. It was like slowing down made them more present. She felt wetter than she ever had with him. And soon enough, when her mind was somewhere high up in the sky, a clear warm liquid started coming out of her - and with every squirt an indescribable heat of pleasure coming around her lower belly. Her breathing became harder and harder, moans that she could not hold in for her life. Lando first felt warmth on his cock and then looked down as drop of her juices started hitting on his stomach. He watched with awe, not being able to get a girl into this position before. As he watched her drown in orgasms, he sped up just a tiny bit in order to get himself ready to finish once she was done. And when he inevitably did, he painted with him cum all over her bare chest.

If this was how it was going to be now, he is going to be a very happy man.

Y/N came down in few moments, her breath going at a normal speed now. He reached out for a box of tissue to get her cleaned up and kissed her once again.

"This was a nice sight," he said, again with his voice going up higher than usual.

She was taken back, this new incredible feeling of finally being "empty" taking over and mixing with a hint of shame as she the aftermath she left on the couch. Lando noticed when her face went red as she saw her stain.

"That's quite embarrassing," she said shyly. And that was not something that Lando would allow. He took his hand and pulled her chin up gently.

"Now, do not ever say that. Did it feel good?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She was gathering herself for a moment before finally admitting. "Oh, god, yes. Unreal."

He smiled proudly. "Good. Well then this is not the last time we're doing this. And also, this," he said pointing at the stain, "is not something a towel can't solve."

She bit her lips and let a smile escape her. If love was a sunbeam, her world was the brightest day in the middle of summer.

p12

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@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour @starmanv @riverxsq @eviethetheatrefreak @chonkybonky @bicchaan @saachiep81 @chezmardybum @a-beaverhausen @tbsloneely @iamkaku

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1nthedarknessofthenight · 6 months

Text

﴾ i drink your blood and i eat your skin, part seven.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x f!reader

genre: vampire au

word count: 5,8k

warnings: angst

masterlist

playlist

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It was another day and as more time passed by, spending it only in your room, the more the boredom creeped up on you. Even the books you took with you from the library started to get boring, words on pages blending together and creating just a bunch of nonsense. The delicious food turned as bland as your world. The known unpleasant feelings started to show and not even the beautiful house could not keep you away from embracing them. You haven’t seen Hyunjin after the dinner and in some way it bothered you. Loneliness, feeling you knew all too well, quickly joined the party and now it felt way stronger, even deeper. You didn’t even realized that his presence was effecting you in some way…

More like his absence. You however knew better than let your intrusive thoughts win. It is so wrong to want his attention, him. It was so wrong that it felt good…right. You don’t know if he truly was a bad person, maybe it’s just your own head playing tricks on you. Or maybe it was just instinct, maybe it was keeping you safe from him. He is a predator and you were his chosen type of prey after all. He told you that he wouldn’t hurt you but you both know that in some way or another he already did. You weren’t in the wrong to think like this.

You are just careful around him, because you still fear him in some way. Even if you get to know him, will you ever not be afraid? You knew what power he holds and that scares you. He could snap your neck by a blink of an eye.

But…wasn’t that also so exciting?

Hyunjin is so strong, a creature created from the darkness. A vampire that walks with an aura so menacing but also so alluring. It makes you want to have just a little taste of it and before you would know it, you would be already drowning in it. And it would taste even better because his deepest desire.

You really should sort out your feelings. You wished for Mia right now. You missed her, even if it were just days but being ripped away from her like that — you didn’t like it. You choose to stay, you have to remember that.

As you were gazing through the closed windows, you wondered if you could go there. You needed some fresh air and the slightly open window in the bathroom wasn’t enough anymore. After you went to the library the door to your bedroom was mysteriously left unlocked, maybe he knows that you won’t try to run away again. For one you are sure that you wouldn’t be able to, even if you tried your hardest and second of all you don’t really want to….but maybe a walk outside wouldn’t hurt anyone.

To your surprise you found a long, warm coat for you in the closet and also some boots. Every time you had opened it, you always found new things for you. It was endless and you couldn’t help yourself from going over the multiple boxes of shoes. He really does have a taste but being alive for God knows how long, it should come naturally.

It felt wrong going out of your room like this or was it just in your head? You weren’t really a prisoner but still everyone was so careful around — with you. You weren’t that sure which way lead to the back of this place but you were definitely familiar with which way was the main entrance. You calmly made your way to the big staircase and you momentarily stopped, gripping the railing with your hand. You glance into the dark hallway just few steps away from you, you haven’t been there before. There is still so much for you to explore but your lungs really call for the fresh air you promised yourself.

As you made your way down, you noticed that you weren’t alone at all to your surprise. The house looked like it was finally waking up. Two guards were standing at each side of the main door, dressed neatly, bodies pin straight and eyes hard, it made a lump form in your throat. Maybe it’s not going to be so easy.

They didn’t spare you a glance first, even if you now stood right in front of them and you were a little thankful for that. You clear your throat, clasping your hands before you. “Ehm — hello, may I go outside?” Even by clearing your throat, you still sounded like a hurt kitten. ‘Even my voice is not on your side.’

Finally they take a glance at you briefly, before giving each other looks that you couldn’t quite place. You stood there for a while, swinging on your feet slightly. The one on your right with fair hair and looking a little older than you sighed. You weren’t so sure about his age, after all you feel like this house only reeks of the undead but this man didn’t look like it. He doesn’t have the aura around him, the different eyes or anything. He looked like you, human. His company however didn’t. He was more like your age, tall and skinny with dark curly hair and light eyes which for a second reminded you of him. This was interesting. Were there many like you here?

The older man step out, unblocking the view of the door. “I will accompany you, miss.” He said. At that excitement pumped through your veins, finally feeling some kind of relievement in these past days.

You shake your hand, waving him of, making your way to the door. “You don’t have to.”

Before you could wrap your hand around the handle, he put his hand on it, again blocking the entry with his body. You look up at him at that. “I will accompany you, miss.” He said slowly, not that sternly but letting you know that you didn’t have a choice.

“Okay.” You replied. The prices you have to pay to just get a whiff of fresh air…

The other man step aside as well, probably to not get hit with a stream of light that might shine through the now open door. You are curious about what is and what is not true about these creatures but you can tell for sure that they did not like the sun. It wasn’t that sunny outside however but you could smell the warm spring peaking around the color. The sky was still grey, maybe it was because of where you are, middle of the woods and cut from any other people that weren’t residents of this house. But is it really a house? It looked like a mansion, mixed with cathedral, you couldn’t quite place it. At least you now had time to fully analyze it.

The man walked few feet behind you and you find yourself not minding it that much, maybe because he was like you. Did he knew about who — what he was working for or was he compelled? That question ran through your head while you walk around the building, however you didn’t ask. It was none of your business but you hope that they did not keep him, like a alive blood bag…

Tracing your fingers over one of the statues, you wondered again where this marvelous place was located or more like where you were right now. You remind yourself that they had the power to do everything and more, you almost scoffed how easy it must be for them to live. The nicer weather even made the bushes bloom, you remembered that they were empty just days ago but now red roses peaked out from them.

You touched one of the roses softly, it wouldn’t propably hurt anyone to pick one up but you still glance back at your company that watched you silently the whole time. “Can I have one?” He raised his eyebrow, looking confused to why you would ask permission for that but still nodded nevertheless.

You snap the stem then, careful not to cut your finger because that definitely wouldn’t end well if you did. Twirling it between your fingers, you decided to go around, to the direction where you would look out of your window. Just as you wanted to cut the corner you suddenly appeared somewhere else.

The smell hit your nose, just as well the noises of the animals in the stables. Your mouth opened slightly. The stables were right at the edge of the mansion, so there was no way for you to ever guess to be meet with horses. You thought that vampires enjoyed more of dead company than anything. Glancing back momentarily at the guard, seeing that he doesn’t have anything against you to you going there, you pick the end of your long coat and step inside.

The heads of the horses peak out at you and you immediately went to pet each and every one of them, still careful because there wasn’t certitude that they would like you but to your surprise they did. The second your hand touch the soft skin of their neck, it seemed that almost a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Petting an animal really does help with nerves. As you passed through them, giving them each enough pets for them and for you to be satisfied, you came across a one horse that had its back to you. It probably could sense your presence, turning to finally walk up to you and have a look and you gasp softly at the beautiful white color and the black spot at it’s back.

Your lips after so long lift softly at the corners as it leaned into your open hand. You really don’t want to pick and choose favorites but this one surely speak out to you and it definitely liked you the most so far out of everyone. The stables were big, bigger than you expected, this place sure has it’s secrets and surprises.

A loud noise startled you, hand jumping away from the neighing horse to whip your head to the direction. There at one of the stalls stood a man, leaning on the wood, looking you over and you wondered if he’s been there the whole time. Your body stiffened at his dark eyes and matching black hair.

“H-Hello.” You greeted, unsure, looking back your company that to your surprise kept his distance, standing at the entrance to the stables. Looking back to meet the eyes of the lean, tall man, you don’t receive any answer. He looked like one of those statues in the gardens, the aura and his unraising chest giving you the answer about who — what this man truly is.

The horse you were just petting nudge the back of your head, making you jump before your focus was back on the still silent vampire who was still sizing you up. You cleared your throat, straightening your back, suddenly feeling insecure under his gaze. “I am–“ Before you could finish introducing yourself he beat you to it.

“I know who you are.” He said.

“Oh…”

A small smirk appears on his face at your response. “My brother can’t shut his mouth about you.”

‘Really’ You thought. You weren’t so sure what to say to that so you kept quiet. The silence however made you feel uncomfortable, turning around to continue at your petting of the horse. As you do that you could feel him getting closer, you couldn’t hear his footsteps but the burning stare at the back of your head gave him away. You turned back to him, his gaze hard but not looking so unwelcoming, maybe it was just his natural expression and also he was much closer to you that you thought. Basically right next to you

“I’m sorry for asking this but…” You begin. “–are you all…following me?” The question was answered by silence, his face unmoving. “I feel like you are…”

He hummed almost like in thought, his own attention falling to the animal before you two. “Just keeping an eye on you, like everyone.” The vampire answered. ‘What does he mean by everyone?’ Your eyes briefly flicker to the guard.

“Hyunjin likes his sleep…” He continued, making you snap out of your thoughts to look at him as he nodded his head to the direction of the horse. “You ride?”

You shook your head widely, still slightly stuck at his statement. “Oh n-no, but I for sure always wanted to try.” You careased the soft skin of the horse, smiling at it’s noises of contentment.

The vampire watch you in silence, petting the happy animal. The news of your existence shocked everyone, it was such a crazy theory that even he didn’t know what to think. He, like everyone else didn’t want to give Hyunjin the satisfaction that maybe he was right about you. The fact that this animal, your so called soulmate’s untenable horse let you pet him so freely was for sure a little significant. All eight of them had their own look at you at some point, peaking from behind corners in curiosity. Their brother was so mesmerized by you that they just had to have a look themselves. They however didn’t expect you to be like this — look like this. Such a beautiful soul but also so sad, wide eyed like you finally opened your eyes after years of living. Walking amongst the living but so close to the dead. Still you looked and smelled so sweet, like a flower, maybe you were just tormented, lost soul like them. Maybe you are more enchanting than you think…

The black haired man startles you as he suddenly opened the gate to let the horse out. “What are doing?” You asked in wonder. The question only made him roll his eyes in annoyance. He was only doing this for him. Maybe if you saw kindest in others, you could finally start seeing it in him.

You watched the vampire as he put the saddle on the horse. “We are going for a ride.” He stated casually, making you choke on your spit. Because of the gate now being open you could fully see how magnificent this animal is and it made you nervous to even approach it now.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

He again rolls his eyes. If this bordered him so much, why was he even doing it then? Your body froze slightly as he suddenly made his way up to you, so quickly that you didn’t even have time to react. One second you were on the ground and now you were being picked up by your waist like you weighed nothing. A small gasp leaves you. “Wait! Wait, I don’t even know your name…”

“Seungmin.” He answered simply, while helping you up on the horse’s back and if you weren’t so focused on balancing yourself you would’ve seen the small amused smile.

The vampire walked with you in his arms, before helping you to get fully seated. “Wait! Aren’t you not supposed to be able to go outside.” You stated, clutching the leather of the saddle tightly as the animal moves under your weight.

A sigh, almost like a laugh comes through his nose at your words. “I appreciate your concern but however the sun can’t harm me from here.” You opened your mouth in realization.

You were know seated on the horse, body so rigid that now you were the one looking like a statue. The vampire still had his arms stretched out, like you were going to fall at any second into them but you were basically frozen at your spot. The animal moved a little, making you grip the saddle even tighter.

“Do you want to go down?” Your company asked softly. You didn’t say anything because you simply didn’t know the answer but as seconds passed by you started to not mind your position. Maybe the whiplash from how quickly you were put so high up was wearing out. “Or do you fancy a walk around the castle?”

Your head snapped to his direction. “Can I?” You asked softly.

“What do you think.”

You sighed through your nose, body not so tense anymore. “I would love to.” You really would.

His lips formed into a small smirk and not because of your words but from the annoyed sigh coming from inside the house that only he was able to hear. His hand then wrapped around the reins, making the horse move from it’s spot, you immediately tensing up again. But after some few steps as you walked your way to the direction of the guard who you almost forgot about, you found the hang of it.

“Accompany her, make sure she doesn’t get hurt on my brother’s behalf and sanity.” Said Seungmin and you couldn’t miss the difference of the tone of his voice nor the way he looked into the man’s eyes.

The guard nodded, blinking away rapidly and grabbing the reins to the horse. “Yes, sir.”

Seungmin turned to you, even if you had the higher ground, you couldn’t possible share the same authority as him. “For my well being I won’t be the one to give you the tour.” ‘Oh? So direct sunlight was the enemy.’ Your eyes then fell on the two man again.

“Just around the forest.”

“Yes, sir.”

You felt a little bad for this unknown man but there was nothing to do. You simply don’t have the power to even have a say about who or who not should be compelled. The way Seungmin now was looking at you, made you think that he could read your thoughts. This intense glare probably came with every vampire though.

You smiled briefly at him. “Thank you, Seungmin.”

He waved you off, looking into the distance. “I did this for myself because I can’t tolerate my brother’s whining any longer.”

“Huh…” You frowned because you couldn’t imagine him doing that, eyes traveling back again at the vampire who stood under you.

“You made a choice to stay.” He stated. “So at least try to enjoy it and stop your own whining.”

“Excuse me?” Flies out your mouth because you had nothing other than that to say at the moment but he just ignored your question, turning around to make his way back inside, exactly as the sun appeared on the exact spot he stood second ago.

“Goodbye miss Y/N.”

‘Vampires are going to be the death of you.’

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It was a cold night, so cold that even Hyunjin shivered. Though was it really the breeze, coming from behind the closed door that made goosebumps appear on his skin, perhaps it was the unsettling feeling bubbling inside his chest, ready to burst at any moment. He stood behind the closed door to your bedroom, silently getting over the words inside his head. His thoughts were so loud that he didn’t even have time to listen. Hyunjin listened to the sound of your beating heart every second, since you’ve been here, even the many walls separating you apart couldn’t safe you from his ears. The thumbing soothes his soul, like a lullaby but now the sound makes his ears ring. The sound…so close yet so far.

He wanted you to know that yours made his own beat again. There’s no way for him to express his emotions throughout words. He tried plenty of different ways to show his devotion to you but you dodged every one of them like a bullet. Did you even know that every second without you made him mad? It made his skin crawl, itching, burning and fangs hurting and wanting nothing more than to pierce the soft skin of your neck and make you his. Hyunjin wanted to mark you so bad that he had to bite his own lips to ease the temptation, while imagining they were yours instead.

The vampire didn’t want to say this but your rejections were so confusing to him. He knew how and what he could evoke in humans, he was the creature that trilled on the seduction and the pleasure after all. You however didn’t return it. Or did you? He would like to say that he could see in the depths of the soul that people try so desperately to keep hidden and you weren’t really good at hiding yours. Your eyes gave you away every time he would look into them. The desire, the desperation they held, the wanting and longing to be finally seen. ‘Why won’t you let me in, Y/N?’ Let him in and he promises to ravish every corner of your heart, every piece of your untouched skin and lips…

Hyunjin has to contain himself a little but how when you were the reason and also the answer to his suffering and redemption?

He finally found the courage to knock on the door. The sound echoed through the old mansion, like the creaking wood under his feet and yet he didn’t hear anything from the other side. He waited a little bit for an answer but every moment made his suffering even worse. Hyunjin knew you were in there…so he let himself in. He hopes you won’t be angry with him.

His eyes traveled over the room. From the unmade bed, to the multiple books on one of the nightstands. They stopped at the open window to the balcony, the very reason of the cold seeping inside the room. The strong wind made the heavy curtains float but the smell of your sweet scent didn’t immediately hit his nose, like he expected. Sense of panic washed over him, making him take quick steps to the balcony. ‘Have you ran away, jumping from the balcony and running for freedom through the forest? What if you were injured?’

