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farfromstrange · 1 year

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Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter Three: Irish Coffee

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader

Summary: Your day has not been going well. When Michael comes in after closing time, in need for some coffee and a comforting presence, you help each other out. Or, you take yet another step toward Michael, hoping he will open up to you when you open up to him – and then you find yourself making an unexpected move.

Warnings: Angst, rude customers, mentions of injury, self-consciousness, Reader is sad, Michael is sad, alcohol consumption, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive language, kissing (18+ MINORS DNI)

Word Count: 5.6k

A/n: I’m starting to get obsessed with my own series, which is why I keep posting chapters in a span of 24 hours. The past two days it’s been 12:23 am and now it’s 1:47, but I can’t myself. This went well, I think. Reader does not give up, but Michael needs someone who refuses to give up, so… and he gives back what he gets.

Find Part 1 & Part 2 here…

There is something about today that doesn’t sit right with you.

It all started when you slept through your alarm. By the time you woke up, you knew you wouldn’t make it to work on time, which had never happened before. Then, you remembered that your car ran out of gas and the gas station near you was closed today due to a robbery that had taken place a few days ago, and you didn’t have the time to drive to the gas station out of town and neither did you have enough gas left for that. So you had to walk for thirty minutes. You arrived at the café sweaty and forty-five minutes late, and the worst part was that your boss had appeared out of nowhere and when you came in late, she yelled at you until you were basically on your knees and close to tears.

You thought that would be as worse as it gets, but you were wrong. A customer mixed up his order with an elderly woman and they ended up fighting, which inevitably led to you being blamed for something that wasn’t even in your hands at the time, and the man made sure to push his words as deep as he could like a hot cigarette on your already itchy skin. And the people that came in after that only seemed to get worse. A group of tourists found their way inside and since you are chronically under-staffed, you and Sarah could barely keep up with the load. You ended up with a dirty coffee maker, no more mugs to spare, and questioning your sanity.

The worst part of the day is what ultimately led you where you are now; you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom for your break after you tried to clean one of the tables and a customer accidentally bumped into you with their unfinished latte and the entire drink poured over your apron and has soaked the clothes you’re wearing underneath. You haven’t brought a spare shirt and the hair dryer you keep in the back isn’t working anymore. You’re stuck with a shirt that now smells like hazelnuts and warm milk, and you’re pretty sure your skin is red from the heat.

But it was an accident, you tell yourself, and even though the customer blamed you, you feel like they had every right to and you apologized to them, offered a coffee on the house, and wished them a nice day. You did the right thing. You should feel good about yourself for how you’ve handled yourself so far, but honestly, there is nothing good about the way you’re feeling now.

Tears well up in your eyes. The insides of your palms are covered in crescent moon indentations from your nails. Your back hurts, your stomach hurts, everything hurts, and you feel disgusting. You smell disgusting. No perfume in the world can fix the smell of your clothes and no towel can dry the coffee that has dampened your perfectly good blouse. You always keep a spare apron around, every employee has several in their locker, but that won’t do much because the fabric will continue sticking even long after it’s dry and you hate the way it feels so cold against your skin.

You sniffle. The first tear threatens to fall. You look up, your lashes fluttering as you try hard not to cry because of something so stupid, but everything you do feels wrong and you hate that. You always try to be the best, to make people feel good, and to serve them to the highest standard – you have been lacking today. You don’t want to be here and neither should you, not in your state, but there has got to be something you can do to fix this bad strain of karma.

You don’t want to cry. They’ll see that you’ve cried and that would only lead to unnecessary questions. Sarah will be worried. You don’t want to talk, you just want to go home. But you really can’t leave them hanging, not when the end is so near and you’re set to close the place on your own. You have to do better.

Even though none of this is anywhere near your fault, you put the weight on your shoulder anyway because you don’t know what else to do. It’s heavy and you can barely carry it, and you find yourself swallowing a broken sob as your fingers dig into the porcelain of the sink.

“No,” you growl to yourself. You ruffle your messy hair, brush the tears from your cheeks and try to shake it all off.

You have to get through the next couple of hours without breaking down.

So you change your apron, put on a fake smile, and make your way back out. The busyness has died down a little. You try to act as if nothing happened, tending to the other customers while Sarah starts cleaning up behind you. You try to focus on the smile of the woman you’re serving, but it somehow makes you want to cry again.

The stress of the day made you forget about Michael for a moment and the fact he hasn’t shown up yet, and you’re about to close. But you’re not sure if seeing him now would be such a good idea, considering you’re not in the mood to make someone feel better. Every time you smile, it feels fake, and it’s probably as obvious as it feels.

Sarah waves goodbye when her shift is over since she came in before you and your boss banned you to closing for coming in late. The clock strikes seven. The door falls shut behind your colleague. Still no Michael.

With a heavy sigh, you start putting away the lunch offer sign. You clean the counter and the machines. One of the mugs slips out of your hands and falls into the sink, breaking upon impact.

That’s the last straw. Your fist hits the kitchenette and you get on your knees, hiding yourself from an empty café, and then, with your forehead pressed against the back of your hands as you’re leaning forward against the sink, the tears start to fall. You silence your sobs, but the tears do a pretty good job of shaking you up as it is.

Today has been a little too much.

When the bell above the door rings, you realize you haven’t locked the front door yet and the sign is still turned on “open”, which is a stupid amateur mistake and you’re such an idiot.

You quickly wipe your tears. “We’re closed,” you try to sound normal, but your nose is stuffed.

“Is it seven already?”

You stutter, whipping your head around to look at him. “Michael,” you say.

“Hey,” he says, and this time it doesn’t take him long to give you a small smile. He looks almost apologetic, but then his eyes fall on your wet cheeks and his face falls a little. “Bad time?”

“We’re closed.” When have you become so harsh?

“Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m sorry, I– I just forgot to turn the sign. My bad. You couldn’t have known, so technically, I can still serve you. You just have to give me a minute to reheat the coffee maker.”

“Ya don’t have to do that, and ya shouldn’t,” Michael says.

You frown at him.

“Yer closed, so I won’t order a coffee.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“No,” he’s insistent, and he steps a bit forward. “Ya alright?”

It’s obvious that you’re not, but you are the last person to admit when you’re not feeling well. And it’s just been a bad day, you don’t even know why it’s been dragging you down ever since you got up this morning. The day is over now and you can move on.

Though this is the part where the optimist in you isn’t quite strong enough yet.

You meet his eyes with your reddened ones. “Are you?” you retort.

He’s surprised at your bold question. You expect him to push you away, to turn around and leave, or to lie to you, but he’s rather quick to lower his head guiltily and he says, “Ya want the short or the long answer?”

You shrug. “Both.”

“Yer busy–”

“I need a drink,” you cut him off.

“Oh,” he hums.

“Do you still want a coffee?”

“What’s that have to do with it?”

“Just answer the question.”

Michael nods. “Yeah.”

You reach into the drawer next to you and pull out the keys for the front door. You toss them to him. “Lock the door,” you say. “I’ll make us some coffee.”

Not just him, both of you. He eases when he realizes you’re doing something for yourself too, and he follows your command to lock the door.

Last night, Michael cried himself to sleep. He stared at your note on the napkin until the Sharpie was completely wet with his tears, and then he held it in his hands as he retreated to his bedroom floor. The bed is too soft most nights, he can’t sleep on it. The beds in prison were a lot more uncomfortable and he’s not used to the softer kind anymore. He needs something hard to lie on, and the floor often enough suffices.

The hard floorboards dig into his skin when he sleeps, and he’s no longer trapped by blankets when he wakes up from a nightmare. Sometimes, he even sleeps on the bathroom floor. It’s cold and it’s sturdy; it reminds him of a time when that was the norm, and it somehow still is, deep inside of him, and he can’t get rid of the feeling.

He woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of his labored breathing. Detached from his physical form, he stared at the wall with tears in his eyes. He thought about the bullet holes, he heard the shots clearly in his ears, and he turned deaf for a second. He couldn’t move.

He found himself next to the indentations in the stone, running his fingers over the holes. He imagined the blood splatter, the screaming, the pain, and the tears. It tore him to shreds, and he watched her die again. He lost his wife all over again and then he lost his daughter. It��s always the same, but this time, she died in his dreams, and it had never felt more real.

Washing cars for Amanda in the morning led to moments when he disappeared completely. The water was on for far too long; he probably multiplied the bills with how much he wasted, but once his mind is stuck, moving seems impossible. He challenged his anger into whatever equipment he had at hand, scrubbing the cars cleaner than they were ever before, but it didn’t help.

At lunch, he sat in the same restaurant down the street from Anna’s school again. He watched her walk with her friends, he watched her smile and laugh, and he felt relieved to see her alive. At least that part of his dream wasn’t true, but she was still too far away the same way she is now, and he can’t touch her. He isn’t allowed to hold her in his arms, to make sure she’s safe and protected. And that truly feels like he is losing her forever all over again.

He was washing cars until the last evening when Amanda physically had to pull him out and force him to go home, but Michael never made it home. Instead, he found the napkin in the pocket of his jacket. He tossed away the cup, but he has kept the napkin. The note is so much longer and he can hear you say the same words to him over and over again, and he wants to smile, he really does; he wants to find a reason to smile and he wants to believe he is a good man. So after Amanda told him to go home, Michael once again found his way to the same place that has offered him relief two times before, and he can’t be trusted with his thoughts on his own – this is the only way. You are the only escape, and he hates himself for being weak enough to seek something that he’s not even quite sure he deserves.

He should have figured you were closed. But then he heard the sound of your voice and saw the tears in your eyes and now he’s worried. He is intrigued but worried, and you seem like you don’t want him to leave either. You tell him to close the door, to close the bubble around you, and give you time and space just the two of you, and it warms his heart. You warm his frozen heart, and the concern drives him closer to you. He even takes his jacket off, his knuckles no longer bandaged but bruised, and he doesn’t pull away this time when you look at them.

But you don’t ask.

You pull the bottle of whisky from the fridge. He watches you carefully. The coffee maker roars as you brew a fresh batch and you foam some milk. You could do this with your eyes closed. Even tired, you know exactly what to do and how to do it, and now that the stress is gone, you don’t have to rush.

Michael keeps quiet until he hears you pour whatever drink you’ve made into two porcelain cups.

“It’s not a double espresso,” you murmur, “but I think you know and like this one.”

“What,” he chuckles, “no blue poison today? Or toffee nuts?”

You shake your head, the laugh dying on your tongue.

“I liked the blue one.”

“Then you’re gonna like this one, too.”

You remove your apron and lean back, watching him carefully as he takes a sip. His eyes widen as he recognizes the distinctive taste, but then he looks even more surprised when tastes the undertones in his coffee. “Wow,” he says. “That is one hell of an Irish Coffee.”

“You like it?” Your eyes grow hopeful.

“Like it? I fuckin’ love it.” He takes another sip. “What did ya– ya must be a wizard. No one can make Irish Coffee that good.”

“I’ve had some practice.”

“This is– wow.”

“You’re welcome.”

You stand there for a while, silently sipping your drinks. Michael is done first, but you follow shortly after. You take his cup and put it into the dishwasher, deciding to let it run one last time.

“Did ya do that just for me?” he dares to ask.

You shrug. “It’s better than a double espresso,” you say.

“Are ya always this nice to strangers?”

“You’re not a stranger.”

“I am.”

You turn away with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yer so nice to people.”

“It’s my job.”

“But they’re not always nice to ya.” It’s not a question as much as it is an observation.

You shake your head slightly, reaching for the small shot glasses you keep hidden away in the cupboard.

“No offense, but ya sound like a real people pleaser.”

He hits the nail right on the head. You hate how obvious it is. Silence settles in between you. You don’t answer him, you simply place one of the glasses before him and pour some of the whisky you used for the coffee for both of you.

He nods in acknowledgment. “Don’t ya ever get… I don’t know, angry? At the world, I mean. Like ya just want to burn it down and leave nothin’ behind because it sucks and it hates ya. Or ya hate the world? Or both. Does that happen to ya?”

You take the shot, your fave barely contorting before you find the guts to answer. “I get angry,” you whisper, but it sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself.

“I mean really angry,” he says, “like you could punch a lad twice your size and win.”

“Everybody gets angry.”

“Ya do?”

“Mhm, but I don’t hate the world. Most of the time, at least. Sometimes, I just have a bad day, but I’m trying… I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

He takes his shot and you pour another glass.

“Tell me,” he says. “I can tell ya’ve been crying.”

Of course, he can.

“I just want people to feel better around me, that’s why I’m nice because kindness goes a long way. Hatred… hatred doesn’t get you far. I’ve learned that the hard way and I… I just want to be good, so I try to be good, but sometimes it’s not enough, and that… that sucks because it always ends up being my fault anyway and that’s what makes trying so impossibly hard.”

“So yer a people pleaser,” he circles back to his previous statement, “but there’s nothin’ wrong with that. And that doesn't make shit yer fault all the time."

You didn’t expect to hear that.

“And yer good. Too good,” he says your name with such softness. “Ya managed to make me smile more than I’ve in a very long time. I wanted to say thanks fer that. I thought part of me… died. I've realized it's not dead, just buried."

“People usually call me a people pleaser and mean it in a bad way,” you say.

He smiles. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, I get that now.”

“So the world isn’t fair to ya, hm?”

You chuckle sadly. “It never was, but I’ve been worse and I’m somewhat happy now. I just–“

“Ya get walked over,” he finishes.

“Yeah.”

“And ya feel like yer not enough?”

You blink wildly to keep the tears at bay. “Yes.”

“Were ya being nice to me out of kindness or ‘cause ya care?”

“Both,” you answer in a heartbeat.

Your eyes meet again. He’s still the same magnet he was the first day you two met. He pulls you closer and closer, and you can feel yourself opening up to him.

Michael smiles, taking another shot and then taking it upon himself to fill your glasses.

“You’re different, Michael. I don’t know why, but you are.”

“I got yer notes,” the words slip him before he can stop himself.

You nod. “That’s what they were meant for.”

“No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“That you have a nice smile?”

“All of it,” he says.

“That’s… sad,” you say.

He shrugs. The whisky starts burning his esophagus. “My life’s sad.”

“But does it have to be?”

“If only ya knew.”

You decide to take another step toward him. “I quit my job to become a writer, and now I work here.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

You nod and start walking around the counter toward him. You’re so close again, he can feel your breath on his skin.

“I’ve been writing ever since I was a child,” you say. “But it’s never been more than a hobby to my family, and so they didn’t understand when I wanted to study English literature. I landed behind a desk and I was unhappy, and I wanted to write. I’ve been told I’d fail ever since I started writing, and my parents still tell me the same thing. They’ve never supported it, so when I quit and then took this job, you can imagine how thrilled they were. Not.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. "I'm sure yer great. Maybe they just don't get ya."

He can’t imagine what you’ve been through because your lives are so inherently different, but he can feel your pain. He knows what it's like not to be understood, and he knows how much that can hurt coming from your own family.

He reaches out, your fingers mere inches away from each other now.

“This was the first time I wasn’t trying to please anyone but myself,” you say, and your voice is barely above a whisper.

Michael nods, a silent sign of understanding, and then he takes your hand in his. “I wash cars fer a living,” he says.

You gave a big part of yourself and this is something he can tell you, even though it embarrasses him.

You look up into his eyes. “Cars?”

“Yeah. Fer my brother’s wife. You know the deli down by the gas station a little outside of downtown?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, there. She sells ‘em. She got me that job ‘cause I needed it. Now I wash cars.”

And getting a job with as many priors as he has is a hard task to achieve. But he knows he can be good at so many other things if he only tries. He just doesn’t have the same opportunities as everyone else, and that’s defeating.

“Is that what you want to do?” you ask.

Has anyone ever asked him that before? He doubts it. You surprise him anew every time, and he’s not sure how to process or handle it. Michael doesn’t know how to read you.

He doesn't answer your question in the way you want him to, either. “It’s what I have to do,” he says instead.

“Is that what happened to your hand?” there it is – the question. “An accident washing cars?”

“No, heh,” he takes another sip of his whisky. “Punched a hole in my mirror,” he says.

“Why?”

“I hate the world and the world hates me.”

You can see the unshed tears in his eyes, the pain he’s holding deep inside. He’s guarding himself for whatever reason, but his touch is warm and it screams for an escape. That’s the reason he came, you realize. He wants to escape whatever shit show his life is because, with you at the Butterfly Effect, he hates the world a little less. He doesn’t feel alone with you because while you don’t know him, you listen. You’re nice and you care about him. Judging from what he’s said, he’s not used to kindness or devotion, and it makes you sad.

You squeeze his hand. “Everyone deserves someone to care about them,” you murmur, “even you, Michael.”

“I get angry,” he admits, and the tears become clearer. “I get really, really angry.”

“As I said, everyone does.”

“It’s a different kind of anger. The kind of anger that runs deeper. It’s darkness.”

He expects you to pull away, but you only hold on tighter, and you catch the tear in the corner of his eye before it can fall. “And that’s okay,” you say.

He wants to fall into your arms and sob, but his pride is stronger. His pride wants him to suffer.

