#what do you mean his hands and forearms aren't the plot

[dreadsuitsamus]

hi! i’m not sure if you’ve done this before but.. could i please request a vegeta x human!reader who’s heavily tattooed (legs, arms)? i have no real idea for a plot line for it but gather it’s not something he’s seen a whole lot of since coming to earth - if at all! happy for either SFW or NSFW, completely up to you if you don’t mind the idea? have a lovely day!

For Fun | Vegeta x Reader |

author's note: this idea has absolutely made my day. it just begs for a sweet little vegeta learning moment, since normally it's him explaining saiyan culture. i have chosen the sfw path here! it's also funny bc i've been contemplating tattoos lol and a vegeta tattoo has been on the brain for some time now. thank you for your request!!!! 🩷🩷🩷

pairing: vegeta x fem!reader

warnings: sfw, reader has tattoos, some nudity but no smut or anything remotely nsfw, post-namek but pre-androids and cell

You can feel Vegeta's eyes on you as you work on his suit, Bulma's lab being the only place you feel comfortable sharing space with him in— the racket of the tools at the very least would alert somebody of something nefarious happening. Your dear sister just had to have a soft heart (or rather, quite the boner) for the Saiyan, and now it's you that suffers the consequences while you patch up the blue suit with a precise needle and thread.

"I'm not going to ruin it." You snark at him, not exactly happy to be in his presence. He's a murderer! "I've fixed it for you before without an issue." Bulma's doing her best to copy whatever material this suit is made of, but she's having trouble competing with alien technology— though she'll certainly have it figured out soon. She's a petty thing on the regular, but test her intelligence with a challenge like this and she's more stubborn than acne on an asscheek.

"Mm." He never talks much, at least. But as you stretch your arm out to pull the thread taught, Vegeta moves to take your wrist in his hand. While strong and easily capable of smashing your poor bones to smithereens, his touch is on the softer side.

"What in the world are you doing?" Are aliens unaware of personal space??

Ignoring you initially, Vegeta's gloved fingers curiously glide along your forearm, eyes focused on the artwork adorning your skin. "Your tattoos make little sense. What sort of culture is this?"

"Culture?" You repeat the word dumbly, fighting the urge that lingers just under your skin, heart rate picking up as you will yourself not to shiver at his touch.

"These flowers and symbols, what do they represent? I've been on Earth long enough to know the culture here is nothing like these— furthermore, the lab rat has none at all."

The laugh that bubbles from your chest is easy. Perhaps Earth is the only planet, or one of few, with inhabitants that indulge in tattoos for pleasure rather than cultural representation. "They aren't part of any culture, Vegeta."

"Then what are they?" His brow furrows rather adorably, his lips pulling into a pout as you laugh at his ignorance.

"For fun."

"You marked yourself permanently for fun?"

"Sure did. I got tons of 'em. Some of 'em mean somethin', but for the most part they just bring me joy."

Vegeta releases you finally, shaking his head in a way that reminds you of your father when you first started inking up. "Silly Earth woman…"

"Oh come on. Tell me they aren't pretty." You smirk softly, eyes glittering with the twinkles of mischief. This is a new light on Vegeta, one that perhaps drew Bulma's generosity his way in the first place.

"Tch." A blush rises to his cheeks and he looks away, staring a hole into the wall. "They're not ugly."

A not-so-pretty snort escapes you as you resume patching the suit up, tying and clipping off the end of the thread after the hole is closed up. "I got my first tattoo when I was seventeen. I was young and dumb and in love with a guy I thought I would be with forever." You murmur softly, pulling up the leg of your sweatpants to show off the heart by your ankle. It's old and faded by now, but your lips still pull into a smile at it.

Vegeta takes the moment to examine it, brushing a curious knuckle over the tattoo. His curiosity is sweet, and this must've been on his mind for ages now— it's not like him to get handsy or remotely talkative at all. "Saiyans never took part in these."

It makes all the sense in the world; from what you've pieced together by Vegeta's quiet, rarely spoken about tales of home and with the love for fighting that gushes from both his and Goku's hearts, Saiyans aren't exactly sentimental. "Well… You're on Earth now. You could get a tattoo just for the hell of it."

"I have no need." Vegeta looks away again, and you shrug to yourself.

"They're not for everyone, I guess." You hold the repaired suit out, feeling a tad bummed out that the sight of him in a tank top and sweatpants will be gone soon, but a lilt of surprise thrums in your heart when he sets it on the table and looks at you instead.

"Do you… have more of them?"

You laugh and tug at your t-shirt, pulling it off in the face of the blushing prince and revealing several more tattoos, most of which he's never seen before. "You got time?"

"You could certainly warn a man before you start stripping." He grumbles out, forever the prude even in the face of a gorgeous woman and her body.

"So sorry." Your tease bounces off of him as his curious fingers run along the lines on your tummy, sides and just below your breast. You're bare to him almost entirely, as you've never worn a bra at home and certainly didn't intend to start just because a man moved in, though his eyes and touch are calmly curious and genuinely interested in the artwork you're laced with, rather than the perky breasts and soft skin that would have most men acting a fool by now.

It almost has you feeling ugly, though that near-permanent tint of red that dusts his cheekbones reminds you otherwise.

"Don't forget the one on my back." Your murmur is gentle, only there to invite him further into the journey without jostling his concentration too much. And he takes your advice, stepping behind you while tracing the intricate linework of the massive tattoo, pausing at the sight of the gorgeous mural on your back. You've spent quite a bit of money on this, suffered the pain of the needle piercing and permanently scarring your skin to the patterns that'll forever mark you, and the admiration Vegeta has for your commitment alone is monumental.

Even gloved, his touch warms your skin in the lab's cool conditions and that little spot on your back, the one that had you shaking and embarrassed as your tattoo artist that, bless his resilience, dealt with with more care than a fucking surgeon to properly tattoo, flutters against the accidental tickle. You shift, muffling a laugh into your palm and there's a pause before Vegeta drags his fingertips over the spot again, and then once more.

"Your laugh isn't ugly either." He mutters and steps away, the warmth of his proximity erased and goosebumps covering your body now.

Standing ten toes down and looking over your shoulder, your lips twist in gentle glee upon catching his dark eyes with your own. It's taken some time, but you've finally found what Bulma saw in Vegeta that allowed him into your shared home.

He's flustered by such intimacy and he quickly snatches his Saiyan suit up before rushing towards the door. "Put a shirt on, you vile woman, or you'll catch a cold." Vegeta grumbles out, hightailing it towards the comfort of his gravity room and far away from whatever the hell just happened.

"Must be the first time he touched a woman." You snicker, tugging your shirt on and cleaning up the mess, lest your sister properly bitch you out for it later on.

The ghost of his touch remains, and even under the duress of several times Earth's gravity, Vegeta's palms fondly remember the feeling of your skin.

[julianalvarez9]

PLAYING FAIR / RÚBEN DIAS

SUMMARY: Once John had learned that he couldn't assist bernardo's wedding, he had given the responsibility of looking after you to the person he trusted most. but maybe it wasn't the best choice.

PAIRING: stones!reader x rúben dias

REQUEST: What about a smut with Rúben where he takes you to the bathroom at Bernardo's wedding because he couldn't keep his eyes off of you and telling you how much he wants to make you his ?

WORD COUNT: 1.3 k

WARNINGS: smut with a plot, unestablished relationship, unprotected sex, don't know what else (?

you didn't know why you had decided to come to bernardo's wedding when john told you he couldn't make it. of course, you tried to convince yourself that you were friends with ines, -which wasn't completely a lie, so your presence there was justified. no one would have batted an eye if you missed it, so, why had you agreed to come?

the answer was breathing on your neck right now, whispering "you're not playing fair right now" against the shell of your ear, after ignoring you all night. his calloused hands held tight onto your waist to stop you from grinding against him, a special vengeance after he only dared to watch you from afar, only getting closer when everyone else was too drunk to care. that wasn't the case for you, just tipsy, enough to make you forget that half of the people invited here knew you, your brother, and rúben.

turning around, but still in his hold, you crossed your arms annoyed, and he had to maintain his eyes on yours, even if he was tempted to drop his gaze down to your cleavage. "and you aren't?" you rolled your eyes, truly annoyed with his behavior. you had seen him around all day, ever since he arrived looking oh so devilishly handsome as always, and it was killing you inside that you couldn't do anything about it. "with your stupid waistcoat," tugging into the clothing item that was hidden all night under the jacket he decided to wear, until the high hours of the morning. 

your hands traveled from the end of the waistcoat to the top of his shoulders, not without feeling his abdomen in the middle, making rúben hold in a breath. "...and your stupid white shirt," you said, going down the length of his arms, so big and strong as always, and reaching his forearms that were showing after he rolled up his sleeves due to the portuguese heat. you huffed, almost defeated at how pretty he was. "and i'm not pointing out your stupid face".

rúben's brows furrowed at that, not understanding the meaning of your words. pouting, he questioned, "what's wrong with my face?", which made you shake your head and drop it against his chest in resignation. "you don't get it because you can't see yourself".

he grinned with his million dollar smile at the compliment, and you wrapped your arms behind the portuguese's neck. he freezed, for a moment, remembering where you were, but his anxieties seemed to ease when he looked around and saw that everyone around was too engrossed in the music playing, anyways. "you were watching me all night," you deadpan, and he doesn't understand what you meant by the statement until you continue talking, "don't know why you're all worried if someone sees us now".

"i told your brother i'd keep you safe," rúben shrugs, and you groan at the mention of your older brother. you giggle, "you're doing such a good job, clearly", and he has to avert his eyes to avoid the bedroom eyes you're giving, taunting him. "if i was, joão wouldn't even have laid a finger on you". his jaw is locked now, nostrils flaring at the mention of the fellow portuguese who had gotten seated next to you, miraculously, and not, in any way, an attempt from ines to exercise her matchmaking skills.

the sight is just too funny to avoid pointing out, so you're giggling "no way! you're jealous!" before you can think about any other than you two hearing. it has rúben fuming in a way you haven't ever seen before, and it's not long until he's dragging you out of the dancefloor.

"i'm not," is the first thing he says once he closes the door, hard. you look around and realize that you're in the very nice and fancy bathroom of the salon where the reception is held, and rúben gets annoyed about your eyes wandering around instead of focusing on him. "i'm not" he repeats, grabbing your chin forcefully with his fingers, to get you looking straight at him.

"then why did you drag me here?".

the answer was easy, but hearing rúben say it wasn't what you expected. much less, the deep tone he used and the way his heavy breathing ghosted over your neck. "because you seem to be forgetting who you belong to". using the deep cut your dress had to his favor, sneaking his hand under the clothing to cup your pussy, earning him a small breathy moan, "so i've gotta remind you".

the smirk painted on his lips is borderline devilish when he feels how wet you already are. "you wanted this, didn't you?". he lifted you up on the counter, making sure you were close to the edge of it before resuming the heated kiss. he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling away before letting go and you whine in pleasurable pain. "wanted me to drag you here and fuck you? that's what you wanted?".

you can't say yes, because he's overwhelming you in all the best ways, but the way your hips buck against his hand should tell him the answers. your legs are spread wide, granting rúben all the access he could need, and he takes the invitation, slick fingers rubbing small circles on the sensitive bud. you can't take the teasing any longer, so you start to beg for him to do something, and it's not long until you feel him fiddling with the black belt, losing it before pulling himself out of the confinement of his pants. 

your lips never detached from each other, proven to be useful in trapping greedily the moans that escaped your lips and the grumbles that resonated in the back of his throat. "can you be quiet for me?" he asked, and you nodded eagerly, feeling him teasing your folds, coating himself in your juices. you were so wet the filthy noises could be heard over the loud music outside of the room you two were in, but you were too needy for him to care about being embarrassed. "p-please. i'll do what you say".

being dominant was part of who he was, both on and off the pitch. but there was something in the way you looked so submissive underneath him that lightened him up like a flame, burning him from the insides with desire.

he was slow at first, looking intently at the way he disappeared inside you that had you gasping for air until he, finally, bottomed out. he knew you two had to be quick, but he couldn't care less about the passing of time at the moment: there was no way he could last long by the way you were squeezing around him, with his hip snapping against you. "fuck, fuck, i'm not gonna last long" rúben whimpered, forehead pressed against your own, and his rough voice pulled you closer to the edge.

with a particular deep thrust, you're done, falling apart on rúben's hold. he continues to fuck you through your high, and it's not long until his own movements starts getting sloppy as his own orgasm hits him, his warm seed coating your insides.

the cold marble felt nice against your hot skin, keeping you grounded even if you were about to pass out from the pleasure. rúben murmured praises in your ear, telling you how good you did for him, how perfect you were at the same time he was helping to clean you up, and you couldn't be more grateful for him.

a few minutes later, once you had gotten your breath in control and could stand straight again, you said "you didn't tell me why i wasn't playing fair", turning around from facing the mirror once you had finished getting your hair right. with your index finger pointing hard at his chest, you emphasized, "according to your rules, of course". rúben tilts his head back in laughter, and even if you can hear the music louder than before, the giggles that erupt from his mouth can be heard clear as day. "you're too pretty for your own good".

