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elysianslove · 4 years

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the little things ; haikyuu boys

synopsis; the little things he does that show just how much he loves you

pairings; karasuno x reader, aoba johsai x reader, fukurodani x reader, nekoma x reader, shiratorizawa x reader

genre; fluff

warnings; will make u hate being single <3

karasuno ━━

sugawara koshi; whenever your hair gets caught in anything, he’s so gentle yet quick at fixing it. if your hair is long, and you pull a bag or a shirt and your hair gets tucked in, he’ll wordlessly pull it out. if your hair is short and a bracelet or zipper gets caught he just continues whatever he was doing (talking to someone else for e.g.) while helping you out. also always makes sure your hair isn’t bothering you; if you’re leaning over writing something, he’ll always tuck it behind your ear so lovingly ahhh

daichi sawamura; massages. he’s descended from heaven for this purpose only. his hands are rough and like hard on your muscles, but it’s so perfect. he’ll approach you when you’re in school sitting anywhere, from behind, and just knead his hands into your muscles for a few seconds. euphoric. or if you live together, he always greets you with back/shoulder/neck massages in the bathtub hvjkwkd.

nishinoya yuu; always makes you try his food. always. whether it’s with a group of people or just you two, he just goes “hey babe open ur mouth” with this face 😏 bc he’s cheeky, and just shoves a mouthful of food. spoiler alert, it’s always way too hot. but it’s just tradition at this point. he takes a bite of his food, decides if it’s worthy enough for your mouth or not, then just. yeah.

kageyama tobio; buys you a snack whenever he gets his milk. if you’re special special, he’ll buy you your own carton of milk. he goes up to the vending machine and automatically thinks of you when he sees your fave snack, and it’s like mindless at this point he just routinely does it. it still surprises you to this day, even when he’s so nonchalant about it.

tsukishima kei; kisses your forehead. tsukki is not too big on pda, and even privately he’s not very touchy feely either tbh. but just a simple peck on your forehead grounds you, and it’s a small reminder of the fact that despite his outward coldness, he really does love you. he rarely does it in front of others, but sometimes, he’ll indulge both you and him, and settle a small kiss on your temple just randomly.

asahi azumane; anime jesus always has a hair tie/clip carried around for you on his wrist/in his pockets. i mean he’s always needing them, he just stocks up when he starts dating you. somehow he’s always there when you’re frustrated with your hair all over the place what a savior. later on it evolves to him carrying around your scrunchie and yes the boys make fun yes he blushes but no he does not take it off.

tanaka ryunosuke; carries you on his back, or your things, when you’re too tired to walk. whether that be if you’re too tired because of your heels or you’re just lazy, he just loves helping you out what a respectful gentleman. honestly it just becomes that every time he sees you he like barricades over to you so quick and flips you onto his shoulder or spins you around. anyways. walking with tanaka means walking empty handed bc he will never let you carry anything. ( shifts pile of bags on one arm just to hold your hand ).

hinata shoyo; learns hairstyles to try on you. whether it be short hair or long hair, expect his youtube search history to look a lot like “how to make a french braid” or “cute hairstyles for short hair for your cute girlfriend”. he’s always so entranced by you and watches so carefully whenever you do anything on your hair, and he gets do excited whenever you let him try and he gets it right. also !!! a lot of the times you’ll sit between his legs and he’ll just softly card his fingers through your hair or lightly braid it.

yamaguchi tadashi; buys you flowers a lot. he doesn’t overdo it, just so it doesn’t lose its value and worth. but for example, mondays suck ass and he knows how much you hate them, so he always makes sure to either leave a single rose on your desk/in your locker or give it to you himself if he can. it’s so endearing and motivating honestly, and the constant reminder every once in a while is so cute. continues to do it even like 3 years in, which is so fkn sweet honestly.

nekoma ━━

kuroo tetsurō; plans the best dates. seriously. like not one moment spent with him is dull. i don’t think being with kuroo entails a high energy relationship, i just mean that even a walk in the park is fun with him. he also always knows when to plan a fancy dinner and when it’s just something casual. like he always puts in so much effort, gives 120%, for every date with you. is your favorite band/singer/artist in town? he’s got tickets. the weather is amazing? you’re going to the beach. you’re sleep deprived? nap dates. 10/10

kozume kenma; he teaches you how to play his games. the fact that he’s letting you touch the console in itself says enough, but whenever he buys a new one, and learns it thoroughly enough, he will always sit by you and teach you its ways. picture you sitting in his lap while he guides your hands <333 if you’re not a gamer, he’s actually v flattered by the fact you’re willing to sit through this w him. but if you are a gamer, expect daily competitions. oh and if you beat him? you’re dead to him :).

haiba lev; instead of reaching for things that you’re too short for to grab it himself, he just lifts you up lmfao. i mean w the way he teases yaku, i can imagine he’d be v teasing with you as well if you’re even an inch shorter than him. but fret not! it’s all in the name of love. he’s very loving though, and if he sees you struggling he’ll just wordlessly hoist you up from your waist or something. at first it’s terrifying, but later on it just makes you giggle cause he’s like so willing to do it and it’s effortless for him hehe.

yaku morisuke; always makes sure you’re taking care of yourself, but kinda aggressively? lmao anyways. like he’s always “babe have u eaten” and if u say no expect him to start yelling like “what do you mean no??? are you insane???” v dramatic but honestly <333 he’s always texting you after parting ways “did you get home safe” or on weekends where he cant meet you, he’s asking how it was, if you indulged yourself a bit, relaxed. it’s very sweet and he makes sure it’s not overbearing. he just wants his baby to be healthy and happy.

yamamoto taketora; walks on the side with the cars. it’s not a very noticeable thing, but you see it, and you recognize it. he makes sure he’s always walking where cars are speeding by, a hand on the small of your back guiding you away and to the other side of him. it’s the little notions of protectiveness like if he’s driving and stops suddenly, he’ll put a hand out to keep you from lurching forward, he pushes you gently out of the way before you bump into someone. things like that.

aoba johsai ━━

oikawa tōru; he doodles in your notebooks, or on your skin. if you have class with him, and sit next to him, he’ll always be doodling on your notebook like little hearts or stupid, cute things like your initials + his in a heart. or if you’re at a study date together, and you’re focused on your laptop screen, he’ll leave little encouraging messages on your notes for you to notice when you’re revising. sometimes you’ll be sitting with him at lunch or even if you’re out w him and a bunch of other people, and he happens to have a pen. expect a little smiley face on your inner wrist, or a heart plus his initials ( o.t. )

iwaizumi hajime; he helps you take off your make up/takes it off for you. if you’re too sleepy, he’ll just take the products he’s used to seeing you use and start following it step by step after he props you up next to the sink. while he stands between your thighs he just so gently starts rubbing at your skin and washing away the make up. if you’re already asleep, he’ll have to like google the steps oh my god im gonna cry hes so cute. if you don’t necessarily wear make up, then he’ll just help you do your nightly routine, or even your shower routine, like using a body scrub or a face mask or, bruh, even shaving lmfao.

hanamaki takahiro; saves everything you buy/send/make him. i mean everything. has literally over two thousand photos of you, all the polaroids or postcards are saved in a little box he has under his bed. anything you make him (unless it’s edible) he has. if you make him a small embroidery thing he will literally attach it to his sports bag or something. any chain you make him is automatically added to his keychain. that flower crown you made with him on one of your first dates? he still has it. the flowers are dead but the memory loves babyyyy

matsukawa issei; carries extra clothes of his for you to borrow. hey have i mentioned that mattsun is big? 😃 because he is 😃. meaning regardless of your size or height or whatever, his clothes will drown you <3 i see him as preferring more oversized or just loose shirts rather than tight ones, so yk. on you???? if y’all are just hanging out and you even think about being slightly cold — here have five options of mattsun’s clothes to choose from. he always makes sure they smell like him too. it’s self indulgent really, because he loves the way they look on you, and he loves that it leaves a trace of his scent on you. territorial? i think yes.

fukurodani ━━

bokuto kōtarō; always hugs you like it’s the last time he’ll see you. sometimes, even if he doesn’t know it, you need his hugs badly. y’all are gonna try and tell me bokuto doesn’t give the best fkn hugs??? yeah get outta here with that bs. he SO does. he either kneels down and wraps his arms around your waist, picks you up, and spins you around, like he hasn’t seen you in 3 years, or he’ll just wrap his arms around your neck and pull your head to his chest, cradling it, and just sighing like he won’t see you for the next 3 years. his hugs always make you feel so much better, even if you weren’t feeling down to begin with.

akaashi keiji; plays with your hands and caresses them. it’s the delicate feel and gentleness of it all. akaashi’s generally an anxious person, leaving him very fidgety. but once you two get together, and he starts being comfortable with you, expect to find your hand always between the two of his, just fondling with him. he’ll trace random figurines on the back of your hand, or have his fingers ghost over your wrist and up to your fingertips. if his hands are especially shaky, expect him to just grab one of your yours and hold it tightly between the grasp of two of his. it conveys trust, and all you have to do is kiss his knuckles gently and he’s melting.

konoha akinori; he has your reminders app linked with his, and sneaks in small, motivating messages. every once in a while you’ll get a notification from the app that tells you to drink water or have a snack (or text konoha he’s bored and he misses you). also always sends you pictures to distract you from stress. like it could literally just be a picture of him smiling with a thumbs up and you’d just ,,, melt bc you love him so much.

shiratorizawa ━━

ushijima wakatoshi; he has so many plants that are named after you, or your nicknames, and he’s like so gentle with them too. like strokes their petals and speaks to them so softly, the same way he does with you. you’re honestly so curious how he hasn’t run out of names, but he’s just a genius like that. whenever you go over to his place, and he’s bought a new one, he’ll take your hand and guide you to where it’s growing and just be like “look it’s baby y/n” and you just 🥺🥺🥺

semi eita; he has a playlist on his phone, that’s constantly being updated, for you and him to listen to. the first time he showed it to you, you were stargazing and he took out his phone and headphones and was like “i made a playlist for you wanna list” and every part of your body lit up in flames im not joking. now, a lot of the times, you’re coming back home on a train, and your head is on his shoulder and you’re sharing headphones listening to the playlist. when either one of you is driving you’re blasting it (a lot of the playlist is the hsm soundtrack)

satori tendō; tendo reads people so well, and being in a relationship with him means he will read you so well. so a lot of the times, in social situations, he’ll recognize the signs of you wanting to leave, for example, or if someone’s bothering you, he’ll know exactly how to approach it too. this also entails having a lotta inside jokes hehe, and also just like. talking with your eyes. yk that thing. yeah. all you have to do is look at him a certain way, and he just knows exactly what you just said.

goshiki tsutomu; he buys the both of you this small plushie, and whenever you’re missing each other you just. squish it. and he squishes his. he would rather die than let anyone know this, but you’re not too keen on letting anyone know yourself tbh. it’s just this little thing you have, and it means a lot more to you than just this. when he first bought it he was like “look we have matching plushies” and you passed away on the spot ❤️

shirabu kenjirō; loves trying out new recipes with you. he’s not too big on cooking or baking, but there’s just something about doing it with you that really — hits the spot yk. nowadays, whenever he comes across a new recipe on social media that he thinks you’ll like he just automatically sends it to you like with no words no texts just the post and you’re like “OMG CAN WE DO THIS” and he’s like “why else would i send it. yes we can :)” hvskwkeke

end note; thank you sm for the love on my last two posts!! i’m glad you guys enjoyed them sm. if you have any requests, they’re open and i’m happy to deliver, mwah!

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bnhamixjuice-sfw · 3 years

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ANON REQUEST: Hawks, Dabi and Aizawa: spot an ex he had a bad break up with, he sees her walking around struggling to hold on to a bag of groceries while pushing a stroller with a toddler in it that looks awful lot like them, and the he awkwardly confronts them when the bag falls out of her hands.

Tags: Manga Spoiler, Mention of cheating, Angst to Fluff.

Hawks

“I’m so sorry Dove, I didn’t mean to–”

“Didn’t mean what? to deny that I’m your girlfriend in front of the media ‘cause you had a job agreement with the commission not to reveal me! okay Keigo you’re doing this for what reason exactly? Hero Reputation? More women you can use to cheat behind my back again and expect me to forgive you? I–I don’t want this kind of life anymore!”, you wailed in pure anguish roughly wriggling your wrist away from his firm clutch.

He felt suffocated when he needed to let you go for all the things that he did to hurt you, holding back the urge to chase you outside when you frantically closed the door, not looking back anymore on him. Leaving the top pro hero falling on his knees, lonely between these four walls of his house.

After all this time he can’t forget you, longing to see your face everywhere he goes even on pro hero awarding events or his usual patrol work with Endeavor looking for you through the crowds, praying to see your smile again that he misses the most.

His life was crumbling apart without you, but luck was on his side today when he spotted you not too far from where he was signing autographs for his fans while stealing some glances. As always, you’re still beautiful standing there.

Trying to fix your grocery bags while clasping the baby-carriage’s handle. He hesitated at first to approach you thinking you’re probably waiting for your husband to pick you up and your child. And that’s when a tuft of yellow hair popped out.

“Mommy look it’s Hawks, Awtoglaph pweasee awtoglapph”, his excited pleas reached Hawks’ ears. pointing his fingers towards your ex-boyfriend who waved a hand on both of you.

Soon red feathers clumped together on the ground, preventing your bag to fall.

“Wow what do we have here, a kid full of energy today, so where do you want me to sign your autograph?”, stooping down beaming a smile with his eyes crinkling behind his yellow visor making your child gasp in awe.

He knew instantly that his suspicion was right seemingly looking at his own reflection with those golden honey orbs and black lines on those eyelids and small bump protruding behind the kid’s shirt, red feathers similar to his, messily cramped inside.

“Ke–Hawks here… ”, almost calling out his first name when you handed him a notebook and a pen.

Slightly feeling his gloved hand against your palm.

“Hawks look I hab wings too–”

“Honey we need to go home now or else you’ll miss your favorite show again, now say bye bye to Mr. Hawks”, you interrupted, sneaking a warning glare on him not to tell him anything before gently freeing your child’s wings out from his shirt’s makeshift holes.

“Little fledgling I guess your wings were moulting, so did your Daddy tell you about it”

“Hab no Dawdy but Oh you see… Mommy Lov’ Dawdy so much that she booboo cries” you were shock-stricken softly hushing your child out of embarassment.

“Well kid make sure to tell your Mommy not to cry okay cause Daddy loves her so much, yes don’t forget to tell that to her every day I–”, he stammered with his voice started cracking, overwhelming him with emotions too easily, swallowing the lump forming on his throat.

“Your father loves you too kid trust me, and surely there’s not a single day he’s not thinking of your Mommy, his only Dove–Ah I think I’m taking too much of your time Miss I-I’m so sorry”, halting it immediately, muffling a few sniffles before finally signing his signature.

Your heart began thumping so loud, not expecting him shamelessly grabbing your hand, burying you into a warm embrace in public.

“Wait Keigo stop this, everyone’s taking so many pictures of you”

“No I don’t care anymore, listen Dove I’m so sorry and I still love you, come back to me please I promise I won’t hurt you again, I’ll do better this time just let me make up for it, and for our son”

You can’t blame yourself for giving in, accepting him wholeheartedly knowing this is what you promised to him once.

To never let your future child experience the same heartache he suffered from his past.

Dabi

He regret those cruel words that came out from his mouth the first time he was too fed up of your constant admonishment of putting a rest on his revenge against his family forever since you cannot bear to see him exhausting his body anymore, starting this heated discourse again between you.

“You always bring this up y/n every single day and it’s too annoying already, why are you siding on Enji too much Babydoll… come on just say it you really want us to have a perfect family, so cool to have a child with this debilitating quirk too right?”

Sucking your inner lips anxiously avoiding to tell him something about that last one, you felt his grip on your sholders constricting furiously waiting for you to answer him back, but your tears spilling from those precious eyes made his stomach churn in guilt realizing what he had done when you began screaming on his face that everything’s over, shoving him away and locking the door of your house shut.

He knew how much of a dick he was, the worst break up that’s been haunting him everyday with your terrified face forever etched on his mind

It’s been a long time since the last time he saw you after you moved from your old house and he cannot find you everywhere until today.

He saw you pushing a stroller on the side of the road and having a hard time balancing the bag of groceries on your other hand.

Perhaps you found someone better than him and additionally having a child; a normal child considering he’s not the father. that’s what he thought until something caught his attention.

Squinting his eyes, he was slack-jawed to find a familiar cerulean orbs and red hair on that young boy giddily calling you Mommy.

He took this rare chance of talking to you again by catching your bag of groceries that you clumsily dropped, your eyes met recognizing your ex-boyfriend instantly when he removed his mask. piercing eyes gazing down below observing your child’s similar features.

“Babydoll why didn’t you tell me about him, our son?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Dabi and refrain from calling me that nickname anymore, also stay away from MY son before I call the police”

You breathed heavily snatching back your grocery bag from his grasp, clutching the stroller’s handle in pure anger.

“Daddy you meanie, go home”, tugging his pants with those tiny hands.

It hurts you to see your own child begging for his father to go home, when you can’t even tell him how you often show his own picture to your child that’s why he recognized his own father easily, keeping him close to his heart and memory forever.

You can’t hate your only child’s father.

He was expecting him to cry on his intimidating face when he bent his knees down to look at his child closely, ignoring your earlier threat by patting his son’s head seemingly accepting this foreign fatherly instinct.

“Kid look I’m obviously a bad guy, I don’t want you to get in trouble so maybe next time when your Mommy allows me, don’t worry I’ll probably see you again next time pepperoni haired kid”, chuckling when he saw his son’s childish pout, letting him pinch his stapled cheeks annoyed at his nickname.

“Y/n this is goodbye then”, flashing you that thin smile noticing his lips quivering a bit as he stood.

Shoving both of his hands inside his pockets before turning around to walk slowly away from both of you ignoring your child’s tantrum cries calling for him to go back.

“Ssh… sweetie don’t cry okay–Wait Touya!”

He stopped on his tracks when you yelled his real name again, like how you used to call him that before out of endearment.

“We’re going to stay here from now on so same address, the usual okay knock thrice and use our anniversary day on pressing the doorbell and don’t forget our password, listen I’m doing this for our child only so you better show up tonight or I won’t ever give you a chance”

He disappeared quickly after that, and tonight he never failed to show up incessantly ringing the doorbell many times even greeting you that typical password; a kiss.

A yearning kiss, hands intertwining the moment you opened your heart once again.

Aizawa

“Shouta you keep missing my calls these past few weeks when I needed you the most, you barely have enough time to visit me when I was sick the whole week and now you’re late, fine I don’t wanna hear your excuses anymore”

Those bitter words pierced him like thorns, seeing you slip out that engagement ring from your finger and placing it on a table whispering those bitter words he doesn’t want to hear from you.

“It’s better if we end this relationship now before we regret something, I–I can’t imagine my future being married with you or even having a child with you who pathetically seek for time and attention from his workaholic father, sorry Shouta”, you covered your mouth trying to bite back your tongue from spilling about your unborn child.

Running outside the restaurant leaving him heartbroken that he can’t further speak out his words anymore because everything that you just told him was painfully true.

He doesn’t deserve you, blaming himself for not appreciating you enough despite of your effort of enduring the hardships of having a pro hero fiance who often risk his life for his students. A man who can’t even spend a time to take care of you.

Nevertheless, he wanted to mend back those strings that binds you to his heart, always pouring out his loneliness on visiting that Cat Cafe on his day off every week reminding him of memories you two share.

You often take him there to spend a date knowing he’s fond of cats and snapping lots of photos of him every time he ends up sleeping on the corner with cats huddling close to his face nearly suffocating him.

Keeping your engagement ring to him all the time was the only thing that calms him down whenever he’s in dire situation on his job, thinking how much he wish to meet you here again.

Unbelievably seeing you again one time, rubbing his weary eyes once and twice to know if it’s truly you. Indeed, he can’t forget that familiar caring smile of his beloved, finding you outside the cat cafe currently having a problem of organizing your bag of groceries.

“Mawmmy, neko pweasee I wanna touch it!”, your daughter began whinning clapping his hands to get your attention.

He can’t believe his own eyes when your child resembles him too much with that obsidian dull eyes and sleek black hair minus for that pigtail hairstyle but that scowl seems a carbon copy of his own.

“Wait Baby I–”

“I think you need help Y/n”

You were flabbergasted to find your ex-fiance taking a hold of your bag of groceries with his whip that was about to hit the ground and voluntarily offering his Neko tote bag for you which you persuaded him not to.

“Mawmmy pwease I want that too, Neko”, her tiny hands reaching out determined to get it no matter what.

“Baby no–”

“Well your daughter love cats so much, you can give this to her, please just a friendly gift”, taking out something from his pocket leaning down a bit to his side to rummage on that keychain, letting you see his necklace around his neck with that old engagement ring of yours dangling.

“Found it, here kid I’m not sure if you’ll like this”

“Aww Mawmmy have that too um…right Mawmmy, so no thanks Mister”

There’s no way you were married that’s what Shouta suspected when he saw you not wearing any ring, and obviously that cat keychain was closely similar to his anniversary keychain that you two bought for each other.

“Y/n I can drive you two back to your house if its okay–”

“Mawmmy please say yes”

You sighed in defeat not having a choice in the first place and also giving freedom to your child to spend time with her father who doesn’t know about this.

His car was still the same, sitting beside him and your child now sleeping behind after getting so tired ogling on his car’s cat accesories.

You chuckled upon seeing your daughter’s face on the mirror messily drooling, leaning slightly on your side to wipe the corner of her mouth.

“Darling is she our daughter”

“Eyes on the road Shouta, and yes so what will you do about it. Do you expect me to ask for any financial support from you oh maybe spending your precious time for our daughter that I can’t even get from you years ago”, you sarcastically uttered, stabbing him rudely with those truthful words he was unprepared to hear from you.

“I understand if you’re still mad at me y/n, but I just want you to let you know that I want to set things right first before asking you to forgive me. Because I don’t want to miss this opportunity again to tell you how much I wanted to talk to you or maybe to see you in your white wedding dress”

You can’t resist how determined he was to get close to you again, feeling his hand slowly making its way on you.

Giving back that engagement ring to whom it truly belongs, and that was you, a dream he wanted to come true despite it being too impossible.

Turning your head away to wipe your own tears, proposing for the second time that you have been waiting to hear from him all along.

“She’s your daughter Shouta and don’t you dare make her cry of I’ll scratch your face harder than what your cat does”

“That’s too kind of you, I mean my cat misses your deadly belly rub too, you named him Mr. Pickles right, well I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see his Mom again and his new sibling soon”,

You both exchanged soft giggling catching up on one another by starting the conversation about your lives and so on and so forth, and apparently your child was eavesdropping on both of you.

Your daughter muffled a “Pro hero mission success” after accomplishing her goal, peeking a bit to see you wearing that shiny ring.

She knew it the first time she saw that stranger recognizing him from one of the picture you often place under your pillow, her daddy.

Well she did inherit Shouta’s intellectual skills after all.

Do not repost this fic/headcanon.

Disclaimer: I don't own My hero academia nor its characters and plot.

#hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader #shouta x y/n #shouta x reader #shouta x you #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #Reposted my old fic/hc here cause I forgot to remove keep reading before deactivating

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

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insecurities | l. juyeon

🧸 pairing: idol!juyeon x (insecure) fem!reader 🧸 word count: 2.7k 🧸 genre: angst, fluffy end 🧸 tw: mentions of insecurities, doubts 🧸 a/n: sorry i forgot to post, i had a busy day and im exhausted, i hope it's gonna be enough! 🧸 requested: yes! thank you, it is very cliché but i hope this is what you had in mind! 💝

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Juyeon came home tired but happy, excited to see you again after a long day of intense practice and a show where he participated as an MC. You, on the other hand, were not as happy as he was, but you were for sure tired of something.

You couldn’t deny it, dating Juyeon had positive points, he was everything you could ask for in a man, but there were just as many negative points. He was an attractive, sweet gentleman, and it was almost impossible for him not to attract other girls, not even doing it on purpose. And it was one of your many insecurities even if you considered yourself pretty, you couldn’t help but get insecure every time he talked to someone else.

Because let’s be honest, in the Korean music industry, every single woman looks like an absolute goddess. So, when he interacts with someone, and they’re a bit too friendly, your heart pinches in pain as he gives them the smile he keeps for you and you only.