“There must be a reason you come here and not just wallow in your anger. I mean, you’re driven by something other than darkness because I don’t see darkness when I look at you. I see light.”

You’re not pushing him, you’re simply nudging him as gently as only you can, and if he decides not to act on it, you’re okay with that too. He doesn’t feel forced, he feels almost accepted.

“Why do you come here, Mikey?”

Mikey. This is the first time you use his nickname, and it sounds different coming from you. He likes it.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

It’s not just coffee and not just you, but he doesn’t know, not really – Michael doesn’t understand, and he hates that he doesn’t because he usually understands. Though this, he doesn’t.

“Okay.” You leave it at that, but you refuse to let go of his hand. “That’s okay.”

He intertwines your fingers, forming a safety net for his broken heart. They’re no longer on the counter now but dangling between the two of you. He’s holding you close, and his grip tells you that maybe he is afraid of letting go because he’s scared you might leave, which is absurd, but you quite like the way he’s holding onto you. You wouldn’t say no even if it killed you.

You move a little closer, your shoulders brushing. He looks down. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “So soft,” he says.

You blush.

“Do ya have a car?”

“I walked here,” you say.

“Want me to walk ya home? It’s dangerous out there.”

“Who’s to say you’re not gonna murder me?”

He can sense the joking undertone in your voice and he chuckles. “Ya just need to trust me,” he says.

Weirdly enough, you do. Reluctantly, you let go of his hand. The rest of the cleaning is done easily. He helps you adjust the chairs in the seating area while you clean the coffee machine again, and after wiping the tables and adjusting the sign for the early shift the next day, there’s not much else you have to do.

You let out a sigh of relief when you finally breathe fresh air and all of the day’s pain is left behind inside.

Even though it’s a thirty-minute walk, Michael insists on walking with you. He doesn’t leave your side. Your hand finds his again after some time, and he reciprocates your touch instantly. You see nothing wrong with it. He makes you feel less alone, and you seem to be doing the same for him.

You walk in silence, the wind brushing through your hair and getting caught in the stain on your blouse. You didn’t bring a jacket this morning, too much in a hurry to get to work to even care about the cold weather.

It seems like a chliché when Michael suddenly untangles himself from you and takes off his jacket. “Here,” he says. He looks at you, leaving no space for you to argue, so you take his offer gladly.

You suspected he would smell like ground coffee beans, but his cologne smells like tobacco and vanilla, and the faintest scent of rain hits your nose. You slide it on, instantly feeling a little warmer, but you’re not quite sure if it’s the jacket or the flush of blood in your cheeks that makes your heart beat faster.

This time, your hands only brush as you walk.

“What happened to yer shirt?” He breaks the silence.

You pull his jacket tighter around yourself. “I–“ you bite your lip. “Work accident,” you say.

“Was it hot coffee?”

“A little.”

“Did you check if ya got burned?”

“It’s not the first time someone bumped into me, and they didn’t mean it,” you say, rushing to the defense of a total stranger, and that’s when you realize that perhaps he was right with the whole ‘people pleaser’ speech.

You shake your head. Michael has gotten under your skin. He seems to notice it because he smiles softly, and reaches out to take your hand again.

“Ya know what helps?” he asks.

“What?”

“An apron.”

“Fuck off!” You try to sound mean and furrow your brows at him, but you end up chuckling because damn him for looking so cute even while he also looks absolutely exhausted.

He joins in your laughter.

“Seriously though, I hope whoever did this to ya didn’t do it on purpose.” He avoids eye contact, but his words hit home.

“Or what, you’ll find them and break their hands?”

“Wasn’t thinkin’ about somethin’ so drastic, but they hurt ya and I don’t like the thought of ya gettin’ hurt.”

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he blushes.

That was a lot of vulnerability for such a short amount of time.

You look away just the same, trying to hide the effect he has on you, but he can feel your sweaty palms and how your pulse jumps under his fingers whenever he touches you. It’s no secret that you don’t see him as just a customer anymore, you never have.

But this is Michael, and as soon as things start looking up for him, he is bound to ruin them because how can he possibly accept what you are willing to give him? He cares about you, and he hates that he has found himself in this situation again. But he can’t deny that he needs you. Feelings are treacherous, as is love and everything else that connects to it. To him it is, at least. And he’s really not sure what to do or what to think. He just knows that he wants you to be okay.

You stop in front of your apartment building. “This is me,” you say.

The air shifts and the tension grows heavy. Your hand is still holding onto his, and you are still wearing his jacket. You attempt to take it off, but he stops you.

“Keep it,” he says.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

“No.”

“But–“

“Ya still have a way to go, so keep it.”

You slip back into the jacket. “Okay. Thank you…”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you wants this to end, but it has to.

You clear your throat. “I guess this means goodbye then.”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Do you promise me to get home safe?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Okay.”

You turn around to leave. You take a few steps before stopping. He’s still there, waiting for you to get inside. You turn back to him.

Maybe it’s too much of a rash decision that is brewing up in your mind, but tonight has changed a lot. Your paths have crossed now. You’ve already crossed borders you told yourself not to. This isn’t you, this is a primal desire that drives you to take what you want and not give a flying fuck about pleasing someone else tonight, and it feels like you have finally learned how to breathe again.

He frowns when you walk back toward him. Your hands find their way on either one of his shoulders. Michael stares down at you. Your intentions aren’t entirely clear to him.

Fuck it.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to capture his lips with yours.

And when your lips finally meet, time stands still.

At first, he’s surprised. Your lips feel softer than he imagined, and they fit perfectly on his. It feels like you’ve done this a million times. His head spins. Then, he kisses back.

Michael’s arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer. It's a carnal desire, not his own free will. You feel so good pressed against him, and your lips are magic as they dance with his.

He’s convinced now that you are good at everything.

His tongue pokes your bottom lip, asking for permission. You let him in. He explores your mouth with precision, tasting you, memorizing you, and making sure you stay imprinted in his bloodstream. He breathes your air and you breathe his. The world around you no longer exists.

You are more than willing to suffocate at his hands with his lips on yours and his body so close, you can smell his shampoo and feel the softness of his hair under your fingers as you run them through the brown curls. He’s ethereal, absolutely beautiful, and he feels like heaven and tastes like the sweetest temptation that will land you in hell, but it is all so good, too good, absolutely perfect – he has put an irreversible spell on you, and his lips sealed the deal.

Though your body is quick to scream for you to pull away and breathe. It’s been a while since you’ve consciously used your lungs. You could get lost in him any day, your life be damned. If you’re right with your suspicions, you’re fucked anyway, but you don’t mind. Not with him. Not when it’s Michael.

You both pull away at the same time. His hand rests on your cheek, barely touching, but he’s sure to hold you there.

Without another word, you press another chaste kiss to his lips. He reciprocates.

“I should go,” your breathing is heavy as you speak. “I, uh, have an early day tomorrow.”

Michael nods, his nose brushing against yours. He’s going to regret tonight, but you’re by far his favorite sin. He felt free when you kissed him. It doesn’t seem real, but you’re still so close and he can taste your chapstick. You’re real, this is real, and you’ve caught him before he could fall.

But he’s going to regret it, he always does.

“Yeah, me too,” he whispers. “Early day.”

He has work in the morning, so it isn’t a lie.

You pull away completely, your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen. Now you don’t look cute anymore, you look absolutely edible, and Michael has to physically force his hands to stay where they are.

Scratching the back of your head, you desperately search for your keys. Once you’ve found them, you wave an awkward goodbye. “See ya,” you say.

He watches as you disappear behind the door to your apartment building, and a few seconds later, you’re gone.

You only allow yourself to register what happened once you’re in the comfort of your home, your back pressed against the door, and you slide down.

Damn.

You just kissed a man you don’t even know half of, and you enjoyed it.

Whoever Michael truly is moves into the back of your mind – his lips still linger and it’s what you will take to bed with you. Not the fact that you don’t even know his last name but his touch and his smile.

The day might have started badly, but you can’t deny that it ended with an unexpected surprise that made all the bad from before dissipating into nothing at all.

You wonder how many more times you have to take the first step before he will finally open himself up to you. But no matter what, you’re determined to find out.

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella

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immabethehero · 1 year

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The Scarecrows

Let’s go!!! Second week of @wdtajn!!! This story has been in my brain for a bit, glad to get it out!

CW: talk of slicing people open, cannibalism (feel free to skip this one if needed)

Lena Lopez has really nice fabrics in her house.

Probably not the thing to be thinking about, but Bruno has been looking for new clothes for his costume pieces. Trunks full of lovely clothes add to why she’s so revered as a scarecrow maker and seller. Bruno can already see some of her works in the corner, strapped to poles and ready to be sold. As Lena makes tea for them both, he studies the features of the scarecrows, the smooth clay of the faces almost making them human. They all look a bit older, like him. Some have patches of facial hair on the chin, others are smooth as a sheet. He turns away from the pile.

Her small cottage is near the edge of the Encanto, near where jaguar activity has been spotted. Bruno isn’t sure why a young woman would want to live near such a dangerous place. Rather large carpet samples hang on her walls, and the wooden floors are particularly shiny in the little light that shines into the house. Bruno can see only one window, and it’s in the living room, near the front door. How does Lena move around at night?

“Sorry for the mess, just moved and I’m still setting up shop, so I haven’t had a chance to put my carpets down,” Lena calls out from the kitchen. “It must be nice just staying in one place all your life.”

“It’s alright… though sometimes I try to look at different places, go beyond the Encanto,” Bruno says airily.

“Oh? How do you do that?” Lena asks, smiling.

“Mamá has a few books on geography. She wanted her kids to be ‘well-versed’ in the art of… knowing countries,” Bruno says. He immediately regrets over opening his mouth.

Lena laughs, a pretty jingling sound. Bruno doesn’t think that deserved a laugh, so maybe she’s just humoring him for the sake of it.

Lena finally comes out with a tray carrying two steaming cups of tea. Her pale skin, bright red lips and cocoa brown hair remind Bruno of a vampire, ready to eat. She sets the tea down and hands a cup to Bruno. A green smoke rises from his cup.

“Oh, how thoughtful! You chose green, my favourite colour,” Bruno says, fighting back a grimace. It stinks like a pig stye!

“Well, I figured you might like it, since we just met a few days ago,” Lena says. “So, what made you come visit little old me rather than the other new neighbours?”

“I don’t think you look old,” Bruno blurts out. He’s not even lying, Lena doesn’t look much older than thirty.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Lena laughs. “I’m pushing 50 at this point.”

Crikey, she’s almost as old as him! “What’s your secret?” Bruno asks impulsively.

Lena smiles seductively and gestures to the tea with her blood red lips. “Why don’t you drink the tea and find out?”

Bruno looks down at the steaming tea, its putrid smell clogging his big nostrils. It’s times like these he wishes he didn’t inherit the big parts of his parents’ noses. He picks up the cup and takes a sip.

Already, he can feel his head spinning and bile threatening to leave his throat. Bruno grips the table to steady himself and sets the cup down.

Lena’s smile fades as she watches him waver in his seat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine… I just don’t think that tea agreed with me…” The last thing Bruno sees before he blacks out is Lena’s bright blue eyes watching him intently.

As Bruno slowly comes to, he feels stiff. As he struggles to move, he feels his arms pulled out to the sides, ropes wrapped tightly around his bony wrists. His knees seem to be tied together with rope as well. Despite this, he stands upright, facing Lena’s back as she is bent over a table.

Bruno opens his mouth to speak, only to gag. His mouth tastes terrible. What the hell was in that tea?! The noise alerts Lena, who turns around. She’s put an apron over a dirty red dress and wears large black gloves.

“Oh! I didn’t expect you to wake up so early. Usually my guests drink the tea whole and never wake up again,” she says. “Oh well, I’ll try to be as quick as possible.”

Bruno coughs and spits. He clears his throat. “What?” Christ, now he can’t even speak properly.

“You probably want an explanation,” Lena says. Bruno nods desperately.

“Well, I guess I have time. Settle back on your pole, this will be a bit,” Lena says.

Bruno turns his head and stifles a scream. If he wasn’t moving, he’d fit right in with the rest of Lena’s scarecrows. Though, given how things are going right now…

“I never enjoyed the concept of aging,” Lena begins. “All my mother and older sisters ever did was complain about getting older, their fattening bodies, saggy skin, greying hair. The house always smelled of the ointments, perfume, and whatever else they’d use to make themselves look younger. Townsfolk would see us in the street and shake their heads at the older women.

“I never had a problem with my appearance. Everyone always said I was the prettiest of my family. Over the years, it became clear how I would have to keep my pretty face. I never married, never had kids, didn’t once help with cooking or cleaning. I stole money from my sisters to buy the best foods to keep my skin clear, expensive, beautiful dresses, hair dye that hid all the grey! Others called me useless, annoying, too vain to be around. It didn’t matter to me. All that mattered was looking young and beautiful.”

Ah, so she’s always been a piece of shit. At least Bruno doesn’t have to listen to a tragic backstory.

Lena’s smile fades “But of course, beauty doesn’t last forever. On my 35th birthday, I woke up and saw grey in my hair. Normally, I would just buy more hair dye, but the store where I usually shopped had run out of the dye with my hair colour. I tried looking at other stores, but either they didn’t have it, or it was too pricey. My sisters refused to give me any more money, kicking me out of their homes, telling me I deserved it.

As I shamefully walked home, I could feel the stares of everyone in town. They whispered behind their hands, children giggled and called me una bruja. I couldn’t take it! I rushed to one of the highest bridges in the town that night, ready to end it all. But just as I was about to jump-

“A real witch appeared! She was an ugly thing, warts everywhere, horrid posture, stringy grey hair.” Lena shudders. “She said she had a way I could stay young and beautiful forever, but in return, I’d have to work for it.” At this, Lena wrinkles her nose. Bruno holds back a yawn.

“The next day, I set out to find a man. One with an upright job and reputation. I chose a baker with a bright eye, especially for me, and invited him for tea. Having had his love go unreciprocated for years, he agreed and saw me that night. I gave him a concoction that put him right to sleep, then tied him to a pole. I took my sharpest knife and cut clean into the skin. I cleaned out his body, grabbing every last organ and putting them in a stew.”

At this, Bruno blanches.

“When I drank it, I felt a rush of energy that I hadn’t felt since I was 18. I felt younger, healthier, and hungrier. But first, I had to finish my job. I sewed the baker back up, moved towns, and sold him to the first passing farmer in need of a scarecrow.”

Lena pulls out a rag and ties it around Bruno’s mouth. She then pulls a large knife from out of her apron. Bruno squirms in his bonds as the knife closes in on his ruana. He screams, the sound blocked by the rag and carpets.

“You’re quite skinny for a meal, but you should last me until I settle down in a new home. Now hold still…”

#bruno madrigal #disney encanto #wdtajn #cannibalism tw #apparently i can write #immabethehero

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aeoki · 2 years

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Salon de Thé - Chapter 8

Location: Garden Terrace Characters: Hajime, Subaru, Kaoru & Chiaki

TL Note:

Negative ions are said to have a positive effect on our health and general well-being.

Kaoru: Thanks for the food~♪

Alrighty, I guess I’ll start working like I promised. I’ll take some orders while I’m on my way to the kitchen, but are you two okay with the tea set?

Hajime: Y-Yes. I’ll switch places with you once I’m finished, so I’ll be leaving things to you just for a short while…!

Kaoru: No no, it’s your long-awaited break. Take your time.

I’ll be taking my time with Anzu-chan, anyway~ ...Oh, looks like Anzu-chan has entered work mode and didn’t hear it.

She’s already gone to the kitchen. She’s so heartless. I guess I’ll start working hard before she scolds me and tells me to work seriously ♪

Hajime-kun, Subaru-kun, what about your drinks? If you don’t have any preferences, I’ll bring a random one over.

Subaru: I’m fine with black tea~ I’ve heard that coffee tastes good with chocolate, but I feel like drinking black tea!

Hajime: I’ll have jasmine tea, please.

Kaoru: Alright, black and jasmine tea. I’ll let Anzu-chan know.

Why not have a fun chat while you wait? Cute girls aren’t the only ones who are allowed to love chatting, you know?

Subaru: You heard him! Shinonon, if you’ve got something you need to tell me, then go ahead. Chatting is fun and all, but listening to your voice when you talk is just as fun.

It has a comfortable tempo, so it’s calming like a lullaby~♪ You’re like that in person too, but even your voice is like a negative ion[*].

Hajime: That’s the first time anyone has told me that. But it makes me happy. I also find it very exciting to talk to you, Akehoshi-senpai. I can learn a lot from you too.

Akehoshi-senpai, please take care of me in the future as well...♪

Subaru: Ahaha, that sounds like something you’d say at a wedding. It feels like my future will be stable if I have Shinonon as my wife!

Hajime: Uuu, I’m a boy, you know~ I’m not a bride~

Due to the concept of being “cute” thrown entirely on us as a marketing tactic, our fans have increased and so have our work offers.

But there are many instances where I’m mistaken for a girl. Perhaps the reason really does lie in my hairstyle…

I can’t cut my hair due to “Ra*bits’” policy, and even if I did, it’ll only be a trim.