[5eraphim]

Freaky Deaky Sneaky (TEASER)

(Red!Scout x Blu!Reader x Red!Sniper)

(Context: This is the unofficial sequel to The Bunny Under the Bridge, not much of a plot to speak of, but Reader has snuck onto Red base after hours to meet up again with Scout for practice. It's not long until hearing a Red Engineer in the distance scares Reader who runs and hides, accidentally finding the Red Sniper along the way, learning he saw everything that went down during the match Reader and Scout met)

This is sort of like "story's second act" but I haven't posted actual writing here in ages and i wanted to post at least this much.

Rating: M (MINORS DNI)

Content Warnings: yandere, x reader, exploitation, sex-bargaining, blackmail, smut, mild humiliation

Word Count: 1.7k

MASTER LIST

"Sniper!?" His name came out in a gasp, louder than you intended. His bony, sullen face watched you, obscured by shadows, making him look almost ghoulish, a sight that made your skin crawl. Goosebumps prickled under your heavy white coat and across the back of your neck and forearms as you instinctively clamped a hand over your mouth, craning your neck to look over your shoulder at the door behind you, half-expecting the Red Engineer to be right behind. But from the sound of it, Engie hadn't noticed you, nor were there any other Red mercenaries close by, all but the Sniper, that is.

After another moment of painful silence, you strained your eyes to glimpse Sniper out of the corner of your eye. Sniper hadn't moved from his camping chair. You weren't sure if you found his motionless calmness assuring or disquieting. "Sniper, what are you doing here so late?" 

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you incredulously, "What am I doing here?"

Your lips parted to say something to your defense, but your mind went blank, and no words came.

After an awkward pause, Sniper mumbled, "Van's getting weatherized. I had to find somewhere else to crash. I can't sleep around the other guys; there's too much bloody noise."

"I'll leave you to it." Whirling around to make an escape, you tried to dart for the door but stopped dead when you heard Sniper say, "In an awful rush to get goin', aren't ya? Looking for another snog with the little bunny-boy?"

You felt your stomach flop and your mouth go dry, "You saw...?" Your heart raced, but Sniper didn't say anything back, watching with satisfaction as you put the pieces together. He must've been hiding around the bridge before you brought Scout there, and it made all too much sense he wouldn't intervene; situations like that don't just happen every day around here. "You mean you saw… everything?" You hardly recognized the sound of your own voice, so frail and weak. All the shame you tried to repress rushed back at once, forcing you to remember exactly what went down between you and the Red Scout during your first match.

Hugging your arms around yourself to ease your shivering, you stared at Sniper, feeling like a bug in a spider's web. Sure, you were overcome by shame, but something about the way he looked at you, knowing he knew what you knew— that he saw what you did— made your face and body heat up uncomfortably. 

"You were watching us?" Hearing those words come out of your mouth felt so dirty. After what happened between you and Scout, your shame had you avoiding him like the plague, but even then, you couldn't ignore the thrill of it all. The thrill of getting away with something so vulgar brought back sensory memories. The phantom-sensation of his cock pressing against the back of your throat, the way you felt the slight bend of his shaft in your mouth, and how you could taste and feel how he throbbed and dribbled precome against your tongue. His hands fisting your hair, and the way he moaned as he came. You knew it was wrong, downright treasonous- but God, the feeling of getting away with it turned you on, but paradoxically, now that you knew you were caught in the act, it felt even hotter. In a morbid and humiliating way.

Sniper shrugged. "Nuthin' personal, it's always best to go for you Medics. Just how it is, mate."

You nervously scratched at the back of your neck, still summoning tremendous effort to speak. "But I don't understand—you say you saw everything and clearly did. Why the hell didn't you take the shot while you had the chance?"

Sniper couldn't help but snicker a little under his breath: "What can I say? You're easy on the eyes; you gave a good show. It would've been a shame to end it all so soon." 

"Hold on, do mean you were…" Your voice trailed off, for some reason too sheepish to ask Sniper outright if he was touching himself watching you go down on Scout.

Sniper knew what you meant, even if you weren't strong enough to say exactly what was on your mind. "Can ya blame me?"

While your outright fear of being spotted by the enemy sneaking around on his base had slightly worn off, your anxiety had only grown. You hardly knew the guy, but Sniper always gave a 'sleazy' air about him. Learning he was a voyeur wasn't much of a surprise; you just wish you didn't have to find out this way. 

If you tried to dart out of the room, you'd be instantly spotted, assuming Sniper didn't get to you first. Sheepishly, you inched closer to the wall beside you to put a bit more distance between you, never letting him out of your sight once. "Alright, I get why you didn't kill me then, but why not now?" It was his shed, after all; you knew he had a kukri or bow and arrow stashed somewhere to defend himself with. 

Resting his elbows on his knees, Sniper leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin in his palm as he responded with a wolf-like grin: " It would be a shame to let you go now. Only got to watch for a minute, but bloody hell, I can't get that image of you on your knees out of my head."

You had a bad feeling it would come down to something like this. Once again degrading yourself and allowing a Red mercenary to have his way with your body in exchange for not killing you outright. Was this all you would ever come to?

Pressing your back a little harder against the wall, you lowered your head slightly, glaring at him as though a baby Medic like you had a chance of intimidating the likes of him. "If anyone finds us, they'll kill us both. C'mon, you know it's not worth it!" 

Sniper paused to consider this momentarily, tilting his head a little in mock-deep thought, "They won't kill us both. Sure, they'll hate me- but when your team finds out, they're gonna tear you apart. Assumin' the Red team won't get to ya first."

Fighting the urge to cower in fear, you responded with meek hostility, "Maybe so. But I'd take them over you any day."

Bad move. While your resilience was cute before, Sniper's patience was beginning to wear thin. The corners of his lips twisted down as he bore his teeth, snarling at you as he got to his feet. "Be good, stay hidden, and I'll get you home faster than the twitchy little freak. Sound good?"

He was coming closer, but you knew better than to try and get away now. Hearing him order you to obey like that gave you a stir, and you prayed he couldn't tell how turned on you were.

"How am I supposed to trust you'll take me home after this?" Now close enough to press a forearm on the wall inches away from your head, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath fanning against your face and neck. 

"Like you said, we're dead if we're found. But right now, no one but me gets to touch you."

With his free hand, Sniper cupped the bottom of your head, running his callous-hardened fingers against your cheek and chin. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but you shuddered, feeling his skin against yours, knowing how close and defenseless you were before your enemy.

"Watchin' the show's nice and all. But God, I've been waitin' for the chance to feel you up myself. You're so much softer up close."

You didn't resist or flinch when you felt Sniper leaning close enough for his lips to brush against you. "Now let me feel that soft mouth myself."

A beat later, you felt Sniper open-mouth kissing against your lips, letting him suck against your lips, dip his tongue into your mouth, and hum with contentment mixing his saliva with yours. While you were a bit too stunned to properly return the affection, you felt his hold on your chin force your face harder against his, deepening the kiss.

He must've been pretty touch starved because you'd never felt such a hungry, needy kiss before. It didn't take long for his hands to latch onto your body, roughly palming you up over your clothes while his mouth was still connected to yours as he pushed you hard enough against the wall to make the air rush from your lungs.

You knew what came next, and the fear keeping you from doing exactly that made you feel light-headed and a little tingly. The tingles intensified into a steady buzziness deep in your gut as Sniper tore his lips from your mouth to the side of your neck, dragging his sharp teeth against the thin skin, sucking in between bites, slathering saliva against your skin. The back of your head crushed against the wall behind you as your head tried to roll back even further and allow him even more space to nip at. Sniper pawed against your tie for a second but was too distracted to undo it himself. Regaining control of your own hands, you managed to undo the knot, pulling the strip of fabric away as his hands were back on the collar of your shirt, popping the buttons, desperate to free your uniform from your body. 

Sniper was so needy to feel you up he didn't bother shedding his own clothes, preferring to madly pull yours off first. He was a man obsessed; all he could think about was how hot it was watching you go down and degrade yourself like you did with Scout and how he replayed that memory over and over in his head, imagining your body against his. Now that you were finally here, Sniper couldn't wait any longer to fulfill his horny fantasies.

[junkydrawr]

Another Snively fic snippet. In this scene, which takes place after Snively burned his uniform, Sally brings Snively to one of his chores for the day, working in Knothole's gardens.

Sally led him through the gardens. As they approached Rosie's large plot, he slowed, expecting to stop. But Sally kept walking. Snively followed her silently until they came to a plot with various vegetables and berry bushes.

A Mobian female was tending the bushes with her back to them.

"You'll garden here today, with Melinda."

Snively's mouth went dry. Melinda, the badger Mobian who'd said he'd tortured her.

"Rosie seemed to have more work," he said. "Can't I work with her?"

"Rosie is fine."

"But..."

"This is per Melinda's request. Stop whining and get to work." Sally gave him a firm glare and strode away.

Melinda had an impassive stare. "You can pull those thorny weeds there. Do you have gloves?"

They were in his back pocket. He pushed them down deeper with one finger and shook his head. "I forgot them. I'll go back and get them."

He wasn't getting away that easily. "No, I have some here you can use. They'll fit you." Her gaze seemed to linger on his hands as he reluctantly donned the offered gloves.

The badger clipped and dug around her plot while he knelt, working on the stubborn weeds. Their roots were tough and he grunted as he yanked and twisted.

He fell back on his rear and blushed. "Stubborn little gits."

She didn't smile. Of course not. She hated him.

Is that anything new? He grit his teeth and dug around the next root.

Suddenly, she was at his side. A dull knife was held in her hand. Her hand, however, was tremoring badly. She grasped it hard with her other.

If she's trying to cut my throat, she's doing a lousy job.

The tremor passed and she demonstrated several cuts deep on the root. "Sever it here. It'll come up easier and the next sprouting will be weaker and easily pulled. It usually takes two sessions to get rid of these once they root."

She handed him the knife. Her hand was starting to tremor again. He tried not to acknowledge it.

"I have nerve damage," she said. "In my brain. It affects this arm and hand."

You put a band on my head! You electrocuted me!

He cut at the next root without a word.

After two hours, she took a break, sitting cross legged and sipping from her canteen. Snively stood and stretched his back, drinking from his own.

"You've finally gotten rid of your uniform."

She was eyeing the scars he'd cut onto his own biceps. He turned the other way, casually. "Not by choice," he muttered.

"Of course not."

He didn't bother to decipher that.

She looked over the plot. "I think everything's squared up here."

Good. They had barely spoken to each other in the two hours, but he felt like she was waiting. Like she was analyzing him continually.

She sipped again. He didn't like her probing look and he avoided her eyes, brushing dirt off his gloves.

"I wanted to have some time alone with you," she finally said. "I was hoping you'd tell me what you remember of the day you fried my brains."

He kept his voice flat. "I already told you. I don't remember it. I don't remember you."

That steady gaze didn't move away. "Are you calling me a liar, Snively?"

"No." He hated the upward inflection of his voice. He'd been hammered with that question by Julian and it was always followed by a fist. He cleared his throat. "If you say it happened, then I imagine it did."

"I don't want you to imagine it."

Why the fuck wouldn't she look away? He shifted, feeling flustered. He wiped his brow with his forearm.

"I want you to remember."

"Well, I don't," he hissed. "What else can I say, Mobian?"

"How do you forget something like that?"

Because..." What did he owe her? He ground his teeth together. "...you...you aren't the first. I mean, if I did it." He couldn't take those damn eyes, pinning him like an insect to analyze. "...do you think I remember every one of you? You all blur together, Mobian."

Those eyes were still on him. Like needles. But she didn't ooze ire - only expectation.

"...I don't remember!" His voice rose. "I was out of it so much of the time. I took drugs...I drank! I..." He trailed off. Biting back his words. I didn't want to remember.

Finally. She looked away, staring at the garden. "Maybe. How would I know? It's not like I know you." She clasped her arm as it began to tremble again.

He took off the gloves and put them on the ground. "I'm going to see if Rosie needs help. If we're done here." He didn't want her tattling to Sally.

"Yeah. Go. Your gloves are in your back pocket, by the way."

He drew in a breath, but said nothing. He left.