Just as quickly as the panic had reached him, it flew away through the wind as a gasp ringed in the air. He turned around, coming face to face with your shocked expression and he had to slightly sigh in relief, taking in the smell of your skin.

One moment you were enjoying your bath in silence, washing away the smell of the animal you spent your whole day with and then there was a vampire standing inside your bedroom. You didn’t expect him to visit you at all and definitely not so soon after the horrible dinner and also not so late but what seemed like late to you was the beginning of the day for him. Your white nightgown gave you little to no coverage, wrapping your arm around your chest, the man following your action before quickly everting them. “May I ask what are you doing here unannounced?” You spoke up, eyes glancing at how the moonlight casted shadows on his face.

Hyunjin look up at your words, glancing over your figure so quickly that you didn’t even catch it. He had to licked his lips to ease the thirst. ‘God what are you doing to me?’

“I did.” He said. “I knocked but you didn’t answer.”

“Alright.” You said, nodding not really sure what to say to that. You again watched each other in silence for a while. These moments were making you unsure if they made you uncomfortable or…comfortable. His presence doesn’t brother you that much anymore but you still haven’t got used to it.

Pressing your lips together, you walked to your bed, passing by him shifty. He had to take a deep breath as the wind blew your hair away from your neck. You knew exactly what he was doing as there was no need for him to breathe at all, however you tried to ignore it. You climbed into the bed, taking the duvet closer to your chest. It created a small imaginary distance from him, shielding you from his glaring eyes but you knew that if he wanted to he would tear it apart together with you.

You gave him a look of wonder because for what was he exactly here for? The expression made the vampire snapped out of whatever trance he was in. “I came here to talk to you.” Hyunjin answered simply.

You frown. “Talk to me?” You quoted. “About what?”

He gave a weird look, almost like in thought, before he sighed. “Anything…” He walked up at you, stopping just at the end of the bed. “I just want your company.” Hyunjin almost sounded desperate and how he towered over you, it reminded you of something.

How he looked at you that night and how he made you feel. You knew that it was just your imagination, a dream and it didn’t particularly ended well for you but the way he made almost everything look so appealing…His sultry voice and his eyes, lips, hands — your eyes flicker to his rings, wrapped around his long fingers.

Looking up from the dark color of the duvet, you could see that he had moved a little closer to you with just a moment of your unawareness. He leaned his weight on the column of the bed’s canopy, just where your legs were. “Minho said you enjoy reading.”

“Yes.” You said carefully. How can you be surprised?

He hummed at your answer, warmness spreading inside his chest because you shared something in common — and of course he couldn’t forget about your love for animals…

Glancing momentarily at the one book on the nightstand, he could see bookmark peaking out from it. “What book did you picked?”

Biting your lip, you also look at the book before placing your hands in your lap, playing with your fingers. “Would it be bad if I said Dracula?”

Hyunjin laughs, genuine smile on his lips and you couldn’t help yourself but marveling over it. “Interesting, I wonder why the sudden interest in vampires.” There was still the same smile on his face, though now teasing you.

You were so taken back by his reaction that your own lips started to tug at the corners. “Hey, don’t laugh.” You tsked, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s more interesting to why you even have this book in your library.”

“Certainly.” He nodded, still amused.

A sudden big gush of cold air flew from the still open balcony inside the room. It made goosebumps appear on your skin and just as quickly as your reaction to the sudden cold appeared on your body, the man before you took action upon seeing it. “Are you cold? I will close it.” Hyunjin didn’t even give you time to answer, walking to the windows to close it.

Your hungry eyes stared at his back and even from here you could see the muscles underneath the tight shirt. If only he knew that the shivers weren’t only from the cold. The vampire turn around slowly after closing the balcony, looking right at your laying figure. There was so much to say but neither of you knew where to start.

But you however had enough of this killing silence, feeling the way your heart skipped a beat after glancing at him. “I’m sorry but I was just going to bed and —“

“I understand.” He didn’t even look angry nor sad with your words, not like at the dinner. “I will talk to you some other time…”

You nodded again, still being slightly tongue tied. Again watching him walk away from you made you feel empty. Why were there so many mixed feelings? You really don’t know what you want from him…maybe the truth.

Just as walked pass your bed you stopped him with your hand raised. “Wait!” He immediately turned around, almost like waiting for you to say that. “Can I ask you something?” The man in question kept quiet, giving you room to speak.

You also went quiet, basking in the silence. The only noises being the wind banging on the closed windows and you could even hear the frequent dripping of water coming from the bathroom. To your surprise he still kept quiet and unknowingly to you also enjoying this moment. Maybe it was just because he could look at your figure so freely as you were to occupied with your thoughts. You always have to be the one to destroy every pleasant moments like these…

“That night if those men didn’t appear what would you truly do…I know that you already answered but—“

“I am failing to understand…”

Oh, but he did. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You were watching me before, syzing me up…” God, what are you doing, you two were doing so good and now you are messing it all up…

Your mouth was open still, both of you waiting for the million dollar question. But you couldn’t immediately form it, the glare he was giving you made you scared to even think about it. He was giving you a warning look but you still said it anyway.

“Were you going to drink my blood?”

A sneer falls over his features and you wondered how this same face could even form a smile minutes ago. “Why are you asking such question?” He tried to warn you to not go further but the damage was already done. Why can’t you leave things in the past? Was it because you were human that you couldn’t let go so easily?

You watch how his knuckles turned white around the column and you were afraid that he might crush it into pieces. What if that was your throat instead? “I just want to know…did you really have no intention of drinking from me?” You can’t be in the wrong for asking this…

“I can’t answer that.” Whispered Hyunjin, head hanging low and praying that you would just let this go for his and your own sake.

“Yes, you can.” You declared slowly, duvet falling over your body as you sit up to get closer to him. Was he shaking?

“No…”

Your scoff rings inside the room next, head shaking at his stubbornness. You both know the answer already but you need to hear it from him. Maybe it could finally make you hate him…He on the other hand had a really hard time to contain himself. You don’t even know that you were playing with fire right now. Someone so afraid yet blindly teasing the snake with a bare foot at the same time.

“Just tell me damn it! Would you kill me if they didn’t showed up?”

“No! I was just—“

“Just what?” The question comes out sharper than you intended.

Finally Hyunjin look at you. Long hair covered his eyes, shielding the vibrant color dancing in them. The silence now didn’t sound the same as before. It was exactly the silence before a storm. You suddenly realized what you had done but it was too late now. You completely turned him around. The way he looked right now, perfectly mirrored the way he had looked at you the very first night you met. “You’re—your blood.” He pulled his hand away from the column and even in the darkness you could see the dents in it from his fingers. “I’ve never smelled someone so delicious as you before.” Closing his eyes, a sigh dangerously close to a growl left him. “And you were just in the perfect position — all alone and oh so mesmerized.” Opening his eyes again, he listened to your loudly beating heart. “If they didn’t come…if you wouldn’t scream for help.” He stopped himself from going further, you both know that this confession is all you need. “I couldn’t kill you after that because it was the first time I have felt bad about my possible victim…and also seeing you in such pain — I couldn’t possibly continue it.”

Your face crunched up, his raw words bringing out the mentioned pain to the surface but you decided to stay strong for a little longer. “So you would’ve just killed your soulmate or whatever you call this and you wouldn’t even know.”

Next, so quickly that you even had time to blink, he was on you. From the end of the bed, he suddenly appeared before you. His body covered yours and you couldn’t do anything but look into his wild eyes. He was so so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips as he spoke up. “Be quiet.” He growled, his red eyes glaring into yours and after a long time you felt like fainting from fear again. Was this how his victims felt? Your chest that raised with your every breath, touching briefly his but you were too afraid to move away.

“You’re not listening, I said vampires can sense the bond easily. So I apologize that your fucking warm fresh—“ His tongue trailed over his bottom lip slightly, glancing at the noticeable vein on your neck. “— pulsing blood pumping inside you is in the way, hypnotizing me so much that I wouldn’t even mind sucking every last drop.” He tilts his head at you. “You wouldn’t even mind…would you, Y/N?” His teasing tone was gone just as soon as it appeared and because of his words you didn’t even feel the hand bruising the skin of your leg.

The tears in your eyes couldn’t be contained anymore. “Sorry for not letting go of the past so easily, sorry for not forgetting that I met my so called soulmate the night I was almost raped and then killed by — you…” Spitting out the word, a pathetic whimper comes out next from you and not because of your crying but by the immense pain in your leg. His left hand gripped your right thigh so hard, that you couldn’t even find the will to fix the skirt of your nightgown that was now bunched up at your waist.

Something in him broke at your tears. What did he do? ‘What have I done’, you thought. The irises around his pupils cleared, face falling into shock. You have never seen such a raw emotion from him before. His now blue eyes glance at his hand. He never meant to bring you pain by his touch but the way your skin spilled over his fingers from how much he gripped it, made him sick to his stomach. He withdrew his hand, like you’ve been the one to burn him and when you sob out in relief he thought he will die again just by that godawful noise.

Both of you could see the obvious handprint on your skin, making you grasp the skirt of your nightgown, letting it fall over your exposed legs. “Get out…” You whispered, his eyes as wide as yours. “Get out!” Screaming the words at him, made Hyunjin almost fall to his feet before you and he had no other choice but to follow your orders.

‘What have I done?’, you thought again, swallowing your sobs. Maybe you really don’t deserve to be loved…

──────────────────────

author’s note:

for my lovey right here: @hanonlymeuu

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dogsosoy · 1 month

Text

i am thinking about stalking aki. no devils au also (gn)reader is an obsessive freakkk and loser ; things get a little physically violent ^__^

as per usual, you were following the local grocery store clerk home after his shift.

he was a pretty unassuming guy, despite his height, but something about him was different from all the other NPCs you had to encounter in your shitty city.

a few weeks ago, for the first time in your life, someone wasn’t outright disgusted with your presence. on top of that, that person was downright gorgeous too. exactly your type. a lot like the guys you went for in your dating sims: tall, long hair, and an unbothered attitude. aki had an air about him that screamed “i don’t really care,” which made you weak in the knees. you were shaking when you approached his checkout line.

you expected him to be like everyone else. throw you a hardly-concealed glare and make your interaction as swift as possible. you’ve never been that great with social interaction. or social cues. but somehow, in your delusional mind, you believed that you were quite charming the day you met aki.

he had initially caught you off guard. aki recognized the game on your shirt, and commented on it as he was checking out (and trying hard not to judge) your groceries (seriously, when was the last time you ate a meal that wasn’t full of MSG?). immediately getting even more flustered and nervous than you already were, you told him a fun fact about the game—that only you found fun—and flashed him an awkward, stressed out smile. more fearful looking than anything. more animalistic than human.

but he smiled back, so clearly that meant you did a good job, right? you surely impressed him with your knowledge and the submissive air about you! he must’ve thought you were charming in a “kicked dog” sort of way.

aki totally wasn’t thinking ‘will this quivering little freak get out of my line already?’ eyeing your shaky hands and figure. you were most definitely overstaying your welcome in the check-out area to stutter at this poor clerk. at least he’s good at staying composed. most of the time.

overall, he was disgusted by you. you looked like you got hit by a bus two weeks ago and hadn’t showered since. your clothes were dirty and way too big, like a child trying on something from their parent’s closet. you had a minecraft wallet that would’ve been a cute little trait if you weren’t so fucking off-putting. your hair was in your eyes. probably to hide your face, he thought. you don’t seem to like being perceived.

aki had a lot of thoughts about you in that moment—some of them more intrusive than others. he thought about scowling at you, yelling at you to move along, maybe shoving your shitty groceries into your hands so you’d get the idea that he really didn’t like your vibe. or face. or anything about you. then, aki thought about strangling you. you just had a face for it. you looked easy to beat up and aki kind of liked that. it crossed his mind that maybe he could kick the shit out of you after his shift. get some anger out. hell, he could’ve taken five and done it right then.

you know, normal minimum wage job thoughts.

but of course, he didn’t do any of that. didn’t even really entertain the thought (although he really would’ve liked to). at his core, aki isn’t a bad person. he’s not the best, don’t get him wrong, but he wouldn’t harm a random person he doesn’t know. even if that person was giving him a million reasons to, just by existing. even if they look like they would make such a good punching bag. or stress ball. or chew toy?

aki doesn’t necessarily enjoy hurting people. he’ll admit, he does find some sort of sick satisfaction in it, but it’s not something he actively seeks out. or even something that regularly crosses his mind. aki is reliable and intelligent. that’s what anyone you ask would say about him. sure, maybe he’s a hardass most of the time, but he really does seem to have a thing for helping others.

he looked at you, really looked at you, his eyes filled with pity as you were turning to walk out of the store. he imagined what it would be like to have everyone you come across have these sorts of thoughts about you. how could you live your life normally when everything about you invokes violent and anger in the people around you?

it was pathetic. he thought you were pathetic.

maybe he could help you.

your eyes caught his only for a moment as you cautiously glanced back at him, trying to sneak in one more glimpse at this angel before you went home, not to return for weeks. then you saw it. you saw that look. something in his eyes, but it wasn’t anger or annoyance or disgust. your face heated up, and your eyes widened with how flustered you felt. your palms suddenly felt sweaty, and it was too hot. for once, someone looked at you and felt something more for you, and it felt like a fire was lit inside your chest.

this man… (squints to read name tag) aki… he was different.

and aki knew from that split second that you were definitely a total hopeless case and complete freak.

your obsession with him snowballed from there.

you followed behind him after every shift, making sure to stay hidden from the light and as far away as possible. you just wanted to make sure the love of your life got home safe! plus, it wasn’t hard to keep an eye on him. maybe keeping up with him was a little difficult due to the height difference, but good thing you’re amazing at masking your presence! thank you, fear of being perceived.

even from this distance, your heart was in your throat. you could barely make out the way his shoulders moved as he walked, or how he lazily puffed on a cigarette (mevius brand, your brain supplied). it was still enough to get you panting like a freaky little creep. your whole body was on fire. the physical reaction you had to aki was apparent, and it had only gotten worse by the day. during your first interaction, you were a complete mess. now? you’d be lucky to get a single word out if he was any closer than twenty feet, and your legs would surely give out from the anxiety. it would be like meeting god.

aki had decided earlier, during his shift, that he had had enough of this game of cat and mouse.

of course he could feel the eyes on his back during his walk to his apartment. although you think you’re quite slick and sneaky, aki has known since the first day you followed him home. you may be quiet, but your hiding skills are a bit rusty. on top of that, aki trained in the police force. he knows when someone is tailing him. he had to hand it to you though, it took him longer than normal to notice you.

every day you got a bit closer—he had picked up on that by the fifth night. he picked up on you breaking into his apartment by the second week, which irked him. not because he necessarily cared about you stealing his stuff—he didn’t have much of value anyway—he just didn’t want your dirty hands touching everything. he started cleaning more after that.

then slowly he started… leaving things out for you. like someone leaving milk out for a stray cat. a half eaten bar of chocolate on his kitchen counter, an old shirt on his bed. things he thought you’d think he wouldn’t miss. he left some healthier food out too, with a few bites taken out of it, so you’d think he was done eating and take it for yourself.

he wondered if it felt like sharing a meal to you, too.

he had caught a glimpse of you in a shop window as he turned the corner onto his street. you were wearing his shirt. he never saw you without one of his shirts on, not since you started stealing them.

instead of continuing all the way to his apartment, aki stopped short and took a quick right to duck into a nearby alleyway.

your heart sped up. what was he doing? was he meeting with someone else? going to someone else’s place? maybe just taking a leak? despite your worryingly amazing stalking skills, you lacked a lot of… basic intellect. street smarts.

common sense.

you approached the alley cautiously, peering in. no sign of aki. your heart sunk, had you lost him? your foot steps rang out in quiet thuds on the concrete. your thoughts were running a mile a minute.

aki thinks you should be more aware of your surroundings. it becomes another bullet on his mental list of things you need to work on. this list is uncomfortably long.

you pass by an unassuming dumpster, not looking at or even near it. it didn’t cross your mind that the object of your deepest desire could be crouched beside it. why would he be? why would he be staring at you? why would he be getting ready to pounce on you, like a predator on prey?

the moment you had just barely cleared the threshold into his vision, aki pounced.

your back hit the concrete wall before you could even grasp what could be happening. the smell of cigarette smoke flooded your sinuses. someone’s forearm was pressed to your neck—their hand carefully balancing a mevius cigarette between two fingers—affectively holding your weaker body in place and somewhat choking you. your voice cried out in a pathetic yelp, which caused another large hand to be placed rather roughly over your mouth. he didn’t want you to make any unnecessary noise. or, god forbid, any dumb comments.

his figure was even more imposing at this distance—or lack there of. fuck, is he going to kill you? beat the shit out of you? why is that thought kinda hot? your heart was beating so fast you felt like you were going to have a heart attack. aki, ever composed, casually leaned over your trembling body, looking deep into your scared eyes with his intense gaze. he was so calm, but he was also scary. imposing. like a parent looking down at a child who has misbehaved. your knees felt weak.

you have misbehaved.

his face was inches from yours as he spoke softly, condescendingly, “i would say you’re dumber than you look but,” his eyes raked over your figure slowly, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. he removed his forearm from your neck and took a drag and blew the smoke into your face as he continued, “you’re not.”

quick note: having a hand over your mouth, somewhat covering your nose, smoke blown into your face, and having previously been choked by a forearm to the neck does NOT pair amazingly with what was likely an incoming panic attack. or maybe it was a meltdown. aki didn’t think you could tremble this much. widen your eyes this much. make him feel so in control this much. he would’ve rather thrown out his brand new pack of meviuses than admit that you have such a way of making him feel. he continued rolling his cigarette between his fingers, staring at your face, thinking. then he backed off a little. looked down his nose at you.

his gaze was filled with disgust… and an impossible amount of want. want for you. to own you. control you. maybe he just wanted to have some sort of control over anything in his life. unfortunately, you didn’t have a whole lot of time to react to this sudden realization about aki, as you cried out, muffled by his palm. the bastard had put his cigarette out on your neck.