I wouldn’t be mistaken for a girl if I wore wild clothing, right?

Subaru: I wonder about that. You’re cute no matter what you wear...♪

Chiaki: Guys, Anzu’s making a face like she’s questioning whether or not she can interrupt. She’s frozen with the tray in her hand.

Subaru: Sorry, sorry. I was too engrossed in our chat!

Mmm, the sweet smell of chocolate ♪

My stomach’s rumbling from demanding sugar, ahahahaha ☆

Hajime: *Inhale, exhale...♪* I can smell the nice fragrance of jasmine tea. I’m in heaven~...♪

Subaru: Shinonon, would you like a sip of black tea? Let me have a sip of your jasmine tea, too ♪

Hajime: Ehehe, of course~

...There’s no harsh taste in this black tea and it’s easy to drink. I wonder if Anzu-san made this. It’s very delicious ♪

Subaru: The jasmine tea has just the right amount of sugar and the taste differs depending on who made it, huh. That’s interesting~

Chiaki: You guys sure get along well together.

Subaru: What? I won’t give you Shinonon even if you’re jealous~ Ohh, Shinonon’s cheeks are so smooth~♪

Hajime: Whaa!? A-Akehoshi-senpai, I was so surprised, I just about to drop my cup~ I’ll have to wash my apron if it gets dirty.

I like doing the laundry, so I’ll wash every spot until the dirt comes off, though…

Black tea stains are hard to come off as time passes, so I’ll probably have to use a special detergent.

Subaru: As expected of Shinonon, you’re so knowledgeable~! I’ll help at times like that, although what I should be doing is making sure I don’t dirty it.

Come on, come on. Let’s eat it before it gets cold. Make a cut in the middle with the fork~ And mix the chocolate and ice cream that has come melting out.

*Munch, munch* It’s so good ☆

Hajime: *Chew, chew* ...You’re right, the sweetness of the chocolate is spreading throughout my mouth.

It’s melting in my mouth -- I’m on cloud nine~...♪

Chiaki: Hm, Shino. You’ve got chocolate near your mouth. Anzu has left a paper napkin, so use that to wipe your mouth.

Hajime: Ahh, it was so delicious, I was too focused on eating. Uuu, you must have thought I’m a gluttonous boy. H-How embarrassing…

Chiaki: No, the way you ate it was splendid. That’s what a boy has to eat like!

You can’t be full with just the chocolate fondant, and similarly, I’m not fully satisfied, either.

If Akehoshi and Shino are with me, then we can split it together. It’ll be my treat, of course.

Do you guys have anything you want to eat?

Subaru: Shinonon, if you want to eat something, then why not tell us? It’s Chii-chan-senpai’s treat, you should order something you don’t usually get to eat~☆

Hajime: What!? Oh no, I can’t~ I’ll pay even if I’m in debt!

Subaru: No can do. I’ll pay if you’ll end up in debt.

Shiny money is appealing, but I don’t want to shut it away and never use it. Money is made to be spent.

If you can’t finish it, you can take it home and give it to your family as a gift.

Shinonon, you whispered, “I want my family to taste this too” when you were eating the chocolate fondant, right?

Hajime: So you heard me. I felt sorry, seeing as I was the only one eating such delicious food…

I’ve made you both be considerate of me as well. I can see I’m being supported by the kindness of many people.

The same goes with this time’s “school part-time job”.

I’m far from receiving only a small amount of happiness, I was really really happy being able to work part-time and have tea with you, Akehoshi-senpai.

I’m so happy, and my chest feels so full -- I feel like I’ll start crying...♪

᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ ← Previous Chapter

#salon de the

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trans-rights-snufkin · 5 years

Photo

I was needing a hug, and I think Moominmamma must give wonderful hugs…

#moomin #the moomins #moominmamma #listen i know her apron is too short it wasnt thinking #why does she even wear an apron she has no clothes to get dirty #is it just bc its fashionable?#moomintroll #mine

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mizunetzu · 4 years

Note

omg i’m so excited i like,, spam read all of your writing and now i can request,,, anyway, could i request maybe something similar to your Tanaka x femboy reader, but with Oikawa? like he mistakes him for a girl and maybe flirts with the reader a little bit and the reader i just like ,,”you do,, you do realize i am a man correct” and hijinks ensue?? sorry if this is too vague i suck at describing things. lotsa love your writing is literally my favorite 💕

Omg wait Oikawa??? And femboy reader??? Hijinks???? Take me now—

——————

Oikawa x reader - Oikawa Tooru Goes Both Ways

⚠️warnings - reader is mistaken and referred to unintentionally as a girl. I assure you, this is a male reader. Femboy reader, if that triggers you.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Oikawa couldn’t help but stare as a...rather cute girl stepped into the gym.

“Oi! Shittykawa! Focus!” Iwaizumi was about to hurl a volleyball at Oikawa’s head when he caught sight of where he was staring. He looked from the newcomer, back to Oikawa’s eyes tracing their form up and down.

“Iwa-chan...” Oikawa held his breath as he pointed subtly. “Who is that?”

Iwaizumi looked over back to the intruder. Sure enough, some girl with (h/c) styled hair stood at the foot of the door awkwardly. They weren’t sporting the school uniform, instead wearing a skirt with a cafe apron tied around their waist. Oikawa recognized the cute logo on the somewhat dirty apron as the coffee shop he’d visit on days he wasn’t particularly busy.

All in all, this stranger was incredibly attractive.

Eventually, coach Irihata emerged from the storage closet, and motioned the stranger over. The stranger perked up, pulled out a slightly-wrinkled paper from their back, and timpered off into the office.

Oikawa sighed dreamily. “Iwa-chan...is this what I think it is? Are we fiiiiiinally getting a cute girl manager to manage our team?!”

He draped himself over Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Aaaaah~! I’m so happy~! And it’s such a cutie too!”

“Get off me, dumbass. You have like...millions of girls throwing their panties at you, literally all that look like her. And you go for the one who decides to join our club?”

Oikawa huffed. “What’s so wrong about that! She’s cute! And she looked so shy standing there...aaaah, I’m swooning just thinking about wrapping her up in my arms-!”

“I’m saying,” Iwaizumi bonked Oikawa on the head. “If you manage to get with her, then break her heart, or at the very least make her uncomfortable, she’ll have to see your annoying face all day at practice, and then she won’t wanna be manager anymore! Because she has to see you!”

Iwaizumi pinched at Oikawa’s scalp. “I want a cute girl manager and to have them actually stay! And who knows? We get brownie points if it’s not another one of your fangirls trying to get in your pants by joining the club!”

“Ow! Mean Iwa-chan, bad!”

“I’m not a damn Pokémon-!” Iwaizumi was about to kick Oikawa in the back, before letting himself simmer down and take a deep breath. He lowered his legs, and turned towards the office door. “...I’m gonna go look at that girl’s application and see what class she’s in. Maybe we can, I dunno, make her a welcome basket of fruit or some corny shit like that.”

“Let me come with you-!”

“No! You’ll just scare her away, and you have cleaning duty! All you need to do is take down the net, and I’ll meet you outside when I’m done. If you be good, I’ll tell you her name.”

Oikawa thought about it for a second.

“Deal.”

He disappeared to take down the net from the poles. Iwaizumi sighed, and walked towards the door. They were the only two left in the gym, as they were in charge of cleanup for the day, so no one else but him should be in the office. Well, minus the new girl and coach Irihata.

Iwaizumi slid open the door. “Yo.” He greeted. He looked around the room, only finding coach Irihata.

“...Didn’t someone come in here with you with an application form?”

Coach Irihata chuckled. “Oh, yeah,”

“He just wanted to drop in his member application before his part-time job made him go back to work.”

Iwaizumi froze.

“...he...?”

“Yeah, he wanted to join the club as a (Position name). He’s not confident about his jumping or spiking abilities, but he claims to be really dang good at digging and receives.”

The two looked at eachother in silence. Wasn’t she-well, he—wearing a skirt? Now that he thought about it, everything about him looked like...well...a him, minus the skirt. Iwaizumi dashed to the table and picked up the application resting there peacefully.

‘(L/n) (Y/n) - 2nd year, class 4’

‘Position - (Position name)’

Iwaizumi scanned the page. He wanted to doubt this was the ‘cute manager’ they laid their eyes on, but they even had a school photo clipped onto the corner of the paper. Sure enough, that was him. His eyes eventually landed on something printed on the middle of the page.

‘Gender - male’

That proved it. The ‘cute girl manager’ Oikawa was just fawning over turned out to be a guy. And their future teammate, no less. Iwaizumi wanted to laugh in Oikawa’s face.

“Is there something wrong, Iwaizumi-kun?”

“Pfft-no! N-no, sirrrrr....” Iwaizumi set the paper down and walked out the the room, doing his best to keep in his snickers.

Oikawa jogged up to him excitedly once he stepped out of the gym. “So? Did ya find out her name? Her class? Is she our manager?”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to say something, before letting his mouth clamp shut.

“Nah, coach said I couldn’t see it.”

He watched as Oikawa deflated, trudging his way over to the club room to change and go home. Iwaizumi did his best not to bust out laughing on the spot.

This should be fun.

——

“Iwa-chan!”

“No, you stalker.”

“But Iwa-chaaaaaan!” Oikawa whined. “Why not?! Practice ended early, and we could use some coffee! Come buy coffee with me!”

“You just wanna use me as an excuse to see that bo-that girl who came into our club yesterday, idiot! That’s stalking! You’re acting like your little fangirls!”

Oikawa pouted, and Iwaizumi prayed he didn’t catch him on his little slip-up. He turned around, walking off out of school gates. Oikawa dejectedly trailed behind him.

“I’m going home. Don’t bother me if it’s about that manager again—“

Just then, a text tone pinged from Iwaizumi’s pocket. He stopped mid-sentence, fishing out his phone and opening his messaging app.

‘Mom - no ones going to be home because we have to go out real quick. The house is locked, and you left your spare keys with me again. Go out and have fun with Tooru-kun before I come back!’

Iwaizumi deadpanned. Oikawa had his chin resting on his shoulder, with a shit-eating grin Iwaizumi didn’t even have to look at to know was there.

“Yeah, Iwa-chan. Listen to Mrs. Aina and hang out with Tooru-kun for a bit. We can go to the cafe and hang out like your she said, Iwa-chan~”

Iwaizumi pushed past Oikawa bitterly. “Don’t... fuckin’... call my mom by her name... dumbass... stalker... Shittykawa...” he grumbled as he trudged his way in the direction to the cafe. Oikawa let out a small “Yay~!”

——

Hiding behind the big, laminated menus the cafe provided, Oikawa kept glancing over to the cashier-area to try and find (Y/n). Iwaizumi deadpanned, sitting back in his chair nonchalantly.

“You’re acting stupid.”

“I’m being sneaky.”

“You look more suspicious than if you were to act like yourself.”

“As if you would know!” Oikawa whisper-yelled to Iwaizumi, momentarily letting his menu fall flat. “I’m trying not to get caught, unlike one of us-!”

“Hello?”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi froze. Oikawa rigidly turned to the voice, while Iwaizumi almost fell back in his seat.

There stood the boy—well, the ‘girl’, in his work apron, this time, up close. Oikawa could see the detail in his eyes, the way a few of his hairs fell onto his face and stuck because of the small layer of sweat on his forehead, even taking in the small kitty hair clip resting in his hair.

“Hu...huaai...” Oikawa breathed out. Iwaizumi bit his lip. If he started laughing now, Oikawa would tell his mom he was bullying him again.

“Hello! I was wondering if I could get you two anything to drink! No worries if you aren’t ready to order yet.”

His voice had a soft tamber to it, a warm, welcoming aura that fit the vibe of the cafe perfectly. Iwaizumi could see how Oikawa, and probably other people, could mistake him for a girl. Especially with the way he dressed and carried himself as evident to yesterday’s practice.

Iwaizumi tilted the menu infront of him up a bit. “I’ll get a small black coffee. Whabout you, Oikawa?”

When he got no response, other than the hum of acknowledgment from (Y/n), Iwaizumi looked up. Oikawa was staring dumbly at (Y/n) again, and seconds later (Y/n) was caught under his gaze. He stared back awkwardly, waiting for Oikawa to say something or at least order something, until he suddenly jolted up in pain.

Iwaizumi dug his heel deeper into Oikawa’s foot. “Say something, dumbass! Stop staring!” He hissed, covering his mouth from (Y/n) in petty attempts to mask their conversation.

“Ow! Ow! I’ll get a peppermint tea please-! Stop it!”

(Y/n) scribbled down Oikawa’s order, smiling patiently as he did. Iwaizumi removed his foot. There was a beat of silence, until Oikawa smoothly rested his chin on his hand.

“Soooo, (L/n) (Y/n)-chan, is it?” Oikawa said, as he peered at (Y/n’s) name tag. “Pretty masculine name for a cute girl like you~”

Iwaizumi choked on his spit. (Y/n) tilted his head to the side, looking up from his notepad to peer back at Oikawa.

“What...did you say?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head cutely. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I think (Y/n) is a cute name~”

Iwaizumi didn’t know if he wanted to die from laughter or embarrassment. He was going to pop a vein trying to keep in his cackles.

“Ah. It’s the clothes, isn’t it?” (Y/n) mused. He took a step back, looking at his rather-feminine clothing choices for the day. “I understand why. I get that a lot.”

“...What does your clothes have to do with your name?” It was Oikawa’s turn to sound confused. Iwaizumi let out a few haggard, stifled snickers at his dense expression. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.

“You...” He pointed at himself with his pen. “You do realize I’m a man, correct?”

Oikawa choked. His eyes widened as his smile cracked a bit. Iwaizumi had to hide his face in his jacket to prevent himself from bursting out into hackles. Oikawa gave a nervous smile.

“Aha...haha...funny joke..”

“I’m not joking, though...” (Y/n) smirked. He wouldn’t deny that seeing the faces of people flirting with him after he told them he had a dick was a guilty pleasure. “Want proof?”

(Y/n) grasped Oikawa’s wrist, tugging it forcefully, and moving his apron to the side. He brought it down closer to his groin until Oikawa sputtered and flailed on the table.

“No! I-I believe you! I-I can see it from here—I don’t need to touch it-!” Oikawa shrieked. Iwaizumi clutched his stomach from laughing too hard, already given up on keeping it in. He snorted loudly, choked on that snort, and erupted into a series of cough-laughs.

By the time Iwaizumi’s laugh turned into the kind where no noise came out-but it hurt in your stomach anyways—Oikawa was laying his head on the table, embarrassed, while (Y/n) chuckled along.

“You knew, Iwa-chan! You knew!” Oikawa hissed, holding his poor, abused hand. “You set me up for failure!”

“You did that to yourself.” Iwaizumi said between breaths. “He’s actually gonna start attending practice as a (position name) starting next week. We don’t have a manager after all.”

“And you got my hopes up for what?!” Oikawa cried out, making Iwaizumi snort again. (Y/n) raised his eyebrows.

“Manager?”

“Oikawa thought that when you came to drop your registration form in yesterday, that you were signing up to be a manager since he thought you were a girl. I saw your form though, so I knew but this guy here didn’t.”

Iwaizumi nudged at Oikawa, who was hiding his face in his hands. “You better be nice to him, though. He’s your new captain starting next week.”

“Ah! How fun! Having my new playboy captain flirt with me before I even join the club. ” (Y/n) mumbled, as he scribbled down something else in his notepad. Iwaizumi heckled when Oikawa whined with his head down.

He didn’t raise his head back up until a slip of paper was placed gently on top of his head. He heard a “I’ll go get your drink ready.” From (Y/n), before he looked up and noticed he was gone. He caught the slip of paper falling off his head as he sat up.

“What’s that?” Iwaizumi said lazily. Oikawa was staring giddily at the paper. He turned the paper around smugly, holding it up for Iwaizumi to read.

‘Call me. If you’re feeling fruity, that is. (xxx)-xxx-xxxx. -‘(Y/n)-chan’’

Iwaizumi stared at the neat handwriting, then back at Oikawa’s smug face.

“...Were you not just listening? He just tried to make you touch his dick? He’s a dude?”

“Eh. Cute girl, cute boy, he’s still cute~” Oikawa dreamily sighed as he watched (Y/n) make his tea behind the counter. “I’d still hit it till he breaks~”

“Pervert.”

“Says you.”

Oikawa earned a sharp thunk to the head.

——————

#haikyuu x male reader #tooru oikawa #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa #oikawa x male reader #haikyuu oikawa #hq x y/n #hq x reader #hq x male reader #haikyuu fic #oikawa x femboy reader #hq iwaizumi #hq oikawa

2K notes · View notes

outivv · 3 years

Note

Hello hello! Could I request cooking with Azul, Vil, Ace and Jamil? Thank you! 💞

Synopsis: cooking because even slightly domestic fluff is <3333

Warnings: not proofread

Game/ fandom: twisted wonderland

Characters: azul, vil, ace, and jamil

Pronouns for reader: gender neutral/ not mentioned

A/n: Hello! Thank you for requesting! I genuinely was so excited to write this request like mmmmm. I apologize if anyone is out of character, I’m still kind of new to writing for these characters, but nonetheless I hope you enjoy, and have a lovely rest of your day/ evening! <3

— azul —

His family own a restaurant he knows his way around the kitchen even just a little bit.