--

[dizzydancingdreamer]

“So that’s how you want to play this, love?" | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey My Lovelies! I hope all is well today! I received a request ages ago from @activist-af to do something like this, as you will read below. I honestly aimed to fit the movie night theme in there but it was swallowed up pretty fast! I only meant for this fic to be 3000 or so words but, as it always seems to do, it got away from me.I truly hope that you enjoy this, you've given me an unwavering amount of support these past few months while I was battling a major bout of depression and writers block. I can't repay all the kindness and love you've given me but I hope this is a start! Much love darling! And much love to all of you lovelies! Please have a fantastic evening for me! <3

Please read before continuing: I usually wouldn't write this much before my story but I wanted to add this: this story is my first full blown smut. I'm honestly not sure how well it will go over but I tried to make it as loving and healing as I could. I take my writing very seriously. I know sex for many is a touchy subject, and that truly pains me. I sincerely hope every single one of you reading this feels all the love and saftey I tried to incorporate into this peace. I wish you an eternity of love and healing. Be safe my loves!

Request: "Could u do a mikaelson boys x reader? Any plot really, but I’d very much love it if it was a bit more Kol focused. there’s just such a lack of content for all three of them and I love your writing so much. If u need any plot point ideas maybe a movie night kinda thing? I really hold him a bit higher than the other boys. Or something similar to the fic with the Klaus + Eli being injured? Fluffy ending please, smut is fantastic too 🖤"

Description: Y/n is upset that the boys won't let her come on their mission with them, feeling isolated and useless. Kol is supposed to stay behind and watch out for her however things get heated after she tells him off.

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, mainly Kol and Elijah

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! This is a full blown smut, I honestly do not know how it happened, probably 4000/5000 words are pure sex scenes, also there's a bit of fighting/angst at the beginning of the first scene but it doesn't last

Word count: 5343 (I'm so sorry)

Tags: ANGST, SMUT (full on), FLUFF

(Pics aren't mine but the moodboard is :) )

“I really don’t see why you guys are leaving me behind, again,” you run an agitated hand through your hair, huffing indignantly at the two boys in front of you.

Yes, boys. Not men. If they aren't going to treat you like the full grown woman you are then no way in hell are you going to give them any validation either. Even in your head.

“It’s too dangerous,” Elijah’s chocolate eyes are stern, his hands clenching at his sides, “I can’t risk the witches doing anything to you as a way to get to us. You’re too important.”

Your chest warms slightly at his words but it isn’t enough to break down your resolve. Three hundred years under your belt; they’re going to need to do better than that if they want to keep you away. There are only so many times you can stay away from a fight, only so many times you can watch them come home hurt knowing that if you had gone with them then maybe you could have prevented it. You’re a family and you’re tired of feeling like you aren’t pulling your weight.

You narrow your eyes at the tall boy, still not man, trying to peer through all the red you’re seeing, “I’m not a child, Elijah.”

He stares right back, not backing down, his face cut like marble, unwavering. Beautiful but harsh. Stone. He wears a white shirt, the first button popped and the sleeves rolled to his forearms. His veins are prominent and tempting. Elijah means business. You swallow the lump in your throat, pushing away the heat growing in your stomach.

“Love, trust me, we know you aren't a child. Any other time I would gladly rip you upstairs and prove it. Right now, though, I agree with him. You’re staying here,” Klaus’ softer voice pulls your attention from your staring match with the eldest Mikaelson.

He has a leather jacket on, the material clinging tight to his arms, ready to burst. He’s smiling but it doesn’t reach his crystal eyes. He folds his arms neatly in front of him. He’s not going to budge either.

You scoff at him, shaking your head, “I want to come, Klaus. I need to.”

A new voice joins the three of you in the foyer, “I can make that happen, darling, but you’ve got to stay home with me if you want that.”

You don't even need to turn around to hear the smirk on Kol’s voice but you do anyway, meeting the youngest Mikaelson face to face. He has a grin on his lips, one that, in any other situation, would have you weak in the knees. He has a sweatshirt on and a pair of sleep shorts. He’s on babysitting duty, he doesn’t need anything else. You only roll your eyes at him before facing Elijah once more.

“I’m part of this family, too, you know. It should be my choice,” you have to will your voice not to crack, keeping your tone as low and as steady as you can, “I’m not useless, Elijah, as much as you’d obviously disagree.”

You rub your hands over your bare arms, fending off a sudden chill. You feel like there’s ice coursing through your veins. A traitorous tear tracks down your cheek but you make no move to get it. Elijah’s hardened face softens when he notices.

“Baby, come on,” he reaches to grab you but you step back, not allowing him to touch you.

He can’t do that, make the decisions for you. Maybe if you were still human it would be called for but now it’s not. Sure, you aren't a millennium like they are but you’re not a piece of glass either. You’re strong, whether they want to acknowledge it or not.

“Don’t, Elijah,” you back away further, your cheeks drenched but your eyes fierce, “I’ll see you guys in a few days. Be safe.”

You turn and walk away, ignoring all three brothers as they call out to you, heading up to your room before any of them decide to follow you. You close the door, not slamming it but not exactly shutting it gently either. You can hear Elijah sigh from the front hall and you know he’s tugging on his hair. Klaus swears, his frustrated voice floating up to your ears. More tears fall but you brush them away angrily, lifting a pillow from your bed and screaming into it. No doubt they can hear it but, right now, you couldn't care less. The front door shuts and your heart plummets.

You sit on the edge of your bed, gripping your dark comforter tightly. Usually you like being the one they take care of. You like being held, how small they make you feel. Right now, though, it’s too much.

A soft knock draws your attention to the door, Kol’s careful voice cutting through the wood, “darling?”

“Leave me alone, Kol,” you try your best to make your words harsh but you only sound tired.

“Not likely, love,” he presses, “you know I can go all night, now it’s up to you what that means.”

Your cheeks flush and, as if he can see you through the door, he chuckles. The sound echos through your chest, stirring the remains of anger and frustration and mixing them with something hot and untamed. You pull the door open, coming face to face with the smirking Mikaelson.

“Sorry you landed with babysitting duty, Kol, but I’ve kept myself alive for three hundred years now and I’m pretty sure I can handle two more days on my own. Why don’t you go help Elijah and Klaus, yeah? Seeing as you are the only three who can actually do any good. I’m clearly not strong enough to do anything so I’ll just sit here and look pretty and do absolutely nothing at all because I’m useless. Okay?”

With that you close the door in his face. Well, you try to but he wedges his body in the way so you can’t shut him out. Whatever smile had previously been on his face is long gone and in its place sits a deep frown. His brown eyes ice over slightly and he stands taller than he did mere seconds ago. You can feel a switch in the atmosphere and suddenly you’re face to face. You honestly can’t tell which one of you is more pissed off.

“So that’s how you want to play this, love,” he pushes closer to you, “you want to get angry, yeah? Alright darling, I can do that.”

You open your mouth to protest but before any profanities can fly out his lips are on yours, fierce and strong. He uses his foot to kick the door closed, slamming it into place. It’s done merely for effect. No one is home but the two of you. He spins you around aggressively, pushing you roughly against the hardwood. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, no doubt drawing blood. As if on cue a copper taste fills your mouth, drowning your senses in red. This time, though, the anger is mixed with a wicked kind of lust.

Your hands find his hair without your permission, tugging harshly at the roots. He groans into your mouth, a sound that makes you want to slap him across the face and wrap your legs around him all the same. His hand snakes around your waist, squeezing your hip with a fervour that will no doubt leave bruises that will take longer than usual to heal. He pushes against you, every single part of him rock hard.

“God fucking damnit, Kol,” his lips find your throat with painful ease, sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth in a way thats just this side of painful over pleasurable.

Right now, though, you crave every bit of pain that Kol lays on you. In a sick way you’re proving that you can take it. That you’re strong enough to do the things that they do. Another flash of red floods your vision when you think of the other two Mikaelson's who refused to let you help. You drag one of your hands down Kol’s back, scratching hard enough for him hiss against your neck.

He jerks away from you quickly, only long enough to rip the sweatshirt over his head before he attacks your neck again. He sinks his teeth in at the same moment he rips your tank top in half, lulling you into that sweet mixture of pleasure and pain, hate and lust once more. His shoulders are deliciously toned under your searching fingers and this time when you drag your nails down his back you know you draw blood. Serves him right anyway.

“Fuck, baby,” he wraps a hand around both of your wrists, pinning your hands above your head, “that kinda hurt.”

You want to claw the smirk off of his face. Or kiss it. You can’t quite decide. His other hand is slowly sliding up your back, inching towards the clasp of your bra. His eyes burn into yours, the inferno behind them nothing less than intense. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears so loud it’s almost hypnotic when combined with the tantalizing draw of his hand. It lulls you into a false sense of security, your eyelids heavy in anticipation. He stops moving when his fingers are about to undo the hooks.

He pushes his hips closer to yours, locking you between his body and the door. His stomach is hot against yours and cut like marble. Your fingers itch to feel every bump and dip with agonizing intricacy. Every inch of your skin is alight, every hair raised waiting for anything to happen. You can feel every breath he takes as if it’s your own, your covered breasts just barely grazing him with each rise and fall of his chest. It’s delicious torture.

“Before we go any further here, I need to know what you want. Do you want some quick fuck that’s going to leave you more angry when it’s done?” He rolls his hips against yours, sending sparks flying through your body at the first real touch you’ve had tonight, “or do you want me to make love to you like you know I can. And make all these terrible feelings go away. It’s your choice, darling?”

His words tangle and knot in the pit of your stomach, weaving through the white hot hatred that had been building in your stomach until it explodes. They hit you right at the source like missiles aimed with the utmost precision to destroy every bit of anger left in you. Tears prickle at the edge of your vision, your senses overloaded from the sudden loss of your fury. All that’s left in its wake is this gut wrenching feeling of not being good enough. It’s the original problem and he just effortlessly broke through to it.

“I,” you tug your bruised lip between your teeth, if only to keep it still, “make it go away, Kol. Please.”

“That’s all I want to do, darling.”

He releases your wrists, opting instead to haul your body into his arms and slamming his lips against yours once more. You waste no time running your freed fingers down his sculpted chest, admiring the way his muscles tense as he holds you up. You push yourself as close to his body as you can get, wrapping your legs around his taught stomach and clinging on for dear life. He kisses you slowly, as if drawing all the negative energy out of your body with his lips.

He walks the two of you backwards towards your bed, sitting on the edge, leaving you straddling his hips in the most delicious way. You push your hips to bring you closer together, wanting to feel every part of him that you can. He meets every movement with his own energy, wrapping an arm around you back to keep you pressed against him. Your body is warming up once more in his arms.

He pulls his lips from yours reluctantly, his hand snaking back to the clasp on your back, “this needs to go.”

You shiver at the light touch of his fingertips on your spine, arching with the click of the hooks coming undone. He pulls the lace from your chest slowly, his thumbs grazing down your arms, memorizing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. His eyes meet yours again and he drops the fabric on the ground next to your bed. His hands, now resting on your hips, trail fire up your stomach as they trace their way over your ribs.

“Kol, please,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, reveling in the warmth of his chest so close to your own, “I need you.”

There’s a glint in his eye again but this time you don’t want to slap him. No this time you want him to do heavenly things to every part of you. You want him to take the last remains of this awful feeling and snuff it out with his mouth. His hands finally crest the remainder of your ribcage, his thumbs teasing the underside of your breasts with tantalizingly careful circles. Tears sting your vision again from all the pent up energy inside of you.

“What shall I do, darling,” his thumbs draw along the sides of your breasts, stoking the untameable fire in the pit of your stomach once more, “tell me how you want me to touch you.”

His fingers dance closer to their target, each stroke driving your brain further into it’s Kol induced frenzy. All you can see, all you can hear, all you can smell is the boy in front of you.

“Kol,” his name falls from your lips in a desperate moan, “please just do something, god.”

He chuckles, a sound that flows like honey and wraps around every inch of you like silk. His eyes sear into your own, daring you to break his stare but you don’t. You can’t

“Well I could do this.”

His thumbs roll over your hardened nipples, as if to punctuate his words, and you see stars. You don’t even try to stop the moans that tumble from your lips, turning to clay in his hands. You give him free reign to mould your body in any way he desires, as long as hands never leave your skin. He pinches each bud between his fingers gently, pulling more praises from deep within you. His eyes never leave your face, drinking in each expression with unashamed greed.

“Or maybe I could do this.”

You know what’s coming when he leans forward, It’s quite clear what his intentions are. However, what you aren’t expecting is for the first gentle nip to send you so violently crashing over the edge that you have to squeeze your thighs around him to avoid falling off the bed. He doesn’t stop when you cry out and you don't want him to. Every swirl of his tongue around your nipple sends you spiraling further into the sweet oblivion he’s created just for you. He rocks his hips against yours while his mouth assaults you, pressing the delicious hardness against you while you fall apart.