“don’t worry,” he spoke softly, in an ever condescending tone, “you’ll probably still be able to walk when i’m done.”

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auspicious-manner · 1 year

Note

welcome back! just some simple domestic fluff with mike faist and famous reader! get to this whenever you feel like it! lots of love<3

thank you for the kindness! <3

i’ve missed writing for mike! also have you guys seen the new challengers trailer AHHHHH IM SO EXCITED IT LOOKS SO GOOD!!! i have a few challengers themed mike stories in my inbox/drafts, so expect those somewhat soon ;)

also it’s been a long time since i’ve written a fluff fic, so sorry if this sucks lol

fem reader x mike faist

warnings: anxiety and mentions of depression

Worthy

•

you loved nearly everything about your life. being an actress, singer, and now a writer has given you more confidence than anything else.

you started as an actress. ever since you were little, you would put on shows for your entire family with costumes and scripts. they weren’t simple either; you would perform full dramatic monologues, emotional scenes, and romantic moments with your stuffed animals. your mom didn’t have to hesitate putting you into acting classes.

into your teen years, you booked commercials and small roles in children’s shows. then, right when you turned eighteen, you got your big break when you gained a major role in a movie alongside some of hollywood’s biggest stars, directed by none other than steven spielberg.

from there, business offers and acting gigs flew in. everything seemed to be happening all at once. it was all so overwhelming. but fame is what you wanted, right?

that’s what you thought, at least. as a child, you glamorized the picturesque hollywood starlight life. you wanted everything from the glitz to the glam. you didn’t realize that being famous came with this sense of dread that one wrong move could end your entire career. you felt unworthy of being in the spotlight all the time. so, in order to keep those intrusive thoughts from rearing their ugly heads, you kept so busy that not even a single thought could even cross your mind.

you knew you could sing, and you began writing songs and releasing music. you even went on a north american tour. then, when the tour slowed down, you wrote a novel. you kept so busy that you lost track of who you really were. what you felt you were meant to do.

sure, you had success and had more connections and fans than anyone could dream of. but what did it matter when you felt so alone?

you began closing yourself off. the limelight was making you anxious, and you couldn’t bring yourself to be seen in public in the state you were in. it all felt so hopeless. you considered living of the grid and going incognito in order to escape the expectations placed on you. for months, you stayed as hidden as possible, and it only made things worse.

being a long time friend of steven spielberg at this point, he sent you a personal invite to the premiere his new film west side story. you almost threw the invite in the trash. the thought of going out on a red carpet again and seeing all of these faces with bright, flashing cameras was out of the equation for you. yet, you missed the feeling of being dolled up. you missed feeling pretty.

when the big night came, seeing yourself in the dress that you had picked out didn’t feel real. you felt like you and not you all at the same time. your mind was conflicted; you knew the glam of hollywood was what made you happy, but since it had been so long since you have felt that way, you felt oddly out of body.

it was a long, off white dress with a leg slit and a completely open back. the dress had sleeves that stopped just below your shoulders, and it hugged your body tightly but not uncomfortably. your wavy hair fell onto your shoulders neatly in a half up half down, your curtain bangs framing your face. for the makeup, you tried to keep it relatively natural, and you didn’t want to draw too many eyes. you paired the look with some heels and a purse.

looking in the mirror, you tried your hardest to feel positive. you looked beautiful, you felt beautiful, yet something still felt wrong. maybe it was because you had no one by your side if you got anxious. as far as you knew, you would know one person there.

the car sent to pick you up took you on a ride through new york as your heart rate quickened. when you arrived at the scene, the bright lights and red carpet gave you chills.

after walking into the crowd, it didn’t take long to find steven. he pulled you aside into a fatherly hug. it felt good to be near someone as familiar as him.

“Y/N, long time no see!” he said excitedly as you hugged him.

“it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” you replied, pulling away.

“what have you been up to? knowing you, i’m sure it’s something great!”

you smiled, trying to create a facade. “oh, you know, a little bit of this and a little bit of that,” you said while nervously laughing. you couldn’t tell steven spielberg that you’ve been in a slump and that the most productive part of your day is waking up and making something to eat.

“i’m excited to see whatever you have up your sleeve,” he said, going to your side and taking your arm. “now, there’s someone i’d like you to meet.”

he guided you through the crowds, and you kept close to him. everything was becoming overwhelming.

you approached a man with his back turned to you. “Y/N, meet mike faist. you two could have a lot to talk about.”

the man turned around, and the first thing you noticed about him was that his eyes seemed to be glowing. they were brighter and bluer than anything you’d ever seen. they were absolutely stunning. upon further inspection, you realized that you recognized him from the posters for the movie, and knew he was playing riff.

he smiled at you, almost as enthralled with you as you were with him. he held out a hand, and you took it gently to shake it. you hoped he didn’t feel the sweat building on your palms. “Y/N L/N, it’s lovely to meet you.”

you grew flustered. “how’d you know my last name?”

mike looked taken aback. “doesn’t everyone?” your smile fell slightly, and mike noticed. “i’m a big fan of your work. your songs, your movies, and i recently started reading your book too. you’re amazing at everything you do.”

steven patted your shoulder before walking away, leaving you with mike. mike had a presence about him that made you feel welcomed and seen. it’s been a while since you felt that way.

“so, mike, what else have you been in?” you asked, wanting to know more about his work. he knew so much about yours, and you felt a little embarrassed that you didn’t know more about him.

he smiled and looked down. “i was a newsie in newsies on broadway, and i covered jack kelly. i played connor murphy in dear evan hansen on broadway, i was in a tv show called panic, and a lot of other stage and film work.”

you nodded, squinting your eyes slightly. “you know, i’ve seen both of those shows on broadway, and i didn’t realize until just now that that was you.”

he laughed. “am i not memorable?”

you giggled in return. “i don’t think it’s that. i just think i’m missing a little part of my brain.”

you and mike continued to talk about your respective careers. you noticed that he was so easy to talk to, and that he listened to and hung onto every word that you would say. it gave you butterflies, and you wondered what was wrong with you.

sadly, you remembered you’re at mike’s movie premiere and he had to do interviews and talk to other people besides you. you could tell he wanted to stay with you, but knew he had other obligations. before he left, he said, “we’ll see each other again before the night is through.”

you’ve had plenty of men try and charm you, with the efforts always falling flat. you’re no stranger to keeping your feelings under control and learning to not date in hollywood. it was too easy to be played by the wrong guys. but, your heart was telling you something different about mike. he made you more nervous and giddy than anyone else ever had and you barely knew him. you started to forget about the fact that you’ve been a hermit battling with your mental health for the last few months.

you caught up with a few old friends from the industry that you had recognized in the crows before it was time to go to a private screening of the film.

you watched as everyone funneled into seats in the theater next to their plus ones and friends. you stood back, scoping the area for empty seats. you felt frozen as all the seats seemed to fill.

“follow me,” a voice said close to your ear before taking your hand and walking with you down the rows of seats. you noticed it was mike and you smiled to yourself.

he took you close to the screen, but not too close, and sat down with you. you sighed. “thanks for saving me back there, i was getting stressed.”

mike tilted his head. “you’re from around here. you’re used to red carpets and screenings, aren’t you? i didn’t think this would stress out someone as experienced as you.”

he was right, it shouldn’t have stressed you out. you were so used to hiding away for so long that this all felt new to you again like it did when you were eighteen.

mike noticed your expression change, and he turned to you. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said anything. but you’re worrying me a bit, is everything okay?”

you tried to brush it off. “i’m fine now, really. crowds just get me anxious-”

“i’m not just talking about tonight,” mike said, leaning in towards you. “the world has caught onto your unprecedented disappearance from the public eye. that can never mean anything good. are you sure you’re okay?”

you bit your lip, holding back tears. it was one thing to keep everything to yourself and pack it away and never confront what you’re actually going through, but to hear someone else say it put it into perspective for you. you had completely lost track of your vision and goal in life. you had lost track of you.

mike put his hand on your leg comfortingly, taking the silence and the glossy tears hidden in your eyes as a sign that you weren’t okay. the silent support he sent was exactly what you needed in that moment. a stranger was the person you least expected to comfort you.

before you could both think to say anything else, steven appeared at the front of the crowd and gave a speech, followed by the showing of the movie. every time mike appeared on the screen, you got chills. he was amazing. his performance made you hate riff yet feel some kind of empathy for him. that was due to mike’s spellbinding performance.

occasionally, you would feel mike’s eyes glance at you when important scenes came up. it’s almost as if he wanted to see your reaction. he wanted your approval.

then, after two and a half short hours, the movie ended, and the theater erupted in applause. everyone stood on their feet and you did the same, small tears running down your cheeks. you looked at mike, and his smile dropped when he saw you.

“why are you crying?” he asked.

you sniffled. “it was so amazing. you were so amazing.”

mike turned red, and he reached down to envelope you in probably the best hug you’ve ever had. he had the widest grin, and it wasn’t just from the movie.

you and mike traded numbers, and from that night on, you became inseparable.

mike awoke something in you that hadn’t been seen in a long time. he made you feel inspired at motivated and comfortable. you hid yourself away from the world in fear that the public would turn on you, twist your words into something far from the truth. mike dispelled those feelings for you; you felt like yourself again around him.

after the night at the premiere, mike made the first move in wanting to talk to you. you face timed each other for hours each night, staying awake into the early hours of the morning just talking about anything and everything.

you went out for a coffee date a week after the premiere, and it seemed clear to both of you that there was more to be discovered than just a friendship.

as you were walking through central park with mike, keeping your head slightly down as to not attract any unwanted eyes, you boldly brushed your hand against his, letting it linger for a moment. his hand moved away, but creeped back into place when he realized what you were doing. he slowly grazed his finger tips against yours as he walked, and he reached his fingers out and your hand fit neatly into his. you continued to hold hands for the rest of your walk.

when you arrived back at your apartment, you both sat down on the couch, your bodies turned inwards to face each other.

“i feel like i’ve know you my whole life, but its only been a week,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes.

mike smiled lightly. “i’ve never clicked this fast with anyone.”

you both paused, and mike hesitated before he spoke again. “can i ask you a question?”

you nodded, and he went on.

“there’s always been so much speculation about your love life in the media, and dating rumors and whatnot. i don’t like believing anything the media says, but i want to hear it straight from you.”

you smiled to yourself. the media liked to pull things that weren’t actually there and make up stories for fun. you’ve never actually had a real date since you’ve been in the business, let alone a relationship.

“i haven’t found anyone worthy yet.”

mike nodded, scooting closer to you. you could tell he was aiming to put his arm around you, but hesitated to see your reaction. you leaned in, telling him without words that it was okay, and he rested his arm around your shoulder as you laid close to each other. you immediately felt comfortable under his arm.

“i admire you, Y/N. i always have. i like that you know what you want, and that you know yourself. that’s a really great quality to have.”

you blushed, but your happiness faltered. you leaned your head back on his arm. “yeah, i guess. too bad i haven’t felt that way recently.”

mike looked at you, frowning. “why? if you don’t mind me asking.”

you weren’t typically the one to open up quickly to strangers. but mike felt different. he wasn’t going to judge, or make you feel bad about yourself. he was comforting.

“i’ve hid myself away from the world because i’m scared. i’m so insanely scared of messing up and having the whole world turn on me. so, i did the only thing i could think to do. i locked myself away in hopes that it would help,” you giggled nervously. “it didn’t do shit.”

you were smiling at your own misfortune, but mike stayed somber. “i’m sorry, Y/N, that’s awful.”

you shrugged. “yeah, but i did it to myself.”

mike sat up, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you froze under his touch. “the world needs your brilliance. don’t be afraid, there’s so many people ready to guide you and protect you from anyone trying to take you down. i’m here for you, i promise.”

you bit your lip, unable to say words. mike was so incredibly kind. all you could do was whisper a thank you.

mike put his arm back around you, and you leaned into the couch together. “if there’s anything i can do to help, let me know,” he said quietly.

you leaned your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. “you already have.”

mike smiled, turning red. “you’re cute.”

you felt complete. you hadn’t known mike for that long, but he filled a part of your soul that had been gone for a while. he made you feel liked again when you couldn’t like yourself.

you sat up and looked at him. your faces were only a few inches apart. at the same time, you leaned in, and your lips grazed each other before interlocking. it felt euphoric.

you pulled away, remaining close, and you smiled at each other. “you’re the most talented person i’ve ever met,” you whispered to him.

mike lightly placed his hand under your chin. “that means a lot coming from you. i love everything you do.”

you leaned in again, feeling your old self coming back again. you felt renewed. mike made you feel like the star you are again.

you rested your forehead on his. “thank you.”

mike tilted his head slightly. “for what?”

“for making me feel worthy again.”

mike smiled lightly, then gave you a short but sweet kiss. “never forget that you’re beautiful and wanted.”

a small tear escaped your eye. mike was everything you needed. you almost felt in denial that someone like him could be making you feel this way because you were so used to men not valuing you. you were moving fast with mike, but it felt right. you were never one to believe in love at first sight, but this was pretty damn close.

you leaned into his side again, and his hand rested on the back of your head. you could get used to this.

#mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist fanfiction #mike faist imagine #riff #mike faist riff

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sarahowritesostucky · 8 months

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3399

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background/minor themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Series Masterpost for all chapters

2. Hazelnut Ganache Tart

Mary does sober up during her shift.

She feels kind of miserable, so she’s thankful that it’s a slow Monday. She’s also vaguely ashamed of how she’d shown up to work. It’s a new low, even for her. And then someone had seen her and called her out on it. It’s mortifying.

The encounter with Bucky preoccupies her thoughts all day, and she winds up burning a batch of croissants as she daydreams. She’s more careful after that, taking extra care with the assembly of her hazelnut ganache tarts.

Focusing on the intricate details of the pastries, on executing them perfectly, helps her to calm down and forget about the embarrassing encounter. For a little while at least. Alcohol would be better, and by the time she’s clocking out she’s already thinking about getting home so she can have the relief of a drink.

Or ten.

If anything, she throws back the first few even faster than usual, eager to wipe the memory of what’d happened that morning out of her mind.

Bucky, she thinks acerbically. What a stupid name.

And the nerve of him! To just assume those things about her. Has that loser never seen somebody hungover at work before? It's quite the presumptuous leap from that to … submissive.

‘Dominant’. Mary rolls her eyes. He could’ve just been making it up. Probably was. She’s certainly never met anybody who’s just come out and announced it the way he had. What a bizarre thing to do. It’s not like it’s something people go around broadcasting. It’s … well it’s a mental disorder, isn’t it?

They’d mentioned it in her Psych101 class back in college, but she’d dropped out before that semester was halfway through. Unable to help herself, she pulls out her phone and googles “Dominant,” then navigates to the Wikipedia page on “Dominant and Submissive Personality Disorder.” She winds up getting sucked into reading about it. But as soon as the article starts talking about the submissive subsection, she closes the browser in discomfort.

She remembers back to the encounter with that guy—Bucky. He hadn’t seemed like there was anything wrong with him (other than being bossy and intrusive as fuck). But where the heck did he get off throwing out psych diagnoses at total strangers? Mary's cheeks grow hot the more she thinks about his cocksure attitude and the pitying way he’d looked at her.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Doll.”

She remembers how he’d spoken to her, how he’d called her out on her behavior and spoken so assuredly, like he could see right into her. Like he knew all her secrets. It’d been unnerving.

Her pulse quickens as she thinks about it. The way his big hand had felt, wrapped so securely around her wrist. And how he’d squeezed her wrist—slowly, gently.

“Oh, honey. I think you are.”

Fuck, it’d made her knees go weak.

Sighing, she takes the bottle of vodka and her glass to the couch and plops down, using the remote to turn the tv onto YouTube. She starts up a playlist that she can lose herself in—music videos, stuff from all the tv shows she likes, edits, fail compilations, whatever. Maybe it’s pathetic that this is how she spends most nights, but there’s no one that she has to impress. And she can’t bear the feeling of being alone in her brain otherwise. At least this way everything is warm and entertaining. She pours herself a little more, throwing off the ratio of vodka to ginger ale, but the taste doesn't bother her nearly as much once she's on the third or fourth drink.