You think that they are more interesting, prettier and funnier than you, which has the ability to send your thoughts to the dark side of self-consciousness, not feeling pretty or enough next to those women. And tonight, it was hard to watch on National TV your boyfriend being extremely friendly with the other MC.

You had tried to comfort yourself that it was just a mask, that he had to look friendly and handsome on TV. However, you couldn’t help feeling disappointment and anger as he gave attentive eyes to the other MC as she explained something, his eyes falling on her lips pressed against the mic.

Juyeon walks through the main door, tossing his keys on the chest of drawers, getting rid of his jacket and shoes before joining you in the living room, happy to see that you were watching the same channel he appeared on. Eyes glued on the screen, your thumb rubbed against your lips, feeling the skin of the cuticles you scratched while watching your boyfriend feeling rough against your lips.

“Hi love,” he said as he sat next to you, pressing his lips on your cheek. You didn’t react, only emitting a slight hum as he sat comfortably.

Juyeon frowned but didn’t raise your bad mood, trying to think what was going on inside your head. Maybe you had a bad day, or you were just tired, despite scratching his head and think, he couldn’t pinpoint what had brought you in such a bad mood.

“Did you have fun?” you bitterly spat, and Juyeon’s eyes widened, surprised by your tone, the wrinkle on his forehead deepening as his brows furrowed at your attitude.

“I did. Are you mad or something?” he bluntly asked, and you sighed, taking the remote to turn the TV off, falling in an unpleasant, uncomfortable silence.

“Oh no, I’m super fine. I really enjoyed my boyfriend giving heart eyes to another girl on national TV, it was such a nice thing to watch,” you bitterly chuckled, and Juyeon’s eyes widened even more, not expecting you to pull out the jealousy card on that.

“Babe, what are you talking about? You know-”

“Please, spare me your fake confusion and lame excuses, I clearly saw what I saw. My eyes never deceive me,” you said while standing up, but Juyeon was quick to imitate you and grab your wrist to prevent you from walking away. You tried to free yourself from his grip, but he only tightened his hand around it.

“Juyeon, let me go,” you said through clenched teeth, trying to prevent the tears from escaping your eyes. Breaking down was the last thing you wanted to do in this situation.

“Not before you explain to me what this fuss is all about,” he said, irritation replacing confusion in his eyes. You let out a mocking scoff, your eyes filled with anger and disdain boring into your boyfriend’s, holding eye contact for a few seconds.

“You really think I’m this dumb? I clearly saw the eyes you gave to the other MC when you were both animating the show. Cracking jokes, giving her smiles that could outshine the sun, your eyes ogling her lips when she was talking or smiling. Did you really think I wouldn’t catch that?” you raised your voice, letting anger take over your body.

“I never did all of that, I don’t know what you are insinuating,” he spat, trying not to show it, but your words hurt him, hating the fact that you could imagine him cheat on you or fancy another girl.

“Go on social media then, you will see what I am ‘insinuating’! Everyone is already talking about how whipped you are and how cute of a couple you would look together. Some fans are even starting to make edits!” you shouted, shoving your phone in your hoodie’s front pocket.

Juyeon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm his nerves a bit, a gesture that had the ability to enrage you even more. Your family used to do that when they found you annoying or wanted to belittle you, and now seeing Juyeon doing the exact same thing as them really made you even more insecure about this whole situation. Your family made you feel like a real burden during your childhood and teen years that it hurt you to think that Juyeon was probably agreeing with that thought right now.

“Y/N, I don’t know what you are talking about. I was just trying to be nice, I can’t be rude or it’s mine and the group’s reputation that I’ll take down with me-”

“No it’s okay, no need to explain yourself, the message was very clear,” you said, and you finally freed yourself from his grip, your heart breaking as Juyeon sighed in annoyance again, seeing him almost roll his eyes.

“It’s not what I meant, and you know it. Don’t react like that, please,” he started, but you waved your hand in front of you.

“No, no, I got it, you-”

“Y/N, for the love of God, stop being so fucking insecure, it’s getting so fucking annoying at this point! I can’t do anything without you getting fucking doubtful, start having faith in me and in this relationship, dammit!” your eyes widened as Juyeon eventually snapped, his mouth slowly closing as he stared at you, realisation hitting him that his words and tone made a lot of damage once he saw the tears gather in your eyes and roll down your cheeks.

The couch separated the two of you, creating the illusion of a painful wall that made you shiver, feeling like your apartment had lost all of its warmth on the spur of the moment. His words were brutal, and they bounced around your skull, your head turning towards the corridor to swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying not to break down in front of him.

“Y/N, I’m-”

“Leave me alone,” you replied, voice wavering as you walked out of the living room, slamming the bedroom door shut before locking it.

Juyeon sighed and carded his hands through his dark locks, closing his eyes as he thought of the words that had escaped his mouth too quickly. He cursed under his breath as the living room fell into a deafening silence, his hands linked at the back of his neck as he thought of what just happened.

“Why did I say that,” he muttered under his breath and collapsed on the couch, unlocking his phone and scrolling on social media to try and momentarily forget your beautiful face painted with a hurtful expression because of him, but it was to no avail.

He saw what you saw; the fiction, the edits, the collages, he saw and read everything. He already hated seeing you cry and being hurt, but he actually loathed himself for being such an idiot and not comfort you about the whole situation with what was happening on every social platform.

His heart shattered in millions of pieces as he pictured you crying in your shared bed, holding the stuffed animal he got you for your anniversary tight against your chest, letting you drown in your insecurities and intrusive thoughts. He loved you very much, but despite him trying to remind you every single day, your intrusive thoughts always managed to get the upper hand when you found yourself hanging out on your own or with some friends. It was as if your brain shut out everyone who tried to reassure you or make you feel better, letting you drown and struggle in your sorrow.

Yes, the other idols were pretty, but they were nothing compared to you. Juyeon had only eyes for you and cared about you and, of course, his members, but never had he thought about leaving you for someone else. His intentions were just to sound and appear nice and welcoming on TV because he knew that some fans, antis and media wouldn’t hesitate a second to bash him on different platforms and articles for his rudeness and insensitivity towards his idol colleague. And not only would he break his reputation, but also the group’s, and that’s the last thing he wanted.

However, he also understood that it was something hard to watch for you, even if he reminded you every single day that you were the only one that mattered in his eyes.

Sitting on the couch, he started reflecting, putting himself in your shoes for a second. How would he have reacted if he saw you being super friendly and affectionate to another man? Someone more handsome, nicer than him, cracking jokes here and there to see you smile and laugh.

He tossed his phone on the couch space next to him, where he wished you were instead of crying yourself in your shared bed, watching the device bounce, collide with the armrest and fall on the ground. He didn’t even fret checking if the screen cracked, head too high in his thoughts to bother.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he pressed his joined hands against his mouth, tongue poking his inner cheek as he realised he had really messed everything up. His knee started bouncing at the disgusting thought of losing you, perfectly knowing that he had to do something before you could slip through his hand like grains of sand.

Juyeon stood up and knocked on the bedroom door, softly calling for your name.

“Y/N?” he asked, and you didn’t respond, faintly hearing you cry on the other side of the wall. “Go away, please,” your strained voice barely making it to his ears, his fingers drumming against the surface of the door in frustration.

From your side of the bed, still holding that teddy bear close to your chest, you let your tears damp the top of its head, feeling the exhaustion of crying kicking in. Juyeon didn’t knock another time, trying not to push your buttons too much to save his chances to talk to you.

You heard a small thud on the lower part of the door, frowning as you wondered what it was. Deep breathings filled in the silence lingering in the corridor, selfishly feeling a bit relieved that you weren’t the only one hurt in this situation. Juyeon was a smart, tolerant man, he knew when to put his pride aside and not blame you for something you said or did. Well, it’s not the case for this time, and it’s probably exhaustion that spoke for him, and that, of course, doesn’t excuse anything, but he wanted to apologise and make up for everything.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me or hear my voice after what I’ve told you, but I really want to apologise for what I’ve said,” you held your breath to hear his faint, low voice on the other side of the door. You sat up and felt dizzy for a quick second, still holding the teddy bear against your chest, your face buried in its head as you let the tears keep rolling on your cheeks.

“I know it’s hard to date me, and I’m really sorry, I wish we had a simpler life, where we could hang out and go on dates like two normal people. It’s also hard for me to not be the type of boyfriend everyone wishes to have, but I’m so damn grateful to call you mine.” Juyeon marked a pause and ruffled his hair, pushing the front pieces away from his hair while thinking of his following words.

“I… you don’t know how much I’m sorry for using your insecurities against you. I shouldn’t have, it was the dumbest move I could ever do, but I just didn’t know what to answer. You are so pretty, so beautiful, amazing, and absolutely wonderful to have around to me, so seeing you this insecure makes me mad every time you compare yourself to someone you think looks prettier, thinner, or more perfect than you. It’s... really frustrating because I try my best to make you feel like a goddess and worth it every day, but those unrealistic society standards and god damn social media make you feel like you are not worth an ounce of love,” he took in a big breath and raised his knees upwards, letting his forearms rest on them.

You slowly opened the door behind him and dropped the teddy bear by his side, letting him know of your presence. He was quick to notice it and turn around to hug your legs tightly, your hands finding their way in his hair and started massaging his skull.

“I’m so sorry, Ju,” you faintly whispered, and he breathed in deeply against your skin as if he finally found you again after being separated from you for years.

He grabbed your cherished stuffed animal and stood up, holding it against your chest with a tender smile. He sat you down on the bed and gave you a proper hug, mouth pressing loving kisses on your forehead and temple as his hand caressed the back of your head, holding you as close to him as possible.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I really am. I love you so, so much, I’m really sorry for all the stupid words I’ve thrown at you,” he said, and you shook your head, squeezing your arms around his middle tightly as an answer.

“I guess I have to accept that you have eyes only for me. But you know, it’s hard to acknowledge it and believe it when you find everyone around you ten times more beautiful than you are,” you mumbled against his chest as you sat on his lap, and he nodded, feeling a lump rising in his throat.

“I know Y/N, I know. I wish I could rid you of those insecurities, my heart breaks each time I see you so unsure of yourself. You're just so beautiful and amazing, it honestly kills me to see you like this,” he whispered, and you bitterly chuckled, gently pulling away to look at him with pearly eyes, his arms around you holding you still tight, making sure that you wouldn’t go too far from him.

“You can’t do that, but maybe you can help me soothe them by keeping loving me the way you’ve done since day one,” you mumbled, and he smiled, his eyes shining with tears just like yours.

You both cupped each other’s face and sadly smiled at the other, Juyeon feeling comforted at the sensation of your thumbs wiping the tears away from his cheeks and vice versa.

“We just need time, love, but I promise I’m going to help you realise how much you mean to me and how beautiful you are. And how much I don’t care about other girls,” he mumbled, and he gently drew your face closer to his, your lips grazing against his mouth. You closed your eyes at the proximity, feeling so much love and passion in his kiss that it was getting hard to breathe.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” Juyeon pulled away from your lips and whispered against your mouth, his hot breath mixing with yours.

“I love you too,” you smiled, burying your face in his neck, your boyfriend kissing the crown of your head while hugging you tight.

You giggled as Juyeon applied pressure on your waist, making you fall on your side on the bed. His hand gently cradled your cheek, thumb caressing your cheekbone with a soft smile on his face. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against his, feeling him chuckle and gently press his lips against yours.

201 notes · View notes

seokiie · 4 years

Text

𝙸𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍? 𝙸𝙸

+ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

+𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.1𝘬

+ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

+ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘪-𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩, (𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 !! 𝘛𝘢𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 !!)

On AO3 || part one

"Are you working a double today?" Your friend says with her jacket in hand and bag around her shoulder.

"No. No, I think I'm gonna head back to my dorm today." You sigh from behind the counter, untying your apron and folding it in your hands.

You felt kind of dumb. For the past month and a half you've been staying late at work, working doubles just in case a certain someone decided to show up. Just your luck, he never did. It was almost taunting, working extra hours almost every day just to go home alone. He never texted you and, well, to be fair you never texted him either. You felt like you had a pass, though, because you didn't know when he'd be back in America. What was the point of texting first if you didn't know that one crucial fact?

While the extra money was nice, you couldn't afford to work late anymore. Midterms were just around the corner and you really needed to get back to your dorm and study.

As you're gathering your things to leave and locking up, the whole situation seems to hit you. You and Taehyung are from completely different worlds. Taehyung's apart of a worldwide Korean pop group and you're a broke college student who works part-time at an urban cafe. You mentally facepalm at the fact that you thought Taehyung would ever come back to you. He probably has so many options in Korea, not even. He has options all over the world, for god's sake.

You're letting out another groan of self-pity when you're phone chimes with a new text. Almost a little too eagerly, you unlock your phone and-

It's a text from your roommate.

You coming back tonight or are u working late??

You let out another groan. You're roommate only asked that if she was planning on bringing a guy back to the dorm, which wasn't allowed but you're no snitch.

"Lucky me, looks like I'm spending the night at the library." You roll your eyes at no one but yourself, turning off the main light and stepping out of the cafe. The air outside is a lot colder compared to this morning. You kind of regret not bringing a jacket as goosebumps start to rise on your bare arms and thighs. On top of that, you have to walk all the way to the library. It really was your lucky day, huh. You close the front doors, locking them then shoving the keys into your bag.

It wasn't too late, it was maybe seven or eight o'clock yet it was still cloudy and sullen. Walking somewhere as far as the campus library while it was this dark didn't sit right with you but you didn't have anywhere else to go or any other way to get there. Ah, at least the library had heaters and those comfy beanbag chairs-

"Hey." Just as you're starting to comfort yourself with the promise of a gigantic physics textbook, long fingers are wrapping around your arm and gripping you with a force that has you stumbling backward. Are you being kidnapped? You always saw posts about watching out for sex traffickers but you never thought it'd happen to you. You're too young, you have a future!

"Who-who are you?! Don't kill-" You're practically begging for your life, nearly screaming in hopes that someone walking by will see something wrong until... until you actually look up and meet the eyes of this ominous stranger.

"T-Taehyung?" You finally stop your struggle when you notice the black mask, black hoodie, and blond curls. Did he get taller compared to the last time you saw him?

"Hi."

Is that all he had to say? He kind of just stands there with his fingers still wrapped around your arm. His eyes are squinty and you can tell he's smiling despite the mask. He was clearly happy to see you but you weren't one hundred percent sure you felt the same way.

"Hi? Seriously?" You raise an eyebrow and scoff, trying to pull your arm out of his hold a second time but his grip is still too tight. You can see the moment his smile falters and you'd feel guilty if it weren't for his nails digging into your arm right now. Seriously, does he have any idea how strong he is?

"You not happy to see me?" You can hear the pout in his voice and his hold on you finally loosens. You let your arm fall to your side and you rub the area with your other hand, trying to make some of the pain go away.

"I- I'm- you can't-" You sputter. Okay, you were happy to see him, you have to admit, but that doesn't mean you weren't a little frustrated with him.

"Aw, just as shy as I remember." Taehyung's eyes get squinty again and he brings his hand up to pat the top of your head. You don't know whether to feel embarrassed or exhilarated at the gesture.

"Wanted to see you for while. Did you... miss me?" You watch the way Taehyung's eyes trail down your body and you feel your skin heat up at the simple action. Despite half his face being hidden, you could practically taste the lust in his eyes.

"I... It doesn't matter if I missed you. I didn't think you'd ever come back..." You cross your arms and turn away. You don't want him to notice how flustered he'd made you with just a couple of words.

"Why would you think that? You think the coffee shop was it? You think I don't want more?" Taehyung brings his hand up to your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek gently. It seemed like a comforting gesture but you could tell there was much more to it.

"As I was on the plane, my mind... it went to you. I don't know why. All I can think is how good you'll taste..." Taehyung's eyes visibly darken as his hand moves down your body from your cheek to your waist, his fingers pressing against your back slightly as he pulls you closer.

"Fuck, I could barely wait. You'll let me have you, right? You'll let me fuck you properly this time?" He suddenly tugs you forward and to avoid tripping into him, you place both of your hands on the plain of his chest, hard and muscular and fuck. He must've done that on purpose. You could sense his smirk through his mask.

"Wait... Shit, Taehyung, someone's gonna- someone's gonna see us." Your hold on Taehyung's shirt tightens when you feel big hands drifting slowly from your waist to your ass. Honestly, you really did miss him, you missed having his hands on you like this, and now that he's finally touching you your frustration is starting to melt away.

"Let's go somewhere." It's only been a month or so and his English had improved so much from when you last saw him. He seemed to speak more naturally now. If anything was certain it was that Taehyung took studying way more seriously than you did.

"Where..?" Your mind is kind of a mess right now but you try to remind yourself that this is Taehyung. Worldwide superstar Taehyung whose apart of the biggest boy band in the world. If anyone saw you two together or even thought to take a picture of you two together everything would be ruined.

"Somewhere. C'mon."

Your mom had told you many times growing up, never talk to strangers. She especially told you to never ever get into cars with strangers. As you're sitting in the passenger seat of Taehyungs car, you wonder if your mom's shpeal applies to a moment like this. Well, Taehyung wasn't exactly a stranger. And with the way he made you cum you don't think you'd ever let him become a stranger.

"What you are thinking?" A warm hand on your thigh snaps you out of your thoughts. He probably thought something was wrong since you were looking out the window with your arms crossed. To be fair, there was no way you could be relaxed in this situation. The big hand that covers the vast majority of your thigh definitely helps though.

"Nothing." You say quietly. To be completely honest, you can't really remember what you were thinking about, the simple gesture of putting a comforting hand on you having wiped your memory entirely.

"Nothing?" You can hear the way Taehyung's voice drops an octave, turning it into some kind of seductive murmur. His hand drifts a little higher and he gives a light squeeze, his fingers pressing into your inner thigh delectably. Fuck sake, can this man give you a break?

"Ye-yeah... nothing." You stutter. Were you really touch starved to the point where a mere hand on your thigh had you salivating? You guess so.

"Really nothing?" His hand rests there for a little while before moving under your skirt. Your breath hitches and your legs open the tiniest bit as if on instinct. That seems to grab Taehyung's attention because, for the first time during the car ride, his eyes flicker towards you then back to the road. He inhales deeply then lets out a slow exhale.

"Taehyung..." You meant to say his name as a warning but it comes out as more of a breathy moan. A pair of fingers press against you through the thin material of your panties. You only wore them because you wanted to feel pretty but it looks like they came in handy.

Before you can bask in the feeling of Taehyungs fingers rubbing against you, he pulls away and puts both hands back on the wheel. A couple of curse words you don't understand stumble from his mouth and suddenly he's pulling over.

"Wha..?"

"Backseat. Now." Taehyung parks the car and everything starts to make sense when you see him unbuckle his seatbelt haphazardly.

"We're doing this here?" Surprise is evident in your tone and okay, yeah, maybe car sex has been on your bucket list for a while now, and maybe doing it with Taehyung in the back of his expensive GV80 wasn't such a bad idea.

"Was gonna take you to our hotel but too far. Can't wait anymore. Get in the backseat right now." Taehyung licks his lips and when you meet his eyes you finally notice how dark they are. You quickly unbuckle your own seatbelt and crawl over the armrest console into the comfy leather seats. You could honestly fall asleep here.

"You look fucking delicious." Taehyung slowly pushes you down until your laying on your back and he's looking down at you. The glint in his eyes is something ominous and hungry. He was looking at you as if you were his next meal. No guy has ever looked at you with this much lust in their eyes.

"Touch me, please." You don't want to sound needy but holy shit all you've been able to think about these past few weeks is Taehyung fucking the life out of you. By the looks of it, you're not the only one.

"Soon." Is all he says before pressing soft lips against yours. The kiss starts off slow, the two of you learning the other's motions almost like you were dancing. When you let out a breathless pant, he slips his tongue in your mouth, and all of a sudden things aren't moving as slow anymore. You bring your hand up and slide your fingers into Taehyung's silky hair easily, inadvertently making him kiss you harder.

"I hope- I hope you didn't replace me..." Taehyung pulls away for a second only to press light pecks down your jaw, all the way down to your neck. "... while I was gone."

"I didn't. Promise. I waited for you. Please..." Taehyung sucks dark hickeys into your neck, sucking until you hissed in pain. You always had a sensitive neck and the man above you was truly making the most of it.

"Good. Don't want one- anyone in this hole beside me. This pussy is mine." As if to emphasize his point, he grinds his hips down against yours and fuck, there's no way he's that hard already.

"Ah, Tae-" You moan at the feeling of him rubbing against you. Even with the layers and layers of clothes in the way, you could feel perfectly just how thick and long he was. Not to mention the clear possession in his voice.

He already had you wrapped around his finger.

"Ah, jinjja, I can't believe this. You forget what I said last time?" Taehyung pulls away to unbuckle his belt and the action alone has your brain buffering.

"Eyes are up here, jagiya." He uses a singular finger to tilt your chin up and his voice is doing that thing again. That thing where it's deep and smooth like butter and you can practically taste the flirtation in his tone.

"Answer me. You forgot, hm? Call me oppa." As soon as his pants are off, he's sliding down your body and flipping up your short, pleated skirt. You're not exactly sure what he's about to do until he leans in close to your lower abdomen, bites the thin waistband of your panties, and pulls them down your thighs slowly with his mouth.

"I'm waiting." He mumbles, letting go of the panties and letting the waistband snap against your thighs. He spreads your legs apart as far as they can go with them bounded together by your expensive underwear. Then he's flicking his tongue across your clit, purposely teasing.

"Oh- oppa, fuck!" You throw your head back when he finally drags the flat of his tongue up your slick folds, giving it a few more slow licks.

"Wanted to taste you for so long-" The words stumble out his mouth quickly and he doesn't take his lips off you for a second.

Taehyung's focus shifts back to your clit, spurred on by your airy moans. Your fingers are itching to knot themselves in his hair again - you just want to pull him closer, grind your hips into him. It's too much and not enough at the same time.

"Oh my god, oh my..." Taehyung swallows and looks up at you with dark eyes, his cheeks and ears a light shade of red as he licked his lips. Your wetness was all over his chin and the corners of his mouth and you've seriously never seen a guy enjoy giving oral so much. For god's sake, he looked like he was about to ascend.

"It's wet." He moans. The words were so simple and obvious but the way he said it, god, you want it on repeat.

A big hand drifts up your thigh slowly as his mouth wraps around your clit again. While the hand on your thigh kneads the skin there gently, his other hand is inching between your legs. Nothing can prepare you for the feeling of two long fingers pressing into you.

"Ah, ah- wait-" The fingers slide in easily with how wet you are. It seems he hasn't forgotten where your sweet spot is if the way he curls his fingers directly into that bundle of nerves indicates anything.

"You like it, hm? It's just fingers but you're going crazy. It feel that good?" Taehyung growls, sucking on your sensitive bud lightly as he thrusted his fingers inside you, curling them each time and making you see stars.

"Answer me, jagiya." He says around your clit. If he kept this up you'd be coming embarrassingly fast.

"Mnnhh, I like it. I like- I like it a lot." You try your best to speak a coherent sentence but you end up cutting yourself off with your own stuttered moans.

"Tae, close. So close..." You try to warn him but he ignores you entirely. Instead, he continues sucking and opening you up with his fingers, even as your orgasm flows through your whole body, making you spasm a little.

"Mashisoyo," Taehyung says it quietly like he's talking to himself. He removes his two fingers from inside you and admires the way your cum seeps out of you. He prides himself on his work but he wasn't near close to being done.

"Wait- wait, what're..." You barely get a second to calm down before Taehyungs mouth is back on you. He spreads your thighs apart farther using both hands and swipes his tongue up your folds, collecting every drop of your cum on his tongue and swallowing it down with a satisfied 'mmm'.

"Fuck sake, are you real? How can you taste so good?" He sighs against you before pressing his tongue inside your hole. You writhe under him, sensitive and overstimulated.

"Hard. So hard right now. I need it inside you." Taehyung sits up and when your vision unblurs, you can clearly see the way his cock strains against his designer boxers.

Designer boxers?

"Let me?" At this moment, you can't help thinking that Taehyung looks cute here. He's sitting up, rutting helplessly against his hand. Rosy cheeks, parted lips, and an aching cock. An aching cock he needed you to fix.

"Of course." As soon as the confirmation exits your mouth, he's freeing himself from his boxers and sliding the restricting material down his thighs. He tosses the underwear somewhere in the car. He'd deal with it later.