He detaches his lips from your lips when you start to come down from your high, kissing his way up your sternum, over your collar bone, before settling on your throat.

“So beautiful darling,” he pulls your skin into his mouth as if he didn't just get enough just moments ago, “so damn beautiful.”

You press down on his hard length again, pulling a groan from deep within his chest, “I want all of you, Kol. Please.”

That's all the encouragement he needs to flip the two of you over and lay you on your back. He kneels between your legs, hooking his thumbs in your plaid sleep shorts and pulling them off much faster than he had down with your bra. He’s more than warmed up now, something that excites you to no end. You’re left laying in a pair of black lace panties that match the bra on your floor.

Kol’s eyes go dark at the sight, a growl that hardens your nipples again rumbling through the air. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh before pulling the lace off of you once more and adding it to the growing pile of clothes. He kisses the junction of your thigh next, sending electricity rippling through your body. It restarts the heat once more and the familiar wildfire rips through your abdomen. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to stand many more orgasms if each one is to be like the first.

“Please just make love to me, Kol, I need to feel you.”

He lifts his head from your thighs, a sight that you will never grow tired of, and his eyes set ablaze, “I was made for nothing more.”

Your heart flutters rapidly in your chest, a warmth spreading like butter over your bones. He kicks his own shorts and boxers off quickly, moving back up your body to rest between your legs. You drink in the heat radiating off his body, allowing it to soothe the remaining ache leftover from your small throw down. His one hand slips under your head, lacing through your hair gently. The other reaches between you, lining himself up against your opening. The slightest touch of him against you is enough to have you mewling his name already.

He teases you slightly, taking his sweet time before pushing in. The first thrust is pure magic, filling you in the way that only Kol can. Each of you boys feel different. Kol lights every one of your nerves on fire with his slow movements. He makes you feel every deliberate movement. He makes you know that every circle of his hips, every time he joins you together is done to perfection exactly how he intends. Kol makes you aware of your entire body and just how much control he has over it.

He pulls back slowly before thrusting back inside of you hard enough to rock your bed into the wall. You clench around him without warning, pulling your name from his lips with mouthwatering ease and sending small shocks through your lower half.

“Christ, baby,” he rocks his hips deeper into yours, burying himself all the way inside you, “how are you so close again already.”

You giggle quietly from underneath him, wrapping your legs around his hips and rolling your own to meet his thrusts. Your hands glide over his shoulders, soothing the scratches you left earlier. You draw his face to your own, pulling his lips down to graze yours. You want him to feel every word you say.

“Don’t play coy, you know exactly what you’re doing,” the end of your sentence is blurred with unrelenting moans.

His hand grabs your leg, pushing your knee to your chest before pushing you into the mattress with a world altering thrust, “you’re right darling, I just like to hear you say it.”

He closes the gap between your lips with another shattering push, your walls clenching harder than before around him again. You swallow each moan that slips from his mouth and into yours. His nutmeg scent clings to you and you know it will take days to scrub him off of you, not that you want to. You could very well spend the next century wrapped up in Kol in every single way possible.

He picks up the pace, slamming into you with controlled ease. Your hands lace through his hair, keeping him as close to you as possible. Your senses are overwhelmingly heightened, allowing you to feel every damned inch of him. You’re in serious danger of falling apart. The fiery ball in your stomach is at its peak once more. When he pulls your lip between his teeth, and you taste the crimson, it explodes.

This time you don't just see stars, you see the sun and the moon and every planet in the solar system. He continues to move in and out of you, drawing out the intensity of your orgasm as he rides his own out. You cling to him with everything you have, refusing to breathe anything but Kol. Everything in this moment is about him and the way he makes you feel. Nothing else matters anymore. Perhaps nothing even mattered before. All there is, all there has ever been, is this one moment.

When you finally land back on earth, he slowly pulls out of you, giving you one last taste of electricity before drawing you to lay on his chest. Your ears ring from the energy you just exerted at Kol’s mercy, your skin deliciously sticky against his own. You're completely and undeniably spent.

You don’t realize that you’re crying until you go to speak, “Kol.”

You feel the sharp inhale he takes rather than hear it. Before you can blink the fresh wave of tears away he’s flipped you around, laying between your legs again and propped up on his elbows. His face is pure concern, his eyebrows creased together in a way that makes you want to smooth every harsh line away. It makes you cry that much harder.

“Darling, talk to me,” he runs a soothing hand down your thigh, pulling you close to him, “what’s wrong baby?”

The tears pour faster at the gentle tone in his voice, drawing an answer to the surface before you even process what you’re saying, “Do they think I’m useless? Do you?”

Your voice is shattered, all the emotions from today coming together in yet another crescendo. You can hear your blood rushing through your ears, drowning out the sounds around you. It’s probably the reason you miss the footsteps pounding up the stairs. You can feel Kol’s soft caresses but just barely. The only thing registering in your mind is the feeling of being completely and utterly weak. Why do they keep you around if you can’t even hold your own?

“God’s no, never. Not even a little bit,” just as Kol speaks, the door opens.

Well, the door slams open, hitting the wall with a crack that echoes through the large house. Kol isn’t startled. He should be but he doesn’t even flinch at the bang. You, on the other hand, tense underneath him, the pounding in your ears still as intense as before. A woodsy scent flows through the now open doorway, pine mingling with your already nutty skin. The pieces start clicking together, albeit at a slower pace than you like.

You’re almost certain you know who’s in the doorway but you look anyway to make sure, “Elijah.”

His name is a whisper and it gets lost under Elijah's own words, his dark eyes searing into yours, “Kol, do you mind giving us a moment?”

Kol glances down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. You plead with him to stay but this is Kol, he’s your hell-raiser. He places a soft kiss on your forehead before he stands, still completely naked, and walks out of the room.

He pauses on the other side of the door, settling a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “careful brother, she scratches.”

Elijah shuts the door when he leaves, much gentler than he had been when opening. Your boys, always the ones for theatrics. He leans against the frame, folding his arms over his chest. You stand from the bed, trying to meet his height but failing. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand but it doesn’t do much to clear the droplets. He tracks your every movement with a fire raging behind his chocolate eyes. You’re painfully aware of how much of your skin is on display for him; that is, all of it.

“What,” you pause when your voice cracks, stealing a moment to compose yourself, “what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be off saving the day.”

He pushes off the door, taking a few steps towards you. You can see he's fighting back a lot of primal instincts. He's as affected by your lack of clothes as you are. His eyes shift rapidly between his usual brown and a deeper coal colour. Despite the situation, you can’t help the heat seeping from between your thighs. He stops a few feet in front of you. There’s no way he can’t smell you right now.

“I was needed elsewhere,” his eyes dip down momentarily, his jaw clenching, “by someone infinitely more important.”

You watch him squeeze his fists together, forcing his eyes to remain on yours. The determination in them is unwavering and fierce. He takes another step towards you.

“It seemed important a few hours ago,” you drop your eyes to your feet, breaking his stare.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him and, in turn, igniting your body, “I assure you it was not nearly as important as making sure that you’re ok.”

Your throat tightens, aching with the promise of even more tears. You wish you could just stop. You’re not afraid to cry but usually you can control it. Right now you can’t. Everything has been building, every little insecurity has pooled, and today was the chip in the damn needed to make the whole thing collapse. It’s too much.

“I’m not,” you wrap your arms tight around yourself, gripping your arms with bruising strength to try and hold back the tremors, “ I am not okay Eli. I feel so helpless. Everytime you come home bleeding and exhausted and where am I?” You run a trembling hand through your mussed hair, yanking at the roots, “Here. Always just here, useless, letting you and Klaus and Kol take it all for me. Am I really that weak? That I’m just extra collateral damage to worry about? What is it, Elijah?”

The words pour from you, each one making him flinch like he’s being hit by an invisible enemy. Every syllable is a bullet to his chest. His body tenses further, his eyes no longer holding any trace of their usual warm brown. Instead they're pitch black, the veins under his eyes a deep plum. The veins in his arms pop as well, his fists iron tight. He curses under his breath when you finish. His voice is gravelly and scrapes the deepest pit of your soul.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, whatever resolve he had been clinging to snaps. He pulls you towards him, wrapping his strong hands around your hips and lifting you against him, giving you a second to wrap your bare legs around his clothed hips.

“Elijah, what are you doing?” You cling to his chest, trying to avoid tumbling out of his arms when he begins walking you towards your bed once more.

He doesn't answer your question, laying you down against your ruffled comforter, “You aren’t collateral damage, baby.”

His voice is the lowest you’ve ever heard it, emanating from somewhere deep inside him. He opens the first few buttons of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head before making it even halfway down his chest. He drops it, much like he Kol had not long before, next to your bed. Kicking off his shoes, he kneels on the bed, coming to rest between your thighs. The heat emanating from you is now a furnace and it in no way goes unnoticed by him. His dark eyes swim across your naked body, drinking in every inch.

“Eli-” whatever you’re going to say is obliterated when he leans down and attaches his lips to the crook of your thigh, dangerously close to being exactly where you need him.

“You aren't weak,” he moves to your other thigh, nipping at the delicate skin and pulling unintelligible murmurs from your throat.

He kisses his way to your center, the anticipation growing like a knot in your stomach, begging to be unraveled once more. Even in the midst of falling apart you can’t get enough of these men. He lays a soft kiss against you, offering you the slightest glimpse of what you know his mouth can do. In the exact same way you had with Kol earlier, every part of you craves Elijah.

Your body arches willingly to meet the first swipe of his tongue, his name falling from your lips like a praise, “you aren't a burden to me, you beautiful creature.”

You cry out as he works his mouth expertly against you, his words humming ecstasy into your skin, melting away any trace of doubt in your mind. His arms wrap around your thighs, bringing you as close to his face as he can get you. The sight of him completely engulfed in your heat is almost enough alone to send you tumbling right there and then over the edge.

“You mean more to me than anything else on this fucking earth,” his dark eyes meet yours as he works you dangerously close to breaking before letting up once more, “and if I have to spend every hour for the next hundred years worshipping you to prove it then consider it done.”

He lowers his mouth against you harder, sucking your electrified warmth with renewed vigour. Your hands seek out his hair, tugging him against you and raising your hips to meet every pass of his tongue. The smell of pine trees and sex envelope you, brining you the closest yet to the kind of high only Elijah can draw from you. In this moment you’re nothing more than entirely his.

“I cannot lose you, baby,” he slips a few of his fingers inside you, “please let me protect you. I need to. Please.”

He curls his fingers just as the last syllable rolls off his tongue and into your core, shattering you into a million tiny pieces. Your hands fist his hair as your body clenches around his hand, pulling a delectable groan from his lips. Your third orgasm almost puts you to sleep on the spot, each of your muscles completely exhausted. Elijah watches you come undone the entire way through, nothing less than reverent awe locked on his face.

He wastes no time pulling your spent body into his arms, wrapping you as close to him as he can manage. You bury yourself against his neck, admiring how even the most unassuming parts of him have an undue amount of strength. He truly is your warrior.

“Eli,” you yawn into his chest, basking in the warmth of his skin, “I can protect myself.”

He tightens his arms around you, “I know you can, baby, but you shouldn't need to. I’ve been searching my entire life for a meaning. A thousand years of trying to be honorable. Then I found you and, all of a sudden, it all makes sense. All the searching and fighting and pain finally has a purpose: to protect you. Let me take it for you. Please.”

You’re speechless, there isn’t anything else to it. His words hit you with immense power, sinking into your skin and settling around your bones. You’re his, all of theirs, to watch over. You really didn't know he felt this strongly. You’ve always had to defend yourself. Perhaps you just aren't used to someone else being so willing to take on that task. Someone begging to take it.

He stands suddenly, with you still in his arms, and walks out of your room, starting down the hall. The faintest sound of rushing water fills your ears, lulling you into a welcome daze.

“Where are we going, Eli?” You have yet to open your eyes, stuck in the soft between being awake and falling asleep.

He kisses your forehead, resting his head on yours, “Niklaus said he wanted to take a bath, my love.”

[gingersnaaps]

making things right

you and iwaizumi just aren't meant to be, and if he has to fuck some sense into your little brain for you to understand, then so be it.

wc: 3k

tags/tw's(PLEASE PLEASE READ): noncon, self harm(a more accurate tag would be forced assisted self harm??), explicit n*fw, blood, emotional manipulation, emotional sadism, dumbification, degradation, fem!reader with inner genitals, has something resembling an actual plot

a/n: couldn't decide which way i wanted to take the plot so i just did both. read a version of this without the self-harm here

i don't want minors interacting with my content

Oikawa really doesn’t like how much time Iwaizumi has been spending around you lately.