The bottle’s half empty, and she wonders if she’ll finish it. She’ll be drunk again at work tomorrow morning, if she does. Yikes. She’ll stop after two more. One more. Two more.

The bottle’s three-quarters empty and an Adam Lambert music video is blasting on the tv. He really is the most underappreciated vocalist of his generation! And he’s got such nice makeup, too …

Maybe she won’t even go to work tomorrow, Mary thinks manically. They don’t appreciate her there anyway. Maybe she’ll just stay here and drink the rest of this and enjoy herself until… until…

The bottle’s empty and the party’s in full swing. No worries though, she thinks, she’s got some of that nasty cheap rum in the back of the pantry. Blecgh. She orders DoorDash that she doesn’t really have the money to be wasting on, puts on makeup while lip syncing to the tv, and thinks about calling Chase to tell him what a loser he is and how glad she is that they broke up. Haven’t had to use this concealer to cover up anything but acne in over a year.

Rum isn’t so bad when you mix it with orange juice!

She gets on a depressing video kick. She bemoans the state of politics, then society, the world, her life. She goes through all the old pictures in her phone and gets pissed at the ones with Chase in them. She imagines running into her ex somewhere random, with a super hot new boyfriend on her arm. She imagines the dumbstruck expression he’d have on his face, and how she’d introduce her way-hotter new boyfriend to him.

Ohmygosh, Chase! How’ve you been?! Oh me? I’m doing great. This is Bucky, he’s a surgeon-slash-green beret-slash-musician. Ha! Yeah well we just got back from two months in the Bahamas, so that’s why we’re so tan.

It’s the rum, Mary decides. It makes her sad. She stops feeling fun and happy, and starts feeling lonely and morose. She finds the cardboard sleeve that Bucky had written that phone number on. Hell no, she’s not calling it. She’s got the internet. There’s tons of info online about this stuff that she can look up. Besides, it’s just curiosity. She’s not like him. She's not like that.

She googles BDSM disorder and clicks on the first search result, which winds up being porn. That’s a mistake, but then she decides to watch the porn anyway, because it’s sexy—plus, it's sort of educational, right?

The porn starts making her even more sad. She stares at the paper cup sleeve in her hand while some girl gets the tar beat out of her backside. The last video had been an over-the-lap spanking video—Mary had liked that one. But this doesn’t look nice at all. Especially when the guy switches to hitting her with a friggin’ stick.

Is this the sort of stuff Bucky likes to do? Jeez.

She has the receipt that Bucky wrote his own number on, too. On impulse, she pulls out her phone and starts to enter a new contact.

“Asshole Dom Bucky,” she mumbles as she types the words and saves the new contact number with a giggle. It takes more than one try, her fingers not hitting the right keys very often, but she gets it done.

She comes very, very close to calling Bucky, but winds up calling the hotline phone number instead at the last minute. She’ll whine and cry to them instead, she thinks. At least they’re strangers. She can tell them anything. It’s confidential, anonymous. They can’t tell anyone what she says.

A woman picks up the phone and greets her in a calm, friendly voice.

“Hello, my name is Sharon. I’m a volunteer counselor at the National Submissive Crisis Intervention Hotline.”

“Whatever,” Mary slurs. She is so drunk. She gulps more of her rum and OJ, thinks about going and getting the little razor blade that she only thinks about picking up when she’s wasted. Sometimes it feels nice to do something outrageous when she’s this sad. Nobody can stop her from it, and that feels nice, too. “M’not having a crisis,” she mumbles.

“Okay,” Sharon says, voice still so pleasant and accommodating. “What’s your name?”

“Mary.”

“Okay Mary. I’m glad you called. Would you like to talk to me about what you’re going through? We can talk about anything you’d like.”

“I’m not a freak,” Mary blurts out. “You know? Submissive, or whatever. I’m not. M’normal.”

“Okay,” Sharon says calmly. “Well just so you know, I’m not here to judge. I’m on the spectrum myself.”

Mary blows air through her teeth disdainfully—though deep down, she guesses it’s nice to know that. "So what," she mutters. "You're like, a submissive?

“I’m actually dominant, but I’m not going to do anything to try and boss you around or control you. I’m just here to listen to and support you.”

“Oh.” She looks down at her glass, feeling like she doesn’t even want to finish drinking it. She’s tired … And sad. “Kay,” she mumbles. “Well I’m not. Like that.”

“You don’t think you have a designation disorder."

Designation disorder, pfft. Mary scoffs again. “Yeah, no.”

“Then why did you call tonight? Do you need someone to talk to?”

She grumbles unintelligibly, then repeats herself when the woman on the phone prompts her. “Some guy just gave me this number. He said that I was.”

“He said that you were what, Honey?”

“… Submissive.” She says the word quietly, embarrassed of it. “But what does he know, right?” She huffs. “Fucking stranger. He doesn’t know me.”

“Okay. What are you going through tonight?” Sharon asks, still sounding kind but also mildly worried. “Do you want to talk about that? About what made you call the hotline?”

Mary sniffles, feeling stupid. She’s suddenly tearing up and she doesn’t even know why. She wipes her eyes hastily and takes another big sip of her drink. “I’m drinking,” she says tearfully, bluntly, expecting to be scolded for it. "M'drunk."

“Okay,” Sharon says. She doesn’t sound mad. “Okay Mary, are you by yourself right now?”

“Yeah. M’in my apartment.”

“Okay. Okay. … Do you drink alone there often?”

Oh. That hits hard for some reason, and suddenly Mary’s crying, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to hold back a sob.

“Mary? Are you there, Honey?”

Honey. Mary cries harder. That's what Bucky had called her. She likes hearing it, but also she feels desperately sad because it reminds her about how she’s all alone and doesn’t have someone to call her ‘Honey’ or ‘Doll’ or ‘good girl’. And nobody’s ever spanked her over their lap, either.

“Mary?”

“Yeah,” she says, voice all choked up. “Yeah, m’here.”

“Okay. Good.” Mary can hear the sound of typing on the other end of the line. “How are you feeling Mary? Do you think we could make a plan together? Maybe drink some water and get you ready for bed? It’s late. You must be tired, huh?”

Mary sniffles. “Um,”

“It’d make me so happy if we could make a plan, Mary. Would you do that for me?”

“... Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s so great. Good girl.”

Mary’s face crumples. She’s not a good girl. She’s not good at all!

Sharon hears her crying harder and asks worriedly what’s wrong. “Mary,” she says, voice sharper—stern-sounding. “Mary, you need to talk to me and tell me what’s happening.”

“Sh-sharon?” Mary cries. “What I tell you is private, right? You won’t tell anyone or report me, will you?”

“... The goal is to keep you safe, Honey. I’m here to help you do that,” Sharon says. “You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

She sounds so kind and caring, so steady, and it makes Mary want to tell her everything. It’s been so hard, not having anyone to talk to. And anyway she’s already crying at this point, and it feels good in that way that crying sometimes does, so she might as well. It’s confidential.

She takes a deep breath, takes another big gulp from her glass, and starts spilling her guts to this stranger named Sharon over the phone.

Bucky’s phone rings early in the morning. He groans as he wakes up, grumpily reaching for it. He peeks at the red numbers of the alarm clock over on Steve’s side of the bed: 4:30 AM.

If this is a robocall this early in the morning, he’s going to be tempted to commit capital murder. “Hello?” he rasps.

“Hello. Is this, um … ‘Bucky’?”

It’s a man’s voice. Bucky squints blearily up at the bedroom’s popcorn ceiling. “Yeah? Who is this?”

“Sir, my name is Officer Santiago with the New York Police Department. I’m calling from Holy Cross Hospital.”

“Hospital?” Bucky says, more alert at hearing that. “You’re a cop?” Why is a cop calling him? Bucky can’t think of a good reason.

“Yes Sir.”

He sits up in the bed. Beside him, Steve starts waking up, too. “Mmph, who is it?” he asks sleepily.

“What’s happened?” Bucky asks, dread already curling in his gut, imagining who could be hurt or dead at the hospital that they’re calling him at this hour …

“We have a woman here,” the officer says. “She called a crisis hotline. The operator was worried about her safety, she contacted us.”

“Those hotlines are supposed to be confidential,” Bucky growls.

“She was making threats of self harm. We had to pick her up. We’ve got her down here at the E.R. at Holy Cross. Involuntary hold.”

“Wait a minute ... What was the hotline she called?” Bucky asks, as the thought occurs to him and he hopes he’s wrong. “It wasn’t a D/s hotline, was it?”

Beside him in the bed, Steve is grimacing and rubbing his eyes. “Babe?”

“Some submissive crisis line, yeah,” the officer says.

Bucky’s heart sinks. The woman from the coffee shop yesterday. “Mary,” he murmurs, remembering how neat and cute her handwriting was on her nametag and on the side of his to-go cup. “Shit,” he says.

“She’s stable. She has minor self-inflicted injuries but nothing life threatening. We found your number in her phone.” Here is where the officer starts to sound uneasy. “You’re listed here as her, um … her Dom.”

“I … am?” Bucky’s eyebrows climb his forehead. He hadn’t thought the girl would keep his cell number, let alone save him as a contact. He’d thought he’d pissed her off, that she was too proud, too mortified.

“Babe, who is it?” Steve asks, awake now and frowning at Bucky in concern. He can tell something’s wrong. Bucky shushes him with a gesture and Steve’s face flashes with annoyance. Bucky gives him an apologetic wince.

“Specifically, you’re listed under ‘Asshole Dom Bucky’.” The officer clears his throat uncomfortably. “She wouldn’t give us a number to call, and department policy is to contact designation partners, if possible.”

Bucky opens his mouth to tell the officer that he’s not Mary’s partner, that he doesn’t even really know her. But he stops himself, thinking about what happens to subs who get dragged into the E.R. and go unclaimed. “I … yeah,” he hedges. “Yeah, that’s me.” After an awkward pause and feeling guilty for the lie, he checks, “You said she’s okay?”

“Yes. She’s pretty upset, and intoxicated. But the doctor checked her out and said she’s okay. Well … physically-speaking,” he adds awkwardly. “They’re ready to admit her.”

“Psych unit?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky sighs. “No. That’s not good. It’d be better if I came and got her.”

“Okay.” The officer sounds relieved. “She uh, she’s pretty upset.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that,” Bucky says. “What does that mean? Is she frantic?”

“She’s angry,” the officer says, and it sounds like he’s trying to keep his voice low now. Bucky wonders if Mary is somewhere in the near vicinity of the officer. “Drunk and super pissed. Belligerent.”

“Is she restrained right now?” Bucky asks, worried.

“Yeah. Cuffed to the bed.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “She shouldn’t be restrained by a stranger. It’s not healthy for her. Can't you just watch her?”

“Sorry Sir, that’s our policy when we bring in the involuntary cases. We have to do it.”

Bucky is already up and heading to the closet to grab clothes. “Okay,” he says curtly. “I’m coming to get her. I’ll be there within the hour.”

The officer thanks him and Bucky hangs up. He looks back at Steve, who is propped up on his side and staring at him in something close to shock.

“Buck, what the hell?”

Bucky winces and goes back to the bed. He climbs up and takes Steve’s hand. Steve isn’t on the spectrum, but his dynamic with Bucky has always been more on the subservient side. Bucky sees that he’s not mad, is just waiting for an explanation, so he takes a breath and tells him, “You remember the woman I told you about? The one at the coffee shop?”

Steve nods. “The lemon tarts.”

“Yeah, her. She’s in the hospital. A psych hold, that was the NYPD on the phone. Somehow they think I’m her Dom, and she’s being difficult. Won’t give ‘em a name of anybody they can release her to.”

“Oh, man.” Steve is well-educated on the intricacies of Designated people: He’s married to one, after all.

“Baby.” Bucky rubs the back of Steve’s hand. “I have to go get her.”

“You don’t ‘have’ to,” Steve corrects. He looks at Bucky knowingly. “But you want to, don’t you?”

Bucky doesn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or not. “I … yeah. I want to.” He and Steve have talked about the possibility of bringing another person into their marriage one day, a submissive to meet Bucky’s needs. Steve has always been open to the idea, especially since they’re both bisexual.

“We gonna try and make that work out?”

Bucky scoffs. “That’s way down the road.”

“But it would be good for you too, wouldn’t it?”

He shrugs, and then admits, “Yeah, probably.” Bucky’s what’s known as a ‘high needs’ dominant. The condition affects him more severely than it does others. He tries to figure out if Steve is at all upset by what they’re discussing. “It’s crazy, I know,” he says. “Not exactly what we always talked about. We don’t even know her.”

“But she’s in trouble,” Steve says. “And you were drawn to her.”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t think she has anyone else to go to. And they’re talking about admitting her to the psych unit.”

“That’s not good, is it?”

“No. They won’t have the knowledge to help her. Places like that tend to use meds first and ask questions second.” He sees Steve’s wince and nods. “It could definitely make things worse.”

“What’s wrong with her? Subdrop?”

“I don’t know. Cop said she was self-harming and drinking. That’s all I know so far.”

Steve nods. “Can I go with you?” he looks hopeful and ready to jump into action, and Bucky is surprised—even though he knows he shouldn’t be.

“Babe, you want to do this? Bring her home? Take care of her?”

Steve nods, stalwart. “We should try. It’s the best option she has. If it works out, great. And if not … well we can get her the help she needs, at least.”

Bucky nods. Steve is on-board. He doesn’t think this is stupid, or crazy. Bucky’s chest swells with affection for him. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Steve leans over and kisses him on the mouth. “I trust you,” he says. “And I love you.”

Bucky smiles, stupidly in-love with his husband. “Love you too, Stevie.”

They kiss once more, and then Steve is pulling back and clapping his hands together. “Alright! Let’s get going if we’re really doing this.” He hefts himself out of the bed, moving with purpose. “She’s waiting for us.”

Us, Bucky thinks happily, realizing that it’s true: They’re husbands—soulmates, in his opinion. They’re partners, an inseparable unit ever since the day they got married, and they do everything together. So it’ll be the two of them taking care of this woman together. They’ll be a team, each giving her what she needs in their own ways. And maybe it’ll go somewhere, who knows? Thinking about it makes Bucky feel settled and satisfied inside, the barest ghost of the sort of feeling he gets from domming someone.

Impulsive as it is, he’s got a hunch that this is the right decision.

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whatsnewalycat · 8 months

Text

Psychomanteum / Chapter 16

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 16: Famous Last Words

Chapter Summary: Revelations.

Word Count: 7.7k+

Content / Warnings: alternating pov, suicidal thoughts and planning, intrusive thoughts, grief, swearing, alcohol use, uncertainty, parker, angst, paranormal/spooky elements, hunger, hangover, driving, psychomanteum, ethan, drug addiction, domestic abuse, journal

Notes: Chapter title from “Famous Last Words" by My Chemical Romance. Babe I told you we'd get one more MCR-titled chapter before this was over. Chapter 17 will be the last chapter, then an epilogue. Huge thanks to @frannyzooey for proofreading and being the best 🖤✨

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The sun feels like a spotlight as you trudge your way from the bedroom to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Nausea grips your sour, empty stomach. Your head throbs, pulse pounding in your ears.

The past few mornings, you’ve become well-acquainted with the wine hangover. It’s a love-hate relationship, you and wine. It numbs the overwhelming emotional pain, emptying your brain at night so that you can sleep. In return, it makes you so fucking sick the morning after, you think it might be plotting to kill you.

You carefully place a few logs in the fireplace and poke the glowing embers in the hearth back to life, then plop down on the couch, draping a blanket around your shoulders as you curl up with a notebook and pen.

You stare at the blank page, unsure what to tell it.

You could tell it that, same as yesterday and the day before, the aftereffects of drinking yourself to sleep have tainted your morning green. Not a cute green, either, like forest or emerald. Think Dieter’s bathrobe or pea soup. Think seasick.

You could tell it that the hangover causing every subtle noise to strike your temples like a ball-pein hammer only incentivizes you further. Nothing makes you want to die quite like a wine hangover.

You could tell it that, really, it doesn’t fucking matter that you’re hungover. If you weren’t miserable in this way, you’d be miserable in another.

You could ask it if this is what Ethan was feeling one year ago today. Sick and determined to end it all. Did he plan it out like you’ve been doing, or was it spur of the moment? When did he decide he would do it?

When did he decide to take you with him? Was it the ink? Had this been his plan all along?

All the things you never asked him in the psychomanteum seem so important now. Especially one: Why?

Sure, things were bad. Fucking awful, even. But there were still little moments here and there.

Like when the gas bill went neglected and they disconnected service. You couldn’t fall asleep because it was too cold, so he set up the only space heater on your side of the bed. He wrapped his arms around your shivering body and held you to his chest all night, keeping you warm. Or like when he was in the neighborhood of your favorite bakery and he stopped to pick up glazed donuts on his way home.