"Woah, I forgot... how big you were..." Suddenly recollections from your last sexual encounter with the idol flood your memory. The way the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, the way it hurt but it felt so good. The same fear that he wouldn't fit still grazed your skin as last time but you weren't any less determined to take him. Lord knows you needed him just as much as he needed you right now.

"Ah, don't say a thing like that... embarrassing." He tries to turn away to hide his embarrassment but you can see the smile curling on his lips. How was it possible for a guy with a dick this big to be so humble? It was insane.

"I'll insert now." He says, slotting his hips between yours.

"Insert?" You repeat, confused. You've never heard someone use the term 'insert' while having sex.

"Did I say it right? It means put in, you know?" You really can't help laughing at that. That laugh quickly turns into a groan of pleasure when you feel the thick head of his cock press against your folds, threatening to split you open.

"Fuck, it's hot." Taehyung has to stop himself before he can fully get his tip inside because the last time he had sex was a month and a half ago and holy shit, he might actually cum prematurely.

"You-you're stretching me open, oppa." Hearing you call him 'oppa' seems to awaken something inside him. You bite your lip hard in an attempt to suppress your whimpers as he gradually slides in deeper.

"Ahh, it's hugging me." Taehyung closes his eyes tightly as he buries himself inside you to the hilt. Somehow, being so deep inside you made him feel at home.

Slowly, very slowly, he starts building a rhythm, grinding into you with careful and precise thrusts. You're not completely sure if he's moving gently for you or himself but you're very grateful.

You part your lips slightly to let out a moan as Taehyung's cock drags along your walls. Before you can properly let a sound out, he's pressing his lips against yours again. Unlike before, he's immediately licking into your mouth, almost as if he can't get enough of you, like he needs to taste you to survive.

"Perfect. Perfect for me. Perfect and tight just for me." As you both adjust to the beautifully familiar feeling of each other, he starts to move faster. He pulls away from your lips and presses them back against your neck. For some reason, getting fucked in Taehyung's expensive car was ten times as luxurious as any other one night stands you've ever had.

"Tae, it feels-" You never considered you to be extremely vocal in bed but somehow this man managed to drag every sound, every moan from the back of your throat like it was nothing.

"Feel good? I feel good." He groans against your neck. He's been holding back this whole time but the longer he's inside you, the harder it gets to control himself.

"You don't- fuck, I'm not made of glass, you can go harder." You slip your hands under his shirt and glide them over the expanse of his back. His skin was a bit damp from how hot the car had gotten.

"Really?" You feel him smirk against your neck before his lips brush over the shell of your ear.

"So, more? I don't know, little girl, what if I break you?" He enunciates the word 'break' with a particularly rough thrust that has you seeing literal stars. That along with the way he's whispering and lightly biting your ear has you shivering under him with need. You need more.

"Mm- ah, break me! I don't care." You whine loudly. At first, you were happy he was letting you adjust but right now you needed his thick cock fucking you into these leather seats.

His objective seems to change after that. Instead of teasing you relentlessly, his hips start moving at an ungodly rate, the head of cock nudging at your cervix as if it was trying to get its attention. It was a dangerous feeling and you know what could happen if you got injured up there, but it felt so good. The way he filled you up so perfectly, rubbing against that bundle of nerves even when he pulled out just to thrust back in was just too addicting.

He growls something in Korean and if you could use half of your brainpower right now, you'd try and figure out what but you could literally feel Taehyung in your guts and it's hard to focus on anything else.

"Naekkeo..." His breathing gets heavier and his thrusts are starting to get sloppier. You barely notice, though, with your second orgasm already rearing around the corner.

"Who does this belong to, hm?" He says between breaths. The sound of skin slapping skin was so loud in the car and you wonder if the vehicle was shaking with how hard Taehyung was pounding into you. There's no way it wasn't.

"Who does this fucking pussy belong to?" He reiterates and the clear dominance behind his words has you keening. You wonder if you could cum just from him speaking to you like that.

"Y- ya- you! Belong- belongs to- you!" You clench hard around him when you feel your orgasm ripple through you in waves, one after the other till your head was thrown back and you were calling out Taehyung's name like a mantra.

"Tight, nnha, it's fucking... tight..." Taehyung's restraint was quickly deteriorating and before he can even form a cognitive thought he's coming inside you. His hips buck wantonly as you practically milk him dry with how hard you're clenching around him. The feeling of his warm cum pumping inside you nearly makes your eyes roll back. You truly missed that feeling.

"I shouldn't have- ah, I came inside..." Taehyung raises his eyebrows in a shocked, worried expression and slaps a hand over his mouth. It takes you a moment to come back to reality but when you do, the first thing you see is an anxious Taehyung. It makes your blood run cold.

"What happened? Was it bad?" You sit up, your initial reaction being to comfort him. He pulls out carefully and you feel his cum oozing out of you, seeping onto the fancy leather seats. Oh.

Oops.

"No, no. So good. But this could be bad." He gives a nervous chuckle and looks down where you're practically leaking. You bite your lip at the sight. It was kinda hot.

"I'm on the pill and I'm clean, so don't worry." You giggle at your forward-thinking. After the promise of a second time with Taehyung, there was no way you were letting him pull out again. You had a bit of a breeding kink but there was no way you were getting pregnant. Thank god for birth control

"Pill? What pill?" He tilts his head, clearly confused but his lips turn up in a smile after seeing you giggle.

"Birth control. It prevents pregnancies." You explain it simply. He makes a sound of understanding and nods before throwing his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. Now it's your turn to be confused.

"Let's hug like this for a while then I take you back to the hotel. Couple minutes away." His arms are wrapped around your waist and he's pressing his nose against your neck, just breathing you in.

"I thought you said it was too far of a drive." A smirk graces your features.

"I just couldn't wait."

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

[I do not allow any translating, editing, reposting, or use of any my work!!]

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xhisokas-harleyx · 3 years

Note

Your Hisoka headcanons were so good😭 and i completely agree with all of them- I wanted request something, u can ignore if u want. 🏃

I am just thinking of a scenario where Hisoka got hurt, by someone who 'cheated' in the fight maybe, and his first instinct was to go to his 'friend's place. And Reader helps him without hesitation, they're even worried and stuff. And he is just like "are they just so naive or dumb? Kind? What do they get from this? And tf is this feeling in my chest? A poison maybe-" Maybe hcs? Or an oneshot? Whatever you like to do. Have a good day or night!:)💛 damn i wrote too much lol sorry

This warms my heart. Thank you SO MUCH for your support!!! And no, you did not write too much! I love having my ego stroked ;) 😂 seriously tho I love hearing from you guys!

I love this prompt. I hope that I was able to bring this to life for you, please feel free to request more!

To be honest, I’m not really happy with how this turned out, but I haven’t written in a long time and feel really rusty. I may rewrite it at some point, because I thought of a different way this could also go! At any rate, I hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 2880 (yeh, it’s a long one :o)

A little song inspiration I had:

As The World Caves In: Matt Maltese

Hisoka x Reader One-Shot: The Man Beneath the Monster

...

Well... this wasn't supposed to happen.

Currently, the jester of everyone's nightmares lay on the ground, golden eyes staring up at the dull night sky while shrapnel and debris etched patterns into his back, remnants of the attack he'd just barely survived. Hisoka didn't normally have much of a problem mowing through his opponents- but then again, they usually didn't possess the ability to play with their enemy's mind. It was insanely unfair, the way he'd been attacked, and while it had been an interesting battle to say the least, Hisoka had barely pulled through.

Admittedly, he was invigorated by the feeling of almost being beaten- save for the searing pain that inched its way through every nerve in his body. Hisoka wasn't usually so affected by pain in general- in fact, more often than not, it gave him a certain indescribable gratification. He tended to brush off the feeling of most wounds he obtained during battle, distracting himself with shuffling his cards or fantasizing about the next battle he'd be facing. Only this time, if he didn't get help, he wasn’t sure there would BE another battle.

Hisoka strained himself to sit up, and looked down at his body, analyzing just how much damage he'd sustained. A deep gash opened up his chest, revealing glimpses of the muscular content underneath, and it was oozing a lot of blood. His arms and legs were burned, and some of the skin was a little charred, which smelled just lovely against the night breeze.

This is going to be difficult to cover with Texture Surprise... he thought, forcing himself a bit angrily to his feet, when he heard the cracking of the joints in his left ankle, indications of a break. He needed medical attention, badly. His gash wasn't going to heal itself, and he would bleed to death within hours if it didn’t get bandaged.

But where could he go? Hospitals wouldn't dare take him- even though he was a hunter, most people wouldn't be caught within miles of him, let alone would provide him any remedy. In fact, most people thought the world would be better off if he were dead anyway.

Maybe they were right.

He chuckled a little at the thought, but as he tried to brush those creeping inner fears off, he soon realized that his normal detached approach wasn't going to work this time. Already, his legs were getting weaker, and his vision was getting a little darker by the second. In that moment of weakness, when he felt the most vulnerable, the magician was puzzled by the singular thought that came to his mind.

Y/N.

She was a girl he’d encountered more than a few times in his travels; not by accident, but through carefully orchestrated meetings he initiated himself. She was strong in his eyes, which was not a compliment that he offered freely, especially to someone who didn’t regularly seek out altercations to smash their enemies. She was strong in a different way- not because of her nen or battle tactics- but because of her resolve. He found it intriguing that she didn’t run at the sight of him (even when he popped up behind her in the park), and he liked that she wasn't afraid to tell him exactly where he could shove his cards, if warranted. Y/N was appealing to him in an indescribable way that made him continue to think up excuses to meet her ‘randomly’- but he could never put his finger on what it was that made her unique. However, through brief conversations and what he considered to be highlights of his travels, he’d gotten to know her only a little, but he hardly had enough contact with her to call her a ‘friend’.

It wasn't like she had any special sort of healing nen. She probably couldn't help him anyway. But if he did bleed out, and his last thought had to be of something...l it might as well be of her.

The pink-haired clown looked to the city up ahead in the distance- he was close to her house already. It didn't take him long to get there; Y/N lived on the outskirts of town in a small place away from most other homes.

It was a place he knew well, although he'd never been inside. He'd spent more than a few long nights watching the residence from the rooftop of a distant neighboring home as he denied his human emotions. He often watched her pack groceries, or try to figure out why her porch light wasn't working (which he certainly had nothing to do with), or watch TV on the couch all alone.

Hisoka quite liked those stupid romantic comedies that played late at night on the local channel. His only opportunity to watch them was through her window- and in his mind, he was sure that she left the subtitles on because she can somehow sense his presence. She usually fell asleep watching those, and missed the part where the hero gets the girl. He always watched that part with particular interest, but he can't figure out what makes the protagonists so special to each other. If there was a feeling that caused them to sacrifice so much for one another… he sure didn’t know what it could be.

But he's not a hero, so why would he know what that feels like?

As Hisoka reached her door and lifted his hand to the doorknob, not bothering to knock, a pang of what could only be anxiety ripped through him. It was well past 2 AM, and he knew she had things to do early in the morning. Their previous encounters had been abnormal, to say the least, complete with him teasing her and being a douchebag. He's been nothing but an annoyance to Y/N, so why would she help him?

As soon as he was about to pull his hand away, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled looking y/n in its place. Hisoka was bent over in pain, holding his chest, but as she startled him a little, he straightened up and put on his mask, acting complacent and confident. He wanted to say something smart and witty like he always does- that always helped to bat the pain away. But his lips wouldn't move- his tongue wouldn't function as he stared at her, unable to reach out in a way that normal humans seem to find so easy.

He felt frozen in that moment. He was normally so deliberately irreverent, but seeing the look on her face made his blood run cold.

Don’t let her see this weakness. It was a plea to himself.

But Hisoka had no choice. He was broken, and he needed her to fix him. He wasn’t used to depending on someone else to save his life, but now his life rested in the hands of someone who most likely despised him.

"...Hisoka." Y/N breathed, her eyes widening as she placed a hand over her open mouth. Only seconds passed before her delicate hands were pulling him inside the door without hesitation. She didn't bother to ask what happened, what kind of trouble he'd gotten into, or whether she would also be in danger. Instead, she sat him down on the couch, laying a pillow under his head for comfort, which he annoyingly refused to use until he absolutely couldn’t hold his head up any longer.

Hisoka was a bit dazed from the loss of blood, and the crimson river was flowing all over y/n's lightly colored couch. He was puzzled by the swiftness of her reaction, and he watched tepidly as she shuffled frantically through the drawers in the bathroom for something to heal him. Though he was on the brink of death, his default deflection of emotions still shone through, a reflex that he didn’t even mean to activate.

“I don’t need your help, you know.” He said with an impudent grin, watching as she began to work on his wounds. “It’s just a scratch. But I can see how badly you want to touch me…” Why was he like this? Here she was, giving up everything to help him (a criminal and the scum of the Earth),yet he can’t so much as even show her an iota of gratitude. He knows, but will never admit that it comes from his inner vulnerability; that fear of getting hurt by these things called emotions. She could just as easily let him bleed to death in front of her; he knows she has the capability to be stone cold. But she won’t… why?

Why?

Y/N could have easily let Hisoka’s false complacency hurt her. But she knows that what he cannot express in his words, his heart cannot truly hide. It was the way he was built, she told herself, and she pushed on through his antics because she wanted to see him safe again. Through the laceration in his tough exterior, she could not only see the flesh beneath, but a glimpse of the man he tried to hide using the monster that he assumed everyone saw.

But she was different.

The jester was confused by her silence. Normally, she would have retorted at his smugness, but right now, she didn’t even seem concerned with it as she began to fumble with cleaning his wounds. The alcohol seared his flesh just as the emotions boiling within him burned his heart. Why would she ever care to help him when he’s been nothing but rude and degrading to her? Could it be that she really can see through the detached front and overbearing persona? Impossible, he’s spent years building that reputation!

Suddenly, he became enthralled with the way Y/N’s eyes focused on threading the needle to sew up his gash. The way that those fingertips danced over his pale skin made him jolt unexpectedly at her touch, exhibiting a softness that Hisoka has never known before. In fact, he can’t even fathom someone wanting to touch him without the intention to hurt him in some way.

The details slowly became a blur in his depressed mental state- but he still analyzed every motion Y/N made.

Oddly, the promised sting of death had never scared Hisoka before; he did as he pleased, without care for his own life nor anyone else’s. But as his vision faded, and he watched her through the gaze of someone nearing death, he realized that he did not want to leave this world yet. He wanted to live- and maybe he wanted to discover and experience what he’d been missing in those movies he’d watched through her window.

With that, Hisoka’s heart began to beat faster.

Blood loss. That’s what it is… Hisoka thought; but he wasn’t stupid; only unwilling to admit that he was beginning to exhibit the same qualities he saw in the protagonists of those hopeless romantic flicks. He was unable to accept that the tightening in his chest was not just because of her stitches pulling his lacerated skin together.

“Are they dead? Did you kill them?” Her voice brought him out of the trance-like state he was in, and his golden eyes focused on her face. Her hands were covered in his blood (which in itself made him feel delightfully feverish), but his gash had been mended, the bleeding stopped for now. Once again, he didn’t say anything. It was unusual for the smug magician to keep his mouth shut.

“Because if you didn’t kill them, I’m going to.” A protective tone dripped into her voice, bewildering Hisoka again. That quality in her voice was both threatening and comforting, and the duality sent a chill up his spine. It inspired him to use his voice, though it had lost some of its signature modulation.

“You have that little faith in me…” A cough escaped his lips before he could smile as if nothing was bothering him at all. “Of course I killed them, my dear.” Somehow, calling her ‘dear’ no longer felt right; that was typically a placeholder, a default name to use for someone he had no connection with, and she seemed to be worthy of more than that now.

As Y/N suddenly dipped to her knees, Hisoka refrained from any lewd thoughts that he normally might have had in such a situation. That sensation in his chest was too distracting to allow this memory to be defiled with something he often indulged in fantasies of. She began to slide the high-heeled shoe off of his swollen foot to wrap it. She began to struggle with ripping the fabric she’d gathered to act as a cast for the bone.

Surely, she knows who I am. Why would she bother to help someone like me? What is she gaining? She knows that with the flip of a card, I could end her life. She’s not even protecting herself in any way. She’s leaving her guard down right in front of me.

Perhaps it was his dark desire to set fear into everyone he came across, or his distorted need to drive away anyone who might care for him, but his body suddenly acted on its own. By instinct, almost as if it were a test of her intention, a card spawned between his middle and index finger, which was right against her neck. With just a slight movement of his knuckles, he could spill her blood. His golden eyes analyzed the way she froze for a moment, and he believed that to be the end of this fragile trust between them. That was until she lifted the fabric she was holding, sliding it along the edge of the card, and cutting it to the perfect length.

“Thanks.” She spoke, beginning to wrap and set the ankle in place.

At that small motion, Hisoka’s discretionary eyes widened, and his lips fell open in surprise. Rather than interpreting his advance as an attack, she’d innocently taken it as an offer of his help. Was this a joke? Was she stupid enough to trust him, or was she bold enough to outsmart his games? Was Y/N this confident that he wouldn’t just kill her? This naive girl at his feet seemed to be the only person in this convoluted world who didn’t see him as a disgusting, heartless monster… and that warmed his icy heart.

“I’m surprised this hasn’t happened before. I know you’re graceful, but high heels are always a recipe for a broken ankle.” She offset the pain of wrapping those bones by talking to him all through the procedure, and it worked wonders. He scoffed, but by that time, Hisoka’s snide comments and emotion-killing thoughts had been expended. Somehow, she’d broken through the barrier that he’d spent so long building around himself.

Unable to ignore his whims anymore, Hisoka reached out to touch Y/N’s hair, the soft delicate strands pleasing his senses. It’s the only movement he can make now, his body weakened from the loss of blood. His gilded eyes were barely open, but they looked directly into hers with an unfamiliar realization. His hand travelled weakly down her face, caressing her cheek with the most delicate touch he could muster, and held her head in his large hand as she froze there. He wondered for a moment if she was afraid, or if something deeper that he cannot see calms her.

A small, genuine smile is all he could muster for her before his hand dropped to the side of the couch, the same couch he watched her curl up on most nights. For once, it’s not a smirk, and it’s not a smug smile- but something she has never seen before- a true smile with good intention behind it. His eyes closed, with uncertainty that they would open in the morning.

After she’d finished her work, she stood up, and looked down at him. The only remaining light in the room was the silent flicker of the television set in the background, which illuminated both of their faces.

“I need you to be alright, Hisoka,” She cooed, unable to know if he could still hear her. He didn’t know if she even realized how much he wanted to kill her right now, because the way her kindness was attacking his heart while his chest was already sliced open was something he should not excuse.

As Y/N’s final healing gesture, she bent over his body gracefully. He was taken off guard when he felt the feathery soft sensation of her lips on his forehead, the kiss of an angel on his clammy skin. As she went to pull away, however, she was startled by the lunge of Hisoka’s hand initiating a death grip on her wrist. He used the last bit of his strength to pull her lips into his, causing her to lose balance and be forced to brace on either side of the couch cushion below him. His lips were cold, but Y/N graciously returned the sensation, and boldly moved to embrace both sides of his face with her mending hands. Before she pulled away, and he passed out, she felt that same smile against her lips.

And in that moment, before he fades away, Hisoka realizes what he’s been missing.

Y/N.

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

Hmm... part two? I KNOW, it’s super freakin’ sappy. I could have taken a lighthearted approach to this (and maybe I will later), but I wanted to kind of challenge myself to write a more depth-driven version of Hisoka. Maybe I bit off a little more than I can chew :0.

Anyway, let me know what you think, and once again thanks to anon for the request! Hope you all enjoyed!

Mac

#hisoka morow #hisoka x reader #x reader #reader insert #hxh #hunterxhunter #feeling sappy #love #lovelorn #ooc? probably #hxh 2011 #hisoka

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aquilaofarkham · 3 years

Photo

title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛 Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit.

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.”

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time.

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle.

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips.

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation.

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water.

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade.

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

#castlevania #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #alucard #alucard castlevania #sypha belnades #trephacard #my writing #*cvfic #jewish trevor

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cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years

Text

I feel terrible that I haven’t been participating in the last couple events, so I decided to write something for day 3 of the @jonsaseasonalbash

Prompt: crow and little bird

posted on ao3 here

When Sansa steps into the tattoo parlor, she nearly loses her nerve and runs back out.

But no, she made this appointment and she will keep it (plus, if she runs away, Arya will never let her live it down and she cannot let that happen). She just wishes she'd waited until Arya was free instead of declaring, loudly, that she could do this by herself.

It's a Tuesday morning and so she isn't surprised when she notices the shop is practically empty and that there's only one other customer. As she goes to the front desk and then waits for the tattoo artist she booked with – a woman named Val – she tries not to look over at the other customer to see who they are and what kind of tattoo they're getting. That would be rude.

She can't help it, though, because the other customer is distractingly half dressed (and distractingly ripped) and no matter how hard she tries, her eyes keep flitting over to him. He's only in a sleeveless undershirt and she can't help taking in the corded muscles in his arms, eyes sweeping down his forearms and to his hands and-

“Sansa?”

“Yes!” she turns to face a woman who must be Val, trying to look as innocent as possible. It doesn't seem to work, because she's pretty sure Val gives a slight snort of laughter and looks over at the man with a smirk before leading Sansa to a chair that... has a perfect view of the only other customer.

She keeps her focus on Val as the woman applies the stencil to her skin and they both agree that they like the size and placement. While Val preps her needle, Sansa stares at the line of small birds in flight across her inner wrist.

Little bird.

She is free of the Lannisters now and that taunt will never hurt her again. She will never allow herself to be used like she had before and she is getting this tattoo to remind herself.

(Not that her new job is any better, she sighs internally. After leaving Lannister Publications, she'd gotten a position at The Mockingbird, but her creepy boss had relegated her to writing fluff life and style pieces. Not that Sansa has anything against life and style, but the pieces he gives her are incredibly stupid, to the point where it almost seems like he's doing it on purpose, and Sansa aches to write something better, something more. She wants to be a real journalist.)

The needle doesn't hurt as badly as she was expecting (though it's still not pleasant) and Sansa can't help when her eyes wander over to the other chair – or, more specifically, the man sitting in it. His dark hair is pulled up into a man bun that she should hate, but he somehow makes it work. In fact, she should hate his whole look – scruffy beard, battered boots and old jeans – but it just... well, it works for her, ok? Even the way his face has settled into a resting scowl works for her, against her will or better judgment.

But then she sees the tattoo.

He's already got a few of them, and the new one is being added to his upper arm and she almost rolls her eyes when she sees it – a black crow.

He must be a fanboy.

Ever since The Crow showed up in Winterfell almost a year ago, she's seen normal men go absolutely insane over the superhero. He's only been seen a couple times, a man in all black with a mask who leaves one black feather as his calling card.

He'd made quite the splash with his debut – dumping Ramsay Bolton on the front steps of the Metro Police, bound and gagged, with a trunk full of evidence so concrete there was no way that even his father, politician Roose Bolton, could get him out of it. And, stuck into the bindings around Ramsay's wrists, a single black feather.

Newspapers had dubbed him The Crow – even her own newspaper wrote about him nearly every single day, even when he wasn't active. The Crow wasn't like the other superheroes that had been popping up in other cities – he didn't fight petty crime, he didn't seem to prowl the streets at night looking for minor assaults and thefts. No, he went after the elite, the ones the police couldn't (or wouldn't) touch.

(There had been a time when Sansa had wished desperately that The Crow would come for the Lannisters and save her, but he never had. The Lannisters might be cruel, but they weren't criminal masterminds, and in the end, it had been Sansa that had saved herself.)

Sansa sighs and tears her eyes from the stranger and back to her own tattoo. He may be one of the most attractive men she's ever encountered in real life, but she doesn't think she wants anything to do with one of The Crow's fanboys. She has mixed feelings about The Crow himself – she has no issue with someone taking the law into their own hands when the law refuses to do it themselves, but superheroes come with consequences. Consequences that look exactly like the stranger sitting across the room from her – men who decide that they, too, will mete out their own justice. Those copycats usually turn out to be less heroics and more violence for the sake of violence.

Yes, Sansa has very mixed feelings about The Crow.

She looks up again (determined that this is the last time she will look) and she nearly jumps out of her skin when she sees the stranger staring straight back at her. Their eyes catch and Sansa feels a wave of something rush through her. He doesn't look away and she finds herself caught, breathless, until Val declares that she's all done.