I feel like he doesn’t cook very often, but he can do it!

Very strict when following the recipe. You say you and your family used to make pie with a little extra sugar? Well does the recipe call for that?

Mc: “oh! Can we add some octopus to this!”

Azul: “…not including the fact that this is a cake… no… we’re not adding octopus to this…” ಠ_ಠ

So focused. He’ll be cutting some vegetables, and will be zoning out and seemingly staring at the carrot he’s cutting. In actuality he’s staring at his hand so he doesn’t cut himself :’)

Speaking of which, if he sees you’ve cut yourself he’ll immediately grab a bandaid, and patch you up so carefully. But… you’re also not allowed to touch a single knife in the kitchen for the rest of the day. Sorry he’s not risking you getting hurt again >:(

Just imagine though, azul with his sleeves rolled up, glasses slightly lower than usual, and watching over something in the pan as it cooks. <3

— vil —

Makes breakfast with you every day, because “breakfast is the most important meal of the day” and he genuinely likes making “breakfast foods”

Always has his hair up in a bun, or ponytail so it’s out of his face when he cooks. He’ll probably mention something about you getting your hair out of your face as you cook, partially because she just wants to see your focused face. Probably thinks it’s cute.

Demands you wear an apron because even if you are in your pajamas he is not having you get your clothes, or is dirty. Especially if it’s a day where you’d be kind of… spend some time just in your pajamas in the morning.

Vil is probably one of those people who cleans as he cooks. It’s a bit frantic as he’s whisking the batter in his hand, while also trying to get some things in order.

Breakfast always turns out… absolutely beautiful. Like… it’s so aesthetically pleasing. He probably takes a picture of it for MagiCam, and you can’t even blame him it’ll look that good.

Mc: “how can you make a simple pancake look absolutely beautiful, and so incredibly delicious all at once…”

Vil: “…we literally go to a magic school.”

Maybe even does cooking streams on MagiCam. It’s always a lot of fun, but it doesn’t happen often.

— ace —

Cannot cook without heavy instructions. Like he just can’t do it. He wants to (mostly to impress you), but without Trey, or you looking over his shoulder and helping him, he will burn the kitchen down.

It’s a lot of fun cooking with him. It has a very lively, and comfortable feeling to it. You’ll be listening to music throughout the whole thing too. He’s picky though which… can lead to a minor argument on why listening to only one song the entire time is not ok.

Mc: “Its literally a song about two trucks having sex… I’m not listening to that on repeat.”

Ace: “you just don’t appreciate art.” (He’d listen to lemon demon 100%)

He’s very messy in the kitchen, and refuses to wear an apron of any sorts. Says it’s “too restricting”... put on the apron ace

He does the cliche of hugging you from behind and swaying you from side to side. It’d be super cute if he didn’t burn your food because he was looking away from it in the process.

The end product is… a little bit less than appealing but hey! You both enjoyed making it, and that’s all that matters!

— jamil —

Everyone else can step aside. Jamil is the best cook out of everyone here there is no competition.

Loves when you want to cook with him! It makes him really happy, and he’ll even teach you a few recipes of his!

Kalim is happy too. He gets more food since I think you and jamil would experiment with food a lot in kitchen. Trying new recipes, swapping out ingredients, and maybe doubling a recipe cause last time was so good! And kalim is your test subject for most of your new recipes. Don’t worry! It’s by choice of course!

If you… weren’t the best cook jamil wouldn’t have the heart to tell you. He enjoys cooking with you so much, and doesn’t wanna say that the dish you made was a little too burnt. It’s fine. He’ll he fine.

Mc: “so… how is it???”

Jamil with literal tears in his eyes: “perfect”

Even if you’re just in the kitchen watching him cook he’ll enjoy himself much much more than if he was alone cooking. He always loves his conversations with you, and he doesn’t mind slightly multitasking!

28 notes · View notes

luffles424 · 4 years

Text

Tips & Teases

☼ Pairing: Seokjin x reader

☼ Genre: fluff, smut, pwp (with some plot), skating carhop!reader, diner cook!Seokjin, coworkers 2 lovers

☼ Count: 13.1K

☼ Warnings: 18+, teasing, dom!Seokjin, brat!reader, some possessiveness, big dick!Seokjin, manhandling, mirror sex (sort of, it’s actually a window, but it’s still a reflection), semi public sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, degradation (lots of use of the word slut), spanking, spitting, assplay, pussy spanking, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, hair pulling, ass worship, ass eating, orgasm denial, oral (f receiving), squirting, choking, unprotected, creampie, aftercare

☼ Summary: Jimin’s annual Halloween costume party presents you the perfect excuse to tease Seokjin, using the party as an excuse to wear flirty costumes to work to try to provoke a response in the man. Are you really prepared for what happens when he snaps?

☼ a/n: This one got a little bit away from me lmao But I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

☼ Written for @btsholidaybingo to fill the square costume party

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

You glance up at the exclamation, seeing Seokjin leaning against the counter in the pass through, brows furrowed as he takes in your seated form. You hide your smirk by ducking your head to finish tying your skates. It’s not fully the reaction you were hoping for but you’re hoping that’ll change once you stand up and he sees it fully. You thought long and hard on what you were going to wear. You have backups, but you decided to start easy on him. But you were fully prepared to escalate.

Skates tied, you push yourself up and give a little spin to fully show off your outfit. And to maybe let the already fairly short skirt flair and rise a little higher as you move. You come to a stop facing Seokjin once more, innocent smile tugging your lips as your toe stop presses into the ground to keep you in place. You smooth down the skirt, though the layers of tulle keep it from laying completely flat.

Seokjin’s eyes drag over your form and you wait with baited breath for his reaction. This was all part of your plan to tease and fluster him. “Again, what the fuck are you wearing?”

You pout. That’s still not what you were expecting, though you think you can just make out the tips of his ears turning red. You put a hand on your hip. “It’s October.”

His head tilts. “Yeah and Halloween isn’t for another two weeks. It doesn’t explain this getup.”

You scoff. “Halloween is all month, first of all. And Jimin’s costume party is coming up and I couldn’t decide on what to wear so I decided to try them out at work first.” You bat your lashes at him, forcing down a smirk. “Does that mean you don’t like it?”

His mouth opens then snaps closed as his cheeks dusted with pink. “There’s no way that Namjoon approved that,” he deflects. Interesting.

You look down at the costume. It’s a fairly generic ‘sexy’ waitress costume. Red with yellow stripes that matches the overall aesthetic of your little drive in diner. The skirt hits above midthigh, puffed out by tulle, so the skirt bounces a little more with each movement along with a small ruffled apron with a pocket that isn’t actually usable. The buttons stop at the right point to give a more than ample display of cleavage. And you’ve paired the whole thing with a set of thigh high socks, leaving only a tantalizing glimpse of your thighs on display.

You look back up and quirk an eyebrow, smirking. “Joonie was with me when I bought it.”

A ding sounds and you both turn to look at the wall where the board for the all parking spots sits, a light glowing beside the number 12. You swipe one of the order pads and a pen from the counter and move to the door to outside. You give him a wink before nudging the door open with your hip and skating out to the waiting car.

Seokjin scowls after you and then pulls out his phone, dialing Namjoon’s number.

Namjoon picks up after a few rings. “Is someone dying or is the building on fire?”

Seokjin frowns, watching as he watches you laugh as you speak with the people in the car. “What?”

“Is someone dying or is the building on fire?”

“I… well no-”

“Then why are you calling me? Jin, it’s my only day off and I know you’re at Omelas right now, so this is clearly a work related call.” Namjoon sighs. He sounds a little tired and Seokjin suddenly worries that he woke him up even though it’s 4 in the afternoon. The manager works far too much for his own good.

“Did you really tell Y/n she could wear a waitress costume to work?”

There’s a pause and then Namjoon chuckles. “Wow she really wore it? Man, her tips are going to be great today.”

Seokjin’s about to respond when he catches sight of you leaning over to speak to another car, back facing him, and the action causes your skirt to rise further up your thighs. He swallows and jerks his gaze away, glaring at the grill and cursing that it’s slow and he has nothing to keep him busy right now. He needs a distraction to keep from just watching you longer.

Namjoon continues when Seokjin remains silent. “Yes, I said she could wear it. It’s the season and I’m sure it’ll appeal to customers to see them skating in costume and it’ll boost business. Hm, I should probably make up some rules cause I worry what Jimin will wear,” he finishes, seeming to be speaking more to himself.

“I think it’s dumb.” Seokjin mutters petulantly. Dumb is definitely not how he’d truly describe it. It’s more frustrating, maddening, distracting. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to focus on work when you’re flitting around looking like that. Maybe he can switch future shifts so he doesn’t have to work the same time as you.

Namjoon snorts. “Noted. Is that all?”

Seokjin mutters a yes and Namjoon hangs up with a warning to call again only if there’s an emergency. His hand drops back to his side in defeat. Namjoon was the only one who could save him and he apparently is more worried about Jimin’s costume than yours. He stares at the grill, he had really hoped that Namjoon would back him up. He’s not ready for this shift. Maybe he can call Taehyung or Yoongi to come cover and he can fake being sick or something.

The door opens and he looks up, deflating slightly when he sees that it’s just Jungkook, who immediately flashes him a sheepish smile.

“You’re late,” he snaps. He knows he’s not really mad at Jungkook. They’re all guilty of being a little late, but he has nowhere else to channel the feelings simmering just under his skin.

Jungkook grins and tosses his bag into the cubby behind the counter along with his boots before moving back around to sit to put his skates on. “I’m not that late. Besides,” he glances out the glass front doors to where a group of guys have sat at one of the picnic tables under the awning. You stand with a hip cocked, giggling at something one of them has said. “Seems like Y/n’s got everything handled right now.”

“Just get to work before I tell Namjoon you were late again.”

Jungkook stands, shit-eating grin firmly in place as he glances out the window pointedly. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t do that.” And before Seokjin can respond, he skates out the door to see who you want him to take.

Seokjin doesn’t know how he’s going to survive this shift.

The next time that Seokjin works a shift with you, he encounters Jimin first. A very shirtless Jimin who’s back is to him when he enters the building.

“Jimin, what the fuck?”

Jimin turns and grins, quickly moving around the counter so Seokjin can see the full extent of his costume. Or more accurately, his lack of clothing. Because the only thing on Jimin right now that counts as clothing is the tight pair of black shorts that barely even really cover his thick thighs. The only other things on him are a pair of suspenders, a green tie, and two black x’s that cover his nipples.

Seokjin blinks. “What the fuck are you even supposed to be?”

Jimin adjusts the thick black glasses on his face with a grin. “Class president,” he states proudly.

Seokjin scoffs. “What fucking class president looks like that?”

Jimin pouts. “Well I was class president. So me.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Does Namjoon know you’re wearing this? There’s no way he allowed this.”

“We compromised.”

Seokjin lifts a brow, looking over Jimin’s “costume” once more. “Where’s the compromise?”

He points proudly to the pasties. “These are. And I have a jacket for when the sun goes down and it gets colder.” He turns and grabs the two drinks he had been working on and moves towards the door. “Isn’t Y/n’s costume idea great?” he adds before exiting the building. He also very much does not like your costume idea. He can already feel his sanity fraying with just the thought of working another shift with you in that little waitress getup.

“That’s… not a compromise.” Seokjin says weakly as he turns to put his bag away, knowing that even if Jimin did hear it, he wasn’t going to respond.

However you happen to enter and catch what he said and you giggle. “You don’t want to know about the rest of the compromise, Jinnie.”

He’s about to respond; say that he can certainly imagine what the compromise was because Jimin has never been shy about telling everyone how he managed to talk Namjoon into very not Namjoon situations. His words die in his throat though when he catches sight of you as you begin to get some drinks. Nothing about last time prepared him for this. Because you’re not wearing the waitress costume tonight. Oh no, apparently that would have been too simple. You have a different costume on.

You have thigh high socks on, though these are thicker than the other ones you had worn. There’s a lot more thigh on display as well thanks to the short, white athletic shorts you’re wearing, paired with a cropped white jersey emblazoned with ‘Tune Squad.’ And finishing off the look is a pair of tan and white bunny ears perched on your head and what he discovers when you turn to grab something and much to his horror, is the matching fluffy tail settled right on top of the swell of your ass.

When you turn back, he has to quickly jerk his gaze away from staring at your ass longer. There’s a knowing smirk when his eyes finally meet yours, like you knew what putting the tail on would do.

Seokjin clears his throat. “And what are you supposed to be?”

You gasp in mock horror, hands coming up to rest over your heart like he’s physically hurt you. “You can’t be serious!” When he doesn’t say anything else, you shake your head in disappointment. “Space Jam is a classic and you’re a heathen for not recognizing Lola Bunny. Shame on you,” you tut. You gather your drinks on a tray and move towards the door, pausing as your back presses against the glass to cast Seokjin an appraising look. “Suppose I’ll have to look for a Bugs Bunny then, hm?”

And with a wink, you’re nudging the door open and skating out to a table full of guys and Seokjin bristles at the way some of them blatantly stare at your ass. His mind belatedly catches on your parting words and he wonders what you meant. Was it directed at him? Did you want him to be your Bugs? He doubts that, he can’t recall a moment of you ever expressing interest in him as anything more than a friend. Maybe you were making a joke about how you needed someone else to help your costume be more recognizable. Though Seokjin knew what your costume was when he saw it. He just didn’t know what else to say without saying something incriminating.

A snicker has his head whipping around to see Taehyung standing over the grill, eyes trained on the food in front of him.

“And what do you find so funny?” Seokjin asks, tugging his apron off the hook on the wall to put on.

“You,” he answers simply, flipping one of the burgers in front of him.

Seokjin makes a face. “I don’t recall making a joke.”

Taehyung looks up at him with a boxy grin. “Oh, no. Your jokes aren’t funny. But the way her ass made you so stupid that you forgot a movie is hilarious. I know for a fact that you’ve seen it at least once because we’ve watched it together.”

Seokjin feels his cheeks heat. Taehyung’s not wrong. He probably would’ve recognized the costume as Lola a lot faster if he hadn’t been almost immediately faced with your ass stretching the fabric and the way the cottontail perched just above it in a way that could only draw you to stare. He scowls, he can’t let Taehyung know he’s right. They all tease him enough as is, this would just be one more thing to add to the pile. He moves over to the younger man and tugs the spatula from his hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to be off work now? Go enjoy your freedom.”

Taehyung only takes a few steps away, perching on the stool they keep behind the counter with a smug look.

Seokjin sighs. “What?”

He gestures to the food before Seokjin. “That’s my food.”

Seokjin blinks for a moment before groaning. He really played himself here. Now he has no choice but to finish Taehyung’s food.

Seokjin’s positive that he’s prepared for the next time he sees you. He knows to expect something different. And honestly, nothing could be worse than those shorts. Jungkook is there first and Seokjin groans when he sees him.

“She got to you too?” He whines, looking over the younger man.

At least his shorts are a more acceptable length than Jimin’s were. And he’s wearing an actual shirt. Really the only thing that signifies that he’s wearing a costume is the pair of bunny ears on his head. Actually, Seokjin’s positive that they’re the ones you were wearing for your Lola Bunny costume. Which confirms that you’re going to be wearing something else. But it’s fine. Seokjin can handle it.

Jungkook grins and glances out to where a table full of giggling girls sits. “I mean, she had a pretty good idea. The tips have been really good lately.”

“Don’t listen to his grumpy ass, Kookie. You make an adorable bun.” You grin, walking through the door. Seokjin’s eyes trail over your frame immediately, greedy to see what you’re wearing, but all you’ve got on is a thigh length trench coat. “He’s just jealous that no one gets to see his costume.”

Jungkook chuckles as he leaves and it takes Seokjin a moment to realize that he should respond. He frowns. “I’m not wearing a costume.”

Your mouth forms an ‘oh’ of exaggerated surprise, hand coming up to your chest. “You’re not?”

Your gaze slowly drags over his form and Seokjin suddenly feels a little self conscious that he’s just in sweats and a white shirt. It’s not much, but no one really sees him in here so he just went for comfort today. The way your eyes linger where his apron is tied, accentuating his tiny waist before trailing up to where his biceps stretch his sleeves has the tips of his ears coloring red quickly. He wishes he had longer hair so that you couldn’t see them right now. Then your lips quirk up into a teasing grin.

“Could’ve fooled me. You’ve got the perfect Bob Belcher look going on here, Jinnie.”

Seokjin’s face twists. Bob Belcher? Seriously? That’s how you see him. He scowls, looking over your outfit. “And just what are you supposed to be? A flasher?”

You giggle at his statement, pulling something golden from your bag. A moment later, you’re placing it on your head and he realizes that it’s a short, 4 pointed, gold crown with 4 alternating blue and red gems that sits on a headband so that it stays in place. It looks so familiar but he can’t place why.

You give him a wry smile. “No, of course not. I had to run to the store so I threw a coat on.”