It’s not that he’s jealous, of course - that kind of pettiness is far beneath him - it just doesn’t seem right. It’s not the natural order of things for someone as pretty as you, all soft skin and glowing smiles, to be practically draped around Iwaizumi all the fucking time.

He’s counted, you know, and today was the thirty-eighth time that you’ve visited their lunch table and somehow ended up on Iwaizumi’s lap.

And doesn’t he also have to think of his team? The Spring Interhigh’s coming up, and it wouldn’t do for one of the most important players on the team to be constantly distracted. He’s seen the way Iwaizumi looks at you: it’s adoration encapsulated in a gaze, the kind of tenderness and admiration that he’s only ever seen Iwaizumi direct at himself.

Oikawa’s going to have to fix this, isn’t he? He’s going to have to make everything the way it should be.

-

He finds that he enjoys the constant planning and brainstorming and especially the fantasizing far more than he’d anticipated.

Oikawa notes down which days you go home immediately after school, which days you stay, and the routes you take home. He writes down all your friends in a little notebook, familiarizes himself with the classes you take, and pays extra attention to your mood swings.

Of course, as he spends more and more time detailing every aspect of your life, it’s only natural for his thoughts to… wander. In class, he catches his own attention drifting away from Japanese literature to thoughts of what you’d look like strung out on his cock, eyes squeezing out tears as he stuffs you full and claims your pussy. He thinks about how slutty your skirt looks when you’re bending over, and about how much he’d like to rip it off of you. He likes to imagine how Iwaizumi would react, too - the way he’d cry and sob and finally understand that you don’t belong with someone like him.

He finds that these thoughts allow him to tolerate Iwaizumi’s presence near you a lot better, even though the two of you have only grown closer as of late. When you start getting particularly obnoxious with your flirting, he just has to picture you screaming in pain as he fucks you dry, or think about the bulge in your throat from his cock shoved deep inside your mouth. And when he sees Iwaizumi finally ask you out on a date to the ramen place nearby, he almost feels sorry for how short-lived, how temporary, your romance is going to be.

As the weeks go by and the Interhigh draws near, Oikawa thinks he’s got a pretty good idea of how to make it happen.

It starts off almost too easy.

Oikawa’s usually the one who stays late after practice, slamming his serves into the opposite end of the court until his vision goes dizzy and his arms turn numb. But Iwaizumi - bless his generosity - had planned on staying after to help a few of the first years out with their serves.

He waits at the school gates, scanning the entrance for any sign of you. You should be finishing up with your little club soon if the notes he’d been keeping were any indication, and sure enough, he spots your bright teal jacket scurrying towards the gates after just a few minutes.

Oikawa plasters on his friendliest smile, waving you towards him. “Hey,” he greets. “Iwa-chan told me to wait for you today. Do you want to come over? He’ll be along in just a minute - he’s just cleaning up the gym a bit.”

“Aren’t you the captain?” you tease. “So much for being responsible.”

He forces out a laugh.

Do you realize how insufferable you are? Because you’re really not doing yourself any favors with the way you’re acting. But he pushes down the surge of anger that threatens to spill over, because he knows you’ll change your tune as soon as you arrive at his place, and he can’t wait.

The walk home is filled with empty banter, useless conversation that flits back and forth on the most boring of topics. To be honest, Oikawa appreciates this - it gives him the mental room to think about much more interesting things, like the way your breasts are pushing against the jacket, or the slight sheen of your lip gloss. Or, alternatively, the way your breasts would look spilling out of his hands, and the way your shiny lips would look smeared with spit and cum.

He places a hand on your waist as he guides you inside his house, but you stiffen. “Isn’t Hajime supposed to have caught up to us by now?” you ask.

Hajime.

First name basis, huh?

It’s a small detail, but it’s the kind of change that has him seeing red at the periphery of his vision, the kind that makes him want to grab your throat and claw at the paper-thin skin until all he sees are lines of scarlet and your off white bones. He’s been friends with Iwaizumi for twelve years. Twelve years, and all he’s gotten from him is a nickname. You’ve known him for barely a fucking year, and here you are, sauntering away with his first name.

His hand on your waist tightens, gripping and squeezing at your lovely flesh until he can feel you wince in pain. “I’m afraid it might be a while,” he says, voice brittle.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning around, your eyes widening.

Oikawa shoves you inside and slams the door. “I mean,” he hisses. “That your precious Hajime won’t be coming around anytime soon.”

Panic rises in your throat, but he slaps a hand over your mouth quicker than you can scream. All that escapes is a strangled cry, weak and thin, one that quickly dies out in the entrance hall of his house. It’s much too quiet to reach any neighbors, you realize with a sinking feeling. The last bit of faint hope you harbor in the back of your mind dies when you realize that there’s no concerned housewife coming to check on the commotion, no fumbling child who might stumble in on you and Oikawa. You’re alone. You’re fucked.

He’d made sure of it.

“Bitches like you are so stupid, aren’t you? Making me spell everything out for you.” His voice drips condescension as he yanks you by the hair towards the bedroom. There’s no reason to put up an act anymore, he thinks, so he can be as rough as he wants with his new toy - he just has to make sure he returns you in one piece to Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s sure he won’t mind if you’re a little beat up around the edges, a little used by the end of this.

As he throws you down on the bed, the thought gives him immense satisfaction. You’d been so eager to do things with Iwaizumi - he’d coaxed out embarrassed confessions from his friend over late-night calls - so he’s almost sure that you’re a needy slut during sex.

Of course, you’re not nearly so eager now.

Who would be in your situation? He holds your squirming body down on the bed with one hand, flicking open a sharp, sharp pocket knife with the other.

“You do realize that this is what you get, right? It’s your fault for being this fucking easy. Should’ve thought a bit harder about going home with me. Did your mommy and daddy never teach you to not trust men?” he says, face curling into a smile.

You’re unable to get a word out, mouth dry and cottony from the fear that pierces you. He watches your eyes flicker between the blade in his hand and his face, uncertain and wary, like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa can’t help the sick pleasure that bubbles up within him at the look on your face.

“Please,” you say hoarsely. “Please.”

“You have to use your words, you know. You could be begging me to stop, but I think you like this. I think you’re begging me to get on with it,” he says.

Maybe he’s taking it a step too far with the dramatics, but he can’t bring himself to tone it down - not when he’s right about to get to the good bit, and certainly not when he sees those pretty tears trickling down your face.

Oikawa reaches for your arm, grabbing at your wrist. He rubs his thumb in light, tender circles over your skin, like a form of twisted reassurance. It’s the kind of action that would seem almost loving to any outsider, but the malice in his eyes makes it clear what kind of situation this is.

You feel ice in your veins, your vision sluggish - almost dreamlike - as he brings the knife up to rest at your forearm.

“Hold still when I slice up your wrists,” he says. “Wouldn’t want to accidentally cut too deep, yeah?”

Oikawa begins to carve out thin lines of red, angry and harsh against your tender skin. His brow creases in a mockery of concern when you let out a pained cry, jerking away weakly from his cuts, but he only leans closer and presses wet, hot kisses into your neck as the edge of the blade digs at your forearm. A high-pitched whimper slips out from your lips.

“When you go back to class tomorrow,” he whispers. “I want you to wear something pretty for me. Something with short sleeves, like one of your sundresses. I want you to show off these beautiful lines so that everyone knows what a mentally ill whore you are.”

The pocket knife clatters as he throws it to the side, and he looks you up and down appraisingly. He’d always thought you were rather pretty, with your soft halo of hair and your glittering smile - but he can’t deny that there’s a special sort of charm in the way you fidget uncomfortably under his gaze, blood streaming down your wrists and making a mess on his sheets.

It makes him hungry.

As he spreads your thighs apart, all he can think about is how much he wants to claim you, to ruin you, because that’s what he imagines fucking you is like: ownership and victory spread on his tongue while your juices drench his cock. All the filthy dreams he’s had, every fantasy he’s gotten off to late at night, and the stifling heat spreading through his core is begging him to fuck you, to ravish your tight hole until the only name you know is his own.

He doesn’t really want to bother with prep. He’s sure that stretching you out on three - no, maybe four fingers until you scream would be fun, but you don’t deserve that kind of special treatment. Aren’t sluts like you supposed to be wet all the time anyway?

You can feel the outline of his dick dragging along your soft thighs, pressing close to your cunt, a breathy moan escaping his lips from the friction of his sweatpants grinding against your body. It’s not long before he pulls his cock out all the way and strokes it a few times. He grabs at your hips, maneuvering you like a rag doll, and fits the tip of his cock at your fluttering entrance. Nudging at your hole, he pushes in just the head of his cock - enough so you can feel the sting of his girth, but not nearly deep enough to offer any real relief.

You whine involuntarily, and a grin lights up his face. “You’re desperate, aren’t you?” he asks, dragging a thumb against your lips. “Is it because Iwa-chan doesn’t fuck you well enough? Is his pathetic dick too small to fill up that hole of yours properly?” he leers. “I’ve seen his cock before… mine’s bigger, you know.”

“Fuck you,” you mumble. You’re dizzy from the blood loss, but anger still seeps into your veins at his crude words.

Maybe if your head was a bit clearer, you would’ve realized that only stupid girls talk back.

Oikawa’s hips snap into yours harshly, his cock tearing at your insides, and you let out a strangled gasp. You’re not prepared for how well his cock stretches you out - it’s curved in all the right places, ramming into your cervix, brushing up against your tender g-spot - and as he ruthlessly pounds your frail body into the mattress, your mind blanks, overloaded with sensation. You can’t remember who you are, or why you’re getting fucked. The only thing on your mind is the raw feeling of being cunt split wide open, of having your insides rearranged until you’re a drooling, dumb mess.

“Fuck who?” he asks, shoving two fingers inside your sloppy mouth,

“F- fuck…” you whisper. His fingers are gripping at your hips so tightly you can feel the skin beginning to bruise, and there’s just too much to handle. He’s everywhere; his fingers probe around your mouth, making you gag, and his cock drags along your tender walls until you’re left quivering around his length.

He leans down to kiss at your forehead, his lips brushing tenderly against your hair. “You can do it, baby,” he encourages, cooing at you. “You can say it.”

“Fuck me,” you whimper quietly, cheeks burning with shame.

“Good girl,” he says, voice sickly sweet. “I knew you could do it for me.”

Fucking you feels so much better once you’re compliant, he thinks. He slows down a bit, savoring the sensation of your cunt twitching uselessly while you writhe on the bed in pleasure. He feels a sharp jolt of arousal as he looks at the marks he’s left all over you, admiring how the bruises on your arm and waist begin to purple, how the lines cut into your forearms are still dripping scarlet.

You tug at his shirt, sniffling and crying. “Please,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re asking for anymore, not even sure whether you want Oikawa to stop or continue, but you can’t handle the way he’s slowly fucking you senseless.

He raises an eyebrow. “You want it faster?” he asks cruelly, bouncing you into his cock. There’s no response on your end, but Oikawa thinks he’ll take that as a yes. And if that’s what you want?

Well, that’s what you get.

The hum of pleasure in your core intensifies as he picks up speed again. This time, he angles his cock until it grinds down harshly on your sensitive spot, leaving your legs limp and body helpless as your cunt tightens like a vice. As you shudder from the orgasm that washes over you, he spills into your pussy until your hole is leaking white down your thighs.

You can feel him laughing softly as he pulls out and climbs to rest beside you, leaving you stuck in a pool of your own sweat and cum and blood. He wipes the remaining cum off of his cock, smearing it on your face, but you barely react. You feel so dirty, so tainted and violated, but you’re not sure you could move even if you tried - his cock has left you boneless and made sure that every square inch of your body is sore and aching.

“Well,” he says, breathless. “Better run home unless you want Iwa-chan to find you all used and cut up.”

Hajime? Your eyes widen, welling up with tears as he continues talking.

“I lied at first - he wasn’t going to come over after practice - but I did just send him a text. Told him I had some homework I really needed his help with,” he says, eyes glinting with triumph. “But you don’t want him to see you like this, do you? You look fucking pathetic right now. He’s always suspected you were a slut, and if he sees you now he’ll know that you’re a depressed slut too.”

You feel like screaming, because deep down, you know that Oikawa’s right. If Hajime comes over now, you know you’ll have to explain why you look like a used little sex doll, why you’re all cut up. You can already see the pain in Hajime’s eyes if you were to tell him that his best friend for the past twelve years had ruined you, fucked you so thouroughly that you could barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure.

You don’t want that, you realize miserably. You can’t have that.

Oikawa watches you fumble around for your clothing, entertained by the way you trip and stumble as your weak legs attempt to hold you upright. It makes for an awkward, ugly image - but he can’t deny the warm thrill of satisfaction that runs up his spine as you wipe the blood on your forearms away and slink out of his bedroom.