There were days when you couldn’t fucking stand to look at him. It hurt too much to see the physical toll of his addiction. How emaciated he had become, his boyish face all hollowed out and gaunt, dark bags drooping under his eyes.

But there were also days when he still opened the apartment door, calling out, “Louie, I’m home!” Like Ricky Ricardo in I Love Lucy. It was his favorite bit.

He’d jabber on about the customers, or the traffic, or the news. There were still days when he paid you compliments and kissed you like he meant it. When he brought home things he knew you’d like. Little presents here and there, nothing big, but enough to be reassured he was thinking about you.

A week before he died, he gifted you a journal.

He was supposed to pick up groceries, but got sidetracked in a bookstore and forgot the errand. When he came home holding a brown paper parcel wrapped in twine instead of plastic bags filled with food, you were furious.

“What’s that?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He tossed it on the counter as he shucked off his jacket, “It’s for you.”

“Is it edible?”

“Edible? No,” he scoffed, sliding it closer, “C’mon, open it up.”

You stared at him for a moment, at his Cheshire grin, jaw clenched and grinding. At his eyes all wide with intense excitement, the pupils blown-out and black. He vibrated with energy, his long limbs twitching in constant motion.

So fucking high.

Trying to avoid the violent downswing of his pendulum mood, you sighed and unwrapped the parcel, revealing an orange journal embossed with the phrase A New Chapter. The pages inside were buttery soft but thick, lined with delicate margins.

“A notebook?”

“A journal, yeah,” he sniffed and tugged at the tip of his nose, “I came by this rad looking bookstore and poked around a bit, thought you’d like it.”

You didn’t immediately react, so he kept talking.

“When I was out the other night, I was talking to a friend and she said journaling has helped her work through some of her feelings and all that, and… well, I know you used to journal all the time, I thought maybe it would help since you’ve been a little… out of sorts lately.”

You wanted to ask him who this friend was and why he didn’t call her by name. You wanted to ask him what else he bought with the grocery money. You wanted to ask him why he’d rather you spill your guts to a journal than to him.

Instead, you nodded, put on a smile, and said, “Thank you. It’s very thoughtful. I—I love it.”

The words felt dead in your mouth. Foul and rotten. He returned your fake smile with his own, then excused himself to his office.

You remember thinking the whole thing was a farce. A sham. A two-person act where you both pretended not to smell the decay between you.

The journal he gave you went to your bedside drawer. It remained untouched for months before you rediscovered it while spring cleaning.

At first, you didn’t recognize it. Then a gut-wrenching nostalgia took hold. A New Chapter. It felt more like a relic from a past life than a journal for the future.

Weeks went by before you wrote inside.

It felt blasphemous at first, marking the perfect blank pages with your script. Like you were shattering an artifact. But it helped to offload some of your rumination onto paper. It became a central coping mechanism for you.

There are passages going back at least six months, maybe more. Before you and Dieter ever even spent time alone in a room together. When he was just a goofy, handsome guy who lived on the other side of the country. Your long-distance friend that maybe sometimes gave you butterflies every time you talked to him. Even then, his name made frequent appearances on those pages.

The journal contains all your innermost thoughts, the long-winded rambling narrations of your waxing and waning between cynicism and optimism, the whole disgusting freak show inside your head laid out on the counter for anyone to rifle through.

And I forgot it on his kitchen counter like an idiot.

When you picture Dieter flipping through the journal, reading your school-girl crush ramblings and earnest thoughts about him, your face gets hot with embarrassment.

If you’re being honest with yourself, though, maybe it’s better he has it. Maybe one day he’ll look through it and read your crazy thoughts and know you’ll love him until you’re dust and then even after. In the next life, and the next, until the sea of love runs dry and humanity goes bust. Maybe he’ll read through it and know that you were struggling by no fault of his own.

With a sharp inhale, you put your pencil to paper and write: I miss my journal. I miss my Dee.

Then you toss the notebook aside and go to make some breakfast.

—

The first thing Dieter does when he wakes is grab his phone off the nightstand.

One eye squinting open, he plugs your name into a search engine and scrolls through the results. Nothing new, just tabloids recycling old information and speculating. Fucking vultures.

A boulder settles on his chest, cold and massive, squeezing the air from his lungs.

He should be used to this sort of feeling, considering how often he’s felt it the past few days.

Every lead they had came up a dead end. You put up an impenetrable wall around yourself, so the most he can do is scour the internet for signs of you and live in the disappointment that follows each search.

He drops his phone and looks over at the empty spot beside him.

In an alternate universe, maybe one where your apartment wasn’t raided or you didn’t run away, the two of you are probably right here in bed, all intertwined under the covers, murmuring sweet affirmations to each other. Or maybe you’re seated next to one another in some unsuspecting diner, ordering greasy breakfast foods and sipping watered-down coffee. Or maybe he’s leaning on the kitchen island, watching you throw together some kind of sweet treat that the two of you would share throughout the day.

Or maybe there is no alternate universe. Maybe this was the way this was always going to be.

While you were still here, he made plans for Christmas. They weren’t big plans or anything. Nothing too showy, just some stuff to bring you comfort on the anniversary of your husband’s passing. Figured he could make you breakfast, then the two of you could take a bath. He got you a robe, pajamas, and some slippers so you’d be at the height of comfort for a trashy reality show marathon. Smoking pot, ordering takeout, that kind of thing. Low key.

It would’ve been nice. Definitely would’ve beat his long-standing Christmas tradition of going on a bender.

Dieter sighs, reaching across the bed to pull your pillow into an embrace. He buries his face in it and inhales your lingering scent. His eyes clench shut as he tries to picture what you’re doing, where you are, how you’re feeling, but he gets nothing.

Intuition tells him he’s running out of time.

He knows you’re still out there as sure as he knows there’s a pulse beneath his skin. But if you’ve held out this far, you’ll do it today or tomorrow. You’re a romantic like that.

He prays that’s enough time for a miracle.

—

You crouch down at the river’s edge and dig your fingers into the cold, damp sand, clamping down around a gray speckled rock. It comes loose with a firm tug, leaving an indent behind. Turning it over in your hand, you admire its weight and size.

A keeper.

You toss it in your backpack along with the other rocks and zip the bag shut. Hands numb and filthy, you heave the backpack onto your shoulders and jump up and down a little, nodding in approval at the considerable effort it takes to do so.

That should do just fine.

The backpack stays on the beach while you walk back to the cabin. Once inside, you thaw your hands with hot, soapy water, then eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of the fireplace, staring at the flickering flames as you chew. Your mind is white noise. A static-screened TV. An engine seized.

After cleaning the minimal mess from lunch, you consult your to-do list, cross off Gather the means of your destruction, and move to the next item: Build the psychomanteum.

—

“I printed all the information we’ve found and put it in here,” Darlene flips open the cover of a black binder and leafs through the color-coded, tabbed off sections, “Inside, I have call logs, typed out my notes from all my interviews, made a timeline of her last known movements, and basically everything we know so far. Table of contents at the front.”

She heaves the binder closed and straightens its bottom edge perfectly parallel to the edge of the dining room table, then takes a sideways step to the manila envelope beside it.

“I printed out some pictures and wrote a detailed description of her in the event that you decide to file the missing persons report. All of that information is in the manila envelope here,” she taps the envelope and looks up at Dieter, “Why did you fly to New York the day your girlfriend went missing?”

“To bribe an elected official.”

She blinks, “Try again.”

“I thought she went home.”

“And why did you go to the opera?”

“Parker and I were following up on a lead. Someone texted me and said they thought they saw her—”

“Who texted you?”

“Uhhhh…”

“Do you have a copy of the text message?”

“I, um—”

“Exactly. Too vague, and traceable. Try again.”

“Parker told me to.”

“Bitch, what the fuck?” Parker swats him.

“Ow,” Dieter hisses, rubbing the fresh welt, “No, uhhh… I went to New York to look for her because she lives there. She always told me about wanting to go to the Met to catch a show, so we went to see if we could spot her.”

“She went missing and you wanted to look for her at the Metropolitan Opera House?”

“It was a long shot, yeah,” he sighs and scratches his chin, “Waste of time, we ended up leaving at intermission.”

“That’s… not bad,” Darlene gives him an impressed nod, then looks down at her folder and straightens it in line with the binder, “Probably enough to keep you from getting arrested, at least. What about you, Parker?”

“I helped him look for her in New York, even though I knew it was a dumb idea and told him so to his face.“

“Do you think he was up to anything, covering up his tracks?”

“No,” Parker scoffs, “Poor boy was worried sick the whole time. He wouldn’t stop beating himself up for going on that goddamn wild goose chase.”

“Good,” Darlene smiles, crossing her arms, and tilts her head at Dieter, “Are you sure it’s ok if I go?”

“Oh, yeah, go,” he waves his hand dismissively, “You’ve done more than enough, really. Thank you for everything.”

“Well… don’t thank me yet,” she mutters, taking another side step to the second manila envelope. She picks it up and holds it with both hands, pausing for a moment before passing it across the table to him. ‘

He takes it and frowns at her, “What’s this?”

“It’s her journal.”

His breathing stops. All the moisture in his mouth evaporates, tongue sticking Velcro to the roof when he opens his mouth to ask a thousand questions. Darlene speaks before he can utter a syllable.

“You gave it to me. Unintentionally, I think, but I jotted down some notes from that first morning when I was calling around.”

Dieter opens the envelope and pulls out the orange, spiral-bound notebook. A New Chapter. He traces the phrase.

“I didn’t realize what it was until last night when I was double-checking I copied the notes down right. I flipped to the front, and…”

As if under a spell, he opens the cover, eyes falling on the first line.

I am the haunted house

He closes it and stares at the cover, then across the table at Darlene, “How much did you read?”

“I went through the last few entries,” she tells him, “Skimmed them to see if she mentioned anything helpful. She didn’t, but you might want to take a closer look at them. Maybe something will jump out at you.”

Dieter glances at Parker. They exchange a look that says neither of them will make a fuss about the invasion of your privacy. Given the circumstances, it’s understandable.

“I worked backwards and marked where I left off with a tab. You should read it.”

He nods and clears his throat, then says, “Yeah, I, umm… I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

—

The Friedman family cabin had limited options when it came to putting together the psychomanteum.

It calls for a dark and preferably small enclosed space, a challenge in itself. The common rooms are open concept, with the obvious exception of the bathroom. Both of the bedrooms on the first floor and the loft upstairs have dressers in lieu of closets. Thinking about setting up in the dirt-floor wine cellar, alongside its long-term creepy-crawly residents, made you queasy.

This left you with one practical option: the cedar linen closet.

After transferring the neat stacks of towels, bedding, and pillows from the shelves, you take out the shelves themselves. You find some dark quilts to line the walls with and, through an arduous process of trial and error, accomplish a mirror-angle combination that creates the desired effect.

Throughout this process, you try to concentrate on what you would say to him, telling yourself that this time you wouldn’t spin out and lose your nerve. This time you would ask the questions that haunt your every waking breath.

Your mind keeps wandering to Dieter, though.

You think about his experiences in the psychomanteum.

About James and the river and the scars left on Dieter’s young heart. You think about the ghost that haunts him, his monster, and how it might whisper similarities in his ear. How it might coax him into the darkness forever.

The thought strikes you hard and heavy, square in the chest.

All the air leaves your body and your hands go numb. You crumple up into a ball on the closet floor and weep. Pained, warbled sobs shake your body. The noises that come out of you sound foreign and animalistic.

You cry for him, and for you, and for all the things that could have been. You cry and cry until you can't cry anymore.

It feels cleansing. Therapeutic. Like a purge to overly-ripe, buzzing nerves.

In the messy afterglow of this release, you stare up at the ceiling and wish Dieter would come barging through the door.

If he found you here, all curled up on the closet floor of your in-laws cabin, he would probably let out a big sigh of relief, then lay down beside you. He would pull you into an embrace and squeeze you tight and make you take a blood oath to never leave him again.

For the first time since you set out on this literal suicide mission, you really consider not following through with it.

Something dark flickers out the corner of your eye. When you hear the faint whisper of a noise, your breath halts.

You fine-tune your ears, focusing on each minute sound that crops up. Wind rustling the trees outside. Your heart pumping blood. The deafening silence in between.

Then you hear it.

A coarse, abrasive noise like fingernails on sheetrock. Scratching.

It sneaks.

Your pulse jumps, muscles going tense with fear. You pinch your eyes shut. Try to stay still and quiet, but each shaky breath sounds louder than the last.

Another scratch, slow and dry, from inside the closet this time.

“Leave me alone,” you whisper, “Please.”

—

I am the haunted house Full of ghosts Myself and others

Living in the past I cannot escape Neither can they

Dieter stares at the page, re-reading that first passage in your journal at least ten times before shaking his head and closing the cover.

This feels fucked up and invasive. It doesn’t sit right in his body, all hard corners stretching out his stomach. He should hurl the journal into the canyon, but something stops him from doing so.

His leg starts bouncing, jaw gnashing back and forth with indecision. He leans forward in the patio chair and flips the journal open a few pages.

I think I like him and I don’t know how to feel about that. I feel like it’s too soon and I’m not ready, but at the same time, I am drawn to him. Almost every time we talk on the phone it turns into a three-hour long conversation and even then I wish I could keep talking to him. He makes me laugh. He’s sweet and odd and insanely fucking hot. He seems to party a lot, which makes me unjustifiably nervous. The other night when I was talking to him, he mentioned another woman and I felt fucking jealous?? I’ve literally met the man twice. What the fuck am I doing. I am actually insane. I think it would be a real problem if we did anything beyond flirting, I would probably need to be committed.

Warmth and affection flood his veins.

You must have written this sometime between the party at Katie’s and the first time he traveled to New York to see you. Probably last spring when the two of you began to contact each other more and more.

He remembers how tedious it was at first.

Getting to know each other was a delicate dance both of you performed without acknowledgment. A text here and there, sporadic communication at best. He didn’t want you to think he was too eager. In fact, he didn’t want to be eager at all.

Past friendships left him jaded and waiting for the other shoe to drop. On top of that, he was going through a divorce and pretty dedicated to a full-time coke habit.

He dreaded the day you would reveal yourself as a snake. But you never did.

As the text messages grew more frequent and reliable, he couldn’t deny the temptation to let his feelings blossom instead of nipping them in the bud. Soon the messages accompanied weekly phone calls and video chats, until it became an almost daily ritual to hear your voice.

He wasn’t sure what to think or feel about you, he just knew that he always found himself wondering about you. What you were doing, who you were with. Like you, he felt a tinge of jealousy on the rare occasion you would drop another man’s name.

It’s comforting to know you felt the same way. Weary, but intrigued. Resistant to the pull of attraction, yet not entirely immune.

The glass patio door slides open, then shut.

Dieter looks over his shoulder and nods in greeting to Parker, who plops down in the patio chair next to him. With him, he carries a navy blue gift bag emblazoned with a shiny gold logo that reads Bizarre Bazaar.

“You boys have fun shopping?”

Parker holds the bag out to Dieter, letting the ribbon handle dangle from his slender fingers, “It’s for you. Merry Christmas.”

“Oh fuck off, really?”

“It was Lincoln’s idea,” he shakes the bag, “Take it!”

Rolling his eyes, Dieter sets your journal aside and takes the gift.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know.”

He pushes aside tissue paper and pulls a black frame from the bag. A shadow box. Suspended inside the glass is a moth with an impressive wingspan. Its creamy white wings have dark stripes that zigzag close together to create an almost disorienting effect, making his vision blur into abstract.

“Thysania Agrippina,” Parker tells him, “The White Witch moth, or ghost moth. They’re the biggest moths, typically found in forests of Central and South America. Back in ye olden days, when explorers encountered them, they would try to shoot them like they did with birds and bats, but the moths would evade the attacks, making the explorers think they were witches. Really, their body is just incredibly small in comparison to their wings.”

Dieter nods, unable to tear his eyes away from the specimen.

“People see moths as a symbol of transformation and rebirth. White witch moths are especially considered good luck.”

“I need all the luck I can get,” he mutters and looks at Parker, “It's beautiful, thank you.”

Parker gives him a half-hearted smile, glancing at your journal, “Did you find anything?”

With a sigh, Dieter carefully slides the taxidermy moth back into the gift bag, then picks up your journal and flips through it.

“Not really. I haven’t gone through much, though. Here are Darlene’s notes,” he opens to a page with her sparse, neat script, and flips backwards through the pages, passing a few blanks before finding your last entry, “This is from the day before. I don’t know.”

Parker frowns, “Can I see it?”

Shrugging, Dieter hands it to him.

He watches as Parker studies the blank pages, tilting and turning the journal against the light of the overhead sun. When Parker jumps to his feet, Dieter’s stomach flips.

“What?”

“I think I see something.”

“Something like what?”

“I need a pencil.”

Dieter leaps into action, leading the way inside to a cup of writing utensils on the kitchen counter. He finds a lead pencil and hands it to Parker, who starts lightly shading over a small section of paper. Contrast carves out negative space from idents in the page.