He rolls his eyes. “Is your costume that-”

He cuts himself off as you slowly slip your jacket off, head tilted as you watch him closely. Now he realizes why the crown looked familiar. Because it’s Princess Peach’s crown. Because apparently you’ve decided to dress like every fantasy he had when he was young once he discovered the Mario games.

The dress is much shorter than Peach’s is, your’s sits high on your thighs and dips low to show a generous amount of cleavage. You have thigh high white tights one that only accentuate the sliver of thigh that you have on display much the same way your waitress costume did. But this is somehow worse and Seokjin suddenly very much regrets wearing sweatpants today of all days. At least he’s got the apron on.

He turns back to the grill, but the image of you dressed like that will be burned into his brain forever. He might actually die.

You giggle and he hears the sound of your skates as you move towards the door. “Just have to find a Mario. We’d be so cute together.” And with that you skate out.

Seokjin’s thrilled that it’s finally the day of the party and that it’s finally Halloween. It means he won’t have to deal with you in your costumes anymore. He honestly doesn’t think he can handle anything else after the Peach costume. Or even seeing the Peach costume again. He has no idea what you’ll be wearing tonight and he is torn on which he wants you to wear.

Yoongi is manning the grill when Seokjin gets there because it’s a Friday so their shifts overlap for the dinner rush before Seokjin will close down for the night. And he saw Hoseok out taking care of a few customers, but he’s unsure if Hoseok was working the earlier shift or if he took Jimin’s shift so the younger man could set up for the party. He hopes it’s the latter, he worries who would come to replace him if he worked the earlier shift.

He gives him a nod of acknowledgement before focusing again on the grill as Seokjin gets ready for his shift. He had seriously considered skipping the party later since he’s closing and it means he’d get there late. But it’s Jimin’s party and not only would the younger harass him until he came, he also knows it’ll go late into the evening and so his closing shift won’t affect anything. But the late time does mean that he decided to wear his costume to work, well one of them. He has a second one in his car, a stupid idea just in case you happened to wear Peach again. He knows it’s fairly unlikely, but he supposes that the Mario costume sitting on the car seat is at least a little comforting. Maybe an easy way for him to possibly ask you out. Or just embarrass himself. At least it’ll be at a party and he can drink himself silly when he gets rejected.

But for now, he’s content with his costume. It at least won’t get a snarky comment from you comparing him to Bob Belcher. Because he actually put a little thought into this costume and he’s pretty proud that he managed to pull together such a good Geralt costume. His hair currently being bleach blond also helped give him the idea. The wig for proper accuracy and sword are in his car, they seemed a little impractical to work in, but the rest of the costume was pretty comfortable. The higher waisted pants are different but he thinks they’re pretty flattering and form fitting and the shirt is just billowy enough to give the illusion that he’s a little buffer than he really is.

The most telling part of the costume is the wolf head medallion hung around his neck. Which he hopes people recognize for what it is and don’t just think he’s wearing some fancy, period style clothes. Plus wearing it now meant that he didn’t have to change either at work while trying to close or show up to the party and change there. And he’s incredibly thankful that Jungkook, nerd that he is, not only had a sword for him to borrow, but actually had a replica specifically of Geralt’s sword.

Seokjin tugs his apron from the rack, back to the door when he hears it open. He hears Yoongi let out a low whistle.

“I don’t know who’s attention you’re trying to catch, but consider it caught.”

Seokjin turns, curious as to who and what Yoongi is talking about and he feels his breath catch in his throat. Because apparently fate is cruel and has decided that you of course would pick up Jimin’s shift and would be the one who closes with him. He licks his lips as his gaze slowly trails over you.

He doesn’t even know what to take in first. Your black dress is low cut and short, your legs covered in lacy floral tights. But the most distracting part is the glittering body cage that sits over your dress. It cages your breasts in and accentuates them even more than the dress, extended up your chest to form a collar around your throat. Thinner strips cover your shoulders and upper arms, forming a parody of sleeves. The strands curve around your hips, the ends coming together to form a point that just touches the hem of the dress.

A medallion hangs at your throat, the circular bronze marked with a starburst. You grin at Yoongi as you slip a lace mask on that sits delicately over your eyes. He realizes that you’re dressed as Yennifer. God and not just any outfit, a much skimpier version of the outfit from the orgy scene of all scenes. How is he supposed to survive this shift now?

There’s no way that you knew what he was wearing. This just has to be all a weird coincidence. A very very weird coincidence that has rendered him completely speechless. You glance at him with the ghost of a smile on your lips as you take a seat to swap your ankle boots out for your skates. He gets another brief glance before you’re skating out to join Hoseok outside.

“You’ve got it bad, dude.”

Seokjin jerks at the words, tearing his gaze from your ass to glare at Yoongi. “What are you talking about?”

Yoongi gives him a flat look. “Come on, everyone can see your massive crush on her.” Seokjin shoots a worried glance to where you stand talking to a car and Yoongi gives a chuckle and shake of his head. “Okay, maybe everyone but her. But dude, come on. How long are you going to pine for? Just go for it already.”

“But-”

“There is no but here dude. It wouldn’t make work awkward and it’s very clearly not one-sided. Just ask her.”

Seokjin huffs. He wants to believe Yoongi, he really does. But he worries that you only flirt with him to see his ears turn red and to tease him. You flirt with the others too and it’s hard to tell if you are just flirty in a friendly way or if you truly want more. And he’d hate to make you uncomfortable at work by making a move on you. He turns and chooses instead to ignore Yoongi for the remainder of their shared shift. It’ll get busy anyway so it’s not like he’ll have to try too hard to avoid any further conversation on the topic of you. Something Seokjin would very much like to keep out of his mind given if he thinks about you for too long, it’s going to go straight to your outfit and he doesn’t really need to pop another boner at work while trying to cook.

Seokjin gets through almost his entire shift with his sanity intact. There’s 30 minutes until close and there’s only one table here. They seem interested in only getting some drinks, so Seokjin takes the opportunity to slip his apron off and begins cleaning up and getting some of the closing duties out of the way so that he can get out of here sooner and go get very drunk at Jimin’s party and try to pretend that he didn’t nearly see your ass tonight when you bent over in front of him earlier. There was a flash of skin from beneath your skirt and Seokjin had to go spend a few minutes in the freezer. When he came out you looked far too amused.

Seokjin glances out the window, realizing that you haven’t been back inside for a little while and worrying that maybe something happened. But all he sees is you chatting with a table of guys. He’s about to get back to cleaning when one of the guys reaches out to run his fingers down your arm. There’s a coy smile on your face and Seokjin clenches his jaw. He glances at the clock. 5 minutes.

He debates just kicking them out now. It’s not like Namjoon would fire him for it. He doubts they would even bother complaining beyond making a fuss before they leave. But then your hand comes up to touch his shoulder, just for a moment, and Seokjin’s resolve snaps. He snatches their receipt from the counter where you left it and stalks out of the building.

You glance up at the sound of the door, smiling a little when you see Seokjin exiting. You and the group of guys startle slightly when he slams his hand onto the table, revealing the bill when he pulls away.

“We’re closed,” he snarls, grabbing you and directing you back inside.

You stumble slightly, skates leaving you slightly off balance for the sudden movement but you manage to steady yourself by grabbing Seokjin’s bicep with your free hand and allow him to pull you along inside. He leaves you at the counter as he stomps to the back, muttering something under his breath. You look back outside, seeing the guys exchanging confused looks but they place some money on the table and shuffle off, likely not wanting to see what else Seokjin does when he gets angry.

You squirm slightly, you’ve never seen him so angry, it’s incredibly hot. Especially with him dressed as Geralt tonight. You wait patiently, watching as the outside lights are shut off and then most of the inside ones as well, casting the kitchen in a faint blue glow from the auxiliary lights that remain on no matter what.

A moment later Seokjin returns, face set in a harsh look of displeasure. You fight down a grin at pushing him far enough to finally get a reaction. He pauses in front of you, glancing behind you briefly, likely to check that the men have actually left. There’s a soft hum from him that makes your lips twitch up in a small smile and when he catches sight of it, his eyes darken.

“Something amusing to you, sweetheart?” His cold tone sends a shiver down your spine.

You blink up at him with faux innocence. “Nothing at all, Jinnie.”

His gaze trails slowly over your face and then he’s reaching and removing the delicate lace mask from your face and tossing it to the counter behind you.

“I don’t think you’re being honest with me,” he murmurs. He leans forward and your breath catches in your throat, thinking he’s going to kiss you, but he bypasses your mouth, lips brushing your ear as he continues to speak. “I think you did this on purpose and you find it very amusing.”

Your body tingles at his tone, at the way he laces a threat into the seemingly innocuous words. He leans back and you only get a second to admire his smirk before he’s spinning you around and pushing your upper half down against the counter. It takes you a second to get your feet under you with the skates hindering you slightly, but you manage to get yourself stabilized and balanced on your toe stops.

You plant your hands on the counter to keep stable and glance over your shoulder, only to have your face roughly turned forward once more towards the window. It’s dark out and you know it would be hard to see into the dim windows from the street, but if anyone happens to walk closer, they’d be able to see everything. The thought sends a thrill through you. A hand lands on your ass, cushioned by your dress, but the sudden impact still draws a gasp from your lips.

“I think,” Jin pauses, fingers trailing lightly across the curve of your ass, “that you have planned all of this with just me in mind, hm?” You don’t know whether he actually wants you to respond or not, but he continues before you can voice anything. “I think someone has been a very bad girl,” the hand on your ass stops and his fingers dig into the flesh harshly. “And that someone needs to be punished,” he finishes with a hiss.

His hand lands another smack on your ass, a little harder this time, and you feel the slight sting heat your skin. You feel your panties dampen and you squirm as well as you can given the way you have to hold your feet still lest you slip. His hands grope at your cheeks before they slide down enough for him to hook his thumbs under the fabric and he tugs the hem of your dress up and over your ass.

The hands pause then tighten around the fabric of your dress and you hear him swear under his breath at the sight of your ass clad in black lacy panties, ones that closely resemble your mask, and framed by the lace garter straps of your tights.

“Fuck… You really did plan this all out…” His hand leaves you again before coming down with a resounding smack, no longer padded by your dress and your thin panties do little to cushion the blow. A moan slips from your lips and Seokjin lets out a dark chuckle. “Oh, are you enjoying your punishment? Well, we’ll just have to fix that, hm?”

He spanks you again, harder this time and you whimper. He hums in approval, hand smoothing over the smarting skin for a moment before he spanks the other cheek just as hard. Your toes curl in your skates at the pleasure-pain that shoots through you.

Seokjin tsks. “Hm, this just won’t do.” He mutters, seemingly more to himself because you have no idea what he could be thinking until his hand grabs the back of your panties, gathering a fistful of the fabric. It elastic pulls tight across your hips, digging into the skin to the point of discomfort. You whine, trying to push your hips up to relieve the sting but Seokjin just moves with, keeping his grip tight. Then he’s pulling harder, the elastic digging painfully into your skin followed by the sound of seams ripping. A final tug and the fabric tears completely, leaving your ass and pussy bear to Seokjin’s gaze.

A shudder ripples through you at the display. You can’t believe he just ripped your panties off. You can’t believe how much the action turns you on too.

A pleased noise rumbles in his chest as the scrap of lace is slipped into his pocket. “That’s much better.”

His hands are back on your ass, no barrier to keep you from feeling the warmth from his palms and the slightly roughened fingertips as they skim across your skin. You push into the touch, greedy for more of the soothing strokes. He chuckles, fingers slipping beneath the garter straps. He tugs them away from your skin before releasing them to let them snap against your skin.

“Seokjin-” you start, only to be quickly cut off by a sharp smack.

“Bad girls don’t get to speak unless spoken too, slut.”

You swallow, pussy clenching at his tone. Of all the things you imagined, you never quite imagined something like this. His hand smooths across your skin for a moment before delivering another spank.

“How many more do you think you deserve, slut?” he muses, hand remaining where it landed with his last smack.

“I-”

Another smack. “That was rhetorical. I don’t actually take the opinions of sluts.” His hand rubs at your warmed skin for a moment in thought. “I think 20 sounds fair. For all your little stunts with those costumes. For flirting with other guys where I can see. For teasing.” He pauses for a moment and when he speaks again, the harsh edge is gone. “Green means continue, yellow for slow down, and red I stop. Okay?”

It takes you a second to realize what he’s said and then you’re quickly nodding, excitement mounting at what could possibly be to come.

“I need words, princess,” he murmurs, voice softer than it has been since he brought you inside and it makes you melt a little.

“Yes, I understand.”

“That’s the first time you’ve been good all night, sweetheart.” You can hear the smirk in his voice and it makes you clench at the mean implications that come with such a simple statement. “But now let’s see if you can keep your good girl streak going while you get punished.” Both hands leave you and you want to turn around and look at him, see what he’s doing, but you feel it will only prompt further punishment. “I want you to count. And if you miss one, then we start all over again, got it?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes speaking, trying your best to keep from squirming. “Yes, sir.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl now,” he coos.

And then his hand is coming down on your ass, softer than his previous smacks and the gentleness makes you gasp. He pauses and waits and you belatedly let a 'one' slip from your lips. He hums in approval and delivers a smack to the other cheek, still just as soft and you murmur a quiet 'two.'

You squirm. You'd expected more harsh hits and the contrast has you aching for him to go a little rougher with you. He smacks again and again. Every slap of his palm against you only adds to the growing pleasurable sting that radiates across the whole surface of your ass.

He stops when he gets to ten, hands rubbing over the warm flesh. "Color?"

"Green, so green," you whine, pushing your ass back into his hands.

He chuckles. "You're so eager for your punishment that I'm starting to think that it might not be a very good punishment." His hand comes down, much harder than any previous spank and you cry out. "Ah, there we go."

Seokjin sounds so indifferent when he speaks, like he's not even bothered by your bare ass and the noises that slip from you with every connection. You wish you could see his face, see if there is any reaction he has. You want to see the indifference as he’s faced with your bare, dripping pussy and spank warmed ass. The next four spanks are just as harsh and tears gather, threatening to fall. It's so pleasurably painful that you can feel yourself dripping down your thighs. He gives you another small reprieve, hands ghosting along your smarting skin as you pant against the counter.

"Hm, there we go, that’s much better. Color?"

You squeeze your eyes closed, taking a moment to try to gather your foggy thoughts. You feel a few tears drip down your cheeks. "G-green."

His fingers dig into your ass then and you whine as you try to squirm away from the sudden flare of pain. Seokjin just chuckles again and digs his fingers in more. He pulls your cheeks apart and you gasp at being suddenly far more exposed. You clench at the burst of cool air across your asshole and pussy, and Seokjin just holds you like that for a long taunting moment. And then he surprises you further by spitting, the glob of spit hitting just above your asshole and beginning to slide down your crack.

You shudder, a moan slipping from your lips as Seokjin halts the spit from sliding too far by pressing his thumb to your hole. You feel yourself go boneless at the pressure. He hums in delight at the way you relax at only a little prodding.

"Oh? Do you like something in your ass too? My, what a naughty girl," he teases, mocking edge making you whine and press further against his thumb.

His thumb circles, pressing lightly against the tight ring of muscle, slowly spreading his saliva around. He plays with your hole, massaging it for a few moments before he's pulling away. He spanks you again and you tense up at the sudden flip from soft rubbing back to the harsh slaps.

"Didn't think I forgot about the rest of your punishment, did you?"

You quickly shake your head. You actually had forgotten that he said twenty and that you still have five left. But you can't let him know how distracted you had been by him playing with your ass. That you forgot you were being punished. That didn’t seem like it would go over well with him. Tears gather in your eyes as his hand lands again, breath punched from you as the pain builds with each swat of his hand.

Your throat feels rough when you finally croak out, 'twenty.'

His hands completely leave you and you tremble against the counter, struggling to keep yourself upright with your legs nearly boneless. You feel warm and floaty all over.

"Fuck, you look so good like that." You preen at the praise but he’s quick to laugh. And the mocking, mean edge of it has you whining. "You're absolutely dripping. Did you even learn anything from your punishment? Or did you just enjoy it?"

You jolt when his fingers brush against your tender ass before they trail down to your pussy, running the length of your slit and gathering some of your wetness on his fingertips. His fingers leave you once more and a second later you hear him suck his fingers clean.

He groans. "Fuck, I wasn't planning on doing this as part of your punishment but you taste far too good to not give myself a little treat. It is Halloween after all." You can hear the growing smirk when he continues. "Oh, I have a much better idea now anyway."

His fingers trace your pussy lips and you shift, mindlessly trying to get them where you want them. They pull away and Seokjin delivers a quick smack to your pussy, jolting your body at the sudden burst of pain across your sensitive cunt and forcing a surprised yelp from your lips.

"Behave."

You pout, though you assume he can't see it. That is until you glance up at the storefront and see your reflections in the window and the predatory way that Seokjin stares at you. His grin is feral when you make eye contact, like he's been waiting for you to finally look up and realize that he can see your face as well. He keeps staring at you as his fingers slip through your folds again before he lets one slide inside you.