(When Sansa's legs almost give out when she stands, she laughs it off to Val and pretends she has a low pain tolerance and also her blood sugar has dropped and it definitely has nothing at all to do with the stranger who's eyes she can still feel burning into her as she walks away.)

SIX MONTHS LATER

Sansa tries very hard not to cry.

If she cries, her nose will stuff up and then she'll have an even harder time trying to breathe around the gag in her mouth. She tries to take deep, calming breaths, fighting against the panic that is swirling through her chest. Her hands are bound tightly behind her, her legs likewise bound with industrial zip ties, the plastic cutting into her skin whenever she tries to move or struggle.

How did she get here?

She'd sworn, six months ago, that she would never allow herself to be at the mercy of a man again - she'd even gotten a tattoo to remind herself. But here she is.

From her vantage point, lying sideways on the bed, she watches Petyr Baelish fold and pack his clothing into a suitcase. To anyone else, he would probably look calm, but Sansa has been around him long enough to see how pale his face is, the tight line of his mouth, the slight flaring of his nostrils - he is terrified.

But why?

Four hours ago, she'd been working late in the office when Petyr had found her and told her to come with him. He wouldn't explain where or why and when she refused - when she tried to leave, tried to run - he'd had his right hand man bind and gag her and they'd shoved her into the back of a car and driven her to Petyr's penthouse.

It hadn't registered then, but Sansa knows something has happened to scare Petyr. Something has forced his hand. He has been making advances towards her for the past few months, making sweet promises of a promotion (she'd finally be able to write something real), trying to take her out to dinner and giving her little gifts that made her stomach turn sour. She'd given the gifts back, refused the dinners.

But something has changed and now he is kidnapping her.

She'd overheard him and Brune talking about a private plane – about an island where he would never find them. Sansa knows that she is going to be taken to this island, that Petyr will no longer accept her refusals.

She wants to vomit, but she tamps it down, afraid that she'll choke behind the gag. She may be bound and helpless, but she refuses to die. She'll find her way out of this, somehow.

The door bursts open and Brune comes in, face a hard mask, and Sansa watches Petyr's eyes get wide and somehow even more fearful. Then something dark fills the doorway and Brune's hand comes up, gun at the ready, and Sansa closes her eyes tight when the first shot goes off. There's a second and a third in rapid succession and then more noises, but Sansa's heart is pounding so loudly in her own ears, she can barely hear.

Eventually there's silence, though it takes her a while to notice it.

No, not silence.

Someone is moving about the penthouse, and when Sansa finally opens her eyes, she nearly lets out a sob when she sees a dark figure dressed in all black standing over the bodies of Petyr and Brune.

The Crow.

There's a rip in The Crow's sleeve and she can see blood seeping out from where a bullet must have grazed him. Her eyes won't leave the blood on his arm as he bends down and begins to tie up first Brune and then Petyr. There's a lot of blood, but underneath she thinks she can see something, almost like a tattoo-

“Are you ok?”

She tears her eyes from his arm and looks up at the masked face that's now turned towards her. His voice is low and rough and even though she can't see his eyes behind the mask, she can feel them on her.

He stands up and walks over to her and carefully unties the gag, finally pulling it away and she coughs and nearly chokes when it's gone. Her mouth is so dry, but she manages to croak out, “water?”

She should be asking him to untie her, but she feels like she still can't breathe with how dry her mouth and throat are and The Crow leaves the room and comes back with a cup of water. He helps her sit up and holds the cup to her mouth, with his other hand on the back of her head, holding her steady, as she gulps down the water.

“Police will be here soon,” he tells her, setting the cup down on the side table.

Then he goes back to the bodies (she sees they're still breathing, which doesn't surprise her – The Crow has never killed anyone, as far as she knows) and he pulls out a single black feather from somewhere and tucks it into the bindings at Petyr's wrists.

“Aren't you going to untie me?” she asks when he starts moving towards the door again.

He turns to face her and says, “no.”

“What?” she gasps, twisting to try and face him better.

“You're evidence,” he shrugs.

“You're just going to leave me here?” her voice raises an octave in disbelief. “You're supposed to be a superhero!”

“I'm not a hero,” he says, the words biting. “Just because the news-”

“You help people!” she cuts in. “I read about what Ramsay Bolton did,” she swallows hard, remembering the horrific things that had come out in the wake of his arrest, the things he'd done to countless women and gotten away with because of his father's position. “You stopped him.”

The Crow stares at her for a while – or, she thinks he stares at her, she can't see his eyes. But she feels it, feels his gaze burning into her and something like a shiver rolls down her spine.

“You're evidence,” The Crow says again. “I'm not going to untie you.”

She knows, deep down, that she will be ok. The police will get here and untie her and she will be fine, but she can't seem to focus on that because there's a primal fear coursing through her at being tied up and helpless. She breathes deep and tries to calm herself.

“Then let me interview you,” she blurts out. He jerks back in surprise and she can't blame him, the words surprise even herself – she hadn't meant to say them. But she has, so she continues on. “Let me write an article on you.”

“No.”

“You owe me!”

“I just saved you,” he says and she thinks if he weren't wearing a mask, she would have seen him roll his eyes. “If anything, you owe me.”

She ignores the strange feeling that flits through her stomach and struggles to sit further upright. “I can help you,” she tries. “Isn't there some message you want to get out?” He's silent and she tries again. “Something you want to tell your fans?” She watches his mouth twist in disgust and she thinks yes! There it is.

“I don't want fans,” he grits out through clenched teeth. This is it, this is her chance.

“You could tell them to stop. Let me interview you and you can tell them whatever you want.”

She waits, heart in her throat, pulse pounding in her wrists, against the zip ties that bind her and the ink of her tattoo. She is not a little bird.

For a long while he watches her, eyes hidden behind his mask, mouth set into a grim line. The silence stretches out between them, crackles with a sort of energy Sansa has never felt before, except maybe once, six months ago in a tattoo parlor when-

Sirens wail in the distance, startling both of them. Time's up, she thinks as he begins to back away towards the door.

“Let me interview you,” she says one final time, and she's surprised at how low and breathless her voice is.

The sirens get closer, red and blue lights flickering on the ceiling through the penthouse windows. He's a shadow in the doorway, almost gone.

“Maybe,” he rasps and she feels a thrill go through her.

“When?”

“I'll let you know. If I decide I want to.”

She doesn't get the chance to say anything else because he's gone – no flash, no notice, just gone. Seconds later, there's the pounding of feet in the hallway and the door bursts open and police pour into the room. She's subjected to questions and she's photographed while still bound, but the indignity of it doesn't touch her.

She's going to get her story, she can feel it. As the police cut the ties and help her up, she knows it's true. She's going to get her story and something else bubbles up in her chest, a new determination. She'll get her story and-

And she's going to unmask The Crow.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #jonsaseasonalbash #i was watching a lot of daredevil #so sue me

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physicalturian · 3 years

Text

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 3

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 5860 Archive of our own

Warning : Exhibitionism / Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Control/ Stranger / Flirting / Edging / Orgasm denial / Orgasm delay / Oral innuendo … If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

– Part 1 - Part 2 -

Once I made my way to the living room, I stopped behind the couch and observed the scene unfolding in front of me, unsure of how to start the conversation with the intimidating man on my couch. If he’s Luffy’s friend, he must be alright, right? Giving him a once over, from what I could see, I saw he was tattooed all over his arms and hands. His ears were decorated with a few golden earrings which only added to the charm. Maybe I could start with that?

Walking around the couch, I could feel the vibration inside me at every step and had to keep a straight face until I slumped on the couch next to the stranger. Crossing my legs, I was going to lean my head on the back of the couch but felt his arm and straightened my back before saying, “So you’re the mysterious food benefactor of the night?” He turned around and raised a brow, smirking.

“And you’re the free loader?” Why was the way he said it so hot? I pondered internally. I was taken aback and suddenly wanted to yell at Nami for telling me it’d be ok. With a huff, and slightly warm cheeks, I quickly answered, with composure, “Tell me what I owe you, and I’ll pay my part. And, take the cap off inside. You look shady.” I huffed the last part as I glanced at the white hat on his head.

With the hand that was next to my shoulder, he slowly removed his hat and was going to place it on my head, but I grabbed it and dropped it next to him. “How much?” I repeated again, talking about the food.

“Nothing, at least now she’ll stop telling me I owe her. Which I don’t, by the way.” He explained, his gaze turned to Nami with a slight scowl. I mumbled a thank you.

There was something intimidating in his demeanor, even if you ignored the tattoos all over his arms. Sure, he was dressed casually, a simple black t-shirt and blue jeans but the way he carried himself threw me off. “Right, so, if you don’t owe her, why is she mad then?” I asked. I was going to sit tailor-style while waiting for the three others to finish preparing everything, when I felt the egg move inside and arched my back suddenly.

I quickly got hold of myself, I cleared my throat and looked at the man with an apologetic smile. He seemed curious, but did not say anything. Instead, his eyes observed me intently. “I won a bet. She does not like losing money, and she’s still mad about it.”

“It makes sense,” I hummed, this time crossing my arms over my chest. The conversation was probably over, I did not know what else to ask.

I still did not know his name, but I felt like it was a bit too late to ask. He does not seem too arrogant for now, I thought, very hot, and domineering but not annoying. Lost deep in thought, I suddenly felt something touch my shoulder and look at it to see the man’s hand nudging me. Startled, I contracted my abdomen, which only made me even more aware of what I had started before coming here.

“You look tensed, are you good?” He asked in a, surprisingly, caring tone. I laughed nervously and nodded, uncrossing my leg to look more relaxed than I actually was. A very very bad choice, whenever I’d move, I could feel the toy inside me and the knot in my stomach grow. “I’m great, great. So uh-“ I pointed at his hands, “Bold choice.”

“I suppose it is.” He hummed, not convinced with my answer.

“It’s hot, don’t get me wrong but I don’t think employers are fond of it. Doesn’t it make it harder to find a job?” We were interrupted when Robin handed us our plates, asking us if this was our order. I nodded and took it from her hand before putting the plate on my lap and thanked the black-haired friend for paying then waited for him to take his plate. I thought we’d eat in silence, observing the people in front of us, when he spoke up.

“That’s where wearing gloves come in handy.” He chuckled, taking of forkful of his food before continuing. My mind reacted at the mention of gloves, I remembered the picture HandSurgeon sent this morning and it only make the throbbing between my leg, stronger. “But patients don’t really care about the tattoos, they can’t be picky with who’s cutting them open, can they?” He stated dryly.

I looked back at him with wide eyes, not expecting such a dry reply. Then let out a nervous laugh, before genuinely laughing. “I was definitely not expecting that answer. But you’re not wrong.” I said with a small smile, “I suppose the pretty face balances the threatening aura, and the tattoos.” God why did I say that. I played it off and looked at the three people at the low table, shoving as much food as I could to stop myself from spurting embarrassing shit.

But it did not deter my tongue who seemed to have a will on its own, the man and I spoke at the same time. “So, you’re a doctor?” “Threatening aura?”

I choked on some small bite of food that stuck in my throat and grabbed the glass of water the man handed me. I was going to chug it down but he made a gesture for me to calm down, and drink slowly. While I did, he chuckled, “I work in the medical field, yes. But Nami forbids me to talk about it, maybe another time-“

“That’s right!” She ruffled his hair as she stood up with her empty plate, “No work-talk under my roof! Find yourself someone to spend time with instead of spending all your time at the hospital-“ Nami, who had interrupted the man, got interrupted in return when he told her he got it, that he’d stop mentioning his work but in return she’ll have to stop saying he had to find a partner. She just grumbled and returned to her conversation with Luffy and Robin.

Once I had calmed down, I handed him his glass back and watched him take a sip from it while looking at me straight in the eyes. His already messy hair looked worse after Nami had ruffled it, but he looked good. Perhaps it was because I was aroused, but I felt a certain tension when he did so. He may not have done it on purpose, but I couldn’t find the strength to look away. I stared right back at him, my hand gripping my fork tight when I clenched my wall around the egg, feeling a sudden pleasure. Fuck, this is not how I thought the night would go. But you asked for it, echoed my made-up voice of HandSurgeon in my head.

I masked the gasp that left my mouth by voicing a “Ahhh” of understanding then continued, “Very hot of you to, I assume, have graduated medical school.” Why couldn’t I just say it was great, or awesome? Why did I have to say it was hot? I had to take a deep breath and calm down.

“Glad to know hot and threatening can coexist.” He said with a lighter tone as he put his now empty plate on the arm of the couch before leaning ever so lightly towards me. “Tell me, do you often flirt with stranger you find threatening?”

The speed at which my brain reminded me of HandSurgeon surprised me, I did a lot of things with strangers, so, why not flirt? But I hadn’t really flirt with Luffy’s friend, right?

“Did I flirt, now? Haha. Sorry for the unsolicited advances, but you’re right, I should have asked your name first.” I said half-jokingly, meeting his intense gaze for the first time since he leaned over a bit too much now. To push him to introduce himself, I set my plate down and put my hand in front of me, for him to shake, and told him my name.

It’s with reluctance that he wrapped his large hand around mine and shook it, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Doctor Trafalgar Law.” He did not let go right away. Instead, he observed my reaction. I rolled my eyes but smiled nonetheless, “The title is a bit too much, isn’t it? I mean… you did put the effort of studying a few years, I suppose, but I won’t address you as Doctor. Doc, at best, but-“

He seemed ticked off for a second but masked it and said, “Law is fine, but I put a lot more than a few years into that degree.”

“True, money too, and from what I gathered you also put in the price of a romantic life, am I right?” I blinked a few times, realizing that I either flirted or said something not appropriate. No in between. And it was the result of his pretty face, it made me nervous.

He looked at me up and down a few times then smirked, “That doesn’t mean I don’t fuck.” My breath hitched and I look anywhere but at him, instead choosing to focus on the way his tattooed fingers were splayed over his jeans, tapping from time to time. For a moment, I could imagine those hands gripping me tight, the blue color of his jeans being too close to the color of HandSurgeon’s scrubs only made it worse. I was starting to feel hot all over, I had to calm down and keep things casual.

The fuck am I averting my eyes for? Reminding myself to not be a little bitch, I looked at him once more. My stomach churned when I saw he was still staring at me. He must have seen my intent glare at his hands, hopefully he did not think I was judging him. The exact opposite was going in my head, I wanted those hands to work their way on my skin, gently gliding on my inner thighs. For fuck sake, clear your thoughts, I reprimanded myself the best I could but staying next to Law only worsened things.

“Good for you, good for you. A good fuck’s always nice, right?” I laughed nervously, “But since you’re so keen on bringing such a topic, I have a serious question here,” Was it really serious? No, it was definitely to satiate my curiosity but the way his brows quirked at my words made me feel things.

“Go ahead.”

“Do doctors have doctor kink, like- the whole nurse outfit, or… being called Doctor in a very very sexy way?” I did not expect the laugh that came from his throat. It surprised the rest of the people around who turned around and looked at us surprised.

Law did not pay them any mind; he placed his hands on his knee and made a pensive face. “That’s the first question that comes in your mind when someone tells you they work in the medical field?” He inquired, his tone a lot lower than before.

“I said no work-talk Traff’!” Nami said from her spot. Law groaned and threw her a deadly glare, “Stop with the nickname, and we’re not talking about work. Mind your own business.” I’ll never admit it out loud, but I thoroughly enjoyed his bossy tone, or was it annoyed? When he returned his attention to me, he sighed.

“Hey I’m sure it’s everyone’s first thought, right?” I was trying to lighten the tension, to make it more fun, but he was keen on keeping it the way it was. Moving his hand back on the back of the couch, there was a smug smile on his face as his hand graze my neck. I tensed but did not move, it was probably not done on purpose.

“It’s not. I get ask a lot of things, not this. I’d like to know what else you’re thinking about right now.” He breathed the last part in what I could only describe as seductive. This was too much, with his hand brushing the nape of my neck, his flirty attitude and the constant vibration inside me I quickly stood up. “Be right back, I uh- I need to do something- I’ll share my train of thought after! Promised!” He was startled and looked at me confused, but I did not care, I rushed back to my room and pulled out my phone.

Edelweiss: Still alive and I really need to get off. I did not expect there to be certain people and it has some effect. Clearly.

Edelweiss: Are you still busy?

Edelweiss: sir.

I paced the room, covering my mouth when a gasp escaped my throat from the sensation. I hated this, why did I suggest this, this is not fun. I want to touch myself; I want to get this tension out of my body. No, I need to. But this was clearly not happening. I considered doing it, even though HandSurgeon had told me not to, but reconsidered when I imagined the fun it would be tonight. Luckily, I did not have time to think more as my phone vibrated.

HandSurgeon: Some effect?

Edelweiss: don’t play dumb, he’s like… he kind of has your vibe, the hot vibe and it does not help at all with my predicament…

HandSurgeon: Check the attitude first. Now, we’re talking about the same predicament you asked to be in, right? The one you desperately begged to be in? The one you are clearly enjoying more than you thought you would, that same one? I think you put yourself in that situation, and you’ll get through it like the good girl I know you want to be.

HandSurgeon: It would be a shame to go back home, and see a message from you, telling me you caved and touched yourself. I’d be disappointed.

Groaning, I let myself fall on my bed and brought my phone close to my face. I read his words a few more times before replying.

Edelweiss: so you’ll be here tonight… sir?

HandSurgeon: If my evening does not stretch out, I’ll be sure to have fun with you.

HandSurgeon: If you’re good, of course. I like my fucktoy obedient and eager. Which you are, correct?

I had to take a second look at the name he gave me, I had yet to decide if I enjoyed it or not. But as I read it again, I was leaning towards it being positive. But should I make it easy?

Edelweiss: I’m not your fucktoy though, sir.

HandSurgeon: Hold onto that thought, we’ll see what you’ll say after tonight. I’ll ask again, and I’m fairly certain the answer will be different, dear.

HandSurgeon: Now, I have to leave, don’t force yourself if you feel like it’s too much.

HandSurgeon: But imagine how sensitive you’ll be tonight; how good it’ll feel when you’ll fuck yourself just for me. Your toy filling you just right, the burning sensation of your walls stretching… Putting on a show just for me…

Edelweiss: I get it, I get it… don’t make me imagine it too much or I won’t hold on until the end of the evening 😔

HandSurgeon: You will. See you tonight.

Seeing as the conversation had ended, I sat back up and shoved my phone in my back pocket. Talking to him had not help, at all. The pressure in my lower stomach had only grown, but I had to make do and keep socializing at least until Luffy and Law left.

Now standing up, I checked in the mirror if I had any darker spot from how wet I was and was relieved to see nothing. I had to hype myself to join everyone again, and once I did, they were all sitting around the low table, Law included. They did not pay any mind to my return, except Robin who patted the spot between her and Law, smiling. Returning the smile, I shuffled their way and sat down. I made sure to sit on my foot to get more comfortable.

Maybe to get some friction too from time to time. Or to make sure the egg did not slip out, could it even? Shaking my thoughts away, I focused back on the conversation happening and realized I was being talked to. “I’m sorry, could you repeat?” I said softly.

“Where did you hurry off to?” Robin asked gently, Nami followed with more snark, “Yeah, you had Traff’ here worried. I’d run too if he was making some adv-“ Seeing how annoyed Law seemed to become when Nami teased him like that, I interrupted her with a polite smile.

“I remembered I had to send an assignment, but it’s done now! I’m single and ready to mingle- or like just, to party. I’m not- yeah I’ll…” I made a zipping motion with my hand over my mouth and poured myself a drink when the conversation resumed without a hitch.

Law who was leaning back, his hands on the ground behind his back, observed all my actions without a word. At this point it was clear he wasn’t listening to the conversation right in front of him. I turned his way with a scowl and hissed in a hushed tone, “What do you want?”

It seemed to put a smile on his face as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees now. “Still curious of your thoughts, and even more curious of why you lied. But you’re not going to tell me the latter.” He huffed a laugh, “Not yet, at least.” His confidence could now be qualified as arrogance, I had a hard time distinguishing them from one another. Turning around to face him, I discretely moved my heel to get some friction and took a rapid breath.

Choosing to ignore the fact that he assumed, correctly so, that I lied, I mimicked his posture. Resting my chin on my hand. “Then ask me what you want to know, I live to satiate your curiosity doc.” I said sarcastically. For some reason, he made a weird face for the span of a few seconds. He was quick to get a hold of himself and smirked. “Careful, I might just use that eagerness of yours.”

I held back from widening my eyes in surprise, maybe even smile. I liked it, it was strange how easy it was for him to make my stomach churn in need, but I enjoyed it a lot. Giving him a half-smile, I hummed inquisitively, “What if I say I’d like that?” I regretted my words instantly, and was about to lean back when Law said in a low tone, “Then I’d be sure to give you my number to settle a date.”

Looking at him with wide eyes, I couldn’t help but be flattered and smiled stupidly. “We barely know each other, sir. I believe buying someone dinner first is the tradition.” I said humorously. I was trying to back out of this, I don’t know why but the fact that he met all my expectations frightened me for a moment.

He scoffed in response and leaned back, putting his hand forward, palm up. I quirked a brow and put my hand on his, only for him wrap it around mine and pull me towards him, “I was asking for your phone.” He whispered before letting go. I quickly pulled my hand back and frowned, masking my embarrassment by saying, “Well, you could have been clearer. Maybe use your words? That’d be interesting too, it does avoid me doing looking like an idiot.”

Smirking, he huffed a laugh once more and said, “I could have, but then you wouldn’t have done that.” He then pulled out his phone and handed it to me, a new contact ready to be filled. “And you looked kind of cute.” Law continued, his brows raised as he glanced down at his phone for me to take. I took it with a grumble, not knowing what to answer. So, I typed in my number and let my thumbs hover over the name. “I’m really thinking of a joke here, for my name.”

With my fingers tapping the back of the phone, I hummed in thought. “It’ll be the thing that appears on your phone when you’re working, so…” After saying that, he gently snatched it from my hand and shook his head. “You’re right, I’d rather you did not do something childish.”

I had to put my drink down to give him an incredulous look, “Funny, not childish. But I suppose my full name makes just as much sense.” I rolled my eyes with a smile.

Maybe it was happening too fast, but we could get to know one another on those dates. If that’s what he had in mind. If not, I was not against having him as booty call, not when he looked this hot. When I felt my phone vibrate, I suddenly felt all excited. My brain thought for a second it was HandSurgeon, then the penny dropped and I saw an unknown number had texted me “Trafalgar Law.” Looking up at him, I quirked a brow.

“Very uncreative for a first text. I’ll send a better one, then you can call me childish.” I then proceeded to send him an eggplant, a droplet and the two eyes emojis. The disappointment in his eyes was priceless, I snorted ungracefully which earned me another raised brow from the handsome doctor. “Because that is better? If you want something, I’m sure you can use words instead of emojis, try again.” He told me with a smug smile. My walls clenched around the toy inside me, his demeanor having a pleasing yet unwanted effect on me.

It felt wrong. We were just discussing, our friends around us, and I was getting off. I was finding pleasure in all of this, my skin being more and more sensitive as time went on. “You’re the one who had questions, I don’t have much to say, really.” I shrugged, focusing on saving his number under the name The fuckable doctor friend. Proud of it, I showed him and he rolled his eyes, telling me to change it to his full name. “Hey, you say ‘use my words’. I say ‘it speaks for itself’.”

Making a gesture to come close, he brough his hand between our face in a way people do when they exchange a secret. Then he said, “I thought you wanted to go on a date first, but you seem to clearly be needing a fuck to clear your thoughts.” I suddenly turn to face him, he was looking down at me with half-lidded eyes and a cocky smile. Our faces were very close, if I wanted to, I could lean in and press our lips together, I could push him down and-

“Hey, hey, hey guys, how about you keep that for like- let’s say, a time when we’re not all here? I could almost cut the tension with a knife!!” Nami said as she put a hand on both our chest, separating us with a nervous laugh. She then looked at me with a frown and hissed, “I thought you had better taste than that-“ “I wouldn’t know, you didn’t even let me get a taste.” I shrugged.

Looking to the side, I saw a surprised look on Law’s face quickly followed by a proud smile and a short laugh. “He’s no good,”

“I think a lot of people would say differently, they often thank me for not being able to walk the next day which says a lot.” He said casually, giving Nami the cockiest look ever.