A phone number.

“Holy shit,” Dieter breathes, stunned for a moment before pulling out his phone and dialing the number.

—

The bottle lets out a glug-glug-glug as you pour plum wine into your glass. You tilt your head, watching with dead eyes as the golden elixir fills your cup to the brim, then you set the empty bottle aside and take a sip.

Not bad. Tart well-balanced with sweet. The taste doesn’t matter as much to you as the alcohol content, but it helps.

Staring at the blank page, you remember what Dieter said when you tried and failed to reach Ethan through the psychomanteum. That you were too closed-off. You click your pen a few times, then bring the tip to paper.

I cried myself to sleep that night.

Ethan locked himself in his room after pouring the ink I gave him on the living room floor. I could hear him in there, pacing back and forth and talking to himself. A squeaky floorboard tracked his movements like a metronome.

Even though he was in his own little world, I muffled my sobs in my pillow so he couldn’t hear me. Before falling asleep, I remember feeling hopeless. I loved and hated him at the same time. It was over, I couldn’t do it anymore. That fact scared the ever-loving shit out of me.

It didn’t seem real when I woke up.

He took me by the hair and pulled me out of bed. My legs didn’t work. I kept collapsing and tripping all over the place, which made him even more angry. Each time I faltered, he yanked me up to my feet by the hair. He called me a bitch. A rat. A spineless fucking worm.

Before taking me out in the hallway, he showed me a pocket knife and told me if I screamed he would slit my throat. I believed him.

You pause here, considering whether or not to drink more wine. For a while, you watch the low flames in the fireplace dance around on ashy, glowing logs. You rise to your feet and approach it, pulling open the hearth to carefully stack more firewood atop the hungry beast. It thanks you with a crackle and a burst of heat and light, the newborn fire blazing your face and hands.

Returning to your seat, you cross your legs under the coffee table and re-read what you’ve written. The memories hold space in your chest.

This deep, dull ache starts at your sternum and spreads across your body. Instinctively, you reach for the wine, but pause before your fingertips touch the glass.

It seems important that you experience the pain, not anesthetize it.

You pick up the pen and keep going.

He led me down to the parking garage and threw me in the passenger seat. When I tried to buckle my seatbelt, he threatened me again, told me to leave it. He took off, driving like a fucking maniac. Swerving around traffic, running red lights, going the wrong way down one way streets. It was snowing and the roads were slick. Every time we lost traction, he howled with laughter as he righted his course.

I remember being fucking terrified and thinking this couldn’t be happening, it wasn’t real, it was a nightmare. I don’t remember everything I said to him. I just remember screaming and crying, begging him to let me out. He ignored me. I tried to snap him out of it by punching him in the face as hard as I could. This got his attention.

The car skidded to a stop. He looked at me. His eyes were black and vacant and unrecognizable. I knew then that Ethan wasn’t coming back. It was me and his monster. I asked him to let me out. He said no. He said we had to do this together. I told him I fucking hated him and reached for the door handle to get out.

He grabbed my throat and hit me hard, his fist landing on my left eye. I saw stars, then everything went black.

When I came to, the engine was roaring. Red traffic lights zoomed by overhead. He was looking through the windshield with a blank, emotionless stare, picking up speed fast. It became very clear what he was going to do. Still dazed, I tried to put on my seatbelt, but before I could click it into place, I heard a horrible metallic crunching noise from everywhere. Everything went black again.

Hot tears burn trails down your cheeks. You drop the pen down and bury your face in your hands, releasing a guttural sob from your chest like some kind of rabid animal. It splits you in two, claws tearing at your rib cage and carving you out.

This is what it feels like to be an aluminum can. Drained of utility, crushed for scrap metal.

This is what it feels like to be a jack-o-lantern. Gutted, empty, rotting.

This is what it feels like to have your heart broken for the first and last time.

Eventually, you manage to catch your breath. Then you rise to your feet and start towards the psychomanteum.

Headlights cut through the pitch black night onto the highway ahead.

“In two miles, take Exit 31 to merge onto CA-41 North towards Yosemite.”

Dieter glances at his phone mounted to the dash. It estimates his arrival time as 10:53, putting him 36 minutes and 23 miles out. He punches the gas, watching the speedometer jump from 76-mph to 90.

If he’s gonna shave off more time, it’ll be here, not in the foothills. Pretty soon the roads will get narrow and curvy. Not to mention, they might be slick as it gets colder with elevation, and he’d like to make it to you alive, thankyouverymuch.

His nerves buzz at the thought, tangling in a mess of anticipation and worry and guilt.

He should have figured it out sooner. This should have been a first day call. It would’ve been if he wasn’t so fucking blind. He handed your journal to Darlene, not realizing it had the answer the whole goddamn time.

Nobody answered at first. He held his breath as the line trilled. It rang long enough for him to wonder if he died and went to hell and was doomed to exist in the moment for eternity.

Then the voicemail picked up.

“You’ve reached the voicemail for Sarah Friedman. Sorry I missed you, leave me a message and I’ll call you back.”

BEEP

“Hi, Sarah. My name is Dieter Bravo. I’m calling about my, uhh… Louella Friedman. I found your phone number in her notebook, and she’s been missing for a few days. I’m—I’m worried about her. She left a note, and, umm… yeah. I don’t know. I’m hoping you have information on her whereabouts. Please call me back. Thanks.”

He hung up and looked between Parker and Lincoln, “Sarah Friedman?”

Parker’s eyes went wide, “That’s Ethan’s mom—oh my god—” He gasped, jumping up and down, “Their fucking cabin, Dieter! Fresno—mountains, forest, holy shit—”

“Oh my god!” Dieter started jumping up and down too, only getting two hops in before bolting for the door, “I GO NOW!”

“Wait—shoes! Your wallet! And keys!” Lincoln called to him, making him circle back into the house and grab the items off the sideboard and shove his feet into a pair of crocs.

“And a charger, do you want an overnight bag? What about Lua’s things—her phone—”

His phone buzzed in his hand. Sarah returning his call.

“You have thirty fucking seconds,” he told Lincoln before answering, “This is Dieter.”

“Hi, Dieter. This is Sarah calling you back.”

“Yeah, thank you so much—Is she, Lua, is she ok?”

When she didn’t immediately respond yes, his stomach plummeted.

“I actually, I don’t know,” Sarah sighed, “I’m glad you called, because I wasn’t sure—”

“What do you mean?”

He started snapping his fingers at Lincoln, who was stumbling down the hall towards him, shoving things into a backpack.

“She’s been staying at our cabin and I haven’t been able to reach her.”

“I have her phone, she left it here. At my house.”

“No, on the landline. I’ve talked to her the past few days, but when I tried earlier the call wouldn’t go through.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, grabbing the backpack from Lincoln, “Send me the address, I’m going.”

It took him about two and a half hours to drive the some-odd 200 miles to where he is now. The most excruciating drive of his life, just him and Siri and his anxious thoughts.

“Take the exit.”

He flips on the blinker and glances in the rearview mirror, then over his shoulder before merging.

“Hang on a little bit longer, baby.”

—

Your head swims as you relax into the nest of pillows and blankets on the floor. Behind you, the electric lantern casts a dim glow, reflecting off the frame of the mirror. The mirror shows you a black abyss. You stare into it, letting your vision blur abstract.

Then you wait.

After some time, a strange feeling comes over you. A shifting, surreal sensation like you’re changing gears and reaching a higher plane of existence. Invisible tendrils slither out from beneath your skin and branch out before you, stretching into the abyss. You feel connected to it. Tapped into something larger than yourself.

“Ethan, I need to talk to you.”

Something clicks into place, like a tether coupling you to him. His presence lingers near yours somewhere within the abyss, but you gather the notion that he wants you to come closer, and lean into the strange sensation.

Static energy pulses around you on all sides as you move forward through the darkness. Light years ahead of you, a star twinkles. A single pinprick of brightness in the inky black.

You follow the beacon, gliding through the space with surprising speed.

The light grows from a pinprick to a beam, from a beam to a dinner plate, from a dinner plate to a beach ball, stretching wider and brighter with each passing moment.

You come to a halt when you realize that it’s not just a far-off daydream, but a tangible object.

An orb, roughly the same size as you, glowing with pure white light.

It emits familiar ambient noises, flickering brighter with each sound wave. Muffled car horns. Stomping from the upstairs neighbors. Ethan’s low, quiet humming in the tune of “All I Have to Do Is Dream” by the Everly Brothers.

The orb seems to possess a gravitational pull. You find yourself drifting closer. When you reach out to touch it, your fingertips brush against something warm and inviting.

In the blink of an eye, you appear somewhere else entirely.

It takes a moment to reorient yourself to these new surroundings. Your focus flickers to the steeple of your drawn-back emerald curtains, giving you a peep show of the electric blue sky. Afternoon sun pours in through the window, spilling across the bedspread.

The foreground of your vision clears to a crisp image. Ethan’s bare chest, rising and falling with breath. Beneath your ear, the steady thump-thump of his heart beats true and steady. His fingertips gently rake against your skin in lazy, comforting circles.

You tilt your head to look at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes are clear and present like you haven’t seen in ages. He looks healthy. Full of life. Reaching up to trace the curve of his lips, you whisper, “Is this heaven? Did I die?”

He huffs a little chuckle, “No.”

You grin at the sight of his smile, eyes flicking all over his face, “Then what is it?”

“It’s what you needed,” he shrugs, “What you came here for.” When you arch a suspicious brow, he smirks, “What?”

“I came here to yell at you.”

“Then yell at me.”

He stares at you, his brown eyes both sincere and mischievous. Your teeth catch your bottom lip and you glance out the window.

“C’man, Lou. Look at me.”

You do, and he shifts around a little, rolling on his side to face you, “Hit me with the truth, baby. I can take it.”

“If I ask you something, will you lie?”

“I’ve got nothing to gain from lying to you.”

You search his face for signs of falsehood, but find none.

“Were there other women?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

You nod.

He licks his lips, glancing down, then back to you, “Yeah, there were a few.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

It shocks you a little, his honesty. And soothes you. You forgot it could be like this with him. No games, no bullshit.

“Were they serious? Did you love them?”

“No,” he scoffs, waving his hand dismissively, “They were… distractions.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek and nod, dropping your gaze.

“If you’re waiting for excuses, I don’t have any. It was wrong and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it. Any of it. The cheating, the lies, the… the way I hurt you—”

“You tried to kill me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You did kill me. Slowly. Inside and out.” Your vision swims with tears, but you look up to meet his eyes anyway, “You broke me. You were supposed to love me and you broke me, Ethan. I don’t know if I can even love right anymore, I’m so fucked up.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with such naked anguish that you believe he means the apology with his whole heart. It still hurts.

“Please say something else.”

“What do you want me to say, Lou?”

A hard knot of emotion works its way up your throat, making your face crumble and your eyes sting with tears.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. Then, as if it’s an answer, you tell him, “I’m… I’m scared.”

“What’re you so scared of?”

“What if we’re just cursed to keep living this over and over? Loving and losing?”

You picture your dad. Ethan. James. Anika.

You picture Dieter. You picture one hundred ways he could break you beyond recognition. One hundred ways you could do the same to him.

It all seems so fragile.

“Lou, look at me,” he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, “You will never know what the future holds. That doesn’t mean it can’t be good. That doesn’t mean you should hide from it.”

“Is it worth it?”

“Don’t you think?”

You picture the ghost trail of your ink-stained hand clasping Dieter’s and feeling his soul from the inside out. The phone calls. Hours and hours—weeks, really—listening to his voice over one electronic device or another. Him sitting next to you, eating Chinese food and watching shitty tv. His laugh, those dimples. The night at the Plaza. Big brown tootsie pop eyes. Snow angels. The ocean—the sea of love.

He smirks, flicking his eyes around your face, “You love him, huh?”

“I do,” you nod, a knot of guilt tugging at your stomach, “I love him so much. I just… what if he hurts me like you did? What if I hurt him? I—I don’t think I can be put back together if I break again.”

“Tell me something. And be honest with me, I’ll know if you’re lying, ok? If you could go back and do something different, forever changing the course of your life up to this moment… would you?”

You think about it, long and hard. You consider the different paths your life could have taken.

If your dad never developed cancer, you might’ve felt secure enough to stay in Ohio. Maybe you would have attended culinary classes in a local community college instead of running away to New York. You never would have met Parker. You never would have moved to the city. You never would have had the opportunities to establish your culinary skills the way you did. You never would have met Ethan.

If Ethan would have stayed clean, the two of you might have existed in happily-ever-after until your dying day… but you never would have met Dieter.

Dieter.

Your chest aches with love, tears welling up in your eyes. Loving him feels perfect and magical and right. Otherworldly. It feels like forever.

Every passing moment since you met him has felt like you are exactly where you need to be.

Even the bad times, like the first time you tried the psychomanteum and he lost it. You learned so much about him. He revealed some of the most tender spots in his heart. You started to trust him.

Or when you found out he slept with Katie and it felt like your world came crashing down. You learned that, even when you pushed him away, he would fight tooth and nail for you.

Intrusions from the tabloids and your mother, the interview, dinner with Lilly and Jay. All of these instances forced you both to reconcile with parts of yourselves you thought were thoroughly unloveable and come out the other side somehow more intact than you were before.

You realize that even now, with the threat of prison and the destruction of Dieter’s career lingering in your periphery, with you tucked away in the psychomanteum in the middle of nowhere, hiding from everything… it’s where you need to be. And despite the impossible odds, you believe that your love for each other will come out the other side.

You shake your head.

“No. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Ethan nods, brushing his fingertips along your cheek, “So, you tell me. Is it worth the risk?”

—

When Dieter spots the mailbox labeled FRIEDMAN, his heart jumps up and gets lodged in his throat.

"The destination is on your right. Arrived."

He slows and turns the wheel, steering the car down the gravel driveway. Outside, the night is impossibly black. The only thing he can see in the high beams are tall pine trees on either side of the path and an occasional flicker of reflective eyes in the forest.

“Could it be any fucking creepier out here, Jesus Christ—”

Thunk

One of the tires hits a pothole, making him grimace. The car jostles back and forth in protest, then rights its path.

Goddamnit, not now.

If he breaks down out here he might spontaneously combust. Any other time, just not now, he's so fucking close. Steering around another deep gash in the path, Dieter grits his teeth and squints into the darkness.

A light in the distance makes him sit up straighter and lean forward.

It has to be a porch light, that has to be it.

Anxious energy pounds thick through his veins. He can’t clear his head enough to glean anything about your current state. Horrible images flash through his mind, torturing him.

The trees open up into a clearing.

As soon as his headlights graze the cabin, he throws the car into park and jumps from the vehicle, screaming your name as he runs up the steps onto the patio.

He pounds on the door, peeking in through the window, “Lua, it’s me.”

His voice is garbled and frantic.

Inside, he sees a fireplace glowing with warm light. He twists the doorknob and pushes it open, “LOUELLA?”

Dead silence.

White hot panic spikes his blood.

He runs numb, trembling hands through his hair and calls your name again, starting through the house.

There are signs of life. The crackling fireplace. Towels and blankets stacked on the kitchen counter. Your open suitcase in one of the downstairs bedrooms.

On the coffee table in the living room, he finds a full glass of wine and a notebook. He picks it up and starts reading, throat letting out an involuntary dry whimper as he tries again and again to read the words, but they blur and don’t make sense.

The sound of the front door opening makes him spin around.

—

Your exhale fogs in the cool night air as you pull a rock from the backpack and chuck it towards the sound of flowing water.

Ker-plunk!

Squinting into the darkness, you make out ripples on the river’s surface and smile.

The next one is heavier.

You have to grab it with two hands and heave it over your shoulder to send it launching it into the air, crashing through the water with a loud splash.

Delight shivers up your spine.

You tuck your hands in your jacket pockets and look up at the stars. With the expanse of the universe stretching across the atmosphere, you should feel small and hopeless. But you don’t. Instead, a deep sense of optimism and wonder steals your breath.

Somehow it feels like every other time you’ve crawled out of the shit, but different. Like you’re the same person you were, although not at all. Like the good parts stayed intact, but the fear sloughed off at your feet.

You feel weightless. Hopeful. Infinite.

It doesn’t matter that you don’t have transportation, or food, or anything. It doesn’t matter that your return to society might result in your arrest. All that matters is you find Dieter and face this with him.

For the first time in a long time, you have faith that everything will be ok.

The sound of an approaching car draws your attention. A beam of light scans through the night sky, then you hear a car door.

“LOUELLA!”

You gasp, voice cracking as you whisper, “Dieter?”

Your heart skitters in your chest and your feet spring into action, trudging up the riverbed as fast as they can. Chest heaving, vision blurring, you climb up the hill and make a mad dash towards the cabin.

When you reach the door and twist the doorknob, you can’t feel the cold metal on your hands. You shove it open and step into the house, every cell in your body buzzing with shock and awe and fear and excitement when you lay your eyes upon him.

“Dee?”