You moan at the intrusion, but it's not enough. You want more already, body warmed from the teasing and spanking already. He’s barely touched your pussy and you’re already so desperate for him. You clench around his finger, hips pushing back to try to get him deeper. He removes his hand again to land another smack to your pussy, dangerously close to your clit. You moan.

"Fuck, you're so dirty. You like getting your slutty pussy spanked just as much as your little ass?"

You nod, desperate to get more of something, anything he's willing to give you. Simply hoping that by agreeing will get you something. Seokjin spanks your pussy again, this time directly over your clit and you cry out, legs nearly giving out beneath you as the pleasure-pain sensation alights your nerves. His finger circles your entrance slowly before slipping inside once again.

"Seokjin please..."

He drags his finger out slowly before thrusting it back in just as slowly, letting you feel every inch of the digit. "What is it? Please what? If you're going to beg, you're going to beg like a proper slut and use. Your. Words." He punctuates the last three words a harsh thrust of his finger after each one, leaving it buried once he's done speaking.

"Please... Wan-" Your voice breaks as his finger presses searchingly against your walls, finding your g-spot quickly and rubbing against the bundle. The action robs you of all thought, losing track of what you had been saying.

"Yes?" He questions mockingly, like he's not distracting you and making it hard for you to form a coherent thought. "Please what?"

You groan, head dropping forward to press your forehead against the cool countertop. The slight chill that seeps through your sweaty skin grounds you a bit. Enough to string together some words. "Want... Wanna cum, please let me cum..."

Seokjin presses more firmly against your spot and your whole body trembles at the wave of pleasure that washes through you, pushing you closer to orgasm.

"Oh? Do you think you deserve that?"

You nod quickly, squeaking when Seokjin removes his finger to slap your pussy again, the only reminder you get to speak. "Yes, yes... Was good and counted the whole time."

He hums thoughtfully. "I suppose you did. So you want to cum, slut?"

You squirm as his fingers tease alone your folds. It’s maddeningly light, nowhere near enough to push you over the edge. "Yes, please, wanna cum, Seokjin..."

His answering hum should send up red flags but he slips two fingers into your pussy, rubbing immediately across your g-spot with each thrust of his hand and you sink immediately into the pleasure it sends through you. You writhe and his free hand comes up to press against your back, pinning you more securely to the counter. It just makes you writhe more, push the boundaries and feel him press you just a little harder into the unmoving counter.

His thumbs slips forward on the next thrust to brush against your clit. Your belly tightens with every thrust and stroke of his fingers, orgasm rapidly approaching.

“You’re tightening around me so much. Is my little slut close?”

Your nod jerkily, hips twitching as you rock against his fingers. “S-so close…”

Seokjin stops with one last harsh thrust, switching instead to rubbing incessantly at your g-spot while his thumb circles your clit. “Then be a good fucking slut and cum,” he growls.

He grabs your hair, tugging your head up so that you're forced to stare at his reflection once more. The look on his face makes you shudder and your pussy clenches around his fingers. Your mouth drops open at the feral look in his eyes and the way he seems wholly consumed by watching your every twitch and reaction. One more twist of his fingers has you crying out his name, toes curling in your skates as he pushes you over the edge. His hand releases your hair, a look of warning keeps you from letting your head drop, and his hand comes down in another spank against your ass and you jolt at the added sensation as your orgasm floods your body.

His fingers work you through your orgasm, slowing only marginally as you shake beneath him. You whine when overstimulation starts to take over but you make no moves to stop his movements. The extra sensitivity only adds to the pleasure that still licks away at your veins.

"Wow, too much and you're not even gonna stop me? Fuck, you really are a dirty, needy little slut."

You whine again, pushing your hips back onto his fingers, drawing an amused huff from him. He thumbs your clit roughly, causing your knees to nearly give out, before he's removing his fingers entirely and you pout at the sudden empty feeling you're left with. His hand slips back into your hair, tightening and pulling your head further back so your chest lifts slightly from the counter and you gasp as your attention is pulled back to his reflection. He smirks at you for a moment and then he's releasing you once more. You collapse against the counter, struggling slightly to keep your footing.

You're suddenly very much regretting the fact that you have to wear skates at work because it's proving to be very dangerous. You wish you could stop and take them off, but you’re certain that Seokjin wants them on for the fact that it keeps you nearly immboile against the counter. You can’t deny that for the struggle to remain upright aside, being forced to stay like this because of your footwear is just another layer to the arousal that has yet to leave you.

Seokjin's body blankets your's for a moment as he leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll give you exactly what you need."

You have no time to question him because he's straightening once more and then his reflection disappears entirely as he drops to his knees behind you. Your throat feels dry as you wait for him to touch you again but the seconds stretch and he does nothing. You squirm, imagining what he must be seeing from his new position behind you, your pussy spread and dripping, hole twitching with the last vestiges of your orgasm. The way your thighs quiver as you force yourself to remain upright.

Embarrassment heats you at being stared at but the moment your legs start to close to attempt to hide yourself, Seokjin's hands grip your thighs, keeping you spread for his gaze to consume. He hums in appreciation, thumbs brushing your folds as he pulls your lips apart to get a better look at your dripping cunt. His breath ghosts across the sodden skin and you think that he's going to finally put his mouth on you but he surprises you when he lips brush gently against your ass.

"S-seokjin?"

He ignores you, peppering kisses across both cheeks, tongue slipping out occasionally to lave across areas made more sensitive by his spanking. He releases your pussy, hands sliding further up to cup your ass, massaging the flesh while his lips move across. It's nothing short of worship and you find yourself quickly getting lost in the attention.

By all means, it shouldn't be as hot as it is. He's barely even doing anything. Just kneading the flesh softly as his lips and tongue ghost across your skin. But every touch sends a spark of electricity up your spine. You wish you could see him, how he must look on his knees, the look on his face. Whether his brow is pinched in concentration like it does when he’s working or if it's relaxed as he takes his time with you.

The first pass of his lips over your asshole draws a soft sigh from you and you can feel the smile that tugs at his lips with his next kiss to your cheeks. He takes his time, only putting the lightest of touches to your hole as he showers attention across your ass. Your mind feels foggy, equal parts on edge for his next move and lulled into complacency by his gentle movements. You trust him to give you what you need, even if you don’t know what it is yet.

His tongue darts out, circling the tightened ring of muscle with more pressure than he's used before and it causes your entire body to shake. He drifts away again and a whimper slips from your lips at the loss. He moves back to your hole quicker this time, each pass and circle of his tongue coming closer together as he goes.

His fingers dig into your ass, drawing a hiss from you at the flare of pain, and he pulls your cheeks apart. He stops there for a moment and you feel your hole clench at the focused attention.

Seokjin chuckles. "Needy little slut," he coos and then he spits directly onto your hole again.

You moan, feeling as it slowly slides down your ass until it meets your pussy and gets lost in the mess of your slick. He blows cool air where he spat and goosebumps break out across your skin. He blows again and then his mouth is closing over your hole, the sudden warmth has you crying out. Seokjin just hums, tongue tracing your hole.

You shift and Seokjin tightens his grip on your ass, keeping you still and you clench at the casual display of power. He keeps the pressure of his tongue light, enough for you to feel it but keeping you aching for more. And god do you ache for more, his teasing keeps the fire in your belly at just a simmer and you want to be consumed. Your previous orgasm is proving to be nowhere near enough as your clit throbs with need. Seokjin continues his slow pace despite your weak attempts to get him to do something.

He pulls away slightly, breath ghosting over you as he speaks. "If you need something slut, you know how to ask."

And then he dives back in, tongue continuing it's tortuously slow path around your hole. You open your mouth to speak, but Seokjin's tongue dips just inside your hole and you groan at the sudden change. He alternates between slow sweeps of his tongue around your rim and wiggling his tongue just a little deeper into you. The stretch isn't enough to hurt, not with how relaxed his previous attention has left you, and you find yourself wishing that there was just the slightest bit more stretch.

Seokjin's words come back to you and you swallow as you try to articulate your needs to him. "S-seokjin... Need more, please..."

He hums but makes no move to do anything about your whining. He's methodical and it's almost worse than the spanking in how torturous it is.

"Please... Fuck, Seokjin, please, please, please..."

Your begging seems to be what he was waiting for because one of his hands slides from your ass to trace along your slit. You moan at the contact, not expecting him to go for your pussy but you let out a happy noise as a pleasurable shiver runs through you. His fingers find your clit and he runs his fingers around it for a brief second before he’s pinching the sensitive bud.

You cry out, thighs trying to close instinctively, but Seokjin’s body prevents you from moving them closer than an inch. You feel his smirk against your ass as he pinches again. You whimper, the pain sending sparks of pleasure through your body. He switches to circling your clit, soothing the painful throb he created and it lulls you into a false sense of security for when he thrusts his tongue as deep as he can into your ass.

You choke on a moan as he thrusts his tongue in again, pairing it with another, slightly more gentle, pinch to your clit. You press your face to the counter, struggling to catch your breath amongst the assault of sensations that Seokjin lavishes upon you. But your attempts are nearly useless as he constantly changes what he’s doing, giving you no time to get used to anything and managing to surprise you with every single twist of his fingers and every thrust and curl of his tongue.

While you struggle to keep yourself upright, you can feel your orgasm steadily building from the constant attention of his mouth and the abuse to your clit. It’s only a matter of time before you cum again. But you know you can’t, not without his okay, although the thoughts that flit through your mind of possible punishments for cumming without permission are incredibly enticing. That can wait for another day.

“G-gonna… Gonna cum, can I cum? Please, Seokjin… p-please let me cum…” you babble, feeling that knot inside you continuing to tighten and you can only try to stop it for so long.

He pulls away, teeth nipping at the underside of your ass while his fingers continue to play with your clit. His mouth drifts a little lower and his teeth dig into the meat of your thigh.

“Please!” you shudder, the added pain pushing you much faster towards your end.

His tongue traces soothingly over where he just bit, but he remains maddeningly silent. You blink away tears, though you’re not sure if they’re from the pain, frustration, or pleasure.

“Please…” you whimper.

He shifts to the other cheek, biting down again and you’re so close to cumming now. His tongue soothes the spot once more and you feel your body tensing with the first inklings of orgasm.

But just as you reach the edge, nearly toppling over into the pleasure, Seokjin is pulling his hands and mouth away from your body, stopping your orgasm in its tracks.

You let out a sob, a pitiful, whiny ‘no’ slipping from your lips as a few tears slide down your cheeks as your orgasm slowly slips through your fingers.

“I don’t recall saying you could cum.” His hand comes down on your ass, right on top of where he bit.

“I a-asked… Please, I was good.”

“You asked, but I didn’t say yes, slut.” His hand swats at your pussy next and you nearly cum from the action with how on edge you are.

Seokjin seems to notice if his dark snicker is anything to go by. “Oh? You liked that? Seems you liked it a lot, you made such a mess of my fingers.” He slaps your pussy again and it jolts you closer to orgasm again. “Think you could cum just from me spanking your slutty little pussy? Fuck, I want to try. Do you want that, dirty girl?”

You nod without thinking. You’d do just about anything if it means you get to cum. And the sting only makes the pleasure feel all the better. “Please…”

You hear him shuffle for a moment, the sound of fabric rustling, before he’s nipping at your ass again, leaving teasing stings until his tongue can swirl around your asshole once more. His hand slaps your pussy the same time that his tongue slips back into your tight hole. You gasp and he starts alternating thrusts of his tongue with smacks to your clit.

Your body feels wound tight, every sensation that Seokjin showers on you sending you so much closer to the edge. It feels like you and Seokjin have been doing this for years with how well he seems to be able to read your body. You cry out as Seokjin pinches your clit once more, thighs quivering with the effort it takes to keep you standing.

Seokjin's tongue slips from your hole, but he remains close, lips brushing the sensitive furl as he speaks. "Come on, slut. We both know you can cum from this. Be good and let go for me."

His tongue circles your hole slowly and then it's slipping back in and he picks up a fast pace of fucking you with his tongue, interspersed with slaps and pinches to your clit, seemingly using no method and keeping you on your toes in guessing what will come next. Your high crests from the mixture of pleasure and pain and you cum with a sob, pussy clenching around nothing. Seokjin's fingers press to your clit as the first ripples of your orgasm rush through you and he skillfully draws your orgasm out for as long as possible. Your body feels electrified, pushed into overstimulation but your breath has been completely robbed from you with how good everything feels too, at the way Seokjin so easily manipulates your body to his every whim.

Slowly, he pulls his mouth and fingers from you, sitting back on his heels. You pant against the counter, hot air blowing back into your sweaty face but you're too exhausted to care. You kind of just want to slide off the counter and lay down on the floor, even though it's the kitchen floor and is probably gross. Seokjin pats your ass and it somehow feels condescending and you feel your pussy give a weak twitch.

"Enjoying yourself, slut?" All you can muster is a pitiful whine, which draws a snicker from him. "I certainly hope you are, because we're far from over."

You whine again. You honestly don't know if you could take more. Your body has never been so worked over without actually being fucked too. You don't even know what else he could do short of fucking you finally. Which had been the goal of this whole game to begin with, but he's far surpassed your expectations. Maybe you should push his buttons more often if it results in being so utterly ruined. You definitely know that no one else will ever be able to make you feel as good as he has. Seokjin's hands rub soothingly at your thighs and the action is so grounding that you feel a little dizzy.

"Color, sweetheart?" His voice is soft and gentle, so different from the mean tone that's been coloring it until now.

It takes you a moment to be able to speak, but you manage to get out a raspy 'green.'

"Need any water or a break?"

You think about it for a moment. You could take a break. Maybe take your skates off. But you really don't want to either. There's something about not being able to move that makes it even better, makes you feel powerless even though Seokjin has plainly handed you all the power here. You just want more.

You shake your head. "I'm good."

His hands massage at your thighs for a few more moments before his fingers dig harshly into the newly relaxed muscle. You gasp and he gives a chuckle. "What a good little slut you're being now."

"Yes... 'm good."

Seokjin chuckles darkly. "That remains to be seen. You haven't even gotten my cock yet and you can barely even speak properly anymore. Not so cocky now, huh?"

He gives your ass a quick swat, it's far more teasing than meant to cause you any pain. His hands slide up your thighs until they just meet your ass and then his thumbs are pulling your soaking folds apart with a groan. Mirroring his earlier actions, he blows cool air across your pussy and you shudder at the way it feels against your heated cunt. His tongue lightly traces your folds and he lets out a contented noise like he’s tasting the most exquisite dish he’s ever eaten.

Then he’s licking a wide stripe up your slit and you cry out, pussy so sensitive after two orgasms already. Seokjin eats you out like a starving man, tongue working over every inch of your pussy, mapping every spot that makes you twitch and moan. You writhe, or at least you try your best with Seokjin’s hands holding your ass and keeping your lower half mostly immobile.

Seokjin pulls back with a smack of his lips. “For such a little devil, you certainly taste like heaven.” He snickers before diving back in.

His plump lips wrap around your clit, tongue flicking lightly at the nub before he sucks. Fire simmers in your veins and you’re surprised at how quickly your orgasm builds again when he’s barely done anything just yet. He suckles lightly, pleasure surging through you. Releasing your clit with a pop, his tongue drags agonizingly slowly up to circle your entrance. He’s methodical, tracing around your hole with just the right amount of pressure before dipping back down to mouth at your clit and then back again.

You feel yourself dripping, Seokjin noisily lapping up all that you have to give him. Seokjin’s fingers massage up to your ass, digging in and sending a spark of pleasure through you from the sting his grip brings. A hand abandons your ass, finger joining his mouth on your cunt. They work in tandem, fingers toying with your clit while he licks into your pussy. Then they switch, two fingers slipping deep inside you as his lips wrap around you clit once more.

Time slips away from you, your mind hazy and body on edge as Seokjin plays with your pussy to his heart’s content. His tongue presses at your hole with a little more force and then his teeth graze the sensitive skin and you moan. You feel his smile when he presses his lips against you next and then his tongue is sliding into you. You moan as his fingers pinch at your clit at the same time.

Heat pools in your belly as he starts fucking his tongue into you and you babble as you feel your orgasm rising as his fingers circle your clit, begging to cum again. He gives you a gentle pat on the ass with his free hand which you assume is meant to be his form of permission since he seems to not want to remove his mouth from your cunt. His fingers move faster and you teeter on the edge. You’re so close. So close that it’s driving you delirious with pleasure. But you just can’t quite get there, missing something that you can’t even fathom let alone ask for.

Seokjin, ever perspective, seems to know exactly what you need as he slips a finger in with his tongue, pressing down on your g-spot and making you cry out. The insistent pressure combined with the fingers on your clit and tongue still thrusting into sends you over the edge. Bliss floods your body and you feel yourself gush around Seokjin’s tongue and fingers. He drinks up what he can before he’s pulling his mouth away with a curse.

“Fuck, what a messy fucking slut. You made such a mess squirting, you little whore. I just cleaned these floors. I should make you lick them clean.” You clench around his fingers at his words and he lets out a dark chuckle. “Fuck you like that? Of course you would, you wouldn’t be my dirty little slut otherwise.”

His fingers continue their ministrations and you whine that it’s too much. Seokjin pays you no mind, slipping another finger into you.

“Come on, slut. I know you can cum again.”