He’s finally making things right.

-

When you go to school the next day, wearing the sundress that clings to your skin and rides up your thighs and shows off your lovely arms - exactly as he’d ordered - the stares you’re met with aren’t sympathetic. They’re judgemental, and you can feel the shame prickling against the base of your neck and student after student scrutinizes the cuts on your arm.

For the first time ever, you’re glad that you don’t have any classes with Hajime. It makes it easier to avoid him, and you purposely choose to sit as far away as possible from their table in the lunchroom. You don’t bother responding to his messages either, every single text of his sending a bitter jolt of pain through you, and you eventually block his number.

Weeks later, you’re not sure he’d believe you even if you were to explain everything. What would you even say? That the scars on your arm were put there by someone else? By someone he knows and trusts? Oikawa and him seem closer than ever, and you start to wonder at your own stupidity. To think that you could ever get in between a bond as close as theirs - maybe Oikawa was right all along.

You’re walking home alone one day, the hazy late-day sun bathing the roads in a shimmering heat, when you hear footsteps and a voice behind you. Your heart hammers unsteadily, getting ready to run, when you hear three words that make your stomach drop.

“I’ve missed you.”

[bangtanreadingcorner]

despite it all • park jimin

chapter 2 — soft spot

plot – when you finally go to the bar on 17th street, it's not for help.

words – 3.1K

chapter 1

For a long time you thought you would never take Jimin up on his offer to go to the bar on 17th Street.

Then the day came that you did.

***

Things go back to normal for a few weeks after the night you helped Jimin. You go to work and for the most part it's easy to put that night out of your mind. Then there's the hours when you can't sleep or you don't have a shift, and it all comes rushing back. You visit your dad's grave and you tell him about Jimin, asking if he'd be mad at you for helping him. You don't talk to your mother, she never could forgive you for becoming a first responder.

Three weeks after that night, you get called to the scene of a gunshot victim in an alley. You and your partner Jeongguk immediately start to help him. Or you try to, at least. He's so young, no older than eighteen or nineteen.

"Come on, kid, hold on!" You mutter under your breath as you try to stop the bleeding. You look at Jeongguk, who looked at the victim with wide eyes, face pale. "Hey! Snap out of it! We need to get fluids in him, start a saline and blood line."

You work on him for almost fourty minutes before he's gone. Your gloved hands and shirt are drenched in blood. You sit back on your heels, a sense of defeat coming over you. You take a second to pull yourself together before you reach over to close his eyes, sending Jeongguk to get a blanket to cover him with, and that's when you see it.

The outline of a tattoo on the left side of his neck. Your blood runs cold and you hope that you're wrong. You reach out with shaky fingers, turning his head just a little, to get a full view of the tattoo. You suck in a deep breath when you see it.

A serpent.

You were right. This kid is in the same gang that Jimin is in.

"Funny, isn't it?" A voice asks above you.

You look up, and the badge around his neck tells you he's a cop. You frown slightly at him, "Who are you?"

"Detective Choi, Gang Unit."

"Well, Detective, I don't see anything funny about this situation." You are tempted to glare at the man.

"They spend their days breaking the law, hurting people and then expect to be helped when they get shot as a result of their own actions." He said, sneering down at the body.

"They're still people." You say, heart twisting at the man's careless words.

"Barely." The detective scoffed, looking down at the body with interest, pointing down at it. "But this one. He was important."

You don't understand what a kid has to do with all of this as you frown crossly up at the detective. "He's just a kid."

"Yeah, but he's a Park." The detective says, a glint of excitement in his eyes. It makes anger stir inside of you. "Park Jihyun, in fact. Second in line to the most dangerous gang in the province."

"So, what? Because of that he doesn't deserve to live?" You scoff in disbelief as Jeongguk returns and start to cover the body. Before the press could arrive and take pictures and videos for the six o'clock news.

The detective shrugs, "I'm just saying, no one will cry over his death."

"You just said he has a family. I'm sure they will." You remind him.

The Detective shakes his head, "No, they're not gonna cry. They're gonna go to war."

"And what? You're going to use the war to catch his brother? While he's grieving? Seems a little cold." You say as you push to your feet. You could see Jeongguk frowning as he looked back and forth between you and the detective.

"I figured I'd give them a taste of their own medicine."

"Are you going to tell that to his brother when you notify him?" You retort, mentally yelling every kind of curse you could possible think of at him.

"I'm not going to tell him."

Your mouth drops open in shocked disbelief, appalled by the detective. "What? You have too. You're bound by law."

"They don't follow the law. Why should I extend them that courtesy?" He shrugs.

"Because his family will be worried sick! And you're a cop!" You exclaim, voice rising a little.

"I'm counting on it." The detective grins before walking away.

You clench your hands into fists, an overwhelming urge to hit the detective coming over you. You look at Jeongguk, who still seemed out of it. You frown at him, he's never reacted like this to seeing someone being shot before. "Hey, are you okay, Jeongguk?"

"Yeah," He nods quickly, a little too quick, but you don't say anything. "Just, his family . . .

they deserve to know."

"They do." You agree immediately. "And I'm going to make sure they find out."

Jeongguk's head whips to you, curious and kind of relieved. "How?"

"I know this guy, he's in the same gang as the kid is, or was."

For a second, Jeongguk looks amused. "You know a guy in a gang."

"Shut up." You feel you're cheeks burn, suddenly feeling shy. "And yes, I do. His name is Jimin and I helped him out once. He told me that if I ever need something to go to the bar on 17th Street. I may not need something, but I figure he would probably be able to tell Jihyun's family."

You turn to Jeongguk, who went quiet by your side. His eyes was open wide again, but this time there was a sliver of fear in them. "A guy named Jimin, who is in the same gang as the kid with a bar on 17th Street?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing." Jeongguk all but squeaks, shaking his head furiously, eyes still wide.

You side eye him, "You're judging me for doing this, aren't you? Meh. Whatever. They deserve to know. I'm telling them."

***

After your shift, you immediately go to the bar on 17th Street. It was a nice, casual kind of place. On another day, you could see yourself having a drink there. You look around and you don't see Jimin, so you head to the bar to ask for him.

The bartender is tall and buff. And gives off a scary vibe with his tattoos and the emotionless expression on his face. You notice the same serpent tattoo Jimin has on his neck, on the bartender's forearm. This guy is probably your best bet on finding Jimin.

"Uh, hi, I'm looking for Jimin." You blurt at the bartender, who is busy wiping down the counter. You feel a flush rising on your cheeks. That sounded so demanding.

"Who's asking?" The bartender asks without look

"Y/N."

That gets the bartender's attention. He stops wiping the counter and looks at your with sparkling eyes, a boxy smile breaking the blank look on his face, making him look more like a puppy as he shakes his curls out of his eyes, "So, you're Y/N."

You're caught off guard by the fact that he seems to know you. It makes you a little defensive, "What does that mean?"

"It's means you're the girl, or woman, who saved Jimin." He says, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

Your cheeks heat up even more, "I didn't save him, just helped him out."

"The cops and the gang who he went after by himself, like the dumbass he is, was after him. If he was alone that night, he would have been killed. Or worse." The bartender tells you, restarting his task of wiping the counter, but there's only one thing that registers in your mind.

"I helped a fugitive?" You yelp, feeling your heart stutter in shock.

The bartender frowned at you, "I thought Jimin said you know who he is."

"I know he's in a gang."

The bartender stops in wiping the counter, looking at you with scarily serious eyes. "Y/N, Jimin isn't in the gang, he leads the gang."

Your mouth drops open and it feels dry. "I helped a gang leader, who is also a fugitive?"

"Aren't you one for the history books." Taehyung notes with a boxy grin.

"Not exactly something I'd like to be remembered for." You tell him, legs feeling weak all of a sudden.

"Eh, apples, oranges." The bartender shrugged, putting down his cloth. "I love strawberries, by the way. Anyway, my name is Taehyung. I'm Jimin's best friend and second in command, in case you were wondering. You said you're looking Jimin right? Well, he's busy right now, but he did say to call him right away if you ever come, so, I'll go get him for you."

And with that, the bartender - Taehyung - disappeared. You looked after him in bewilderment, "What the fuck?"

Less than five minutes later, Jimin walked out from the door where Taehyung disappeared into. He looked different from the last time you saw him. He was wearing black skinny jeans with a black polo neck sweater and a black leather jacket. He looked more dangerous than when he was covered in blood. More attractive, too. You very carefully cut that train of thought off before it could grow roots. You watched as everyone in the bar eyed Jimin, but also gave him a wide berth.

When he stopped infront of you, his features softened ever so slightly. You frowned down at his clenched, bloodied fists, "Have you been punching people again?"

"Punching people is in my job description." Jimin answered, jaw visibly tensed. He looked at you, and you could tell right then that something is very wrong. "You are always welcome here, Y/N, but right now I'm a little busy. One of my men has been taken and I am trying to find him."

You face falls and suddenly a lot of things make sense. "I think . . . I think I might know where he is."

Confusion falls over Jimin's face, "You? How could you know?"

"I had a call today. Gunshot victim in an alley. He had that tattoo-" You point to Jimin's neck, where his serpent tattoo is. "And I wanted to come and tell you. I mean, I didn't know if you know everyone in your gang, I didn't every know that it is your gang, until Taehyung told me just now, but I just wanted to tell you in case you knew him."

Jimin looks at you with wide eyes, a spark of light returning to those cold eyes. "What did he look like?"

"Uh, he was young. I didn't really notice much else, sorry. I was trying to save his life." You tell Jimin, and then something occurs to you. "Wait, one of the detectives on the scene told me his name. I don't know how they know but-"

"His name." Jimin interrupted, a little sharp, but there was an urgency to his voice.

"Uh. Jihyun. Park Jihyun." You tell him, watching as Jimin both deflate and light up in the span of five seconds. You almost get whiplash with how quick his mood changes.

"What hospital did you take him too?" Jimin asks eagerly, hopefully.

You heart twists, knowing that you're the one who has to break that hope. You soften your voice, making it as gentle as possible. "Jimin, we didn't. We tried our best, but we couldn't save him. By the time we got there, he had already lost too much blood. I am so sorry."

Jimin's expression shutters and it makes you feel like someone punched you in the gut. He takes a breath before saying, "Thank you for coming to tell me. And thank you for trying to save him."

Jimin walks away and you want to stop him, to comfort him somehow, but you don't because it's not your place.

You turn to Taehyung, who looks so incredibly sad it broke your heart a little. You know you should leave but you can't just put leave without at least trying to help. "Are you okay, Taehyung?"

"No," He shakes his head, fiddling with the cloth he used to wipe the bar down earlier. "But I will be."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yeah, actually." He says, surprising you pleasantly. You thought he would refuse your offer. Your heavy heart lifts a little, happy to help, and you nod at Taehyung, indicating to him to tell you what he wants you to do. He looks at you for a long while and it makes you fidget a little. He's not going to ask you to hurt someone, right? You sincerely hoped not. Finally he spoke and you could have never guessed what came out his mouth next. "Jimin is going to come to you. I don't know when, but he will. I don't know what exactly happened between you and him the night you saved him, but it changed something in him. He's been different since that night and it's because of you. So, he'll come to you and seek comfort and when he does, I only ask one thing."

You swallow thickly, having no idea what to do with everything Taehyung just dumped on you. "And what is that?"

"Please be gentle with him. People think he's dangerous and fearsome, and he is. For the most part he really is, but that's not all he is. Underneath that, he has the biggest heart. A heart he usually keeps hidden and locked far away, but somehow, you made it past all of his defences in a night. And right now, his heart is hurting badly."

You give Taehyung a strange look, thinking that he must be reading something wrong somewhere because you and Jimin didn't spend that much time together. Maybe two hours. How could that have been enough time to get past his defences, as Taehyung said? "Uh, I think you might be exaggerating the situation but okay. If it will make you feel better. I promise to be gentle with him. Whatever that means."

Taehyung was visibly relieved by your sincere promise. "Thank you."

"It's nothing." You waved him off. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"No." Taehyung smiles, small and much dimmer than the bright boxy grin he gave you earlier, but just as true. "But I think I'm starting to see it."

"See what?" You look curiously at him.

"Why Jimin has a soft spot for you." He answers nonchalantly.

You very almost choke on thin air. "I helped him out once and told me he'd return the favour. That does not mean he has a soft spot for me."

"Yes, he does. Have you not been listening to a word I've said?" Taehyung all but demanded, placing his hands on his hips.

"I'm listening," You give him a slight smile. "Still working on believing."