I was turned on so bad from what he had said, from the attitude too, while Nami just looked at him with an unfazed expression. “Right, you hardly get free time Traff. I don’t think your conquests list is that long, but it’s great you believe it.”

His laugh was enough to cut the conversation short. He was not going to argue back, there was no need to, but he was still slightly annoyed. “Damn Nami, you seem pretty invested in his sex life. Maybe you should find someone-“ She interrupted me with bright cheeks, “Shut up! I’m taking things slow with Vivi!!” I rarely see her flustered, but it felt nice because I was able to make Law genuinely smile.

Letting us go, Nami stood up and pulled Luffy and Robin with her to the kitchen when Luffy asked about Vivi. Watching them go, I let my back hit the ground as I sighed. I was this close to kiss him, and fuck was it, “Hot…” I mumbled. I was quick to get up when I heard Law’s voice asking me “What is?”

“Fuck, I had completely forgotten you were there- I don’t know how I did that but-“ Sitting back up, I covered my mouth and leaned on my hand in faux-casual, trying to cover the sudden wave of pleasure when I moved. I moved my hand to my cheek and tried to smile normally. “Sorry about Nami, she is very… Protective? Which I don’t understand why-“ my last word was said in a higher tone when I tried to scoot closer to the doctor but only made my situation worse.

Still, I continued and cleared my throat. “I badly moved and uh, my muscles…” I tried to justify my sudden outburst, “Anyway, I don’t understand why she’s protective, you don’t seem like a bad guy.” I continued, “And if you’re Luffy’s friend, by default you’re actually a nice guy.” Law stared at me, deep in thought. He pondered my words for a moment, it gave me time to take in his features. His facial hair wasn’t too much, sure it probably would feel a bit itchy if we kissed but…

At the same time, my brain sent me an image of him going down on me. His hair tickling down and making me squirm, then when he’d look back at me, his beard glistening with- “I don’t think that’s how it works; you don’t know what I do when behind closed doors. Maybe I’m a criminal.” He trailed off, giving me what was supposed to be a mysterious smile.

“I suppose we all have secrets, it’s not that bad. I have mine; you have yours. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.” I stated, “Plus you save life, you literally studied around… a lot of years? To save people, it’d be counterproductive to kill them. At best you’d be a conman, and you know…. Eat the rich.” I hummed, thinking of something else to add. I thought the tension from before had dissipated, then I felt his hand touched mine that was splayed on the floor to keep me balanced. I was startled but did not move. Instead, I slowly looked at him, he was gazing down at me with a mischievous smile.

“It’s cute, you think I dropped our previous topic. But tell me, you were curious about something.” His eyes trailed from our hands to then look me up and down, his lips pulled in a lazy smile. I was taken aback and dug my nails deeper into the ground, but since it was hard it only showed my fingers bent. “Was it a general curiosity, or were you wondering about someone in particular?” He asked.

Laughing nervously, I thought I had to act cool, maybe cocky in return even. “Maybe I did not mean anything from that? Or maybe I am wondering if I have to invest in a nurse outfit for our first date- but then again, you’d have to pay it since you can afford it-“ He cut me off with a long sigh, “Avoiding the topic I see. Are you that embarrassed to admit you’re the one who fantasies abou being fucked by someone in a long white coat?” He said it in a dismissive way, but the glare he was throwing me from the side only lit a fire inside me.

I wanted to tell him I did not, but my mouth wouldn’t let me. I stared once again at his hand and watched it make its way to my thigh. He did not go high, barely above my knee and squeezed it before brushing his thumb over it. “Cat got your tongue? No witty remark? Maybe I struck a chord.” I wanted to close my eyes, and let myself get overwhelmed by his touch. It was barely anything, but with how much stimulation I had been getting the entire evening, I was so close to cave.

His hand traveled a bit higher on my thigh, I did not say anything. “Would you prefer I wear the coat, or you do? I’d have you completely naked, wearing nothing but that, splayed on my bed…“ He leaned over, his breath caressing my ear, “Tell me to stop.” He breathed, his hand slithering higher. “Looking straight ahead instead of facing me? Why not,” He gripped my chin and turned me his way, “look at me? That’s it, those eyes. So needy and-“

“Traff! Let’s go!! It’s getting late,” Luffy called from the kitchen as he hopped off the isle.

I let out a breath I did not know I was holding when Law removed his hand from my thigh, sighing in disappointment. When I finally dared to meet his gaze, I saw how satisfied he looked. “I’ll send you a message when I am free. But send me a creative text if you feel like it, I’ll be sure to match the mood.” He said cockily as he stood up.

Before he could go, I grabbed his hand to stop him, and craned my neck up to look at him, “Date first, then-“

“Then I’ll be sure to enjoy the sight of you from this angle,” He place his hand under my chin to get a good look, the way he was looking down at me was hungry and desire. If I did not have principles, I would have taken him right now, “It’s quite enjoyable to have you at this height. Just perfect, really-“ “Traff! Come on!!”

I’ll give you a call when my schedule allows it-“ He started, but I got a hold of myself and scrambled to my sense, stumbling a bit when I stood up, I gripped his hand and took it off my chin, “If I’m free sure,”

He chuckled lowly and stepped closer once more, a knowing grin adorning his features, “You will be.” Then he walked away without saying anything more.

They both put their coats on and stepped outside, Nami accompanied them outside while Robin stood by the door until they were out of sight. Once they were gone, Robin locked the door and turned around to give me a huge grin. “Law’s dropping Luffy back to his place and offered to drive Nami to Vivi’s house… That means we can talk about what happened- no what’s been happening the entire evening.”

She seemed too invested, the way she leaned her elbows on her knees once she sat down on the couch showed it, that along with her huge smile. “Hey, Nami sold the product wrong, alright?” I started when I slumped next to her. The vibrations inside me were a constant reminder that I should satiate her curiosity fast, for something was waiting for me in my own room. Something a lot different than a casual dinner with friends.

“Is that so?” She inquired, her grin only widening. “How come you never talked about him? He’s super hot, and those tattoos? Does he not ooze ‘fuckable’? I don’t have time to date but-“ I was cut off when she quipped in, “Neither does he, but I’m sure you both could make an exception.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help my lips from curling into a smile. “I just want to fuck right now, so does he. That’s a common understanding between that gorgeous man, and me.” I hummed, thinking of something to add. But Robin beat me to it.

“He did say you were going on a date, I believe?”

I had to do a double take and raised by brows, “He- when?”

“Before leaving, he said we’d see each other soon when he’d pick you up for your date.” She explained in her usual gentle tone. She seemed to ponder a bit longer, trying to remember the moment more.

“Well it’s not even settled, and it’s just to get to know one another-“ “It often is, yes. First step to a beautiful romance.” I snorted at her words, then shook my head.

“Maybe, just maybe. But I barely know him, and right now I’m more interested in knowing if I’ll be able to walk afterwards or not.” It made my friend laugh, she then grabbed my hands in hers and nodded.

“If it’s any help, you definitely caught his eye. Making him laugh is hard, but you did, so many times. I wonder what you were talking about…” She trailed off, quirking a brow inquisitively. It was indeed a subtle way to see if I’d give her the gossip, but I was not going to tell her we were basically eye-fucking each other the entire time and talked about sex most of it too.

Although they must have noticed the eye-fucking, god the discretion is lacking tonight. I was still buzzing with excitement thinking of tonight, hoping the HandSurgeon would be online.

“He was mocking me, but I’m glad it made him laugh.” I huffed jokingly. The conversation ended shortly afterwards, Robin had to work on something and told me to text her if I needed something because she was going to put her headphone on to not annoy me with her music. It was pretty fortunate, but I’d still try my best to be silent on my part, considering what I was about to do.

We bid each other good night and I tried to go back to my room as calmly as possible. I wanted to rush there, take off all my clothes and check if I had a message from the HandSurgeon. I felt uncomfortable in my clothes, when I moved, they’d brush against my skin and I hated how sensitive it had become from the overstimulation.

I made a detour by the bathroom to grab a towel then locked the door behind myself when I stepped inside my bedroom. Taking off my clothes took but a few seconds however made sure to keep my underwear. Plugging my phone in, I grabbed my laptop and placed in on my bed. I made sure to angle it right, so that we couldn’t see my face, then placed the towel on my bed along my vibrator.

Once I knelt on it and opened Discord, I noticed the messages from the HandSurgeon and the fire inside me was lit ablaze once more.

[Part 4]

#law one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #One piece law #law x reader #words of pleasure #wop #physicalturian #ao3 #fanfiction #writing #writer #writings #ao3 writer

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howtosingit · 3 years

Text

Fic: i long to hear the sound of you again

Carlos throws himself into work.

A missing moment from 1x09.

1.5K | Also on AO3

- - - - -

When he doesn’t hear from TK, Carlos throws himself into work.

He at least knows the other man is alive; well, better than just alive, actually. He and Paul have been texting a lot recently, and the man had let it slip that TK stopped by the station a few days ago, looking sore but standing tall on two feet. Carlos had read that message with a painful kind of joy, happy that TK was up and moving, but hurt that TK didn’t seem to have an interest in seeing him.

He’s not mad at the guy, considering Carlos was the one who practically ghosted him right before he got shot. And it’s not even that Carlos thought TK’s incident would magically change their relationship, or that they would suddenly be attached at the hip.

It’s just that Carlos wants to see him. He wants to drown in TK’s bright green eyes and stare at his chest as it moves up and down in time with his breathing. He wants to stand close enough to feel TK’s breath on his skin and the gentle press of his fingers in-between his own.

He wants to see the proof of TK’s survival with his own two eyes, if for no other reason than to rid himself of the nightmares that keep haunting him every time he sinks into a fitful sleep.

He doesn’t know how far to push, so he keeps his distance. He sent flowers to the hospital, and left a voicemail for TK to listen to whenever he feels like it. It wasn’t exactly how he imagined apologizing to the other man for his distance before the shooting, but it was a start.

So, now Carlos just waits, throwing himself into his job as a way to distract himself from all of the things outside of his control.

He picks up shifts from co-workers who need the day off, works overtime as much as he can. By the time he gets home from his shifts, he barely has enough energy to shove food into his mouth and take a quick shower before falling into bed. When he’s not working, he runs, pushing himself through his exhaustion until he feels like he’s about to break. It reminds him that he’s alive and here - that TK is too, somewhere out there. It’s all he has, and it’s enough, for now.

Michelle has been laying low for a while, and he can’t really blame her, but he checks in with her every few days to make sure she’s resting and eating and showing up to her shifts. It’s the least he can do, and taking care of someone else comes naturally to him, so he’s glad to have someone else to worry about.

It’s been eight days since he saw TK in the flesh, twelve since they’ve spoken to one another face-to-face. After a solid week of working himself to the bone, Carlos realizes that he needs to do a grocery run, having nearly cleaned out his pantry without even noticing.

He’s scanning the collection of protein bars in front of him, his brain only partially invested in making a decision, when he hears a familiar voice behind him.

“I usually go with the peanut butter banana ones, if you haven’t given those a shot.”

He turns, surprised to find Captain Strand standing behind him, a small smile on his face as he points towards the box of peanut butter banana CLIF bars. Carlos looks between the captain and the box, trying to figure out what to say.

The last time he saw this man, he’d been a crying mess as he stared at his comatose, possibly-dying son. He didn’t know when he expected to see the other man again, having been oddly fortunate not to share any recent calls with the 126, but the protein bar aisle of a Trader Joe’s was not very high on his list.

“Captain Strand, I…” Carlos starts, trailing off when the older man immediately shakes his head, waving his words away.

“Please, Officer Reyes, call me Owen,” he says, his voice firm.

Carlos doesn’t know what to do with that request. He’s not exactly sure how much Owen knew about him and TK before he showed up uninvited to the hospital, and he doesn’t want the man to get the wrong idea. This level of familiarity isn’t really necessary if TK plans to never speak to him again.

Something about his face must give away his inner thoughts because he watches as Owen’s smile drops, the man letting out a sigh as he takes a step closer.

“He hasn’t called you yet, has he?” he asks gently.

Carlos feels his breath catch in his throat, his palms sweating as a heat rises on the back of his neck. The reminder punches him right in the gut, and he wonders if he’s been this obvious to everyone for the past week. He’s tried so hard to mask the hurt.

Owen doesn’t seem interested in waiting for an answer. “Listen, son,” he begins, reaching out to rest a hand on Carlos’s shoulder. “It has nothing to do with you, okay? I promise.”

Carlos knows that isn’t true, now sure that Owen doesn’t know about everything that happened before the shooting.

“Sir, I don’t think that’s true,” he starts, his voice breaking against his will. “Before the accident, I-”

“Carlos,” Owen says, speaking over him. “Sorry, hope you don’t mind me dropping the formalities.”

Carlos just stares at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Owen continues. “Listen, I don’t know everything that’s happened between you and my son, and I don’t really need to know. He’s an adult, and even though he’s been through a lot, he’s capable of making his own decisions. I trust him to make the right ones.

“But, I also know that getting shot has left him feeling a little lost,” the man presses on, shifting to make eye contact with Carlos. “His mind’s in a hundred different places right now, and he’s searching for answers. If he hasn’t reached out, it’s not because he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

“I think it’s more that he feels like he needs to shield you from all of it,” Owen finishes, looking away. “If there’s one thing I know about my son, it’s that he’ll try to protect anyone from anything, and that includes himself.”

“I don’t want to be protected from him,” Carlos admits, his voice small as he bites down on his bottom lip. “I want to be there for him.”

Owen stares at him for a moment, his eyes wide, before he suddenly moves forward, wrapping his arms around Carlos in a loose hug, patting his back. Though surprised at first, Carlos mirrors the other man after a moment.

“I’m really, really glad to hear that, Carlos,” Owen says, pulling back. “TK needs more people like you in his life.” He pauses, before stepping back with a nod. “There are some answers that he’s gotta find on his own, but he’ll reach out when he’s ready. I know he will.”

Carlos hears the certainty in the older man’s voice, wondering if he can trust it. Not that he has any other choice, under the current circumstances.

“Then I’ll be here,” Carlos assures him, his heart feeling lighter for the first time in over a week. His gaze briefly slides over to Owen’s cart, taking in the contents. “Sir - Owen - do you mind if I say something?” he asks, tone cautionary as turns back to the other man.

“Sure thing, Carlos.”

“You might want to add a few bags of gummy worms to your list,” he says, pointing at the pile of healthy, possibly indigestible snacks that Owen has piled in a corner of his cart. “He likes to shove them in a handful at a time.”

“Oh, Carlos,” Owen scoffs, moving closer to his stash of treats. “Tell me you do not buy a bunch of processed sugar when my son is with you.”

“Well,” Carlos mutters sheepishly, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, a smile pulling at his mouth, “I kind of can’t say no to him.”

Owen laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for the handle of his cart. “You’ve got it so bad, kid.”

Carlos can’t even defend himself, knowing that what Owen says is true. The man takes a few steps away, clearly planning to continue shopping, before he stops, turning back to look at him.

“Where would I find them?” he asks, his eyes practically twinkling.

“Candy’s down aisle five,” Carlos answers, his smile growing as Owen nods before giving him a wave, continuing down the aisle and disappearing out of sight.

The next day, when TK texts him asking to meet up on his next day off, Carlos can’t help but to wonder if the gummy worms factored at all into his decision-making process.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #carlos reyes #owen strand #tk strand #I wrote a thing #tarlos missing moments collection

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bnha-archive · 4 years

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Idk if you do smut, if not then make this h e a v y fluff. Shouji x Reader where Shouji wants to take his relationship with the reader a step further but doesn't want to scare her? Thanks!

oh ho ho~ :3 All characters are 18+, Don’t like, don’t read.

Enjoy

It’s the lingering touches that make you notice. Mezo’s fingertips grazing your lower back, neck, and cheeks in passing have been putting you on… edge. That is to say, he barely has to touch you to make your mind start racing and heart pounding painfully. The amount of power he has over you is startling.

At first, you think all this is innocent. You’re just the one with the perverted mind,Mezo could never. He’s so collected and calm.

But as the touches continued, you noticed the gazes along with them. He may wear a mask but that doesn’t mean you can’t read his expression. You catch his eye as he places a hand on the back of your neck, rubbing smooth and gently circles there. “You look tense.” He would say, then move away like he didn’t just make you choke on air.

Those looks he gives you is unmistakable… You can see the way his eyes tilt up in the corner and the glitter in them as he takes in your flustered state. He knows exactly what he’s doing. The absolute bastard.

You finally manage to corner him after patrol, the two of you heading back to your respective apartments. Thank god you’re his neighbor or else this would never work.

Shoji unlocks his front door and turns to wish you goodnight, only to find you staring him down. “What is it?” He turns the doorknob—and you pounce. You push him inside, slamming the door shut with your foot. The apartment is blanketed in darkness—the only light coming from the crack beneath the door.

Now, you’re not an especially tall person. Hell, Shoji is hitting 6’4”, a good 2 inches taller than he was in high school—but that doesn’t mean you can’t try to kabe-don him. Your hand slams itself next to his hip while the other finds the side of his neck. You press into him, your gaze never leaving his face.

“Do you know what you do to me, Mezo?

“I…”

“You drive me crazy. Distracting me at work is the worst of all. How can I focus on my job if your hands are all I can think about?” You take his hands and place them on your hips. His hands skim the fabric of your jeans, tentative to touch you.

“I drive you crazy?” Mezo hands finally find purchase on your hips, and he pulls you even closer. You can feel his breath through the mask, hot. “Just being in the same room as you… I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to ask someone what happened at a meeting. This?” He gestures to you and then to himself, “I’ve never felt this… You… you’re the first. But if you don’t want that—it’s ok. I can live with just sex.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You’d never expected this. Are you sexually attracted him? Yes. Are you romantically attracted him? Also, yes, but you’ve never spent much time considering this part of your relationship. But Shoji’s feelings are more than the ‘tear your clothes off’ kind. More like, ‘let me carefully take your clothes off, so I can make love to you then cuddle with you’ kind.

And well, you’re not going to spurn that. Not in a million years. You intertwine your fingers with his and gently tug to get him to bend down to your level. You lean up, chin tilting as you press your lips against his mask just to the right of where his lips should be. His left hand disentangles itself from yours, and he pulls the mask down to kiss you properly. In the darkness, you can barely make out his profile. His mouth is wide and his lips are soft as he kisses you.

He kisses like you are the only thing keeping him alive, stealing the oxygen from your lungs. His arms cage you in holding you prisoner not that you would want to escape. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with all the force you can muster. You want to tell him how long you’ve been thinking about him.

But all those thoughts flee when he presses the bulge in his pants against your thigh.

And from the feel of him, it’s on the larger side. The thought of it causes your head to fall back, parting your lips to allow a groan of want to escape. Shoji allows a sigh to escape him, his hot breath fanning across your neck before feeling something warm and wet trailing its way over your shoulder.

“Me-Mezo I—ah!”

He bites down, gently but with enough force for your words to trip over themselves. The noises coming from your throat only fuel him. You feel two more hands find your ass and squeeze as the other two hold you in place—practically crushed against his chest. The second pair of hands travel down to your upper thighs and with laughable ease, you’re lifted. Instinctively you wrap your legs around his hips, pressing the crux of your thighs against his straining erection.

Oh Jesus, does that friction feel good. You rub against him, the sensation against your clothed clit sending small ripples of pleasure straight to your core. “Mezo—are, are you planning on fucking me in the—ah, hallway?” Trying to find words in your befuddled lusty state did not come easily.

You feel him grin against your skin. “I was thinking about it… But I wouldn’t be able to go all out.” A decision made, he pushes off the wall and carries you (still around his waist) to his bedroom where he promptly places you down on the futon before starting to strip. He flicks on a light in the corner, throwing shadows on the wall as your own clothes quickly join his on the floor.

Despite your hormone-addled state, you couldn’t help but be A little intimidated by the sheer image of him. Standing there 6’4”, naked and with an almost painful erection, which you want nothing more than to alleviate. You are lying if the sight of him in this state didn’t turn you on but damn if it didn’t make you feel small in comparison.

And then you couldn’t think about the size difference anymore because he was on top of you in another moment. You’re splayed on your back as he cages you in his arms once again leaning his head down to kiss you once more. You could feel his hardness pressing into your inner thigh and you push your hips upward to tell him silently what you want.

He ignores it and sweeps his tongue along your own, causing you to part your lips further. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and you whine at the sensation—not only is his mouth bigger than yours, so is his tongue. It practically takes up the rest of the space and you close your mouth around it. Hot, wet and oh so tantalizing. Sucking on his tongue roughly and another lovely noise escapes his throat at the sensation.

He pulls back to look at you, his cheeks flushed, his lips wet, and a bit of drool running down his chin. “Is it alright if… if I use my quirk? On you?”

The yes came out of your mouth so fast you didn’t register the sound of the words. All you see if his lips splitting into a shiny, and remarkably pointy smile.

You feel something hot and wet poking at your slick folds—but how? He’s kissing you right now—OH. “Ohhh.” A large wet tongue licks carefully around your labia. Spreading your slick and thoroughly dampening your vulva. But he actively avoids giving you any type of stimulation. “Mezo! Don’t ah ah tease me!”

“But it’s so much fun…”

You feel the second tongue slide inside you. You buck your hips at the sensation, but Shoji’s strong arms hold you down as he tongue fucks you. You can’t keep quiet; your right-hand comes up to cover your mouth but Shoji swats it away. “Try to quiet yourself again and I’ll pin your arms above your head.”

You’re tempted. But the delicious feeling between your legs keeps you from forming any type of coherent thought. The exaggerated slurping and licking fill your ears and it only serves to make you squirm harder. Your thighs squeeze around the mouth as the tongue finds itself rubbing against your G-spot.

You can feel your muscles tense, legs locking as your hands fist the sheets beneath. Your mouth goes slack as your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Something wrong? You look like you’re close? Well, are you?” Mezo leans down to speak into your ear, the tongue suddenly working double-time.

“I-I need! Please. Please. Please!” You’re mumbling his name and pleading with him. You can feel the knot in your stomach pulling tighter every second.

God you’re so close.

The tongue swells in size, becoming stiff with thick ridges stretching you and you gasp at the sensation as what is now his cock fills you. It’s too good. Too perfect.

“Cum for me…”

And you do—screwing up your eyes as your body convulse and shake as your orgasm shoots through your veins. Just like that, it’s over and your body relaxes… or tries to. The rock-hard cock inside you twitches. A shift of your hips pulls a whine from your throat as the sensitive walls flutter around Shoji’s length. He chokes back his own moan at the sensation.

Your eyes meet and Mezo leans down and kisses you again, softly. He smooths your hair back and peppers kisses across your flushed skin. His real tongue licks the shell of your ear. “I hope you have another round in you because I’m just getting started, darling.”

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imaginesandinserts · 4 years

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Irreverent Pt. 22 - Julian

Title: Irreverent Pt. 22 - Julian Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: R Words: 1880

Irreverent Series Masterlist

"Garcia, can you pull up the satellite image of the meeting location?"

The team was assembled in the conference to plan out the final details of the mission. Seven months of hunting and searching for Doyle had resulted in an address to a mansion in upstate New York. Garcia pulled up the live satellite image and also managed to find some street view images of the house itself, which she had shared on the screen.

The mood in the conference room was tense. No one truly knew where they stood right now. Hotch and Emily were back, but were they back for good or just temporarily? Rossi had been playing mediator between everyone, but for the life of you, you couldn't tell what good it was doing.

Ever since Emily had revealed herself to be alive you hadn't truly spoken to her. Things had been full speed ahead, but despite that you knew she'd spent the night before at Derek's place. The two of them had a lot to talk about and you were happy that Derek was at least trying to accept her back. He'd tried to get you to come too but you you'd declined citing an upset stomach. He saw through you but had let it go. You'd reconcile when you were ready.

But things with Emily were leagues better than they were with Hotch. The day before he had gone through an initial plan with the smaller team and it had gotten…not well would be an appropriate descriptor.

"SWAT will be on hand for backup as we enter the property. Garcia, you're in charge of comms. Morgan, Prentiss, and I will each lead a team through the home while Reid, Rossi, and L/N will run point from an off-site location. "

"Like hell I will!" You couldn't believe the nerve of him. To think that after seven months you were going to sit on the sidelines and run point. Run point on what?

Hotch looked at you unsurprised that you'd objected. "You are too emotionally involved in the case. It would be a liability to have you there."

You scoffed, trying to mask the urge to throw something at him. "Emotionally involved?! Prentiss spent a whole year sleeping with Doyle!"