You shake your head. “C-can’t… not… No more…” You squirm, trying your best to get away from the relentless pressure against your clit and g-spot.

His fingers slow for a moment. “Color?”

You swallow. It hurts, but not necessarily in a bad way. It doesn’t feel like it’d be too much to go on. You’ve never been pushed so far and there’s a thrill that runs through you when you think about discovering what exactly your body can take, even more excited that Seokjin is the one to test the bounds and that he makes sure to check in, to remind you that the safe words are there if it’s too much. You trust him to listen if you need to slow down. But you don’t want to, not right now.

You can feel your wetness literally dripping down your thighs and seeping into your tights makes you feel warm all over, overcome with a need to see how soaked they could get. “G-green, please…”

Seokjin hums, fingers picking their pace back up. “There’s my good little slut. Come on, cum for me like a good little whore.”

His mouth latches onto you again and you shudder, body still worked up from your squirting orgasm that it takes so little effort for Seokjin to push you over the edge again. Your mouth drops open on a soundless scream, pussy convulsing as you gush around his fingers, wetness dripping down his hand and to the floor. You whimper and Seokjin carefully slips his fingers from you. He laps gently at your folds, just enough to send tingles of pleasure up your spin.

He pulls away with a groan. “I could eat you out all night.”

You’re torn between imagining the idea and fearing for your poor pussy if he were to actually do that. He stands and you lift your head enough to look at his reflection when it comes back into view. Your breath catches in your throat when your gaze is met with his bare chest. You have no idea when he had stripped his shirt off and you mourn the fact that you didn’t get to see and appreciate the sight more. He shifts slightly and his chin and chest glistens and you feel your body heat with embarrassment when you realize that you were the cause of that. He meets your gaze and winks.

“Think you’re ready for my cock, slut?”

You whine. You honestly don’t know how much more you can handle, but at the same time, you absolutely have to have him inside you. “Please, Seokjin, please… want it.”

His hands give your ass a quick squeeze before they’re leaving you and you can see him focusing on his pants. You curse your current position and the fact that it keeps you from being able to see his cock in all its glory. You know it’s got to be beautiful. It’d be criminal if it wasn’t.

He smacks your ass with his cock, leaving a smear of precum across the skin. God, how long has he been hard for? How did he hold out for this long? You squirm and he chuckles.

“Beg a little more, slut.”

You wiggle your ass, pouting. “Please, Seokjinnie… Please, I want it. Want your cock, wanted it for so long… Please I-”

Seokjin cuts your begging off as he roughly thrusts into you. You cry out, hands scrambling for purchase against the counter as his cock stretches you out all at once. He’s huge, so much bigger than you ever dared imagine. Long and girthy and so perfect to fill every inch of your pussy. You’re honestly not sure how he fits, you feel full to bursting with him buried to the hilt in your cunt. You wished you’d gotten to take your time with it, had him stuff it down your throat. The thought makes saliva pool in your mouth. You’re definitely going to repay the favor and worship his cock when you get the chance.

He swears. “Fuck… your cunt…”

His fingers dig into your hips as he holds himself still for a moment. Then he’s pulling out until just the tip remains before slamming back it, jolting you forward against the counter. Seokjin starts a fast pace, immediately overwhelming you and giving you almost no time to adjust to him.

His grip tightens on your hips, enough to feel like it’ll be a bruise by morning. “Think you can cum again for me, slut? Cum on my cock for me, baby?”

You whine and shake your head. “N-no… please, can’t…”

Seokjin slams into you, draping himself over you and letting a hand snake around your throat. He waits, giving you a chance to say no to this and when he receives no denial, he squeezes lightly. You gasp and he squeezes a little tighter. You feel lightheaded and if it wasn’t for Seokjin’s body pinning you to the counter, you’d probably slide to the floor. Keeping his grip on your throat, he grinds into you, savoring the way your pussy clenches around him.

He loosens his hold slightly and meets your gaze in the window. “You’re going to cum for me again. And your pretty little cunt is gonna milk every drop of cum I have to give you. How does that sound, baby? Want me to fill your slutty little cunt up?”

As much as you don’t want to, you honestly have no idea if your body is even capable of having another orgasm, you want to find out. And the thought of Seokjin fucking you full on top of it has you nodding to his words almost instantly. “Yes, please… Seokjin, please, fill me up…”

His hand tightens again and he gives you a pleased smirk. “You’re so well behaved now. Hard to believe how much of a naughty little brat you’ve been lately.”

He switches from grinding to thrusting again, though his position over you means that his thrusts are shorter but no less rough. His other hand slides around to your front, fingers brushing your clit. You clench around him and receive a low moan from him as his grip on your throat loosens again. His fingers circle your clit and you can feel your orgasm quickly creeping up on you. You briefly wonder if it’s possible to die from too many orgasms. But then Seokjin nips at your neck, drawing your focus back to the way his cock drags along your walls and the filth he’s murmuring into your skin as his fingers work faster.

It washes over you and you cum with a cry of his name, pussy convulsing around his cock. You feel his breath puff against your skin as his forehead presses to your shoulder. His hand falls away from your clit, planting itself once more on your hip as his thrusts pick up speed now that he’s chasing his own end.

Seokjin’s hips stutter to a stop as he cums with a groan pressed to your skin. His cock twitches inside you as he empties himself in your pussy, filling you up. You sink against the counter, praactically purring in contentment at the flood of warmth that he releases within you. He pants against your skin for a long moment and you let your exhaustion slowly wash over you. You’d give anything for a bed right now and to never have to move again.

Seokjin pushes himself up and then slowly slips out of you. You whine at the loss and you get a soft chuckle. His hands rub soothingly at your back before they come to rest on your waist. He gives you a squeeze.

“I’m gonna help you stand and get you sitting on the counter, okay?”

You groan. “Don’t wanna…”

Seokjin huffs a soft laugh. “I don’t care. I need to make sure you’re okay and we need to get your skates off.”

He starts moving you, though you know you aren’t much help with how jelly-like your limbs feel. He finally gets you seated on the counter and it takes all your remaining strength to stay sitting upright. You blink hazy eyes at Seokjin; he’s tucked himself back into his pants but they still remain undone, giving you the faintest glimpse of his cock. You pout, you’d wanted to see it.

His hands cup your cheeks, directing your gaze to his eyes and you blink slowly at him. He gives you a soft smile. “There you are.” His thumbs stroke gently across your cheeks, wiping away the last bits of your tears. “Can you stay sitting up for me? I’m going to get you some water, okay?”

You nod, frowning when his hands leave your face. You want him to keep touching. He turns, grabbing a cup and quickly filling it with water. He hands it to you, helping you when it almost slips through your lax grip. He makes you drink half before he lets you set the cup down. He leans down and makes quick work of your skates, tugging them from your feet. You sigh in relief, feet flexing at finally being free from their confinements and a surprised noise leaves your lips when you feel his thumbs dig into the soles of your feet. He rubs each foot and you nearly fall asleep from the relaxation that slowly spreads through your system.

Seokjin stands, his hands coming back up to cup your face. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you croak out, lips pursing at how wrecked your voice comes out.

You can see Seokjin fight down a prideful grin as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. It’s silent for a few moments before he’s gasping and you give him a questioning look. He tuts, though you don’t know if it’s directed at you or himself.

“All that and I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

You giggle, he does all that and is worried about the fact that he didn’t kiss you at all. He tilts your head up, soft smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You blink at him for a moment, not expecting him to follow through with fixing that. But when he leans in, you let your eyes slip shut. The kiss is sweet and chaste, the complete opposite of everything that just happened. It lasts for just a moment and you ache to have more of the feel of his plush lips pressed against yours.

He grins as he pulls away and then busies himself with finding your shoes and your bag, helping you into them. He presses a kiss to your forehead and presses the water back into your grip with the instruction to finish it. He slips his shirt back on, tucking it back into his pants and then he’s darting out the door. Which confuses and alarms you for a split second before you realize that he’s grabbing that money that then men had left on the table.

He’s quick to cash the ticket out, slipping the hefty tip they left you into your purse before taking the drawer back to the office. He’s gone for a few minutes and you sip slowly at the water while you wait. Now that you’re alone, you wonder what all of that meant. If it was just a culmination of sexual tension and frustration or if there was something more there. Hoseok and Jimin have regularly pushed you to tell Seokjin how you feel. But you’ve always kept that hidden, not wanting to make work suddenly weird when this job and your coworkers are the best you’ve ever had.

And the costumes hadn’t gotten Seokjin to ask you out or offer to be the other half of the pair costumes despite the hints you tried dropping. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in that and just wanted a quick fuck. But some of his actions disprove that. Maybe he was just as nervous as you to ask.

He reappears, pressing another kiss to your forehead as he takes the empty glass from you and sets it aside.

“Think you can stand now?”

You shake your legs out experimentally. You certainly seem to have a little more control over them. “I can try.”

That draws an amused snort from him and he helps you down from the counter, hands not leaving you until he’s sure that you’re safe to stand on your own. You adjust your dress, pulling it back down and wincing slightly as the slightly rough material drags over your ass. Your bare ass. You glance around the floor.

“Hey, where are my underwear?”

Seokjin’s back is to you as he wipes down the part of the counter you were just sitting on. “Oh, they’re completely ruined.” He glances at you over his shoulder with a smirk. “And mine now.”

You squirm, feeling some of his cum drip from your abused cunt. Well at least you’re just going home. You can make it that far. Not that they would’ve been much use to you ripped anyway. Maybe you should make him buy you a new pair. That request might come after the feelings talk though.

Once he’s done, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss to your hair. “Ready to go?”

You hum and nod. You are seriously ready to sleep for a day. You’re glad that you don’t work tomorrow. You don’t think Seokjin does either. Maybe you can entice him to stay the night and you could cook him breakfast before the two of you talk.

Seokjin leads you out of the building, locking the door as you go, and guides you towards his car. Your’s is at home, though you’re not sure if Seokjin already knew that or is just directing you towards his car because he doesn’t trust you to drive right now. To be fair, you don’t think you could actually drive if you had to. You’re glad that you’d been planning to drink at the party and so you were just going to either catch a ride, stay at Jimin’s, or get an Uber so that your car isn’t left in the lot overnight.

Once settled, he starts the car and pulls out of the lot. You frown watching him turn.

“Seokjin, I live the other way.”

“I know.”

“And you live the other way.”

He smirks. “I know.”

You swallow. “Where are we going?”

“Well, it’s a shame for you to get all dressed up for a party and to not even go to show it off.”

“I can’t go to a party like this!” You only briefly caught sight of your full reflection but you know how fucked out you look. He can’t seriously be taking you to the party right now.

Seokjin’s hand lands on your thigh. “You had no problem going to work like that.”

You whine and squirm, immediately squeezing your legs together when you feel another dribble of cum slip from you. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Seokjin just hums, driving the rest of the short distance to Jimin’s house in silence. You try your best to fix yourself up in the mirror so you don’t look completely ruined. It’s only slightly effective. You wish you had Yennifer’s powers, then you could just magic your way home. Would serve Seokjin right.

He parks and helps you out of the car before reaching into the back for a wig and a sword. He adjusts both items and you look him over appraisingly.

“At least you’ve got Geralt’s brutish personality down.” You tease.

Seokjin takes your hand and presses a kiss to it before using it to lead you to the house. “I’d like to think I’m far more charming than him.”

You giggle. “That remains to be seen.”

The party is in full swing when you enter and it takes the both of you a few moments to find your friends. When you do, they all are quick to take in your appearance and the way Seokjin’s hand is wrapped around yours. Jimin crows victoriously, slapping Taehyung on the back.

“I told you! You owe me!”

You bury your face in Seokjin’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment. You just wanted to go home and cuddle. Seokjin’s lips brush your ear.

“If you promise to stay a while, we can get revenge on him and go fuck in his bed.”

#btsholidaybingo #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #kwritersworldnet #thekimlinenet #ksmutclub #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #seokjin fanfic #jin x reader #jin smut #jin fanfic

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 4 years

Text

Playing with fire

Summary: August Walker was the new chief of the fire station in town. He could have every girl in town. Except you. Because you didn’t want to be just another number in his long list of conquests. But just once wouldn’t matter... right?

Pairing: FiremanAU!August Walker x Nameless OFC

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut (dirty talk; unprotected sex; oral)

A/N: I did it! I finished my entry for @evnscvll 3K challenge. The next time I pick Firefighter AU and Beyonce’s Ego somebody please slap me. Anyways. Hope you enjoy

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

It's on, baby, let's get lost

You don't need to call into work 'cause you're the boss

For real, want you to show me how you feel

“It’s almost 11,” Beth called from the front of the store.

“And?” You called back, distracted by the task of refilling some of the pints at the display counter.

“It’s friday,” she clarified, impatient.

“Oh…” You hummed, picking up your mug of coffee as you head outside.

It was a hot summer day. The little ice cream parlor you opened last year would probably be filled to the brink most of the day. So you allowed yourself these 30 minutes every Friday to relax and dream. Dream about the firefighters across the street that were doing their weekly workout routine outside, whenever the weather allowed it.

“He’s back,” Beth whispered as you sat down next to her.

“Who?”

“Oh you know fully well who I’m talking about.” She rolled her eyes, hiding her grin behind her glass. You turned your attention to the other side of the street, your eyes going straight to him, even if he had his back to you.

August Walker was the chief of the fire station and was well known for his strict methods and his endless charm. To you, he was the guy who did everything to get into your pants, despite your frequent rebuttal. You were better than that and refused to to be just another number on his very extensive list of conquests.

It was almost as if he knew you were talking and thinking about him, because he turned around, catching you looking at him. August winked, making you sigh and look away. It was your turn to hide your smirk behind your mug.

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you just let him rail you?” Beth asked.

“Please keep in mind you’re still talking to your boss,” You replied, even though you knew it was pointless.

Yes, Beth was your employee, but before that she was also your best friend and immune to your mood. She had been down on her luck when you decided to open your own store so it made perfect sense to hire her. She was so excited when you told her you wanted to sell self made ice cream that it was impossible not to hire her on the spot.

“Well, boss,” she started with a teasing smirk, “I want an answer to my question.”

“Look at him,” you pointed out, turning your gaze back to watch him.

“I am looking at him.”

“He could have anyone. He knows exactly what he is doing to the ovaries of everyone who has some around him. He walks like his dick needs his own postcode. Yes, he is hot. But the way he just… Carries himself, like the world is at his feet? I’m better than that.”

You could hear August shouting across the street at his firefighters making pushups. A part of you hoped that he would join them, so you had some nice images you could fall asleep to tonight.

“Oh shit.” Beth cursed next to you. August had pulled off his shirt, and joined the work out.

“And you’re saying no to that?” Beth asked. You bit your lip as you watched him, crossing your legs and feeling your core pulsating.

“I am.” You gulped.

A knock minutes after you closed the store made you sigh.

“We’re closed.” You shouted from the back, returning your attention to the task at hand just when you heard another knock.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, dropping the dish cloth on the sink and moving to the front of the store. Beth had left an hour ago, but you still wanted to make sure everything was spotless before you head out. You froze at the door when you saw him standing outside.

August Walker in the flesh.

From the moment he set residence in your little town, rumours about him started flying. Some said he was a criminal still being searched by the CIA, which you thought was ridiculous, but you knew he was released from prison before coming here

He never told you why he had been imprisoned, you weren’t that close, but you two talked a lot. When it was just the two of you, sometimes he would let you have a glimpse of the man behind the facade he built around him.

Yes, he was the cocky, overconfident leader of the firestation, who knew exactly what he had to do to get what he wanted. Yet, when you didn’t give him what he wanted, you seemed to become a challenge for him and those August couldn’t resist.

“What do you want, August?” You asked, cleaning your hands on the apron you were wearing.

“You have some ice cream left for your favourite fireman?” He asked grinning.

“I don’t know. Did you bring Carl?” You shot back, with a smirk.

“Ouch.” His hand flew to his chest over his heart. You rolled your eyes before you opened the door. He leaned down, kissing your cheek as he walked past you and waited for you to close the door. You watched him as he walked in, wearing only sweatpants and a Tshirt, leaving little to the imagination. He knew how handsome he was, and he made sure to let the outside world know.

“Don’t you have some work to do? Some fires to extinguish?” You asked.

“I did have to actually save a cat from a tree today.” He said.

“You did not.” You laughed.

“Yes I did.” He leaned over the counter as you came back with a cup full of vanilla ice cream.

“I only have vanila left.” You said looking at him.

“Oh sometimes I really like some vanila.” He smirked.

“I might be tiny, but I am going to throw you out if you keep that up.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’d really like to see you try.” He looked at you, and the air seemed to be thicker. You looked into his eyes, your focus on his lips for only a tiny second before you busied yourself, portioning some ice cream for him.

You didn’t want to be another number on August long list of women he slept with. Yet you could feel him looking at you, undressing you with his eyes.

“There you go.” You whispered, pushing the bowl of ice towards him.

“No sprinkles?” He hummed. Looking up you gulped. He somehow got closer to you, his face only inches from yours. His tongue dared out, wetting his lips and you sighed.