"Well, believe it." Taehyung huffs. "Earlier, when you came in and asked for Jimin and I went to get him? He was busy, uh . . ." Taehyung trails off, unsure how much Jimin wants her to know. He knows better than to outright lie though. He settles on a word that is both discreet and understandable. "He was interrogating a guy for answers about Jihyun's whereabouts. You are the only person on this planet I was allowed to interrupt that interrogation for."

"He did say to come anytime I want." You defend, feeling heat creeping up your cheeks again.

Taehyung looks like your words just proves his point. "Exactly."

You sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that you won't be able to change his mind. You glance in the direction where Jimin went and your mood deflates, "You think he's going to be okay?"

"I don't know." Taehyung admits honestly, eyes lingering on the door.

"I have this foreboding feeling that this is the calm before the storm." You say, nodding in the direction where Jimin went. "He was too quiet when I told him the news, but I could see the grief in his eyes. Was he close to the guy who was killed?"

"Very." Taehyung nods. "Jihyun is, or was, Jimin's brother."

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your feet as the last pieces of the puzzle fit together. You should have realised, the detective told you Jihyun's brother is the leader of the gang and Taehyung told you Jimin leads the gang. "Oh my God."

"Yeah." Taehyung nods, biting his lip.

"I can't imagine how Jimin must feel right now." You say, wanting nothing but to barge through those doors and go hug Jimin.

"I think it helps that it came from you, instead of the police. Those smug bastards would have just rubbed his nose in it." Taehyung says with a distasteful look on his face.

"Why would they do that?" You ask, deciding not to tell Taehyung that the police wasn't even planning on telling Jimin at all.

"Because we're in a gang. Although, they can't proof anything against us. Especially against Jimin. They don't know much, but they know he's our leader. He took over from his dad when he retired, when Jimin was twenty-one. Which really pisses them off." Taehyung looked a little smug over that fact.

"I get that. I mean, my dad was a cop, before he died in the crossfire of a gang war. I was seventeen at the time, so I can still remember how he would get angry or frustrated when he couldn't solve a case or find evidence to prove his case."

"Sorry about your dad." Taehyung says, looking like he actually means it.

It makes you smile a little, "It's okay. I mean, it still hurts like hell sometimes, but they found the guy who pulled the trigger and he's spending the rest of his life in jail."

"Want me to take him out for you?" Taehyung offers. "We got a couple of guys in prison and I'm sure Jimin wouldn't mind."

"No, absolutely not!" You exclaim with wide eyes, heartbeat kicking up its pace as panic shoots through you for a second. "Jesus Christ, first Jimin and now you. What is wrong with you two?"

Taehyung's eyes get a wicked gleam and you somehow know what he's going to say before he opens his mouth. "We're-"

"In a gang, yeah, I know. That isn't an excuse." You sigh, running a hand over your face. A heaviness settles around your heart. "This is going to get ugly, isn't it?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Taehyung shrugs. "But probably."

"Great." You mutter. Better stock up the ambulance then.

***

chapter 3

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it!

[the-pale-goddess]

Breakfast at Tiffany’s - Ethan Ramsey x MC (Tiffany Addams)

Tiffany surprises Ethan with a fancy breakfast.

It’s all cute until it turns to filth. Then it’s fluff again. Aaaaand back to slutty. A three-course, self-indulgent breakfast, if I may convey.

Rating/Category: Explicit / smut with a side of fluff

Warnings: p*rn with no plot, language

Author’s note: Coming back to my OH2 more or less canon fic business!

Here’s the smutty part of the little band aid I promised for all the harm I’ve done to you with Home With You AU. I just wanted to give you something sweet before we proceed with the emotional rollercoaster in Chapter 3...Well, I did my best, but my filthy mind would never allow me to write some pure and innocent fluff 😅 Hope it’s not too slutty for you lol You’ve been warned!

Please, forgive me the title - I just saw the opportunity and I took it lol

____

Ethan opened his eyes with a sinking feeling this Thursday would be out of the new ordinary. His bed was cold and empty. There was no cascade of black hair unwittingly waking him up with a gentle tickle on his skin, no tender caress begging him to stay in the sheets a tad longer.

Another surprise awaited when an overfamiliar appetizing smell hit his nostrils, forcing him to rush out of bed in order to investigate the unexpected scene.

The missing piece of Ethan's morning routine was dancing her way through the kitchen, wreaking sweet havoc with a pile of dirty dishes and different ingredients scattered all over the kitchen island, just to cook a tower of flawlessly fluffy pancakes – now proudly placed on display near the oven. They looked perfect, but not as perfect as Tiffany in the weak morning light; her dark wavy hair falling down on bare shoulders, in contrast to the lacy white lingerie set that flaunted all her curves. She was swinging to the tune she whistled to herself, oblivious of the lurking admirer.

„I don't think I'll ever get used to this view.” Ethan's voice got her spinning around in a flutter to face him. He was leaning against the fridge, an adoring smile playing on his lips as his eyes were roaming over her silhouette. She flushed furiously under the intensity of his gaze, trying to hide the sudden clumsiness of her movements with a sheepish beam.

„Your girlfriend cooking breakfast for you in nothing but her underwear?”

He eyed her intently, biting his bottom lip before he answered with a poker face. „My kitchen in disarray.”

Tiffany shook her head incredulously, as she strained the freshly made raspberry sauce through a sieve. „Trust me, it'll be worth it. And don't worry, I'll clean everything up later, Doctor Terminator.”

„It already is.” He pulled her body close to his, causing her back to collide with his chest. „I can't believe you're still using that nickname.”

„You have to admit it's catchy.”

„Mhm. Do you need any help?” His arm draped over her shoulder, hugging her tight.

„Sure. There's a dozen of pancakes waiting for you. Hope you're ready for a sweet death topped with whipped cream and a home-made raspberry sauce.”

„I didn't plan on falling into a food coma, but you had me at pancakes. Meaning yes, I'm ready.” The powerful combination of Ethan's soft lips and his scratchy chin glued to the sensitive skin on her neck, peppering her with featherlike kisses.

„Someone's clingy today.” She gave him a loud peck on his forearm.

„I'm starving, Tiffany.” A husky whisper rolled in her ear, the words followed by a gentle bite that sent a red-hot shiver down her spine. She chuckled to herself.

„Good! I was genuinely scared that you'd hate the idea because of your love-hate relationship with pancakes. The sauce will need a few minutes to cool down a bit, and then – Oh!” Tiffany stopped dead in her tracks when the hard evidence of Ethan's hunger pangs pressed against her butt. She dropped her jaw in surprise, slightly amused by the realization she didn't get the hint quite right – it was a different kind of appetite. She spun round to face him, the wicked smile suggested she was more than eager to play along.

„On second thought, I suppose we can have a taste of what will be served today.” Never breaking the gaze, she dipped her finger in the whipped cream and offered it to Ethan. He licked it clean, keenly watching Tiffany's face turn crimson red.

„Not bad for a mixture of fat and sugar. Though it's far from what I expected to be on the menu.” Tiffany raised her brows, fake offended, her expression elicited a hearty chuckle from Ethan.

„Well, aren't you a picky eater, Doctor Ramsey? Luckily, I came prepared.” Her finger dived into the bowl with raspberry sauce. „Try some of this.”

„Mmm, delicious.” He gushed, his tongue slithering around her finger. „But yet again...That's not what I crave the most.”

”I wonder what would that be...” She bit her lip seductively as she reached for Ethan's hand. He swallowed loud and moved a bit closer just when she slipped his thumb into her mouth. The provocative movement had his imagination run wild. „Aren't you gonna tell me?”

„Tiffany, I...” Ethan failed to articulate his thought, too absorbed in sinful visions almost melting his brain.

„Tell me what do you crave, Ethan.” She demanded and he suddenly felt even weaker. His thumb got trapped in her mouth again, her other hand massaging his inner thigh through the material of his pants.

„You.” His voice dripped with wild need.

„How do you want me?” Tiffany released the thumb with a heady pop, holding his stare the entire time.

„I want to...”

„Do you want to come in my mouth?” She used his finger to brush her bottom lip, then grazed it with her teeth mere seconds later.

„Fuck...Yes, please.” He muttered, pressing his forehead together with hers.

Smiling magnetically from ear to ear, Tiffany crashed into Ethan, kissing him hungrily with their tongues twisted together. The prelude wouldn't last long, and in a flash she moved down his body – already hot and shivering with primal need. Her lips glided over every inch of his skin, placing open-mouthed kisses along the way. Just when she was low enough, she flipped her hair and dropped on her knees, pulling his pants down with her.

Ethan could swear that the very sight of her mischievous smile dancing around his throbbing cock was enough to make him come. He shuddered in tense anticipation as he watched her tease him with graceful strokes of her tongue wandering around his abdomen.

„Could you...” A tantalizing base-to-tip lick shut him up on the spot and took his breath away. She followed the same path with a soft touch of her lips, quietly humming with relish. His hips bucked involuntarily, overpowered by the tender sensation, begging for more.

The unspoken request was yet to be fulfilled – her slim fingers began stroking him at the base, while her mouth covered the sensitive tip. He groaned in response, his body temperature rising to a dangerously high level. His hand instinctively tugged at her hair, tying any defiant locks in his handy grip.

When Tiffany slid his whole length into her luscious mouth, the divine warmth took away the last bit of control he had, and made him gasping for air. Fighting back the tears was a feeble effort with his huge member hitting her throat, but she rose to the challenge, gagging violently before she adjusted to a safe and steady rhythm.

Ethan marvelled at the view of her watery emerald eyes gazing into his blues as she sucked him like her life depended on it, her precise tongue and skillful hand working him up to a blissful fever. The overwhelming feeling of pleasure had him moan ecstatically, bringing him on the verge of madness. Encouraged by the guttural sounds reserved only for her, she quickened the pace, bobbing her head up and down. His muscles reacted in an instant, tensing even harder, demanding an immediate release. A few moments later, he reached his high and spilled inside her mouth; the obscene groan of his climax ringing in her ears like a favorite song. She took the load with a triumphant smirk, swallowing every drop.

„This is grossly unfair.” He leaned on the nearest countertop awestruck, satiated and out of breath, struggling to keep himself standing.

„What is?” She got up, climbing up his body, and bit down on his shoulder blade.

„The power you have over me.”

Tiffany grinned, pressing her cheek to his broad back as she wrapped her arms around his chest. „But you did like the first course of your breakfast, didn't you?”

„I haven't eaten anything yet.” Ethan turned around, falling into her embrace with a pointed look.

„All right, I'll fill you up with these pancakes now.” Chuckling softly, Tiffany took a step back, seemingly ready to start the day, but Ethan kept her in place by holding her wrist. A gleam of lust reappeared in his eyes as he was slowly regaining his energy.

„Pancakes can wait a little longer. Let me eat you out.”

Before she managed to form a sentence, Ethan's fingers skimmed through her back and unclasped her bra, tossing it to the ground. His greedy hands began exploring her body, tracing her curves, only to slide his fingers behind her panties and pull them off, so they would share the fate of the bra.

„You know that I've never really understood the purpose of art, but looking at this absolute masterpiece right in front of me?” Tiffany raised her brows in surprise, returning his worshipful gaze. „I think I might modify my stance.”

„Wait, is that an actual compliment, or you're quoting some lines from the poetry book you'll soon be releasing?” They both snorted with laughter that quickly died when their lips fused in the hastiest, sloppiest kiss.

„I'll let you win this one, you deserve it.”

„Oh, what a lucky day!” She chirped in sarcastic tone. Ethan shook his head and lunged for her neck, sucking at her skin.

When his lips abruptly broke away from her, she yelped in protest, but little did she know what Ethan had in store for her. The burning desire in his eyes instantly set her body ablaze. He turned her around, brushing her messy hair away from her back, and began kissing her along the spine, inch by inch, moving excruciatingly slow. His beard rough against her silky flesh, scratching her pleasantly. She closed her eyes, relishing the delight of Ethan's touch. Suddenly, a piercing smack flew across her butt.

She jumped, flabbergasted, as her blood boiled with excitement. „Ethan Jonah Ramsey!”

„You liked that, didn't you?” He let out a supremely confident laugh and spanked her again.

„I plead the Fifth.” She giggled, biting her lip. His hands squeezed her bum and lifted her up. A moment later she lay flat on the kitchen island, legs spread wide and waiting.

Ethan wasted no time – his lips continued the journey across Tiffany's aching body, nuzzling her hips, kissing her thighs, licking her belly, sucking on her breasts. They were everywhere, except where she needed him most. He noticed how hopelessly she tried to catch his attention with the suggestive movement of her hips, but he decided to torture her for his own enjoyment, savoring the exquisite scent and taste of this very special meal.