"L/N, Stop." Hotch's face was hard and his eyes unwavering.

You looked at both Reid and Rossi who were conveniently looking away. JJ tried to send you a sympathetic look but you weren't having it.

You looked at Emily. She knew. She knew that this was it if she wanted any hope of winning you back. "Hotch, we can't just expect her to not come," she urged.

"It's her father!" He couldn't believe Prentiss. He had told her how you had dealt with Dominic. She should know better.

"If Y/N isn't coming then we're out." You all turned, shocked, to look at Derek. "I speak for me and the rest of us here that were left in the dark. Let's not forget that we wouldn't even have this chance if it weren't for her."

Hotch looked around the room but no one contradicted Derek. He looked at you staring him down defiantly.

"Fine."

Even now though, you could tell he was trying to plan things in a way that would minimize any true exposure you'd have. The plan had changed somewhat overnight once you'd determined the geography of the surroundings.

Hotch and Rossi were planning out the best entry points. In the meantime, you found yourself looking up at screen where Garcia had pictures of the property up. One picture in particular caught your attention. It was an image of the home covered in snow that looked oddly familiar. You knew this place.

"I've been here before?" They all looked up at your voice.

"You have? When?" Emily had asked, as you walked up closer to the screen to get a better look.

"Yeah, I think so. I had to have been eleven or so. My dad took us on a family trip. He said it was a friend's house that he'd borrowed. It was winter and it was covered in snow. It looked just like that."

"Do you remember anything relevant about the floorplan or layout of the home," Hotch asked, still looking at the papers in front of him.

You paused before answering. "No, nothing special. Just a normal house."

"Alright, well here's how we're doing it now. Morgan and Prentiss, you two take the back. L/N and I will take the front."

"No."

Hotch looked at you in outright annoyance. "What now?"

"No, Hotch. You still don't want me to come, you don't trust me. You and I shouldn't go in together, that's not good for anyone right now. I'll go with Morgan."

Hotch appraised you again but didn't have it in him to fight with you on this. If it had been just the two of you he would really want to clear the air and talk it all out. Explain that of course he trusted you, but he didn't want to put you in a position where you had to make a difficult and life-altering call. He trusted you completely as Agent Y/N L/N. As a daughter who was about to go after the man who had raised her, he had his doubts and he was entitled to them. But it wasn't worth the fight and it wasn't worth everyone questioning the plan. So he let it go and agreed. You would go in with Morgan.

*------------*

Hotch watched you buckle into your vest and check on both of your firearms. He wasn't sure when you'd gotten the one strapped to your ankle but had noticed it when he first arrived back. Ever since you'd joined he'd never not paired the two of you together when entering a location. He'd gotten so used to going in with you right behind him. Knowing that you'd be going in with Morgan following you was unnerving. There had been a look on your face ever since you'd all landed in New York that filled his mind with unease. He'd thought about taking Derek aside and asking him to make sure that you were alright but knew that would raise alarms of a different sort.

Derek walked over and helped you rig your wired earpiece and secure it in place. That was another thing that had been holding him back from taking Derek aside. Whatever that was. Since when had you and Derek become so close? Since he'd left and you were forced to find someone else to help you place the wire around your back.

Prentiss caught him watching you and walked over to help him with his wire. "You can't always protect her, you know?"

Hotch looked around to make sure that no one else had heard her. There was no point in questioning what she meant. He looked at you once more as you stood waiting for the order to go in. Even now, even when he was furious with you and worried about you and scared for you, even now, he was completely and irrevocably in love with you. And he knew it showed.

He looked back at Prentiss as she finished securing the wire. "I have to try."

*------------*

It was dark and freezing as you stood at the far end of the property beside Morgan and a dozen or so SWAT guys. You had your firearm clutched in your hands awaiting the results from the thermal scan and the order to enter. You felt restless and you had to remind yourself to stay in the moment. Stay in the moment and don't think too far ahead.

You heard the chatter of SWAT and Hotch coordinating with Rossi and the thermal scan team overhead through the earpiece. You looked at Morgan and met his gaze. He offered you a tight smile which you managed to return. It was so very quiet. The knowledge that the quiet would be over in just a moment was not lost on anyone.

"There are five unidentified males located in the front room. There are an additional three showing up in the middle of the home - assuming it’s the kitchen." Rossi's voice came through loud and clear.

"Alright. Morgan, L/N, are you in position."

Morgan looked at you and you nodded.

"Affirmative."

"Alright, let's go."

The door was broken down quickly and you entered first, quickly clearing the back room. You heard gunshots coming from the front. Quickly, you walked down the hallway towards the middle of the house where the other three bodies had been detected. Every second in the dark felt like an hour. Right before you turned down another hallway you saw movement. You quickly pulled back, just barely missing being shot. Morgan peaked out first and took a shot. You heard a groan of pain. You began to move again.

You'd told Hotch you'd been to the house before. What you hadn't told him about was the small room hidden behind the bookshelf, right off of the entrance to the basement. Your father always did like the intrigue of a secret room.

As Morgan urged you onwards to open the basement door and go down, you ignored him. You instead walked to the bookshelf, knowing Morgan would cover you.

"L/N! What're you doing?" Morgan's whispered question was filled with urgency. You ignored him again.

Your fingers quickly found the third shelf and then grazed along the inner edge until you felt the latch. Morgan was beside you again. The SWAT guys were covering the basement. He'd stuck with you. You quickly looked at him, asking without voicing your question. Of course he'd have your back.

He helped you shove the bookshelf open and quickly dodged another shot coming towards the two of you. Morgan easily subdued the man as the two of you entered the room. The bookshelf swung shut behind you.

"Hello Father."

He was unarmed, standing at the back of the room. For the first time in your life you actually saw a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

Derek was still working to subdue the other man in the room, having made sure the room was otherwise clear. He looked to see how close you'd gotten to your father. Why were you standing so close?

"So, you've come to arrest your own father? Are you not ashamed?" His eyes followed you as you got closer. You saw his eyes go to the gun you still had pointed towards him. You didn't stop until you'd reached him, the tip of your gun touching his forehead.

"No Papa." Your voice didn't sound like you.

Derek had been forced to knock the other guy out and he was approaching the two of you incredibly slowly. He had his gun up as well. "Do you surrender?" His voice boomed in the small room.

Your father's eyes went from you to Derek and then back to you once more. He watched you with his dark, calculating gaze. You felt his defeat as he responded to Derek, "Yes."

You didn't move. You didn't lower your gun.

"Say your prayers Papa. Beg for Julian's forgiveness."

Your father's eyes widened.

Derek felt his stomach drop.

You pulled the trigger.

It was truly over.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotchner imagine #hotchner x you #hotchner x reader #irreverentseries

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renxzs · 4 years

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Redamancy

Redamancy (n): the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Roommate AU - Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know.

Warnings / Tags: sexual themes, mutual pinning, angst, cursing, fluff

Word Count: 7,305

A/N: Thank you so much to @marvelfulxbabes for hosting this writing challenge (and for being so gracious in giving me an extension)!! I really hope you like this! :) Also, I wanted to thank @xetoilerouge for her unyielding kindness and willingness to toss around plot ideas with me when I was hitting a wall. You're the best!! And last, but certainly not least, I want to give a huge thank you to my A1 since day one on here, @interabangs, for essentially being my beta, sounding board, and biggest cheerleader all wrapped up in one when this fic was being...difficult. 💚

You stare blankly at the ceiling above you, having been awake long enough for your eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Lifting the phone that was settled facedown on your chest, you squint blearily at the time. 2:17am. An indignant sigh heaves from your lips and a scowl is etched into your features.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The steady tempo of the sound--wood frame meeting drywall--grows erratic and increases in speed.

There is a deep, sick churning in the pit of your stomach and your breaths are unsteady. You swallow thickly against the growing lump in the back of your throat. Teeth bite into your bottom lip painfully as a wave of emotions clamor and claw their way up through your chest, demanding to be felt, released--the onslaught nearly suffocating.

Heartache sits heavily in your chest, and it takes a little more effort than usual to shove it back in its box--to compartmentalize it--before the ache can further blossom and seep; throb within your bones, prick and tingle in the tips of your limbs.

Eyes squeeze shut as the hot sting of tears threaten to fall. You roughly press the heel of your palms against your eyes in frustration. A deep breath is dragged in through the small parting of your lips in an attempt to steady your heart and clear your head. You were being foolish. He wasn't yours to cry over. He wasn't yours, period.

And that’s where the problem lies within the glaring truth of the situation: Bucky isn't yours.

He was free to bring home whatever willing woman he happened across while out with Sam and Steve. And tonight he did just that.

You shift under the covers and curl up on your side, placing your phone facedown on the nightstand with a pathetic inward groan. It wasn’t often, with everyone’s busy schedules, that the whole group managed to get together to go out for a night. However, tonight was one of those nights, and guilt had filled you when you chose to pass on seeing your friends--

A low muffled groan sounds through the wall and your features consequently pinch up as a momentary pang throbs in your chest once more and tears prick at the back of your eyes.

--but this was exactly what you were trying to avoid. Yet here you are, near 2:30am, wide awake and alone; pitifully miserable, and being taunted by the sounds of the man your heart ached for fucking someone else. A knife to the heart, really.

You hunker further into the soft plushness of bedding, seeking any form of comfort you can latch onto. Fingers tug at the edges of the duvet to pull it around yourself tightly to block out the cool air of the room and everything else outside the four walls of your bedroom.

You let out a heavy breath. Yes, you felt guilty turning down the boys’ offer earlier that day, choosing to stay home instead. A barely-there smile touches your lips briefly, thinking how Sam and Bucky always mercilessly poked fun at one another--albeit, lovingly--and how you and Steve were always smirking over beer glasses at their antics, eventually shifting your conversation to how things were progressing between him and Peggy or whatever else was going on in your lives at the moment.

The soft half-smile on your lips slowly melts back into an impassive line. By the end of the night though, you knew the inevitable was bound to happen; it usually played out the same. Bucky's attention would be pulled by a pair of flirty batted eyelashes, roaming hands that were as bold as the stifling perfume she would be wearing, and full lips that were glossed to the max.

You would then find yourself crammed in the backseat of a cab with Bucky and his conquest of the night, fighting back bile, the alcohol in your stomach suddenly feeling as bitter as the taste on your tongue at the sight of her hand inching higher and higher up his thigh. That, or you would cooly play it off that you weren't ready to turn in for the night just to avoid a shared cab ride home with Bucky and whatever girl was latched onto his arm, even though, in all honestly, you were exhausted as fuck and wanted nothing more than to be curled up in your bed.

In the case of the latter scenario, Sam and Steve never failed to look at you with the saddest eyes, though warm smiles still played on their lips--an effort to mask the utter pity they most likely felt for you--when you sat slumped at the bar just a little longer to wait out Bucky’s evening romp back at the apartment. Gracious as always, the boys never pushed you to talk about it; for that, you were grateful. Nothing like discussing how pathetically in love you were with your best friend to two of your other shared best friends.

Unwilling to stomach either scenario, you had politely turned down tonight's invite out, claiming you needed a quiet evening in after a week from hell at work. Mentions of understanding and oversized hugs soon followed, then Sam and Steve were out the front door. With a parting kiss to the forehead and a chuckled “don't have too much fun, doll,” Bucky was gone, too, a moment later.

In all honesty, the quiet night in actually ended up being just what you needed, having enjoyed two glasses of red as some cliche Netflix rom-com played in the background. The sweet hazelnut cream scent of your favorite candles had filled your bedroom as they burned, and the flickering firelight danced on the walls of your dimmed bedroom. Between lightheartedly scoffing at the cheesy movie playing on the TV and firing off sarcastic texts to Nat about the laughable state of your own love life, your spirits seemed to have gradually lifted.

Slowly you had nodded off, mind and heart at peace for a short while. Living with your best friend has proven to be far more difficult than you initially anticipated--far more emotionally taxing. Sure, you didn’t expect it to always be perfect, but you also didn’t expect to feel this exhausted as often as you did.

The heart could only take so much unrequited love before it was sure to shrivel up, grey and dark, and dust away to nothing more, starved of a love it so desperately yearned for.

The sharp sound of a bedroom door being kicked shut had jolted you awake, ripping you from the warmth of temporary peace. Groggily blinking the sleep from your eyes, you were only disoriented for a moment before the familiar low muffled tones of Bucky’s voice could be heard through the shared wall of your bedrooms. Your heart had plummeted as the reality of the situation sunk in; and another shriveled up piece began to crumble away.

The now deafening silence of the apartment pulls you from the inner thoughts you had fallen deep into. It was finally quiet again, your personal hell having ended for the night. A relieved sigh falls from your lips and your eyes droop heavily with an exhaustion you can feel in your bones before you are once again pulled into a dreamless sleep.

***

You are in a particularly foul mood this morning as you sit perched on a stool at the kitchen bar. Your shoulders slump forward while you stare unseeingly into the steaming mug of coffee nestled between your hands. Bucky takes notice of your sour demeanor, eyes continually falling back to you, gaze swimming with concern as he flips another pancake.

Already having shut down his attempts at conversation, silence falls between the two of you save the spatula scraping against the hot skillet. You slowly bring the mug up to your lips and take a long sip, allowing the liquid to spread and warm you; praying the caffeine will kick in soon and give you the needed energy to make it through this day.

A throat clears next to you and your eyes slide to the right to take in Bucky standing close by. He has on your favorite pair of black sweatpants that hang on his hips just right and a grey cotton tee that is a size too small but he always insists on wearing. Of course, you never complain. Gah--damn him! Why does he have to look so effortlessly good in the morning? Especially when you’re trying to be pissed at him.

Eyes tear away from his chest and your gaze falls to the plate in his hand that is stacked full of chocolate chip pancakes. He clears his throat once more, perhaps a bit nervously, pulling your attention up to his face, which is painted with an apprehensive grin.

He sets the plate down in front of you. “Made your favorite.”

The sweet smell of melted chocolate chips wafts in the air and makes your mouth water. A finger twitches against the hot ceramic encased by your hands as you fight the urge to reach for the plate. Bucky makes the best pancakes and he knows they’re your favorite. But you’re not ready to give in to his charm just yet, so all you offer in response is a quirked brow as you quietly eye the plate in front of you before flickering your gaze back to him.

He drops heavily onto the stool next to you and drags a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise at his apology. Bucky turns on the stool to better face you.

“I woke up feeling awful this morning, realizing how loud we must‘a been coming in last night.” He shook his head softly before racking a hand through his unruly chestnut locks. He dips his chin before peeking up, icy blue eyes catching yours as he smiles at you sheepishly. “I, uh, had a bit more to drink than I should’ve with the guys. You know how I get...” he says with a low chuckle.

You bite your lip as your eyes fall back to the cooling coffee in front of you. Bucky is quick to speak again. “Not that it makes it okay! I just-- I’m sorry, doll. I’m a shit roommate and a shit best friend--”

“You are not a shit best friend, Buck,” you finally say. Sure, he’s unknowingly stomped your heart into the ground repeatedly, but that doesn’t make him a bad friend. It just makes him clueless and you a coward for never saying anything. You huff a sigh as your resolve begins to crumble. “Your roommate etiquette still has room for improvement though...” a slow smirk tugs on your lips.

Bucky instantly breaks into a grin and nods as the tension melts away from his frame, relieved to get the white flag of truce from you. “I couldn’t agree more. Promise I’ll do better, doll. Cross my heart and all.”

You hum in acknowledgement while pulling the plate of pancakes in front of you. “Now give me a fork before these get cold.”

Bucky tips his head back with a hearty laugh as he stands on the rung of his stool and reaches across the bar top to snag two forks out of the utensil drawer. He loves how much you enjoy his cooking, especially how open you are about it. He watches with a soft smile as you drizzle syrup across the fluffy stack of sweet goodness, always careful to keep the stickiness contained to your plate.

You cut through the stack of pancakes and bring a forkful to your mouth. A blissful moan rumbles behind your lips as you chew happily.

“Good?”

“The best,” you say vehemently as you cut off another bite then push the plate towards Bucky to share.

He picks up his own fork and plucks up a piece of pancake from the plate. His eyes linger momentarily on your lips as you happily chew another bite. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple before joining in on the sugary breakfast.

“Good.”

***

The rest of breakfast proceeds like any other day, it being easy to fall back into the step of your friendship. Bucky recounted in the utmost explicit detail how Sam had a few too many drinks the night before and somehow got his hands on the karaoke microphone. You were almost sorry you missed such a sight, but your ears had been spared without a doubt. Sam has many great qualities: a kind heart, a great smile, a healthy dose of snark to his sense of humor… but a pleasant singing voice is not one of them.

The time spent with Bucky gradually lightens your mood, the morning’s sourness nearly forgotten. Your laughter trills throughout the kitchen space and your side aches in the best way. A goofy smile adorns his lips, eyes crinkled in the corners. His gaze never strays from you. Unwelcome flutters dance in your belly and your eyes fall to the faux granite island top, unable to withstand the heat of his gaze any longer. Teeth drag across your bottom lip as you slip off the barstool and gather up the dirty dishes and cooking utensils that litter the counter and stove.

Bucky remains seated as his eyes shamelessly follow your movements in the small kitchen space. Lips settle into a soft smile as you get lost in thought while completing your task. Minutes pass before Bucky slinks up next to you, arms casually crossed over his chest and lower back leaned against the counter in a comfortable silence. You are elbow deep in suds, scrubbing clean the last of the dishes as you fulfill a previously established agreement: whoever cooks is excused from dish duty. Pushing the sink handle up with the top of your wrist, a steady stream begins to flow out the nozzle again. You quietly rinse the final dish, shake the excess water from it, and place it in the drying rack to your right. Bucky snags a clean towel and tosses it to you to dry your hands with. You offer a smile of gratitude as you make your way over to wipe down the island.

“So,” he draws out, “you wanna veg out with me today and watch some god-awful movies?” You don’t have to look up to see the knowing smile etched on his face and the inevitable wiggle of his brows as he tries to peak your interest.

A smile creeps onto your lips. Hunkering down on the couch with Bucky, surrounded by too many snacks and laughing at cheesy movies sounds like the perfect Saturday in all honesty. Movie binging sessions always led to getting real cozy with one another, though; his fingers absentmindedly smoothing through the ends of your hair and you snuggled up against him.

Your teeth bite into the plumpness of your bottom lip, mulling over his offer. You slowly pad over to the trashcan and shake crumbs out from the rag you had just wiped the counters down with, stalling to produce an answer.

The thought of turning down his offer sends a pang through you, chest hollow and yearning for your best friend. Lounging around together without a care, talking about everything and nothing, simply enjoying one another’s company--you’ve not gotten that type of quality time with one another in so long, and you miss it terribly. However, simultaneously, your heart aches deeply, yearning for Bucky. The kind of ache that blossoms from an unrequited love; debilitating and doubling over with loss of something that was never yours to begin with. It swallows you into empty, lonely nothing.

Movements slow and deliberate, you hang the towel on the oven handle with your back to Bucky. He must sense your hesitance and your stomach is sinking, decision already made.

You can’t.

Your heart cannot withstand enduring a day holed up on the couch with him, falling prey to the illusion that maybe, just maybe, you and Bucky could have more than friendship. Not while the freshly torn-open wounds of your heart are still exposed and weeping from the previous night. No, you needed time to yourself for healing; to regenerate and mend, to sew the tender and frayed pieces of yourself back together once more--a little less perfect each time, a little less whole. But no longer would you be in pieces, and sometimes that is as good as it can get.

You clear your throat, aware your silence has stretched on a bit too long. Body now facing him, you force your eyes to slowly crawl up the length of Bucky’s body until you finally meet his gaze. Lips gently tug up at the corners to offer him a small smile--anything to soften your decline of his offer--and shake your head. “Sorry, Buck, but I uh- I really need today to finish that project for work or Tony is going to have my ass.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.

That natural glow and energy to Bucky dims momentarily as his features falter--the curve of his smile begins to fall into a line; the crinkles in the corners of his eyes fade away; a little ridge forms between his brows that you fight to not smooth away with your thumb; the light dulls in those icy blues. Another beat later and Bucky snaps back, natural glow and energy seemingly intact. You blink, wondering if you had simply imagined his momentary disappointment.

Bucky pushes off the counter’s edge and saunters forward to lean across the island top on his elbows, that enticing sparkle in his eye and lilt in his tone in a sure attempt to get you to buckle, “Awwh, c’mon, doll. Please? When’s the last time we’ve made fun of bad movies together?”

You fidget with your hands and shift your weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do with yourself, desperately just wanting out of this situation and to seek the shelter your room was sure to provide. You offer a halfhearted shrug, a rueful smile playing on your lips. “I’ll have to take a raincheck this time, Buck.”

The fall of his features cannot be mistaken this time, and guilt swirls low in your belly at the sight. He straightens his posture, gaze boring into you, uncertain, studying you. “Did I...do something?”

Words tumble from your mouth a little too quickly and you curse yourself for it, “No, not at all.” A tight smile back on your lips.

Bucky’s gaze steadily follows as you move closer to the archway leading out of the kitchen and further away from him. “Yea, okay.” He clears his throat and throws a thumb in the direction of the living room. “I’ll uh- I’ll be out here watching movies if you change your mind.”

You nod before taking the final step out of the kitchen. Your feet carry you across the small apartment to the safety of your bedroom, resting your back against the door once it’s securely closed. A physical representation of the feeling of separation between you and Bucky at that moment. A long, shaky breath dispels from deep within your lungs. With a soft thump, your head lolls back against the wood of the door and your eyes fall shut.

As wrong as it feels, this is the right thing to do for you. At least that is what you’ll keep telling yourself.

***

The week passes by uneventfully and you go about your days as normal as possible. The work project Tony expected from you was very real and served as a sufficient distraction from the awkward dance your personal life was turning into. Interactions with Bucky have been sparse, which has only deepened the growing sense of separation and distance between the two of you. His gaze lingers on you longer whenever you emerge from the sanctuary of your room to retrieve some type of sustenance or to leave for errands or work. You feel it, his gaze, burning into your back and simmering through your veins while you lousily attempt to be inconspicuous; feel the unasked questions that hang thickly in the air around you.

Did I do something wrong?

Are you okay?

Are we okay?

It’s heavy. Not as heavy as the guilt sinking in your gut, though. Hurting him or making him feel bad isn’t your intention. You just needed some space, a little time. Thought maybe that was the answer, the magic remedy to the perpetual pinning rooted deep in your chest, thorny vines entwined tightly and intricately around every major artery, snaking down into your bones.

Time heals everything--isn’t that what they always say? Maybe it’s a bunch of bullshit.

Because you sure as hell don’t feel healed.

The rumble of heavy glass drags across the wood shelf of a cabinet as you strain to pull down a bottle of bourbon. If anything, time be damned, the smooth burn of a good liquor and the blanket of numbness it so graciously provides to cozy up in never fails to do the trick. For a little while at least.

A small grunt sounds in the back of your throat as both feet securely plant to the floor again, large bottle in hand. Success. Retrieving a drinking glass proves to be a much easier task. Fingers deftly uncap the bottle and you pour two fingers worth of the amber liquid into your glass, hastily tossing it back a moment later. The burn is familiar, comforting. Something to focus your attention on. Without a thought, the glass is replenished.

Chest expands as you drag in a deep breath, eyes drifting close momentarily, before air rushes out past your lips. If only you could push the sadness out just as easily. Glass and bottle in hand, you trudge towards the living room, not bothering to flip on any of the lighting fixtures strategically placed around your living space. Lamps you and Bucky dedicated an entire afternoon one weekend picking out together. He had insisted on taking you shopping to find trinkets and whatever other overlooked treasures waiting to be discovered, as he had proclaimed, to decorate your newly shared apartment with. He wanted to ensure it felt like your place, too.

Why does he always have to be so good?

You drop unceremoniously to the couch with a long sigh, practically tortured, entirely pathetic. The bottle clanks as it meets the coffee table, still within reach. You bring the drinking glass to your lips and swallow down a generous glup, pondering why you even bothered with a glass to begin with.

Living with Bucky wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Though, you weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting. Loving a best friend who only views you as just that--a best friend--is exhausting, excruciating, maddening.

To cut that part of your heart out and be free of everything that has weighed you down, placed unintentional strains on your friendship with Bucky over the last several months; to no longer have words of admittance and truth die on your tongue, far too scared to express them, leaving behind bitter taste… how freeing that could be.