[ Next Chapter ]

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x female reader #x reader #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo angst #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo the bubble #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic

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rifualk · 5 months

Text

On Mental Health and Cosmic Embarrassment

I don't usually make a post in the aftermath of one of my spirals, so I bet most people see some of the vent posts I make, and assume I am just off my meds or something. I am on them but I might not be on the right ones. This is a thing that happens to me sometimes. I have psychotic episodes, where it feels like the things I am saying are completely inconsequential and I genuinely believe no one cares what I'm saying or, worst of all, that it cannot scare anyone that cares about me. I get too tired to fight my intrusive thoughts and I just ride them out. Most of my thoughts are not ones I enjoy having. I have trouble parsing what is real sometimes. For most of my life, out of a kind of primal shame and terror of being perceived or judged, I beat myself into believing that I just roleplayed as a crazy person online because I wanted attention for it, but it finally clicked for me at some point in my 20s that I was, and am, genuinely very mentally ill, maybe in ways that make me not-entirely-functional in the culture I inhabit. Also, I want attention for it.

Life is very embarrassing. I think embarrassment, shame, et al. is probably the most cosmic feeling of them all, because being embarrassed, for me anyway, leads invariably to my OCD extrapolating the embarrassment, no matter how slight, into its natural extreme, becoming a full-blown existential meltdown and often manifesting in some self-punishment. Or a lot of self-punishment. Instead of saying "everyone wants attention, it's not a big deal", my brain will overwhelm me with shame and make me vow to be quieter about the whole thing next time. Good emotions are meant to be expressed, I tell myself, and Bad ones are not. I think it's very unhealthy for people to not express their negative emotions openly. Or maybe I'm psychotic. I mean, I am psychotic. But maybe right now, too.

Ultimately this feeling peaks with the realization - again - that I'm a eukaryote. I live on a spinning ball of stardust in the aftermath of what had to have been a colossal disaster and waste of time. But it happened, and so now there's a bunch of stuff floating around, and some of that stuff started moving for reasons I don't personally understand and the implications of which scare me. And the moving stuff that moved faster got to stay moving longer. And so a chain reaction escalated, and eventually there were very large moving things whose survival adaptations had evolved in such a way that they could conceptualize and communicate complex information about the world around them, but they were also able to conceptualize themselves. This gave them a lot of grief. They wanted very badly for there to be an answer to why they were able to do that. Surely it served some purpose. But we never found one, and here we are.

I don't have a god to turn to. I have tried - earnestly, sincerely, and desperately - to reach out; I never hear back. I don't want to be an atheist, it's heartbreaking. Honestly. I want someone to be up there, or out there. Knowing there isn't, is just... cruel. It's horrifying and it wrenches my heart. Look at us, look how much we're suffering, where the fuck did you go, what the fuck is your problem? Help us!

In spite of everything, I am still not sure what I believe.

Don't you ever just cry about the world? Like, broadly? Don't you ever just have to take off your glasses and wipe the brine from them because you caught a glimpse of what people, as a species, could be capable of? And I get angry at myself, too. What am I doing about it? What even can I do? I can barely hold down a job. I am barely an adult. I am often mired in this feeling. It permeates everything. I'm living in a tragedy - not just my own, but millions and millions of others'. This is a nightmare. It's a nightmare and I'm an embarrassment, and my brain doesn't work right, and I'm living in a terrible reality that is shared by everyone, and yet somehow equally isolating and alienating to all of us. Does it have to be that way? Aren't we all lonely?

When I am spiraling I really do think that the end is near, either for me, or for everyone, or for both. To be fair, my confidence about humanity's future is not promising even when I am at my most sane. But in this kind of emotional place, the stakes are too high for me to care that what I say might come off as upsetting. It is completely overwhelming. I see my life up to this point, and I see how long I've been alive and realize I'm very Not Normal and I look and sound different than everyone around me and I'm an embarrassment. It's embarrassing to exist. It's embarrassing to be transgender, too. It's really, really embarrassing to be mentally ill and fully aware of it all the time. It's shameful. I am ashamed of how my family likely sees me. How my peers see me. I'm just a walking disaster. I feel like this bars me from leading a happy life or finding some success in art - It doesn't seem like you're allowed to be quite this much of a problem and "get away with it", does it? There's a bit of social sanitizing at work there - you are only allowed to be a certain level of messed up and if you pass that you're sort of a pariah. I don't think I've ever done anything pariah-worthy, but I can only see things from the inside of my own head, and there's a lot of unwanted noise in here.

I painted this when I lived in Oregon. I don't know how. I could not do art like this again if asked.

I'm not in a good place, generally-speaking. It could be worse - and it was for a long time- but it's still just not great. The main reason is that I am very homesick. I grew attached to the Pacific Northwest in a way I've never really grown attached to any other place. It had a quality that exists nowhere else. It resonated with me immediately and I knew right away from the moment I first set foot there that it was my home. I grew to be a part of it, and it's the only place I felt I somewhat-belonged... I have been away from Oregon for 2 whole years as of next month. I feel like I'm a fish out of water, or a sapling in the wrong soil. I can't and won't say that the place I live currently is a bad place, but it isn't my place, and the disconnect has been maybe the nastiest shock to my system in all my life. Finding the place I loved, and living for over 12 years there, only to be wrenched away from it so suddenly, left a shock on me that I think has yet to surface in my work. I'm excited to see what form it takes when it does. Location is very important to my mental wellbeing, more than I think it is for most people. Maybe I am a plant. It's also very important for my art. I've struggled to find inspiration since I moved here. That said, I've had the very precious opportunity to just work on myself - on my transition, as well as my personal issues. I think I'm getting better, gradually, in some way. I have a job now, at least. So it's not entirely bad. I even grew sunflowers last summer.

Around this time I got banned from twitter, but I don't feel any shame about the reason why because I believe in my message. But it forced me to be a lot less active online for a long time. It also made me lose a lot of support. That's been something I've grappled with a lot these last 2 years - that people really don't like people like me, for reasons that are mostly not our fault. I will likely always be something of an outsider for being who I am now, but I was one before anyway. It's still worth it. I like the person I'm becoming. I feel like only recently did I allow myself to feel this self-love. I was too embarrassed of myself. It took a lot of patience and a lot of de-tangling my self-worth from a lot of trauma. So it's likely I would have needed to go through all of this regardless of where I was.

I still slip up. It's an uphill climb and it's slippery. I like to be transparent about these things. It's a relief - feeling like I need to hide things is my default state and it's lovely to just let go of stuff so I don't need to keep it in my head all the time. I have a lot of hangups still. I get discouraged about my art still - I fear I'll never build myself back up to where I was before, and that there will never be a time when I can really pay the bills with it. Or worse-still, that it just isn't special enough to last. That it isn't remarkable enough to survive after I'm gone. But I think a lot of people who make stuff feel that way, and it's not our fault. There's some relief in that. I'm happy to have even a few people that care about me and my work, and something I've been trying really hard to remember in recent years is to take time to appreciate them. I'm not actually alone. I have a lot of people that love me. I'm not an outsider. I'm very lucky to know the people I do, and I hold a deep regret for all the connections I've let go of because I was just too sick. Deep down I really do wish I could love everyone. I have no ill will towards anyone, not really.

I still don't know what I'm doing. I am just doing my best, I think. I'm really, really tired. I don't want to get any older. I'm scared of the passage of time. My memory is so bad, it feels like time is taken from me without me realizing. I am 33 years old. I do not have 33 years worth of memories. There are huge leaps. Gaps where suddenly I was just older and in more pain. Being adrift in time like this is horrific - one day I will blink, and the present moment may be completely forgotten. It can't go this fast. It just can't. Something has to be wrong. I don't want to die, I don't want to miss out on so much life or be unable to remember it. I don't want to find myself on my deathbed someday way sooner than I think and be unable to string together any kind of coherent thread from my memories. What is it all for? It has to mean something right? Why am I doing anything?

I think I finally understand that love is why. I don't know much more than that. Love is real, and it's the answer. If you find love, don't take it for granted, ever. No love is perfect. Take it with all its flaws. You don't have time to bargain with it. Love like you'll never love again, love like it's your last day alive, love like it will keep you alive forever, because it will. Every year closer to death you get, you will feel the regret of all the times you did not follow your heart. Life is short. I'm finding this out entirely too late. It goes by so fast, and what you have at the end are people and memories of being loved. To be loved is to live forever. It's the thing that connects us to everything else. It's the source and the answer to everything. It makes more sense the older I get. It used to sound cheesy, but I believe it with more sincerity every day.

youtube

I'll be okay, okay

I once promised someone that I would stop self-harming. They are no longer in my life, but I kept the promise anyway. There are no new scars on my arms, or bruises on my head or face. I'm keeping this promise for myself, now.

#mental health posting #is there a better tag for that #edited 20240506 #Youtube

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tobesolonely · 2 years

Text

thank you for showing ceorry part 1 so much love!! I wanna give this series a name but I’m not very creative so if anyone has any ideas pls lmk 🫶🏾

harry is y/n’s boss, and he’s also a super rich ceo, and he thinks she’s so pretty :)

warnings: harry being super flirty and a nice kiss

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Mr. Styles?”

The low voices Y/N hears through the door abruptly stop. "Y/N, come in." Upon entering her boss's office, she sees Mitch, the accountant from yesterday, sitting at Harry's desk, charts and spreadsheets spread out. He looks proper annoyed by the intrusion, but Harry could not seem to care less. He looks at her intently while he waits for her to speak.

“I’m ready to work,” Y/N lifts up her laptop and notebook and Harry’s eyes land on the items. “I really had a chance to get lots done this morning. I usually take Fridays to sleep in, but not today sir!”

“Ah, you’re ready to get started?” His desk is already cleared of documents to make room for her. “I’m glad you had a chance to really use it. It was useful, I’m hoping?”

Y/N nods quickly. “I did! It helped me actually knock out, like, half of my report.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harry’s positively beaming at her, and it makes Y/N flush. “I knew you could do it. You jus’ needed a little bit of help. Why don’t you come and sit? Mitch was just leaving.”

“We’re not done reviewing-”

“We are,” Harry picks up the now neat stack of papers and hands it to him. “Miss Y/L/N needs my help, so we’re done. We’ll pick back up another day.”

“But it’s all due by-”

“I said we’re done for today, Mr. Rowland.” The tone in his voice is final and stern and that familiar tingling sensation is back in the pit of her tummy. Mitch gives a dejected sigh and accepts the stack of papers from Harry, standing up from the desk in resignation.

“You know sir, it’s very hard for me to do my job correctly when you’re giving your assistant special treatment.” Mitch’s tone is sharp and Y/N can’t help but flinch.

“Perhaps if you did your job as well as Miss Y/L/N you’d get special treatment too. Now leave, please.”

Mitch looks between Y/N and Harry before exiting the office, shutting the door a bit too harshly. If Harry’s bothered by the interaction that just went on, she can’t tell. He’s giving her a big dimpled grin as soon as they’re alone, telling her to sit at his desk and get comfortable.

“Or you can sit on the couch if you’d like?” he points to the big olive green suede sofa pushed up against the wall adjacent to his desk. “Between you and me, I’ve gotten some of the best sleep of m’life on that thing. It really is quite comfortable.”

If people were already beginning to think Y/N received special treatment from Mr. Styles, she’d hate for someone to enter his office and see her all cozied up on his couch. They’d probably think she never did any work at all! “The desk is fine, thank you, sir.”

“Okay then,” Harry clasps his hands together, placing them on top of his desk. “Are y’gonna let me take a look at what you put together?”

She suddenly remembers that she’s in Harry’s office for the sole purpose of him helping her. She sits down and opens up her laptop, shaking the mousepad to bring it to life. The first thing that pops up is the draft she’d been working on.

“It might not be great yet, but I think it’s a good start,” she plays with her hands in her lap while Harry squints at the screen in concentration. “I mean, it’s more than I had yesterday.”

Harry looks up and into Y/N’s eyes. “It is more than you had yesterday. That’s good. Let’s not worry about the quality of anything right now - which by the way, doesn’t seem like something you need to worry about. This is very good so far.”

Y/N’s eyes light up at her boss’s praise. “Do you really think so? That’s a relief, Mr. Styles. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could’ve,” he answers simply. “Just needed a little help organizing your thoughts. Now, get to work. I don't wanna hear a peep out of you until at least two more paragraphs are written.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N isn’t sure how long she's been at Mr. Styles’ desk.

He long ago retired from helping her, instead deciding to do some work of his own (and Y/N’s. She noticed him emailing to confirm the details of an upcoming event, and that's her job!) She almost feels bad, but when she realizes she’s nearly done with both her research paper and infographic, well…it cheers her up. Y/N thinks she deserves a little reward for this and allows her head to rest on her chin. She’d just take a quick little break, just close her eyes for a teeny tiny second, and then she’d get right back to it. Not ten seconds after she allows her eyes to flutter closed, Harry’s voice causes them to snap back open.

“Are y’tired? Wanna take a rest on the couch, sweet girl?”

Her heart starts beating twice as fast at the term of endearment her boss just called her, but she tries to keep her cool. “No thank you, sir. I was just restin’ my eyes for a second - I swear! I wasn’t actually gonna fall asleep.”

“Resting your eyes, you say?” Harry’s plush bottom lip is tucked between his teeth as he tries to suppress a grin. “I think that’s code for ‘sleeping’, hm?”

“Well I did go to bed pretty late last night…or at least I think I did.”

“What do you mean you think?”

“I woke up this morning with my laptop in my lap and all my papers still on my bed.”

Harry furrows his brows. “You’ve gotta make sure you’re getting enough sleep, sweet girl. You’re just too pretty to not be well-rested.”

Y/N’s little crush on Harry is absolutely solidified at that moment. He just called her pretty! And so casually too, as if it was a known fact! “You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course I do,” Harry pauses, smirking. “It’s why you get special treatment. Now, go rest for a little bit. I’ll wake you up if you fall asleep.”

Y/N gives her boss a weary look, choosing to ignore his comment. “Do you promise?”

“Sure,” there’s an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes, and something tells her there's a chance he's lying. “Go on, sweetheart.”

Y/N complies, wordlessly standing up from his desk and walking across his office to the couch. Her body relaxed as she sank into the firm-but-soft couch. Harry wasn't kidding - his couch was comfortable. It was very nice, and it makes her think about how nice Harry is. He cares about her so much and she thinks it’s really cute and sweet. Plus, she couldn’t get the way he looked and sounded when he called her pretty! It makes her feel so mushy and giddy. With these gooey thoughts of her boss in her mind, Y/N allows her eyes to flutter shut. Besides, Harry promised he’d wake her up. It’d be fine!

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N wakes up hours later, covered up with a yellow fuzzy blanket and a tiny pillow under her head.

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she sits up, the once light-filled office now dark aside from the dimmed lamp in the corner beside Harry’s desk. He looks up from the book he’s reading and at her once he notices she’s awake, a grin overcoming his features.

“Good evening, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Hi,” she rubs the sleep out of her eyes. “What time is it?”

Harry lazily looks down at his Rolex and then back up at her. “A quarter til 6. Y’hungry?”

He let her sleep for nearly three hours? “Not really, sir.”

“Are you sure,” he raises a brow. “It must take a lot of energy to sit there and look that pretty. You’re sure you’re not hungry, sweetheart?”

Y/N can’t hide how flustered Harry’s shameless flirting makes her, and she’s sure he knows exactly what he’s doing to her. “I, sir-”

”Sirrrrrr,” Harry drags the last sound of the word out, imitating her. “Let me feed you dinner. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

“But Mr. Styles,” Y/N can’t help the way her lower lip juts out in a pout. “I haven’t actually done anything for you lately! Every day I’ve just been coming here and working on this stupid assignment while you do my job for me. I don’t even want to see what my paycheck will look like this time around!”

Harry gives her a genuine look of confusion. “What would be wrong with your paycheck?”

“There’s no way you’re going to pay me for coming in to do my homework, is there?”

“Of course I am,” Harry replies. He sounds almost offended that she’d think otherwise. “You’re still comin’ in and staying here all day, aren’t you?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Then your paycheck will reflect that, sweet girl,” he tugs on his lower lip with his fingers, appearing deep in thought. “I don’t want you to worry about things like that.”

“I’m always gonna worry about things like that,” she stares owlishly at him. “I mean, at least until I’m a rich CEO like you.”

Harry lets out a little chuckle at this and gets up from behind his desk. He makes his way across the office towards Y/N and stops when he’s right in front of her. She’s still sitting, so he kneels down so he’s face-to-face with her. He doesn’t seem to mind getting dust bunnies on his Gucci trousers at all.

“You’re right. That was a silly request,” he cocks his head slightly to the side, not breaking eye contact. “But please rest assured I will never be the reason you worry about money. Understood?” Y/N nods her head in response, but Harry shakes his head.

“I want to hear you tell me you understand. Tell me.”

“I understand.”

“Hm,” Harry splays his palm out on her knee causing a shiver to run down her spine. “You understand who?”

Oh. Y/N knew what he wanted. “I understand, sir.”