Her impatience eventually rubbed off on him. At last, he nestled comfortably between her legs, and sunk his tongue directly into her soaked folds. She didn't even make an effort to tone her moans down and Ethan was quite grateful for that. His tongue worked its magic, lashing at her clit, knowing exactly where to suck to bring her over the edge. Her hips rolled to the rhythm of Ethan's licking, begging for more friction. He immediately read the sign, inviting his fingers to join the fun. He rubbed her expertly, all the while licking her swollen clit. She was so close, already sweaty and shivering, with hands on both sides of the countertop, her knuckles white from all the force she had to use to keep herself from falling down.

When Ethan kept his pace up, she knew he was going for the last bite. In the blink of an eye, she arched her back, coming hard as the outpouring of bliss washed over her. She fought for her breath, lying still with her eyes closed and mouth open.

„Don't get too comfortable there, Rookie, I'm not done with you.” She could feel him smirking against her skin when his lips moved down her trembling leg.

„Is it because last night I fell asleep during your precious documentary and we missed our daily dose of inappropriate snuggles?” Tiffany cracked up and Ethan soon followed.

„Yes and no.” He leaned his chin on her knee, meeting her gaze. „I know how much you hate both cooking and waking up early. This is the least I could do to make this morning more tolerable for you.”

„Keep spoiling me like that and I will literally melt.” A beam of unfiltered happiness spread over her face, her eyes filled with utmost adoration. „Besides, just to clarify: I hate cooking, but I enjoy doing it for you.”

An intimate silence washed over them as they stared at each other, basking in the glorious feeling of these small gestures of affection. Ethan shook his head in wonder, his mind racing. He wanted to tell her. He was certain she knew that already, probably even long before he had realized the nature of his feelings...And yet, his words failed him, offering a blank space instead of a proper way to name the drums echoing in his heart at the very thought of Tiffany. He quickly gathered himself, stood straight and cleared his throat.

„Enough chit-chat, we're on a very tight schedule. Stand up.” With a little help from Ethan, Tiffany jumped off the countertop and hooked her arms around his neck.

„Oh, I'll show you tight, sir.” She avowed with a devilish grin.

„God, you're impossible.” Ethan heaved a long sigh in response, right before their lips melted into a deep, fervent kiss.

Cutting to the chase, Tiffany turned her back to Ethan, colliding with his body. Without any hesitation, he entered her with a hefty push, filling her up in a way she'd never experienced before. She was perfectly accustomed to his size, but the standing position was brand new to them. She didn't expect that a slightly different angle could leave an all-consuming, almost agonizing feeling of fullness before he even began pounding her. A series of vehement whimpers escaped her mouth without her permission. Her chest heaved as she struggled to control her breathing. If it wasn't for his firm grip, her legs would surely give up.

Ethan immediately noticed the unconcealable shift in her demeanor. He cupped her cheek, slowly pulling out of her.

„Baby, is everything all right?” He whispered, his voice full of concern. „Do you want me to stop?”

She instinctively grabbed his hand and locked her body on him in a desperate cry, every word a torture. „I want you inside.”

He nodded, relieved, pulling her as close as it was humanly possible. Her head lolled back, resting comfortably on Ethan so they could still glance at one another. They exchanged a blithe smile, reflecting the dizzying sensation of each other's presence. His lips brushed her forehead in a sweet kiss just as he began moving inside of her.

He started off slow, pulling in and out as gently as he could, keeping her steady in his protective arms. Her previous remark proved to be right – she was insanely tight and dripping wet, her scent and unrestrained moans only adding to his arousal. He knew he wouldn't last long.

„Harder, please.” She whimpered, tightening her clutch on his arms. He willingly complied, deepening his thrusts, setting a merciless pace. The sound of slapping flesh punctuated by their heavy breathing and pleasure vocalized in the most indecent way.

Everything was Ethan – he invaded all her senses, emptying her mind, leaving nothing but his name. Tiffany could feel the thunder in his heart pounding on her back; his hands were mindlessly roaming over her curves as she remained trapped in his strong embrace. His fingers snuck to her clit, rubbing her with expert precision while his cock kept on ravishing her. She was mere seconds away from another orgasm, unable to communicate in any form other than shameless moaning.

Ethan was right behind her, chasing the finish line. His deafening groans got more desperate, thrusts slower and rigid, his fingers pleasuring her frantically, until they both cried out in unison – their bodies twisted in overwhelming ecstasy.

Tiffany toppled over the countertop, breathless – her blazing flesh took comfort in the cold of the marble, with fingers skimming blindly across its surface in a desperate attempt at keeping herself steady. She had no time to recover, as Ethan's body clutched at her tight, his burning skin clamping around hers. His ragged breath hovered over her ear, just as his hand dived into the damp mess of her hair, pulling her locks aside to gently suck on her neck.

„Oh, God...We should...” She panted with her eyes closed, tilting her head to give him more access.

„Mhm.” He hummed with approval, tracing scratchy kisses across her shoulder. „I know.”

Instead of acting on the incoherent thought, he turned her around, crashing into her lips without any warning. They kissed slowly for a long minute before Tiffany retreated, gazing into the endless ocean of his eyes. A cheeky smirk flew across her face.

„You called me baby.”

Ethan stared at her perplexed, his brows frowned. „No, erm...I didn't?”

„You totally just did.” Tiffany's laughter filled the room, the sound shook him to the core, along with the realization the pet name might have accidentally slipped through.

„No, you probably misheard that.” He stuttered an evasive reply, that earned a well-deserved scoff.

„Don't try to deny that you called me baby for the first time, and it happened – let me stress that – during sex.”

„Stop it. Let's not make a big deal out of this. We still need to get to work.” Ethan countered, hoping that the final argument was meaningful enough to end the cross-examination.

„That's a very convenient excuse, Mr I'll Casually Avoid Any Uncomfortable Topic. You're right, though. We should hurry up with the proper breakfast. But let's take a quick shower first.”

„Together?” He cocked his brows, sceptical about the idea.

„Yeah, why not?” Her index finger twirled around his nipple.

„We're already running out of time, we can't afford the further delay.”

„I thought you like a challenge, baby.” She pressed a wet kiss on his chest and broke the embrace. Ethan watched her walk off towards the bathroom with a tantalizing sway of her hips. He took a sharp breath, his eyes followed her every move, scanning her naked form up and down. When she reached the bathroom door, she shot him a sultry wink and disappeared behind the door. He shook his head, transfixed and defeated, muttering to himself.

„We're going to be late then.”

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Sorry if there are any typos or mistakes, this B is too tired to double-check lol

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Taglist: I’ll post it separately in a reblog because [tumblr] is being a brat

[goattales]

Caught in the Act

Plot: The reader catches Jasper and Alice making out and he starts avoiding them cause he's way to embarrassed to deal with that. Note: the reader doesn't know they're vampires

You, in general, didn't really fit into any of those neat little groups the school divided itself into. You weren't sporty enough to be a jock, you didn't wear enough black to be a got, and you weren't popular enough to be, well, one of the popular kids. You were just Y/N L/N, some high school Senior that kept his head down. The universe had no plan for you, you were merely wandering this earth as a bystander.

But that didn't mean you didn't want to be part of a clique, because it gave people a deeper sense of belonging, a reason to act the way you want to, dress the way you like, do things you enjoy, all with likeminded individuals! But it was too much stress, you preferred to just bounce between interests- sports, art, history, books -without having to be tied to one forever.

And with all that running around your head you started to shove your books and pencil case into your bag, barely even letting the bell ring before you stood up to go to lunch. Nothing fancy in your bag today, just some leftovers from last night's dinner and a bag of candy you had been slowly working through all day.

Despite not being in a clique, you didn't sit alone; you sat with Angela, Mike, Eric, and Jessica. Bella use to sit with you guys too, before she started to sit with the Cullens, now her relationship to the group was more a see-eachother-in-the-corridor-and-smile sort of deal.

That wasn't so big of a concern for you, though, in fact the first time you saw her sit at the table you knew she wouldn't be sat with you all for long, she had one of those popular looks about her, so when she was hand selected to join the five person moping party that was the Cullen table you weren't too surprised.

In some other timeline maybe she would have gone on to joint the nerds in the back table near the stage, or maybe she would have taken to the goth table that was in the corner near the fire exit. And maybe there was even alternate universe where she stayed at this table, but that would be something you may never find out.

Not, at least, with Mike Newton pulling you back to real life with little care for your ears.

"Y/N! Are you even listening?!" Mike dragged you out of your train of thought by waving a hand in front of your face and screeching at you. That was surprisingly subtly by his standards, though.

"Mike, leave him alone, he just got out of maths. He's recovering, aren't you, Y/N?" Jessica came to your defence with an elbow in Mike's ribs and a soft sort of grin for you, and you thanked her with a small smile before you spoke.

"It's okay, Jess, but thanks. I was just thinking about existence and how absolutely infinite it is" you shrugged.

"That much, huh? Deep, L/N, deep." Mike seemed stunned, or maybe he just regretted prompting you to talk, but either way he didn't try to drag you into the conversation again, and you took the opportunity to fall back to your thoughts gratefully.

When you all parted ways for the last five or so minutes of lunch everyone waved, some hugged, and Mike and Jess walked off attached at the hip. They were together again, though who knows how long it will last at this point. You and Angela were talking the other day, and agreed that they were probably so on-and-off because they were lonely and the other was close enough to fix that for a bit.

You shook your head and huffed quietly, rounding one corner after another and then climbing a set of stairs only to realise you left your coat in your last classroom, and with a great deal of frustration you turned on your heels and took a brisk walk back. You were hoping, no praying, that the room would still be unlocked, because the teacher would have left by now and the room won't be used until tomorrow.

By some streak of luck it was, but when you pushed the door open and made a grab for your coat- laid out on the teachers desk, predictably -the shuffling of other people's clothes made you look up so fast you hurt your neck.

Stood in the back of the room were Jasper Hale and Alice Cullen, both very disheveled and looking rather like deers caught in headlights. Even from as far away as you were, you could see that Jasper's shirt was almost completely open and the straps of Alice's bra and vest top were a mess around her forearms, more of her chest on show than usual.

As they rushed to correct it and called out for you to wait, though being vague as opposed to a name-you heard a very light "h-hey, you with the coat, wait!" as you made a break for it.

You decided in that moment that you would have to move schools, because the most they did was hold hands when other people were around and there was no way you could face them after seeing that, so you spent the next three days avoiding them as much as possible.

The next day you barely dodged Alice in the hallway, narrowly avoided Jasper in the bathroom, and didn't go to lunch at all for fear of them cornering you as you entered the hall. The day after that it was sunny enough for their mum and dad to yank them out of school. The third was more perilous, you had History and sat a seat in front of Jasper, but you managed to talk the guy in front of you into switching, and you made a show of hanging behind to talk to the teacher until everyone else had left.

But the fourth day it was all over. You thought that maybe they had just dropped it, because when you sat to eat and glanced over at the table with as discrete of a gaze as you could manage, Alice caught your eyes and just looked away.

You were actually just leaving as you were bumped out of the stream of teenagers and then grabbed by what you would maybe describe as the ice cold grip of death himself, but looking down you saw it was just Alice. Little Alice with the big eyes and pretty lips, lips that right now were pressed into a thin, terrifying smile.

She dragged you into a classroom, where Jasper was sat on a table, hands clasped together in his lap and shoulders stiff.

You were actually terrified, because in the few seconds between being grabbed and then getting pushed into this room you had convinced yourself that you were going to get murdered.

"You know, my family is gonna worry when I-I'm not home by four, so killing me w-would be a real bad idea" your mouth ran despite your better judgement telling you to keep it shut, though your fear died in your chest when Jasper snorted.

"What?" Alice let you go and raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you'd grown a second head. "Y/N, we're not going to kill you, where did you even get that idea from?"

"W-well, I walked in on you two the other day, a-and you've been ch-chasing me down ever since" tripping over your words, you were scratching the back of your head as though it would wake you up, because that would be really good right now.

"Only 'cause you've been running away." Jasper spoke this time, and you looked over to see him staring at you much in the same way Alice was.

"We just wanted to apologise, because the way you found us was kind of..."

"Unbecoming" where Alice trailed off, Jasper picked up, and you found yourself rushing to speak.

"Oh! Oh- no it's fine, I've walked into worse. This is a high school, freshmen are practically feeling eachother up in the halls every day. I just, well you two don't even hug around other people, s-so I assumed you would be super annoyed that I walked in"

Jasper shrugged and Alice shook her head, laughing softly.

"No! We were just really ashamed that you had to see that, especially Jazz." as Alice spoke, Jasper nodded along, and spoke only when she had finished.

"I hope this has not altered the way you see us, Y/N, though perhaps we can build a friendship from this experience."

Lost for words, you nodded, and something inside of you starting to warm up at the idea. Perhaps the universe, in all its vast and unpredictable glory, had a plan for you after all?