But you are a coward. Too scared to share your feelings with Bucky. The glass finds its way to your lips once more and you drain it of its contents. You reach for the bottle on the coffee table, movements beginning to feel a little lighter and your face a bit flushed--both tell signs of the bourbon coursing through you.

Amber liquid splashes into the glass, sloshing against the edges; trapped--just like you felt in this less than ideal situation.

You knock back the entire contents of the glass once more, eyes tightly squeezed shut and a small grimace in your features. Tongue heavy, darts out across your bottom lip to catch a stray droplet and then you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand for good measure. Thoughts are clearing and fuzzing at the edges all at once, and your body pricks with the slightest tingles just beneath the skin’s surface.

Eyes flicker around the dim room that is littered with evidence of your friendship with Bucky. Pictures decorate the walls and bookshelf, some with just the two of you, others with your friends and families. Always side-by-side in each, nonetheless. Head lolling to the side, your gaze settles on the empty cushion next to you. Well, not so much anymore.

A heavy breath heaves through your nose and your eyes avert from the reminder that you are sitting alone--by your own doing--drinking away your sorrows, which is not doing the trick this time around. What a fabulous Friday night.

You groan internally before reaching for the bottle once more. Topaz liquid pours and swirls into the glass and for a second you get lost in the motion of it, your brain desperately grabbing on to anything in its inebriated state that could pull your thoughts back to Bucky and the pretty gold flecks that mix in with the deep azure blue of his eyes when sunlight hits them just right.

You slump back against the couch with your glass in hand, idly wondering what Bucky was doing at the moment. Drinking himself, sure, but surrounded by the laughter of friends and too loud music, the smell of stale smoke, and whatever else a bar inhabits. You could be there, too, enjoying a night out with friends. God knows you could use it instead of sulking around at home, drowning in lonely solitude and whatever liquor that happens to be sitting closest on the shelf. Your nose wrinkles at the thought, sounding like a sad drunk.

Your head falls back to rest against the plush cushion and eyes drift close as a finger slowly traces the rim of the glass in your hand. Quiet solitude--albeit lonely and a beacon for all unwanted thoughts of Bucky and the many reasons you can’t have him--is better than witnessing first-hand Bucky on the prowl.

Muffled voices, laughter and the clanking of keys down the hall outside your front door pull you from your thoughts. Your stomach plummets immediately, a rush of nausea and nerves shooting through you. Mind foggy with alcohol slows your reflexive thinking; you take too long deciding if you should take cover in the safety of your bedroom before whatever awaits on the other side of the front door comes barreling in.

Keys clank against the door and the metallic shifting within the lock tells you it's too late, and suddenly tinny giggles fill the room, piercing through the comfort bubble of your home. Muscles seize up with an intermixing of tension and dread while your skin pricks from the direct proximity of Bucky and the giddy blonde hanging off his arm.

A crease of concern is pinched between Bucky’s eyebrows when he notices you slumped on the couch, only the soft glow of the bulbed lights strung above the balcony coming in through the sliding glass door illuminates the room. Your fingers are wrapped around a glass that rests against your leg. Bucky's eyes travel from the glass to the bottle of bourbon sitting on the coffee table in front of you and quirks a brow in question.

You faintly hear Bucky murmur something to his lay of the night before ushering her down the short hall, towards his bedroom you presume.

A moment later, the couch dips next to you under Bucky's weight.

“Doll, you okay?” His voice hesitant, laced with evident concern.

Shoulders lift to a noncommittal half-shrug and you mumble an “I’m fine” before raising the glass to your lips. The burn of the liquid down your throat gives you something to focus on rather than the man next to you and how fucking good he smells or the warmth radiating from his close proximity.

Bucky says your name pointedly. The man knows you far too well for your own good, able to easily parse through your flimsy attempt at reassurance. So desperately, time after time, you've tried to feed yourself that same lie, that you're fine.

But you aren’t fine, and saying so never convinced you to believe it. So how did you expect Bucky to?

“Clearly you’re not fine,” he says as his eyes fall to the nearly empty glass in your hand. He reaches out slowly and gingerly pulls the glass from your grasp. After placing it onto the coffee table he settles back next to you. “C’mon, talk to me.”

You nod your head towards the hall. “She's waiting,” barely able to bite back the bitterness in your tone.

“And she can continue to wait. You're more important, doll.” He shifts closer and the smell of him overwhelms your senses--notes of vanilla and cedar, and a hint of whiskey on his breath.

Bucky’s thumb softly drags over the warm skin atop your hand. Slowly--against your better judgement--your eyes begin to slide shut, heavy with the exhaustion of putting on a facade for so long, of trying to convince yourself that being just friends wasn't slowly chipping away at you; sleep deprived from the nights heartache disguised itself as insomnia. His gentle touches lure you into a false sense of comfort. Just for a moment it's you and him.

A soft sigh escapes your lips and you revel in the quiet shared between the two of you. You miss this, miss him. You’re nearly lost in the illusion of it all before sounds of someone fumbling around in the next room--Bucky's room--rips you back to the present, your eyes snapping open at the whiny muffled call of his name.

Bucky senses the shift in you but doesn’t react quick enough, your hand already snatched from him before he can grab on to you. In a blur you are on your feet, putting the coffee table between the two of you. You ignore his outstretched hand and take a few seconds to steady yourself, to wade through the fuzzy haze of your head. The bourbon coursing through you had the room turning and you feeling overly warm... maybe the latter had less to do with the amber liquid and more so with the fact that the man you were in love with has a woman waiting in his room who wasn't you.

The thought is pushed away with a subtle shake of the head, your nails dragging across your scalp as you rack a hand through your hair. You vaguely register your name being called after you, Bucky’s voice sounding dejected. But your heart hurt and you were dejected, and you needed this moment to just feel it, to let the ache consume you and seep deep. There was no more energy left in you to fight it tonight, and maybe if you didn't you would have enough strength come tomorrow morning to shove all back down and secure it shut with a soft smile.

So, even though every inch of your body screams with each step you take down the hall, further away from Bucky sounding so sad--instincts wanting to kick in and be the consoling best friend once more--your fingers numbly push open your bedroom door and then close again behind you.

Peeling back the comforter, you ease into bed, body heavy and not feeling like your own. The warmth of the liquor sloshes low in your belly and your eyes ache as you curl onto your side and stare at nothing.

Muffled sounds through the door fill the quiet. You can’t make out the words being exchanged and you don't try to. Hot tears, one after another, silently roll down the slope of your nose and side of your face into the cotton of your pillow. You let out a shaky breath at the sound of a door latching. Fingers curled in the soft blanket, you pull it tighter and burrow further into the plush materials encasing you, seeking out whatever comfort you can latch onto.

The apartment falls quiet save for soft sniffles. A few moments pass before a light knock sounds against your bedroom door and it creaks open. The gentle call of your name cuts through the silence. The sound of Bucky’s voice, low and gentle, inexplicably causes your nose to burn with a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall at any moment. Your lower lip wobbles with barely contained emotion, and you sink your teeth into it in an attempt to steady yourself; ease your heart.

Feet pad softly to the side of the bed, and the mattress groans at the shift in weight as Bucky eases in next to you.

His weight and warmth simultaneously ground you and throw your emotions into overdrive. He is here; chose to be with you over whatever plans awaited him in his bedroom. Gratitude and love awash you, seeping into the deep cracks of your wounded heart. When you most need your best friend he is here, and you are so grateful. A soft whimper slips out despite your efforts and a choked cry escapes your trembling lips.

“Oh, doll.” Bucky’s voice is one of a broken man, heart clenching at the sight of you. He gathers you up in his arms and holds on tightly, a silent promise to never let go. Sobs rack through your chest--the kind that make it hard to breathe--while the soft cotton of his tee crumples under the white-knuckle grip of your fist and hot salty tears soak between your fingers into his shirt.

Bucky presses a kiss to your head, murmuring into your hair, “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He rubs slow, soothing circles into your back. Your whole body shakes beneath his touch as it works to dispel everything you’ve kept pent up inside--pain, heartache, guilt, self-doubt. No longer having the energy to put up a fight, you allow it to happen--let the facade of fine crumble and fall apart in a heaping weepy mess--because Bucky’s arms are warm, strong, and wrapped tightly around you and he’s whispering that he’s got you, that everything will be okay, over and over again. A mantra of a promise that things will be better than in this moment, and maybe they will.

***

You drag in a breath, eyes flickering against the pale light of dawn peeking through the slit of curtains that were not quite pulled all the way shut the night before. There is a dull throbbing in your head and behind your eyes. You groan inward, regretting the decision to drown your sorrows in bourbon and nuzzle closer into the solid warmth in front of you. The familiar mingling mixture of vanilla and cedar infiltrates and seeps deep within your chest, luring you back to the surface of consciousness and away from the depths of dreamless sleep.

Bucky senses your stirring and pulls back just enough to catch a glimpse of your face. His eyes are tired and swimming with concern as they flicker across your face. Your gaze falls to his chest as embarrassment over last night’s episode begins to creep up within you, unable to look him in the eyes. Blood rushes to your cheeks while fingers fidget with the cotton of his shirt and teeth worry at your lower lip. Your tongue feels thick, unsure of what to say. Aching eyes fall shut, heavy, puffy, and red rimmed, you’re sure.

“Hey…” Bucky gently ghosts a thumb across your cheekbone. He ducks his head a little to catch your gaze and your eyes slowly lift to meet his. “What happened?” The timbre of his voice low as he speaks softly, “What had you so upset?”

Earnest concern for you is evident in his tone, etched into his features--it makes your chest tighten. You’re shocked when a fresh wave of unshed tears sting at the back of your eyes, certain you had cried yourself dry through the night. Blinking tears back to clear your vision, you softly shake your head. The facade fractured and exhausting to maintain, you couldn’t do it anymore, energy depleted.

“I- I couldn’t do it anymore,” you finally said, vocalizing your thoughts.

Bucky shifts closer if that’s even possible and his intense gaze that bores through you makes you nervous, like you’re being watched closely under a microscope. His eyebrow twitches in a way that tells you he still doesn’t understand. “Do what anymore?” he breathes out, kind eyes searching yours.

You don't realize a tear has slipped free until Bucky’s thumb drags softly against your cheek to wipe it away. His lips curve downward into a frown and the worry lines in his face prominent, sorrowful. Silence looms between you as he patiently waits for your answer.

A shaky breath is dragged in through parted lips as you work up the nerve to speak the words that have been dying on the tip of your tongue for months now. “I couldn’t watch you bring home another girl… listen to you be--” You swallow hard against the lump in your throat and shake your head, “I just couldn’t do it again.”

Bucky’s brows scrunch together in confusion as he parses through your words. Your name is a gentle utterance from his lips and your watery gaze lifts to meet his once more. The pad of his thumb sweeps across your cheek again and wipes away hot tears that have spilled over. “I don’t--” brows still knit together, he slowly shakes his head.

Burgeoning heartbeats thrum in your chest and pulse in your ears, hands clammy from nerves; your grip tightens around the soft cotton of his tee. “I love you, Bucky.” Your voice is soft, low with reservation of how he may react--but sure; so sure of your feelings for him. “I’m in love with you.”

Eyes widen and his mouth slackens with shock at your admittance, thumb stilling its soothing motion against your cheekbone. Breath is caught in your throat and you anxiously await for any type of response from him aside from the stunned, gaping look his features are contorted in. Your heart sinks further than you thought possible with the prolonged silence hanging heavy between you, and you begin to shift back away from Bucky, away from the creeping humiliation and rejection.

Bucky doesn’t allow for you to move away, his arm underneath you curling up to settle against your back and the other hand still gently cupping the side of your face. Dusky pink lips curl into a slow smile and eyes sparkle with rejuvenated light. Your heart is beating a mile a minute and you attempt to decipher Bucky’s response. Does he think this is a joke? Is the mere idea of you being in love with him that laughable?

An incredulous chuckle, breathy and low, pulls you from your inner thoughts to see Bucky shaking his head. “Oh, doll…” Your heart swells with the unmistakable adoration in his eyes and it fills you with a warmth that allows you to take a steadying breath. Your heart dares to beat with newly ignited hope. Bucky’s eyes dance over your face as if he’s committing every detail of this moment to memory, deep azure eyes and honey gold flecks so pretty in the morning light. His hand smooths down your neck to allow his thumb to brush across your barely parted lips. “I’m in love with you.”

The onslaught of emotion burns through you, simultaneously overwhelming and absolutely wonderful. Tears well in your eyes once more but you can’t bring yourself to care because for once they’re happy tears; elation tears, even. Throat tight with so much you want to say, all you can manage is to choke out a wet laugh. A shaky hand reaches up and your fingers ghost over the dark scruff along his cheekbone and down his jaw. “You love me?”

Bucky’s grin is blinding as he nods ardently. His hand runs down the slope of your neck up to your shoulder, traveling across your extended arm to gently grasp your hand in his. Gingerly he places kisses against your fingertips, murmuring against them. “I love you.”

He shifts closer to you and the rustle of your crumpled bed sheets fills the room. You feel your heartbeat pick up and you’re sure he can feel it, too, with chests pressed so closely together. Bucky’s forehead rests against yours and his eyes fall shut momentarily.

“I’m so sorry,” voice barely above a whisper. You feel the slight shake of his head and he slowly trails a large hand up the column of your neck and rests beneath the jawline. He absentmindedly runs a thumb along the sensitive patch of skin just below your ear in a soothing caress. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t’ve--” his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. “I hurt you so many times… I just-- I didn’t think you felt the same, so I did--” he huffed an indignant sigh. “I was so stupid. Doll, I didn’t--”

You press your lips to his and he’s stunned only for a moment before his lips move gently against yours in response, all soft and pliant.

“I know,” you murmur against his lips, breaking the kiss. Hot breath fans across your skin sending a shiver straight down your spine. Fingers reach out to card through his sleep mussed locks. His scent, his warmth, his love--all encompassing and comforting--it has you on a dizzying high. Nose bumps against his and you tilt your head up to capture his lips once more.

Soft moans pass between lips and Bucky gently eases you onto your back and moves to hover over you, never breaking the kiss, bodies touching in more places than not; you keen at the weight of him pressed against you. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips and you eagerly part them to welcome him in, tongue dancing against yours, deepening the kiss. And god was it a good kiss--the best kiss. The kind that unfurls in your stomach and curls in your toes.

So much warmth floods through you, overflows and seeps into every broken crevice that’s splintered over the past months, beginning the mending of your dilapidated heart. Nourishing it with his touch, the press of his lips, his requited love. You can’t help but smile at the thought, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky. He leans back to better look at you, putting his weight on the forearm settled next to your head. A giddy smile has taken over his features that mirrors the one on your own lips.

“What?” tone mirthful and light.

Your smile stretches wider, “All this time--” your head shakes in disbelief, “...we are idiots.”

Bucky breathes out a hearty chuckle and wraps his arms around you tightly as he falls back against the mattress, bringing you with him. “Well, as long as we’re idiots together.”

You hum in agreement as you curl against his chest with your face nuzzled into his neck, relishing in the scratch of his scruff on your soft skin. Long fingers run through the ends of your hair and mindlessly massage into your scalp, and your heart aches once more; such a beautiful, good ache at the familiarity of his touch, the safety and comfort it brings.

You revel in his closeness--to have him solid and warm and real beneath you; the newfound freedom you have to press your lips to his whenever you wish or to lazily run your fingers across flushed skin that peeks out from underneath his rumpled shirt and feel abdominal muscles flex beneath your touch. It’s a peculiar feeling, this freedom--to love and act on it without reservation; to love and be loved in full in return.

#MarvelfulxbabesWritingChallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #roommate au #friends to lovers #Renxzs #my fic

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jiaraendgame · 4 years

Text

Manipulation — Part One

Summary: Why Rafe Cameron took an interest in a Pogue is unknown, but a year later a bad decision has a good outcome when a golden boy from the Cut makes an unwavering impression on this lost girl.

Warnings: Angst, sad, drug use/abuse, swearing, underage drinking, peer pressure. (I think that’s it?? If I missed anything for the warnings let me know)

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: This is a song fic based on Manipulation by Beartooth.

***Part one is all Rafe x Reader flashback. Part two is where JJ comes in. Oh and there is like a 2.2 second scene with Platonic!JB x Reader in this part.***

This is my first time writing for OBX and in general posting fanfiction for the world to see. So apologies cause it’s definitely trash. I just want to say a BIG thank you for the few people here who encouraged me to write and have fun. Also a BIG thanks to my best friend and beta reader @john-benderr for hyping me up and always supporting me and my silly antics. Hope you guys don’t hate it, I tried my best. Let me know what you think???

Gif credit: @toesure

I hesitated, got lost again

You saw me as wounded prey

I was a wreck, I was a bloody mess

And you couldn't look away

The Boneyard designated party destination here in the Outer Banks. The ultimate summer hang-out spot for some guaranteed wild moments. Even if you could point out every Kook, Touron, or us Pogues from the Cut, it was usually a good time. You never know what’s gonna happen on any given night, but you are sure to find people from all walks of life on this island congregating and partying. This is where you found yourself tonight, at a kegger ready to forget the responsibilities you held at least just for the night. The air was warm, and the party's noise swam through your ears, drowning out any reservation you usually have for yourself. You wanted to drown in this wave of overwhelming senses. The crackles from the fire, the music you swayed to, the sounds of people mingling and cheering, it swallowed you whole as you finished off another cup of bitter liquid. Was this your third or fourth cup from the keg? You don’t really remember anymore, but nor do you care. All that mattered is you were loosening the jaw you had tightened all day and was forgetting about the pressures you were facing at home. Nothing here mattered more than being free.

At this point, you had more than a buzz going on, but nothing was stopping your fun just yet. You clumsily weaved in and out of people working your way back to the keg ready for another round. You usually never drank alone, but tonight you weren’t in the mood for friends. At least that’s what you told yourself. In actuality, everyone you hit up to come tonight ghosted you or had some lame excuse as to why they couldn’t come. So you bravely chose to go as a one-woman show ready to conquer the party on your own. Never thinking that this night would lead you down a rabbit hole, you would never be prepared for. Stumbling forward lost in your thoughts, you slur your words to the tall and tan brown-haired boy with his button down shirt half-open handing out drinks from the keg.

“Hey man, hand me a refill, yeah?” Your sloppy words spill out of your mouth, letters all jumbled together barely coherent to the untrained ear.

The brown-haired boy looked at you a tinge of concern in his eyes as you were visibly wasted and clearly on your own tonight. You don’t know why it mattered. It’s not like everyone else wasn’t just as sloshed as you were.

“Uh, you sure you can handle another one, you look… well, you look pretty faded.”

The boy’s sentiment meant well, but it did nothing but annoy you. Why did everyone think they had to take care of you? Don’t they know you are beyond capable of doing so yourself? You work your ass off to keep everything in line, you can cut loose every once and awhile. Your inner voice of reason started to rear its ugly head, briefly reminding you how utterly irresponsible you were being. Listen to the boy, go home. You don’t need this. Stop acting so tough you aren’t that strong. It’s okay to feel the way you do. Quit while you’re ahead.

Quickly shoving the paranoia that began to rise in your chest, you knew if you could still feel the panic, then you weren’t drunk enough. Looking back at the boy, he was still eyeing you hesitantly when you finally sharpened your tongue and spoke again.

“Please, I know how to handle myself, pretty boy. I’m just living a little is all.” The attitude in your voice is far from pleasant.

Why were you so rude to the kind boy who clearly was watching out for your well-being? You should have listened to him. You shouldn’t have drunk this next cup. Maybe it was just the catalyst for the events that proceeded to perspire.

“Listen just… just gimme a refill, and I’ll be on my way. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me. I can handle myself, I swear.” While you wanted to sound sure of yourself and maybe even a bit assertive, you could tell he didn’t take you seriously at all.

Your amplified brash persona needed work clearly as it fooled no one while you were blurring the lines of reality and fantasy with each drink you took. The boy looks at you, and the small line starting to form behind you. He sighs to the side as he fills a cup with the amber liquid, finally obliging to your commands to avoid further conflict. While handing you the cup, he speaks once more before you swivel on your heels.

“ Hey, listen... if you need someone to bring you home later or whatever, just come find me. The names John B.”

You stood there bewildered for a moment, unsure why someone would have concern over you. You were just a drunk partygoer at the beach for some fun, why did it seem like you were so different than the others around you? You could take care of yourself you always have, but regardless it was a kind gesture. You felt a pit in your gut for being rude to him moments ago. You couldn’t answer him, you just looked in his eyes and shook your head with a softened smile. Hoping he would understand, you appreciated his offer.

New drink in hand, you stumbled to a clear spot on the beach and plopped yourself down into the ground. Removing your sandals, you buried your toes in the soft sand closing your eyes, taking a swig of your drink. You felt the air on your skin as you leaned your head back. A new sense of calm washed over your body as you faded into the scenery. Sip by sip, you felt all your grievances escape your mind. Nothing would stop you from releasing your mind tonight even if it tried to crawl it’s way back up the hole you shoved it down. If each sip of liquid kept the beasts at bay for just a moment, the tranquility you felt was worth every bit of hell you’d wake up to tomorrow.

You broke me down

So you could take me out

Lost in thought, you lay your body back into the sand, staring up at the stars in a dazed state. Not noticing the pair of eyes that have been watching you for quite some time. From a distance, a seemingly put-together boy traced his eyes along your body. Staring at every curve, every feature, watching every action you took, he knew he had to talk to you. What better time to make a move when you were finally alone, away from the hustle and bustle of the kegger and laying out on the beach staring up at the sky.

He’s been keeping an eye on you all night, watching you get more faded with each sip of every drink you took. Alone at a party, you don’t see that often around here. Everyone always pairs up fast, even if you did arrive alone. You well, you were different. Something about you drew this clean-cut boy to you, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Something about your solitude reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place a finger on. Or maybe it was how he watched you spiral, falling with no safety net beneath you. He decided tonight he would be the safety net, he would catch you, even if you didn’t ask.

“Hello, beautiful…” A voice speaks out, startling you as your eyes crash open. A light chuckle passes the boy’s lips at your shock.

“Sorry, darling, didn’t mean to startle you.” He smiles, flashing his gorgeous white teeth at you. “I saw you over here alone and thought you could use some company.”

You blink a few times, trying to focus your blurred vision. A boy whose outline was hazy hovers over you, still smiling that bright smile. However, something felt underlying off about his sheer confidence. It wasn’t much longer until you put two and two together. The boy in the salmon-colored polo shirt and the khaki shorts that stared into your eyes was the infamous Kook prince himself, Rafe Cameron.

Any other day of the week, you’d loathe the boy in front of you, he always caused trouble for anyone who came from the Cut. He bathed in his arrogance and condescending words. So why has the prince of Kooks wandered his way over to you was the million-dollar question. One that you’re not sure you’ll ever get the answer to.

You lifted yourself into a sitting position and still have yet to speak a word to the polished boy in front of you. He speaks once more, trying to pry words from your mouth with every smooth sentence he spoke.

“Aw come now, a gorgeous face like that shouldn’t be scowling by her lonesome. Let me join you, they always say misery loves company.” The tip of the boy’s tongue brushes his top lip as a sly smirk pricks the side of his mouth.

You cock your eyebrow up, but still, motion for the boy to sit next to you. You didn’t think you were scowling, but the more you focused your mind, it became clear you weren’t suppressing any of the facial expressions you thought you were. The alcohol tore down your mask a little more than you would have liked.

You finally spoke to the boy poised next to you, studying the side of your face. “Who says I’m miserable, what if I just want the company?”

A chuckle passes his lips, he knew he had his hooks in you now. You turn and face Rafe, knowing full well that engaging with him is a terrible idea, but sometimes you craved a little danger in your life. Danger, like getting involved with a Kook named Rafe Cameron, would entail. If it distracted you even just for the night then why not go all out, he was looking rather charming tonight.

“Ah, well, aren’t we all a little miserable? I mean, no one’s perfect, right?” His breathy words cause the curiosity inside you to rise.

Was the always well kept and confident Rafe Cameron telling you he and his Kook lifestyle wasn’t perfect?

It had to be the alcohol talking. It’s burning through your veins, making you actually consider speaking to someone so deviously pristine. Part of you believed it was to forget your troubles, the other part wondered what lies beneath the surface of the self-proclaimed prince. The more you gazed at him, the more sweetness you saw, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else about Rafe that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but maybe you two had more in common than you thought.