While she’s addressed Harry by the title many, many times she can’t deny how differently it slips off her tongue this time. She nearly doesn’t recognize the sound of her own voice saying the word, her tone subconsciously taking on a sultry and smooth nature. As quickly as Harry kneels before her he stands up, a pleased look on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that. Now, I don’t know about you but I’m starving and quite honestly want to get the hell out of this office. Do you have any dinner plans?”

“No, but I was going to study.”

Harry’s already walking back towards his desk to shut off his devices, mind already made up that he was leaving work one way or another. “While I usually am a big proponent of studying, ‘specially when it comes to you,” he slams his briefcase shut and she hears the latches snap. “I’m an even bigger proponent of taking care of yourself physically so you have the power to excel mentally. How does Italian sound?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N’s sitting across from Harry in a dimly lit booth not forty minutes later, the smell of garlic bread and marinara sauce overwhelming her nostrils. If she wasn’t so fixated on her food (turns out she was starving, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Harry) she might've noticed that he's hardly touched his own food. He was too focused on admiring her, and how cute basically everything she did was. When she does finally look up, the expression on her face goes from one of delight and contentment to confusion and concern.

“Why aren't you eating your food, sir? Is something wrong with it?”

Harry audibly coos at Y/N’s concern. “Nothing like that. I’ve had this dish several times actually,” he stabs his fork into a cherry tomato. It bursts next to a well-seasoned piece of chicken breast. “I just think you’re so pretty. It’s a little distracting, sweetheart.”

“Why do you keep saying things you know will make me feel all shy?” Y/N presses, taking a quick glance at her hands in her lap. “I’m terrible at accepting compliments!”

He frowns at this. “Can’t imagine why. You deserve all the compliments in the world and then some, I think.”

Y/N’s skin is on fire and she’s not sure how to respond to Harry so she doesn’t, instead she goes back to eating her plate of chicken parmesan and gushing over how flavorful the sauce is. Still, his food remains in front of him hardly untouched and his gaze remains on her.

“You know I can feel you staring at me from across the table,” Y/N says after a brief moment of silence. “Even though I’m looking down, Mr. Styles.”

“I’m not trying to hide the fact that I am. Why don’t you call me ‘Harry’ when we’re outside of work? Mr. Styles makes me sound old.”

Y/N sets her fork down and then looks back up at him, her head cocked curiously to the side. “I think Mitch was right when he said you gave me special treatment.”

Harry has an amused look on his face as he hums in acknowledgment, deciding to humor her. “What makes you think that?”

“I want to base it on just these past few shifts alone, but it’s more than that,” Y/N replies thoughtfully. “You literally let me come into work whenever I want. What type of boss does that?”

Harry can’t hide the delight on his face any longer. “You don’t think I offer my other employees flexibility? You’re not the only one that has a life, Y/N.”

“Okay yeah,” she raises an eyebrow. “But you still pay me for my entire shift even when I only go in for like, three hours.”

“I’m fair, if nothing else.”

“Sometimes when I come in I don’t even do work. We just talk.”

“I can find more work for you to do, if you’d like.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at her boss. “I just don’t know what I did to deserve this treatment. This ‘special treatment’.”

Harry takes a sip of his own water before he looks in close to the center of the table, beckoning Y/N toward him. “Can I tell you a little secret?”

Y/N’s so close to him that she can see the different colored specks within his irises, even in the dim lighting of the Italian restaurant. Not trusting her voice to not betray her, she simply nods.

“You get special treatment because I like you. A lot. I thought it was obvious.” He leans back in his chair after revealing his secret and begins eating his food again like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just drop a bombshell on Y/N.

“Really?” Y/N like how quiet and unsure her voice is, but Harry has her brain feeling like mush and she can hardly think straight. “I think you’re so cute, sir, and so kind-”

“Awww,” Harry repeats, tone mocking. “You think I’m cute, sweet girl?”

“Yes, sir, sooo-”

“Harry outside of work, yes?”

“Sorry Harry, I forgot.” Y/N can’t help the flush that floods her body at the act of calling Mr. Styles ‘Harry’ to his face, but he said it was okay!

If Y/N didn’t know better she would say a small blush crept over the apples of Harry’s cheeks after she addressed him by his first name, but she decided not to dwell on it. He looks at her nearly completed entree and his own, hardly touched. He looks around for the waiter and wordlessly flags him down, mouthing for the check.

“I think you’re cute, too,” Harry finally says as they’re waiting for their waiter to come with the bill. “Cute might be an understatement actually.”

Y/N’s noticed that Harry’s already started to develop this pesky habit of saying things for the sole purpose of flustering her (or so it seems) and she opens her mouth to respond but then closes it, unsure of what to say. Harry chuckles and pulls out his wallet just as the waiter comes back with the bill. He looks down at Harry’s nearly untouched plate of food and a look of worry fills his face.

“Was the food not to your liking this evening, Mr. Styles? Will you be needing to speak with the chef?”

Harry shakes his head quickly, and a stray curl falls down over his left eye. “Everything was perfect as always. Jus’ a little distracted, makes it hard to eat.” He quickly looks up and across the table as he’s signing his signature on the receipt but Y/N pretends not to see.

“I’m glad to hear it. Will you be needing change or a to-go box, sir?”

“Nope. We’re all set?” the waiter nods, to which Harry flashes him a big smile. “Perfect. See you next week, sir.”

The waiter nods his head at Harry, then at Y/N before turning to leave. Harry stands up and pushes his chair in, quickly moving to the other side of the table to pull Y/N’s out for her. He grabs her coat off the back of her chair and holds it up for her to slip her arms into.

“Thank you, Mr - Harry,” she plays with the sleeves of her coat once comfortably on her body. “This was really good.”

“The least I can do is keep you fed when you’re such a good little worker, hmm?”

Y/N gives him a bashful look before giving a small nod of agreement, playing along with Harry. He holds his left hand out at his side and Y/N only hesitates briefly before reaching down to grab it, allowing him to lead her out of the restaurant.

Harry doesn’t drop her hand even when they’re out of the restaurant, even when they walk across the parking lot to their cars parked next to each other. He doesn’t let go of her hand when he tells her what a good time he had at dinner. He doesn’t let go of her hand when he reminds her to work hard on her project over the weekend (but not too hard).

He definitely doesn’t let go of her hand when he leans down and gently presses their lips together, smiling into the kiss.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

I hope you enjoyed part 2!!! please let me know what you think!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles oneshot

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mistypsych · 1 year

Text

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 4

/ yoongi / suga / agust d /

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after writing anything at all. Please also keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty and odd at times but I try my best. As promised slowly we have reached the chapters where Suga will be usually taking the main lead! Sorry it took me a while and this chapter might be a bit rough but work has been hectic. If you enjoy the story please leave a comment. They are very motivating.

Blood pulsed in your temples, feeling it flow mercilessly threw your veins, you threw the brunette a annoyed look. Knowing that there was seemingly no backing out, you sighed, picked up the medical bag and tossed on the banged up table.

“If you want proper care so badly I would recommend investing in some decent furniture at least. Everything here in general screams sepsis guaranteed…” you muttered shaking your head. The whole place was creepy as if someone took it out of a horror movie. Surely not a great environment for any kind of medical procedures. But why did you care? Maybe this was the way to get rid of the viper himself? A infection? Everyone knows those could turn out to be deadly.

Shaking off the intrusive thoughts you started to prep. After disinfecting your hands and tossing on some sterile gloves you looked at the man standing next to you, and wordlessly pointed your hand to the wonky table. Your face was written with disgust and discomfort. This was not a way to treat patients and it made your skin crawl. If you were at a war zone it would be a totally different scenario. But you weren’t, were you? And a big shot, bad, gang boss has you work on him here instead in some fancy spot? Unbelievable.

When he laid down on the table, you could see a small grimace show on his face. Of course he made sure it was gone right away. There was no way he would let himself show any weakness. It made the end of your lips curl into a smirk. It never stopped to amaze you how men usually had the need to seem unfazed by pain.

“Lift your back up for me a bit…” you said calmly. When he did as you asked, you rolled up his slightly blood soaked t-shirt, uncovering the source of the red stains. A couple of stitches have came undone. Surely he was not resting much since you sutured his wounds. You weren’t able to contain the annoyed sigh that slipped out of your mouth. Such a nerve wrecking, masterpiece of a job ruined because this asshole had to mess about.

“Well… now you will end up with bigger scars. I can’t stitch it as tightly as before. Surely it got dirtied up in the process of whatever you were doing… so I need to have the sutures looser in case of any infection. It will need to have space to come out. Also looking at the fact that you ripped these… you will be better off with looser ones…” you mumbled unpleased. You prided yourself in swift work and minimal scaring, but of course this individual had to fuck up things up.

“Just make sure it holds. I need to be… mobile… and as much as I enjoy looking at your pretty face, I’d rather not have this sort of meeting anytime soon.” after these words he smiled at you. Clearly he was enjoying getting under your skin. You helplessly clenched your fists to the point your gloves let out a squeaky sound. He had a sort of effect on you and you did not like it one bit. You worked with pain in the ass clientele before, but normally you were able to completely contain yourself.

Agust-D tho… he irritated you on whole new level. He was a smart ass, full of confidence, who clearly knew how to poke people to get a reaction. Letting a breath out threw your nostrils, you braved yourself as much as possible. You could not let him take control over the situation. Turning to your bag, you shook your shoulders a bit. Focus is what you needed. Taking the vial of local anesthesia, you pulled the needed amount into a small syringe.

You looked at his toned stomach. Even with the wounds, it was clear he was in shape. Blinking your eyes, you pulled yourself back into reality. You stabbed the needle into him, a bit harder than you needed to. He let out a quiet groan and shot an icy stare at you. He was well aware, you were purposefully hurting him more than the process required. “Bit rough hands eh?” he seethed threw his teeth.

Sitting yourself down on the rusted stool, you gave him the sweetest of smiles, as you chimed “Feel free to change to a different doctor. Would you like me to get you some recommendations?”. Lifting a brow, he let out a low chuckle while shaking his head slightly in amusement.

“Now. Don’t move.” you ordered him coldly. Pinching hard on his skin, you checked if the injected spots were completely numbed out. Not earning any reaction from his side, you hummed quietly. Truth be told you were a little bit disappointed that the meds worked so quickly, you kind of hoped that pinch would’ve hurt at least a little.

As your skilled fingers were slowly working on each suture, you could feel his stare roam over you. Beads of sweat started to creep down the nape of your neck. His whole persona made you nervous. You could not put a finger on it but something about him felt off. Yes, he gave that criminal vibe, but also there was a weird feeling of calm surrounding him. Some things just did not seem to go together.

You were carefully tying up the last stitch “Last one…” you said quietly, still focusing yourself on the task. “Quite skilled hands you have doc. No wonder you managed to bring me back from the dead that night” his voice was gravely and echoed around the room. It made a shiver crawl up your spine. You shook it off with a shrug of your shoulders. You were not about to let some strange gangster have any sort of control over you. This whole situation and your bodies uncontrolled reactions, were starting to get on your nerves.

Pushing yourself away from the table, you winced at the screeching sound of the chairs legs, rubbing on the concrete floor. It slipped your mind that you weren’t sitting on one of your comfortable stools, that actually had wheels on them and made moving around way easier. “Done…” you took off your gloves and started to collect all the articles and tools you used.

Yoongi lifted himself up slowly and pushed his shirt down. Not turning your head towards him, you stated “Would be wise to change…” your sentence got interrupted by his rustling around. Allowing yourself to peek, you saw his shirtless back. It was pale but carved with subtle muscles. He wasn’t ripped like a gym fanatic but his body seemed naturally slim and toned. “Just like Hoseok…” you commented in your mind and quickly shook your head disapproving your own thoughts. Why would that even pop up in your brain?

“Well we need to manage a check up visit…” his silky voice ripped you out of the whirl of anxiety that was starting to form in you. Furrowing your brows and wiping off your hands with disinfectant, you give him a stern look “Plan on blasting up my stitching again?” he grinned at you while buttoning up his Hawaiian styled shirt. You felt relieved you didn’t have to stare at his bare chest and abs.

“Nah, but usually these things get checked up no? Also I’d rather not remove the sutures myself so…” you glared at him and shot out “Have Kook do it… I am a too busy for this…”. He stared straight at you, tilting his head to the side and running a finger over the table while moving your way. “I thought we discussed this… do we really need to push back to square one?”

There was seemingly no way this guy was giving up. You looked up a bit at the dark, tall ceiling. The big spiderwebs around the corners made the place even more gloomy. A breath loudly came out of your lips. You grabbed and squeezed the bridge of your nose, trying to compose the annoyance that was threatening to creep from within your whole being.

As if reading you, he huffed a bit and ran his fingers threw the thick lock of his hair. “I am being considerate and letting you chose the time. You should know by now, I can simply have someone escort you from the hospital…” you were clearly testing his patience at this point, you could not help but get defensive in this whole fucked up situation. Gritting your teeth and stuffing forcefully things back to the bag, you replied “Wooow how thoughtful of you! How did I get so lucky to run into such a compassionate human being like you?”.

His already black eyes seemed to get even darker, as he stood so closely that he towered over you and said slowly “As much as I enjoy when people are capable of using sarcasm, you are starting to get on my bad side doc…” rolling your eyes you mumbled quietly under your breath “So there is a good one?” and of course it came out louder then intended. A chuckle filled the room “Stick around for longer and you just might find out” he winked with a sheepish smile on his face “But going back to our discussion… check your little calendar and let me know…”

As you were about to make another comment, he grabbed your bag and started walking towards the exit “Come. We should get you back home…” he threw over his shoulder. Your feet helplessly followed behind him. The effect this creep was holding over you, started to freak you the fuck out. Reality of how utterly screwed your life will be in the nearest future hit you like a bag of bricks. What the hell did your friend drag you into? But most importantly what could you do to get out of this?

A slam of a car door, woke you from the badgering thoughts. You had no recollection of how you got outside already. You were really losing focus and spacing out due to all the shit that was thrown your way. To your surprise the raven haired mobster was climbing into a black Hyundai Palisade from the drivers side while telling you to get in.

“You’ve just been stitched back up again and you plan to drive?” you asked, a bit taken aback. He gave you a look that made you finish the discussion and climb in the passenger seat. Your bag was tossed on the back. This whole predicament was getting absurd. Never in a million years would you have thought, you’d find yourself in a car with a mafia boss. Clearly the world was putting you threw some sort of messed up test.

Yoongi drove the car smoothly out of the alley. While on the main street, he opened the window slightly and pulled out a cigarette. Seeing that made your blood boil, so without thinking you ripped it out of his mouth and tossed it passed his face. Your action clearly shocking him. Giving you a side eye he commented “you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”.

Realizing what you did, you bit your lower lip and looked forward. You decided no answer was the best answer. Feeling his eyes on you made your skin prickle, so finally you decided to speak “Eyes on the road! I simply don’t like being locked up in a small space, while someone smokes. You can poison yourself without dragging my lungs in the process…”.

He smiled lightly “Always speaking your mind hm? Quite refreshing. Most people don’t speak much around me”. You arched your brows in a way of asking, if he was trying to insinuate you better shut your mouth. “As I said… it is refreshing. Besides I like ladies that have fire in them” he chimed. “Whatever…” you sighed, deciding to keep quiet the rest of the way.

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

Half of a block before your building you asked him to pull over. When he gave you a questioning look, you explained you’d rather your fiancé not see you getting out of some suspicious looking car. Your response made him laugh as he leaned an arm over your seat giving you a mischievous glare “Scared your little Hoseok might think you got yourself some sugar daddy to spoil you?”. Without thinking you grabbed your bag and simply stated “Next Friday I can do your check-up”. Without waiting for his answer, you jumped out of the SUV.

You could feel his gaze before you were able to disappear at the corner. Letting out a breath you had no idea you were keeping in for such a long while, you felt a bit relieved. That was until you got inside your apartment to be ambushed with a “Where the hell were you Y/N?” Hobi was standing in the hallway shooting daggers at you, his slim arms crossed over his chest. You could see he was greatly upset.

You looked at the clock on top of the entrance to the kitchen. Of course it was fucking late. “I asked where were you? Do you know what time it is?! I was worried!” his tone was full of irritation and that was the moment something in you snapped. How dare he stand there and get on your ass while he was the one to be meddling with this forsaken gang himself. Just thinking about his lies made you lose it and get ready for the fight of your life “I WAS WITH YOUR BEST BUDDY AUGUST-D!” as the words hit him, his face dropped but you continued your attack “RING A BELL DON’T IT MR DETECTIVE HUH?!”.

Hoseok’s face turned pale as all the blood flew to his brain. How the fuck did you know? Did you just say that? Did you actually throw Augst-D’s name out there? Did you fucking find out and how? All these questions ambushed him at once, so all he could let out was a quiet and completely confused “What… what did you just say Y/N…?”

@wobblewobble822 @nansasa @nochook @kootieful @kooslilhoe @yoongisducky @xjiminsthighsx @danielle143 @llallaaa @idkjustlovingbts @darcyw16

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