“Please, Rafe, don’t give me your pity party parade. People like you don’t know real misery.”

“On the contrary little dove, he who you see before you has many layers, my rips, and tears, however, are patched up and easily hidden. Yours, however… well, yours are prominent and hanging by threads.”

Ouch. There is the haughty personality that you knew would peek out eventually. The sting of his words appeared on your face as he tries to console the wounds he inflicted.

“Everyone is tattered and worn little dove; it’s how you patch those tears that matter.”

“What are you getting at here, Rafe? Cause it seems to me, despite how sweet you think your sentiment is, you just don’t know how to truly console someone you see as lesser than you.” You want to keep your annoyance you have with Rafe, but with each comment and... and that nickname, he cracks your shell a little bit more.

“I don’t believe you are less than me beautiful, I just…” He sighs. “You’re right, I’m not good at consoling others.” He pauses briefly before he continues, knowing he has to bring himself down a level or he won’t get anywhere with you.

“How’s this then… how about instead of talking we just keep each other company? You don’t even have to speak to me if you don’t want to, though I’d prefer it if you did.” A small wink is shot your way.

“We aren’t just gonna sit here in silence Rafe, I don’t want that kind of company.”

“Well… then how about we ditch the sand and trade it in for something a little more… luxurious?”

There it was, the danger you felt. An offer from Rafe Cameron to go, god, knows where to do god knows what. It excited you, the unknown world of Rafe. You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to fully plunge yourself into forbidden territory, but there it was again. The panic rising in your chest, the thoughts and stress you wanted to escape creeping up again, threatening to attack if you let them linger too long. With that, you took your red cup and downed the remainder of its contents, pushing back your burdens once more.

Looking into Rafe’s eyes, there was a sparkle of chaos hidden deep within his soft gaze. It made you weak, it made you yearn for something more than this party at the Boneyard. With that, your decision was made. You gave him a smile and shook your head, trying to contain the eagerness you suddenly felt.

This is isolation

Kept in the dark and waiting

You're wearing the crown of kingdoms I created

Now I can't escape it

All of the light is fading

Rafe was up in seconds, extending his hand down to you; an almost menacing smirk overtook his face. As you clasp your hand into his and you’re brought to your feet, you stumble into his side, gripping tighter to keep your balance. Rafe was quick to slide his free arm around your waist, steadying you.

“I got you little dove, lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

His sweet like honey words swallowed you now. A flush of red kisses your cheeks. Was it his promise to not let you fall or was it the nickname he spoke to you that made your head swirl more than the alcohol ever could, you weren’t sure, but you wished the feeling wouldn’t stop.

It wasn’t long before you were in Rafe’s car and driving who knows where, but what you did know was the excitement you felt was overwhelming your fear.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to show you what a real party is like, beautiful.”

The compliments he kept spewing towards you, a simple Pogue girl, was astonishing. You never believed a Kook like Rafe would see you as anything but a “dirty Pogue.”

“Can I ask a question?” You turn your head towards the boy.

“Of course, little dove. Anything.” He places his free hand on your bare thigh and a light squeeze follows it.

The shiver sent down your spine, tantalized your thoughts. You no longer could think straight. He glances over to you, a smirk once more gracing his lips.

“Why little dove? I- I mean, why are you calling me that?”

“Well, I thought that was obvious, darling? You know my name, but I still have yet to learn yours.”

Your face drops at the realization that you never indeed introduced yourself to Rafe. Of course, you knew who he was, everyone knew who he was, but you? You were no one. Of course, he didn’t know your name.

“O-oh my god, I’m sorry I didn’t even realize I didn’t... uhh,” you chuckle nervously at your idiocy. “The names (Y/N).” You spit out between nervous breaths and awkward giggles. The alcohol was still strong in your system.

A light, almost innocent laugh passes his lips, looking over to you. “It’s okay (Y/N), I don’t mind giving a beautiful girl a nickname that suits her.” He winks. “In fact, I think you’re stuck with little dove from now on… if you don’t mind, of course.”

You hadn’t realized the car had come to a stop in front of a vast mansion. The architecture was beautiful and symmetric with white pillars on the outside. Perfectly kept flowered hedges and trimmed grass graces the front yard. It was like a picture, pristine and undamaged.

“I-I don’t mind no… not at all.” You smile sheepishly towards the boy as he turns the key and shuts the ignition off.

“Well, here we are… are you ready for a real party?” He asks, stepping out and quickly meeting you at the passenger side. Opening the door, he offers you his hand once more.

Taking his hand, you lean once more on his side, steadying your balance. Unsure where the night is about to guide you. Despite the pristine image outside the house once in the door, the whole feeling has changed. There were Kooks everywhere, and to say you felt a little out of place was an understatement. Loud music blared through the open rooms filled with people drinking, smoking, laughing, and smiling. Much like at the Boneyard, but the atmosphere was entirely different.

Rafe sensed your new-found hesitation, but he wasn’t about to let you slip away. Not when he finally had you where he wanted. Pulling you closer to his side, he whispers into your ear—his warm breath causing you to gasp slightly at his now lower smooth tone.

“Relax… you can trust me.”

All you could do was shake your head. You weren't quite sure how this boy made you so weak at the knees, but you wanted to believe him, so you did.

He paraded you through the party, introducing you to the skeptical Kooks whose eyeballs felt like daggers in your chest. Their disdain and judgment of you unspoken with you wrapped around Rafe’s side.

Finally, on the last stop of the tour de la Cameron, he brought you through a room that outlooked towards the pool area. He brings you up towards a smaller group of people. Two of which you recognized as Rafe’s loyal posse. Topper and Kelce.

“Hey what’s up my man, where have you been all night?”

They exchange greetings and eyeball his new hip attachment IE you. They look over to Rafe with enigmatic smiles spread across their face, but before they could say anything to you, the boy spoke.

“Boys this is (Y/N), she came to experience what real luxury is like. So I expect her to be treated like the best guest of honor she is.”

Topper and Kelce share a glance and shrug off the ideas of Rafe, bringing a Pogue to their side of the island. They figured he had other intentions behind his new side piece.

“Right well welcome (Y/N) I hope you’re ready for some real fun.” The boys gleamed their fakest grins towards you.

Rafe pulls you over and sits you down next to him, a clear glass table in front of you. The other two boys sit across from you. After a seemingly relaxed conversation, he claps his hands together and lets out an excited laugh.

“Alright, boys, the real fun begins.” Looking over to you, he releases your hand that you’ve been holding and pulls out a small plastic baggy with a white substance inside. He makes quick work of the substance cutting out four clean and tight lines onto the table. Rolling a dollar bill into a cylinder, he passes it over to Kelce.

The muscular boy leans towards the table cylinder in hand against one nostril while he plugs the other. In one swift movement, the white powder was gone, and he passed the bill over to Topper. He quickly follows suit. Both the boys cheer out a sudden burst of euphoria that rattles their bodies. Looking on to Rafe as he was up next.

You pulled at his arm in shock at the site you’re seeing unravel in front of your eyes. He could see the worry written all over you.

“Don’t worry darling, a little blow never hurt anyone.” He pats your head, running his hand down your hair, and leans over and plants a kiss onto your cheek.

The sudden physical affection made you swoon as you bite your lower lip, still looking at him with concern in your eyes.

“I-I don’t know about this, Rafe.”

“Shhh, just watch it’ll be fine.”

He lowers his abdomen down with haste cleaner and faster than the previous boys; the powder is gone. Almost as if he’s done this regularly. Maybe Rafe Cameron wasn’t lying to you earlier. Perhaps he really was hiding an unseen misery. Your heart suddenly ached for the boy as he leaned up and pinched his nostrils a few times, sniffing back the remnants of the content he just consumed.

“It’s your turn beautiful. This will clear out all that misery from earlier, I promise.” He extends the rolled-up bill to you, his eyes darting down your body, trying to read your response.

You don’t speak. You just stare at him, and the boys across from you obnoxiously chuckle.

“Come on (Y/N) you’re a Pogue you should be used to this shit on the Cut.”

“Where’s your courage, girl?”

The boys tease as Rafe shoots them a glare, silencing them immediately. You reach out your hand shakily towards the rolled-up bill. Questioning why you’re even considering this. His words from earlier echo in your head, ‘you can trust me.’

“It’s easy, I promise I’ll even help you. Trust me, you’ll feel like you’re on top of the world. Once you’re there, the real party begins.”

“I-I’m scared.” You whisper to Rafe as he pulls you closer.

“No reason to be scared sweetheart, I got you. Remember, I won’t let you fall.” His hand cups the side of your face. His eyes looking deep into yours so soft and sweet as he's gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself you wanted to live a little. You wanted this freedom, this danger. So it was now or never. You leaned down as Rafe bends to help you. The boy pressed one of your nostrils closed and instructed you to snort in fast and move down the line. You shake your head, confirming to him you were ready.

“Come on, little dove… let’s fly.” These were the last words you remember hearing as you snorted your first line of blow. Rafe cooing to you as you faded out.

This isn't trust

This is manipulation

Taglist: @pit-zuh

(Tbh I wanted to tag a few other mututals but I’m nervous so sorry!)

Part Two coming soon-ish?

148 notes · View notes

minghaocouture · 4 years

Text

Fearless: Chapter 10

Pairing: Werewolf!Jeon Wonwoo x Vampire!Reader Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Non-Idol Au Warnings: Language WC: 3.4k+ AU Lore: Vampire Coven Info/Wolf Pack Info/Lore Info Tag List: @moon-asia @uglychildd @woozisnoots @hwangjangmi @rjsmochii @fluffyhyeju @darkacrimson @skjdln @moonchild9499

Couldn’t Tag: @unbaeknownst, @Angelmingyu

A/N: We’re just gonna pretend it’s not 1am and I didn’t upload this super late lol. I also wanted to leave you guys with a little cliff hanger <3

Chapter List: Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/Chapter 5/Chapter 6/Chapter 7/Chapter 8/Chapter 9/Chapter 10/Chapter 11/Chapter 12/Chapter 13/Chapter 14

It was far too early for it to be this loud in this house. Running on a different internal clock than the other occupants of this house proved to be more of an issue to you than you had originally thought.

Now here you were, head hidden under a pillow as you tried to block out the rummaging and chatter from downstairs. You were trying to get over your previous prejudice of the wolves and their pack, but as of this moment you were finding it really hard not to keep hating them, if only for the noise they were all currently making.

A groan left your lips as you heard another loud crash from downstairs. Rolling over and burying your face into the mattress, as if that would help. Hell it didn’t even block out the small laughter in the room you were currently in. Peeking out from under the pillow, you glanced over to the bed that Wonwoo had slept in the night before. He was now sitting up and staring at you, laughing at your struggle. To add insult to injury he apparently decided that sleeping shirtless was something that was okay, even with you in the room.

“Oh laugh it up, wolf boy. We’ll see who's laughing when I find a way to wake you up in the middle of the night.”

“I mean, I could always stay over at your place and give you the opportunity?” The suggestion had you quickly exiting your pillow hiding place and sitting up to face him. Eyes wide as you stared at him, confused by his sudden bold words. “Or...you could call me late at night until I wake up. That works too.”

Rolling your eyes at his quick backtracking and letting out a loud yawn, “I mean, the first one is kind of an option, but I’m still not too sure if i’m going to have a ‘place’ after all this is over with.” You retorted, lifting your arms in the air as you stretched. Working the muscles a bit so they would be less tense. You had been trying to not think about that. Becoming a stray wasn’t something you would want to happen, after all it wasn’t like you wanted to be basically alone for the rest of eternity. Which is what would happen if you were cast out, you definitely weren’t going to join a different coven. It’d feel wrong.

“Well, what’s...what’s the deciding factor? I, well none of us really know all that much about how Vampires work, well besides the basics. And...how to kill you.” That was fair, you barely knew about werewolf living. Deciding to lighten the mood a bit, a grin made its way onto your face.

“Alright, I’ll tell you that if you tell me why all of you look about the same age. It’s...actually kinda weird.” You knew that Werewolves weren’t immortal like Vampires, but something about how everyone in this house looked the same age was a bit off putting. It wasn’t huge, but it was strange, you figured that packs would have like older wiser wolves, like your Coven’s with the Venture, not just a bunch of people in their 20s.

A brief moment of realization hit you, causing your eyes to widen as your thoughts raced. If you were Wonwoo’s mate and he was...only 20. That was, understandably, a bit weird. You were well over a century old, and if he was 20 you were old enough to literally be one of his great great great grandmother. That had to be creepy.

Apparently you had been broadcasting your thought process across your face, cause once again that familiar deep toned laugh spread through the room and causing a rather strange chill to tingle down your spine. It wasn’t a bad chill, just unexpected. Masking that feeling with an irritated scowl, you grabbed your pillow and hurled it at his head. Catching it, he placed it on the bed next to him before speaking up again.

“That actually has to do with our mates. We stop aging when we turn 20 until we find out mate. Well, find and actually uh…’mate’ with the mate.”

“So you won’t age unless we have sex?” You questioned, not bothering to tiptoe around the subject. “Wait...wait a damn minute. You won’t age unless we have sex? How old are you then?”

He paused for a moment, taking a minute as he seemed to be thinking about his own age. Which honestly was something you could relate to. After so many years alive, they kind of just start blurring together.

“I’m going to be 93 this year.” The relief you felt at those words had you letting out an audible sigh. At least you weren’t some creepy old woman compared to him, that would have just been weird if he had actually been 20. Well, to you it would have been. You knew others, mainly Soonyoung, would disagree. Though he definitely wasn’t the best example, considering he still considered himself to be 24 despite being 132.

Realizing that you had once again become lost in your own mind, you turned your attention back to Wonwoo and noticed that he was staring at you. The look in his eyes caught you off guard, it was almost as if you had just hung the stars in front of him with how intent his gaze was. It seemed that now with this mate business out in the open, he didn’t feel the need to hide anything. It didn’t make you uncomfortable, and in fact you wouldn’t mind seeing that look more often. Letting out a small cough to focus yourself once more, you decided to hold up your end of the exchange.

“So, technically all the major decisions in the Coven are made by the Inner Circle. Which includes our Venture, Soonyoung, the Primus, Junhui, as well as two of the other members, Minghao and Chan.” You began, unfortunately Vampire politics was extremely annoying to deal with at times, which is why you weren’t going to go into what a Venture or Primus was unless he asked. Thinking about it, you honestly didn’t know how Minghao put up with it all, he seemed to hate it almost as much as you did.. “I’ve technically got one vote in my favor, and probably one against me, but i’m not too sure how Chan and Soonyoung will react so it’s all up in the air.”

You were pretty sure that Minghao was still on your side, at least you hoped he was. Despite his neck being on the line too, you knew that he wasn’t the type of person to throw others aside, he was loyal if nothing else. You could say the same for Junhui, but he had been pretty upset though, and if Junhui was upset then Soonyoung would probably listen to him and if that happened then you knew Chan would as well. So basically it all would depend on how Junhui reacted to you...walking out after yelling at him...and basically inviting him to kick you out.

So you definitely hadn’t done yourself any favors.

You hadn’t realized that Wonwoo had gotten up until you felt the bed shift a bit as he took a seat next to you, his hand reaching for yours and the instant comfort you felt at that contact was almost ridiculous. A thought passed through your mind, wondering if the feelings that were rushing through your brain were simply from this mate thing between the two of you...or if they were real. That would be a question for another day though.

“I’m sure everything is gonna turn out fine. You gotta trust them a little, Covens are kind of like families right? Just like our pack. So i’m sure they’re going to look out for you too.” You weren’t sure if he knew how much those words meant, and you certainly weren’t going to tell him. After all, you had to keep at least some of your tough image. Though...around him you could probably drop it...just a little bit.

You felt yourself subconsciously scoot closer to him and without even thinking about it you found your head resting on his bare shoulder. He tensed at the added weight but soon the hand holding yours had adjusted to where it wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You weren’t sure if the Mate thing had anything to do with how you were feeling, but you weren’t about to move now.

“I’m sure you’re right.”

You weren’t sure how much time passed, the two of your just sitting there in silence. But it wasn’t long enough.

The door to the room practically slammed open and you felt your body push itself as far away from Wonwoo as you could. Going so far as to even shove him away as well. Eyes snapping to the door you were greeted by Mingyu, who’s grin could only be described as ‘shit-eating’. He really did have a punchable face, and he was only proving it more.

“Cheol wants you guys to come to breakfast.” He said, obviously holding back laughter as he looked between the two of you. If looks could kill, you were sure that Mingyu would have been dead twice over just from the look Wonwoo was giving him. More than that if you were being counted in the equation.

You groaned as you watched Mingyu close the door, making over exaggerated kissing noises, followed by the sound of footsteps and him yelling something to the other wolves. Which you could assume was related to what he just walked in on. Meeting him for the first time, you were already wondering how someone like Wonwoo could handle being his roommate.

“Is he always like this?”

“I love him, and he is my best friend...but yes, yes he is.”

***

You were pretty sure you were only here so Seungcheol could keep an eye on you. It’s not like you were eating or anything, and the only reason you had a seat was because Sana was still bed ridden. It seemed that some people weren’t taking too kindly to you intruding on their breakfast, and the atmosphere had gotten so tense since you arrived. So it was going about as well as you had expected it to.

A few of the pack, mainly Wonwoo, Vernon, Jacob and Felix, did try their best to seem welcoming but everyone else present was definitely more on edge with you around. Especially Changbin, and if you were being honest his constant glaring was starting to get a bit annoying. First he complained about having to keep the curtains closed while you were around, then it was he didn’t want to sit across from you at the table, and now it was a completely different story.

“Why does she have to sit in here? It’s not like she’s going to eat anything.”

You felt your eye twitch ever so slightly, your jaw clenching in irritation. It was harder to fight your more stubborn and temperamental nature, but you were playing nice so attacking him (even verbally) would probably put you on thin ice. Despite knowing this, you weren’t one to sit back and get verbally harassed.

“She’s a guest, we’re not just going to make her hang out around the house alone.” Which was definitely Seungcheol’s code for, ‘she’s technically still an enemy so we don’t want to give her free range of the house’. It didn’t take a lot to read that guy, he was a good leader or Alpha as they called it, but he was an open book.

Changbin scoffed, shoving another serving of rice into his mouth before he did. To his left Felix let out a small sigh, obviously wishing the other male was in a better mood. The male across from you, the taller stone faced one who you were fairly certain was named Hyunwoo, spoke up.

“Have you heard anything from the human? Or your coven?”

His question had you shaking your head, but you did pull your phone out to check once more just in case someone had messaged you during, what you were calling, the worst breakfast...ever. You weren’t surprised to find a plethora of messages from Hyunjin, asking where you were and over all just kind of freaking out, there were also several from Siyeon, Kevin and Yuna, and even a few from Gahyeon and Eunbi. None from Minhyuk or any of the inner circle though. Which was what you expected. The inner circle was probably trying to decide what to do with you and well, Minhyuk likes hearing about the drama from a distance.

“Nothing from the Inner Circle, no. I am planning on checking in with Minah around noon, and if she agrees to the plan then I’ll go grab her from the bar and bring her back here.”

“And how are you planning on doing that? It’s not like you can go outside before dark and get her. And your whole plan is useless if the stray sees the two of you together. Or did you not think of that?” Once again Changbin decided to speak up, gracing your nerves with tiny spikes of irritation. “Or is there even really a stray in the first place! I still don’t believe you’re telling us the truth. You were probably just a distraction so one of your other disgusting friends could attack Sana.”

If you cared less about your phone, you probably would have broken it with how hard you were squeezing the device, but thankfully you knew self control. Or at least you pretended like you did. It seemed though, that Changbin was just determined to push your buttons, and you’d had enough.

“You know, I didn’t take this shit from my Coven, and let me tell you, i’m not going to be taking it from you.” You began, trying to cool your expression as you stared at the male at the other end of the table. You heard Wonwoo sigh from next to you, of course since he knew you the best he probably saw this snap coming. “Kiddo, you can hate me all you damn well want, but I want you to remember that I’m here to help you. So I’m gonna need you to back off.”

A loud slam sounded through the room as Changbin’s palms met with the hardwood of the dining table. A low growl slipped from his throat as he glared at you, obviously about to jump across the table to make this more of a physical confrontation. Silence fell over the room as his harsh gaze met your stoic one, sure you were pissed but this wasn’t the place to 100% lose your cool. From your side you heard a small growl leave Wonwoo as well, it was almost sweet that he felt the need to defend you, but you certainly didn’t need it.

“You think throwing a tantrum like this is gonna make me leave?” You questioned, a brow raised as you stared down the male who you assumed was younger than you. “It’s not gonna work, I am the Queen of tantrums and loud outbursts and let me tell you now, you don’t scare me.” It was definitely stupid to edge him on like that, especially since you were a guest. You’d probably come to regret it later but for now you were going to show that you weren’t someone that just got walked over. He would understand that.

For a moment you wondered when you started sounding like Minghao, maybe his general attitude was affecting you after all this time. It was amusing to think about, if this was how he and the others felt whenever you acted out. You’d have to question them...well if things worked out in your favor that is.

The air was thick with tension as the sound of a chair scraping against the linoleum cut through the silence.

“Changbin, sit down and finish your breakfast then go and get ready for your classes. ” It wasn’t too surprising to see Seungcheol standing from his seat at the end of the table. He was almost like a father, vaguely you wondered how old he was, it was impossible to tell just by looking at him. His eyes then found themselves looking directly at you. “And you, come with me.”

Would it be safe to say you were in the doghouse now?

Sliding your chair back, you felt something grab your wrist. Looking down you noticed it was of course Wonwoo, staring up at you with concern. Concern that you brushed off. Sure you had probably just pissed off the leader of the group that was housing you, and he could easily attack you or resend his invitation to the home which would end up hurling you outside into the unforgiving and burning sun, but that was too negative to think about at the moment even for you.

Despite your attempt at being nonchalant, Wonwoo gently tugged you closer to him so that his lips ended up right next to your ear.

“If you need me, just call.” the words caused you to chuckle slightly.

“You’re sweet, but I’ll be fine.” Was all you said in return, pulling away from him and following Seungcheol out the double doors of the dining room, to the right down the hallway and into what looked like a living room.

Once inside, you heard a sigh escape from the male as he took a seat onto one the weathered arm chairs. He gestured vaguely for you to join him and sit down. Taking the free chair on the far left of the room, it was a pretty comfortable chair. You definitely weren’t thinking about taking it with you or anything though. Glancing back over at Seungcheol, you watched as he lifted a hand to rub the bridge of his nose.

“You’re really not making this any easier for any of us.”

“Excuse me, for not just sitting around and taking shit from someone who is probably half my age. If not younger. ” You retorted, rolling your eyes. You could tell from watching Seungcheol that he was a good leader, probably better than Soonyoung (though with Soonyoung gone all the time, the bar wasn’t super high to begin with) but leadership can definitely take it’s toll.

“That’s the point. Changbin is only 33. He’s still technically a kid by our standards and he’s a little rough around the edges but…” he trailed off, you could see that he didn’t really want to talk about this. It probably didn’t help that you were a complete stranger. “The point is, even if he attacks first. If you fight back I have to be on his side.”

“That sounds like something a shitty leader would say.” The words slipped from your lips before you could even think of stopping them. You could tell that Seungcheol was taken back by them almost as much as you were. “I mean, should a leader be willing to tell their people when they’re in the wrong? I’m trying to play nice here for the sake of both of our groups, but I’m not just gonna let him talk shit to my face. Fixing things is a two way road, I can’t do this if he’s unwilling to even look at me without the intent to rip my throat out.”

“I understand but-”

“No, I really don’t think you do. I’m sticking my neck out to help you guys. I might lose my place in my Coven, my family, because I’m here. I’m not gonna do that, and get trash talked by a fucking kid.” The anger from the dining room, the fear from your current situation, everything seemed to be finally reaching a head. Your limbs shook lightly as you stared him down, not with an intent to fight, but with all of the emotions you were currently feeling.

He lifted a hand, stopping you from continuing. The room filled with silence once more as he seemed to contemplate your words. After a moment, he nodded solemnly.

“You’re right. I guess we’re all trying to work on ourselves during this. If we do go through with the mission tonight, Changbin will stay home. I think it’ll be best for everyone that way.”

Before you could respond, the loud tone of your phone rang through the room, signaling a phone call. Seungcheol gestured for you to answer it, which you were going to do with or without his permission.

The caller ID was definitely not a name you were expecting to see.

Soonyoung.

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