“Why won’t you let me kiss you? Just once?” He breathed. You gulped, mesmerized by his oceanblue eyes, when you shook your head, and took a step back.

“Because you are going to break my heart.” You sighed. “You can keep the bowl, close the door behind you, yes?” You asked, not waiting for his answer as you turned around to walk back into the kitchen. You heard him sigh, the door closing behind him.

Bumping your head repeatedly against the wall you sighed.

When you got back to front you saw him walk away. Shaking your head you frowned when you saw that he must have forgotten something on the counter. It was a map of the city. Some buildings were circled red. Shrugging you took the map, intending to give it back to him the next time you saw him.

I consider myself lucky, that's a big deal

Why?

Well, you got the key to my heart

But you ain't gonna need it

I'd rather you open up my body

You felt watched the minute you stepped into the bar. It took almost an hour before you found out why. At the other end of the room sat August. He nodded at you once you caught his eyes, making your sigh internally.

“What’s going on with you?” Beth asked. She had nearly demanded for you to go out together. If you wouldn’t let August fuck you, she needed to find someone else. Her words not yours. Arguing with Beth was a losing game, so you put a dress and some heels on and just went with her.

“He’s here.” You said as you looked at her.

“Who?”

“Mr. “My Ego is as big as my dick””

“Oh and how would you know that?” Beth grinned, waving once to where August was sitting before she looked at you again.

“Because there’s no way he’s not big.” You took a sip from your Gin Tonic.

“So you have given it some thought?”

“My conscience has some very detailed ideas of just how.. gifted he is.” You mumbled.

“You had a sex dream with August?” She said a little too loud, causing some heads to turn towards you.

“Maybe a little louder. I think he didn’t hear it.” You groaned.

“Just… let him fuck you. Sex does work without feelings, you know?” She said encouragingly. Looking at her for a moment, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or you just fed up with fighting against what was there between August and you. Emptying your glass you jumped from your seat.

“How do I look?” You fidget with your dress.

“Perfect.” She winked. “I’ll open up tomorrow. I don’t wanna see you until the afternoon.”

Usually I'm humble

Right now, I don't choose

You can leave with me

Or you could have the blues

“Are you following me, Mr. Walker.” You asked, making sure to sway your hips on your way over to him. He looked good with his buttoned up black shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his elbow.

“I would say yes, but that would make me a creep, wouldn’t it?” He asked, making you chuckle. “No. I was actually supposed to meet up with an old friend, but apparently I was stood up.”

“Oh and we can’t have that, can’t we?” You bit your lip.

“What are you suggesting?” He asked, bringing his bottle of beer to his lips, his eyes not leaving yours.

You leaned down, your hand on his shoulder, your lips against his ear. “Follow me and find out.” You whispered, kissing his cheek before you turned around, not even trying to hide your grin. You weren’t even out the door, when you felt hands on your hips.

“Your place or mine?” He whispered against your ear.

“Which one is closer?” You shuddered, his hand wandering down your body.

“Mine it is.” He growled against your ear, one of his hands on your stomach, pushing you against his chest. You could feel the hard outline of his cock pressed against you, making you moan quietly. You didn’t question that he seemed to know where you lived.

“I can’t wait to have you screaming my name.” He mumbled, nibbling on your ear. You melted against him, your panties becoming uncomfortable damp, as your mind took over, thinking on just how he would feel inside of you.

He talk like this 'cause he can back it up

He got a big ego

Such a huge ego

Turning in his arms your answer died on your lips as his crashed down on yours. It felt like something clicked. Holding onto him, as he deepened the kiss you didn’t care that you were standing on the sidewalk, making out like teenagers.

“Fuck.” He whispered against your lips.You opened your eyes, not even noticing having them shut in the first place. A whistle behind you made you look away from him, biting your lip.

“Your place. Now” You whispered.

“Fuck, August.” You cried out, your hands clutching the soft sheets of his bed. As soon as the door to his apartment shut behind him he had dragged you to his bed, stripping you off your clothes, before he buried his face between your thighs. He had you coming on his tongue in minutes, not giving you a chance to catch your breath when he pushed two of his fingers into your core, making you moan his name.

You were on the brink of an orgasm again, when he stopped, pulling his fingers out.

Panting you looked up at him.

“You gonna cum on my cock the next time.” He growled. Slowly pushing yourself up, you kneeled on his bed. He was still fully dressed. You helped him with the buttons of his shirt, your lips kissing up his chest with every bit of skin underneath, until you pushed it off his broad chest. There were scars on his chest. You would ask about them some other time.

His hands worked on the fly of his pants, before he pushed it down, revealing what must have been the biggest cock you had ever seen. That he was going commando wasn’t a big surprise to you. Biting your lip you reached for it, your hand barely closing around it, pumping it slowly.

“Fuck.” He hissed, throwing his head back.

“That’s gonna be one tight fit.” You joked, wondering how he would fit.

“Oh sweetheart. I’m gonna be gentle.” He breathed, kissing you quickly. “At least the first time.”

“So there will be a next time?” You asked, crocking your eyebrow. You rubbed your thumb over his tip, spreading the precum, before you brought your thumb to your lips, tasting the salty essence.

“I’m never gonna let you leave these walls.”

Pushing you down so you were laying on your back his body covered yours as he kissed you deeply. Your hands wandered up his back, disappearing in his hair. You gasped, as you felt his cock at your inner thigh.

“Fuck me, August.” You groaned against his lips. Desperate for him to fill you. He reached for this bedside table, opening the first drawer. He brought the foil package up to his lips, ripping it open. You felt yourself shivering beneath him as he rolled the condom over his cock. The tip teasing your entrance.

“I have waited for this…” He whispered, slowly pushing in.

“Jesus….” You moaned, feeling him go deeper. “Oh he can’t help you now, Sweetheart.” August grinned, biting his lip. He was still pushing in, and it felt so good.

“So fucking tight.” He groaned, stopping when he fully nestled inside your core.

“Move.” You whimpered.

“Sure?” He pressed.

“Yes. Fuck me.” You sighed, one of your hands on his ass, urging him to move. He bottomed out, thrusting back in, making you cry out.

“Yes…” You groaned. He began to move faster, pushing himself up, so he was kneeling between your legs, watching you.

“Better than I imagined.” He groaned. Bringing one of his hands down he began to rub your clit.

“Harder. Please, fuck me harder.” You gasped, your whole skin on fire as he brought you closer to the edge. You reached a hand over your head, grabbing the headboard as he pumped into you harder.

“So fucking perfect.” He growled. His other hand pinched your nipple, making you jump and cry at the same time.

“You gonna cum for me? Cum all over my hard cock?” He asked. He rubbed quick circles over your clit, not waiting for your answer, as you felt yourself cuming again, your legs shaking, warmth floating through your body.

“Yes. Just like that. Fuck.” He fucked you through your orgasm, making it last until he pulled out, pulling out the condom and shot his cum all over your stomach.

“Fuck…” He groaned, pumping his cock. You waited until he opened his eyes, before you swooped one finger, in his cum, making a show out of licking it from your finger.

“Jesus…” He groaned. You grinned.

“Oh he can’t help you now, sweetheart.” You teased, your laugh turning into a moan when he leaned down and kissed you senseless.

Against all odds, and everything you thought of him, it wasn’t just a one time thing. August and you were inseparable, much to the distraught of everyone around you. Beth caught the two of you fucking in the bathroom of your ice cream parlor once, and teased you endlessly about it.

There was still so much you had to learn about him. He never talked about his past. He once said he was ashamed of it, yet somehow you felt like there was something dark about him, the more time you spent with him. You couldn’t point out what, so you never said something. He would talk to you when he was ready.

You on the other hand were an open book to him. Not that there was much to know in the first place. And you caught yourself staying over his place more and more. Missing his presence in your house. Somehow he wasn’t a big fan of your place.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” You began, hoping on the kitchen counter next to where he was preparing some dinner. He looked at you.

“Why are there pictures of building all around your apartment?” You asked. You’ve been asking yourself this question for a while now. Two of the buildings you saw on pictures in his office had been burned down in the last weeks. There seemed to be a fire raiser on the loose since the beginning of the years.

“We’re updating the fire security on a couple of buildings in the city…” He answered.

“Do you think they will catch the guy?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.” He sighed, before you felt his hand on your thigh, sneaking under your bathrobe.

“And what are you up to, Mr. Walker?” You grinned, the many questions you still had forgotten.

“I think I want a taste of dessert first.” He whispered, before he parted your legs and got on his knees.

It was about 6 months of you two dating when he asked you to move in with him. You had laughed, but stopped immediately when you saw the serious look on his face.

“Oh you were serious.” You said.

“Of course I am.”

“But August…” You sighed, walking over to where he was sitting at a table in your little cafe. You put your hand on his shoulder, sitting down on his lap. You thought he smelled like fuel, but you didn’t question it.

“My house is much bigger than your place. And we both only have been dating for a half year. Let’s give it a bit more time.” You said, kissing him softly. He sighed against your lips, his arms pulling your closer.

“Okay.” He whispered back.

Yet when he came back from a job a couple days later, a frown on his face, something felt off.

“What happened?”

“It’s your house.” He sighed, walking over to you.

“What about my house?” You asked, now frowning yourself.

“Someone burned it down. We tried everything but we were too late. It burned down completely.” He said. All colors left your face.

“What?” You croaked.

“I really tried. We really tried. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.” He sighed. You could feel the tears running down your face, sobbing when his arms put you against his body. He still smelled of smoke.

“But… All my stuff… Oh god… Where am I gonna live?” You asked against his shirt.

“Stuff you can replace. And… I already asked you if you wanted to move in.”

“But...” You sniffed.

“We can talk it out later. Now you need a place to stay..” He said, kissing your hair.

“You’re serious?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course. Move in with me while you figure this out.” He said softly.

What other choice did you have really?

“Okay.” You nodded.

Later that night when you were sound asleep in August arms you didn’t see his smile. His whispered words of love as he looked down at you. You didn’t know that it was him who burned down your house. Or all the houses in the city. And you never would. Because August Walker finally got what he wanted. You.

#fanfic #fanfiction #august walker #henry cavill #august walker au #august walker x reader #August Walker x ofc #august walker smut

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silverlightqueen · 4 years

Text

Moonlight

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

werewolf!Chan x human!reader ft. the rest of skz and itzy lia, ryujin and yeji - comedy, fluff, Chan is a cute shy softie but also a big strong muscly Alpha

Word Count: 3.5k+

Summary - y/n likes the night shifts at the diner. She rarely gets any customers coming in, so it’s peaceful, and she can even sneak in a nap from time to time. But not tonight. No, probably not best to nap when, in the early hours of the morning, a pack of wolves walk in looking like hell.

Warnings: a little bit of blood, talk of violence, raw bloody meat (never thought that’d be a warning but here we are), I think that’s it but pls let me know if you noticed that I missed something!

a/n: and here is the first instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I really hope you guys enjoy it, and keep an eye out for the following parts in the next few days! this is for you @silverlightprincess bc you’re the best proofreader and I love you x

taglist: @kodzu-ken @silverlightprincess

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‘Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?’ Lia asks me, and I laugh, nodding for the fiftieth time. ‘I’ll be totally fine. Just go, pick up your stupid boyfriend,’ I say, and she rolls her eyes, doing up the buttons on her coat. ‘If I have to pick him up from A&E one more time, I’ll be the one sending him there,’ she threatens half-heartedly, my laughter following her out of the back door.

The diner falls silent once the door’s shut, and I turn on the radio, putting it on low so I can hear if any customers enter. It’s highly unlikely for anyone to show up at this hour, but just in case. I roll my neck, tired after working such a long shift, and I check the clock. Just an hour and a half until 5am, when Yeji and Ryujin will show up for a shift change. An hour and a half of time to kill. I decide to get some food cooking, ready for the breakfast rush at 6am – truckers love their early morning waffles and pancakes – and then I sit at the stool behind the till, scrolling through my phone aimlessly.

It's a cold night outside, the windows fogged up and the pitch-black night sky just about visible through them. A pretty crescent moon shines down a pale white light, casting an eerie glow over the surroundings, and there are no cars passing by on the road, meaning I’m completely alone. A text comes through from one of the girls in my friendship group friend, Chaeryeong, asking if I’ve decided what I’m wearing to our friend Jackson’s Halloween party next week – it’s 8 nights away to be exact. Jackson’s Halloween party is always the party of the year, and we’re all so excited for it. It’s a full moon and everything, so we’re hoping it’ll be a little spookier than usual.

The bell at the front door rings out into the quiet, cutting across the generic lofi song playing from the radio and making me look up in surprise. A boy – he can’t be much older than 20 – walks in, his clothes dirty and ripped, his clear skin marked with mud and grass stains. His blond hair, long enough to brush his shoulders, is a tousled and tangled mess, woven with twigs and grass, and he looks tired as hell. He trudges in, not even looking at me, and collapses into the chair closest to him.

My heartrate instantly increases. What on earth is going on? Why has this… kid walked in, at half 3 in the morning, all alone, looking an absolute state? Should I ask him if he’s okay, or leave him to it? I should mind my business, right? Probably best not to talk to someone in that state. He might be some psycho. What if he is a psycho? And this is some ploy to get me to go over to him so he can attack me? Maybe I should phone my boss? Who am I kidding? There’s no way his lazy ass will answer.

The bell ringing for a second time interrupts my spiralling train of thought, and my eyes flit to the door to see another boy walking in, around the same age, and just as messy as the first boy. And another boy follows him in. And another, and another, and anoth-

There are eight of them in total, slumped into chairs around the two tables closest to the door. They all look exhausted, and in absolute states. And then realisation washes over me, making me relax a little. They’re werewolves.

We’ve always had werewolves around here. Two different packs live on opposite sides of town, and their rivalry has meant their identity has never exactly been a secret. This is the first time I’m ever seeing any of them in their human form, though (I’ve seen flashes of wolves running past the house in the middle of the night when it’s a full moon, but never close up) and I’m… surprised. They’re all quite… small. I guess I always expected werewolves to be tall and bulky, but only two of them are really… muscly, and they’re all short.

They’re all completely silent, save for their heavy breathing, and I wonder why they’ve stumbled into the diner to just sit at their tables. ‘Are you gonna just stand there, breathing obnoxiously loudly, or are you gonna take our order?’ one of them calls out tiredly, his back to me meaning the only part of him that I can see is his black hair, and I feel my face twist with annoyance. I don’t care if he’s a carnivore that could kill me in an instant if he wanted to. He does not get to come into my workplace and disrespect me. ‘Actually, you’re supposed to come up here and order,’ I reply indignantly, low laughter rippling through the group of boys as the boy who spoke lifts his head, turning to look at me angrily, his eyes flashing red. He has a long cut across his cheek, blood dried around it.

‘What did you just say to m-’ ‘Shut it, Jisung,’ the blond-haired boy says with a small grin, the black-haired boy – Jisung – turning to him aggressively. ‘Don’t tell me to shut it, Hyunjin. I won’t have a little human girl disrespect m-’ ‘Be quiet, Jisung. You were disrespectful to her first,’ another of the boys says calmly, and my eyes flit to him, my stomach turning when I realise he’s already looking at me. He’s one of the muscular boys, his hair sandy brown and fluffy, and his face soft and kind. His lips quirk up in a smile, a deep dimple denting one cheek, and I give him a small smile back, my heart fluttering. He might be a werewolf, but he’s a cute one.

I expect Jisung to give him some annoying retort, but he bites his lip, slumping down in his seat angrily, and the brown-haired boy rolls his eyes, rising from his seat. He makes his way over to me, and I try not to ogle him, but it’s difficult with his shirt ripped diagonally across the front, exposing one strong shoulder and a flash of hard abs, my heart skipping a beat at how gorgeous he is. Thank god I decided to wear a cute outfit today, even if it is hidden behind my white apron.

He slides onto one of the stools on the other side of the counter, leaning on one hand with a sigh, and I don’t know what to say other than, ‘Would you like to order something?’ ‘Um, yeah, actually. We’re quite… hungry. Have you got any… chicken, or beef, or any meat, for that matter?’ he asks, and I blink at him in surprise. I’ve never had someone ordering meat before lunch, let alone at half 3 in the morning. Though, I’ve never served werewolves either, so I guess I’m having a few firsts today.

‘Meat?’ I ask, and he lets out a little chuckle, his soft brown eyes locked with mine and making my heart flutter. ‘Yeah. Meat,’ he says with a small smile. His voice is nice, smooth and melodious with a hint of an accent. ‘Um, I don’t have any ready now, but I’ll start cooking some, and it should be ready in… half an hour?’ I say, and his smile slips into a small frown. ‘Um… no, that won’t be any good. You’ve got raw meat, right?’ he asks, and I feel myself malfunctioning for a moment, before I nod. ‘Can we just have a portion of raw meat each, please? I’ll pay whatever for it,’ he says, and I just stare at him.

‘You want… raw meat?’ I ask, and he lets out another soft chuckle. ‘Yes, please. I’m sure you’ve worked out what we are by now, so you probably know we can eat meat whilst it’s still alive. Raw meat’s just fine for us,’ he says with a grin, and I just nod, still in shock. ‘Okay. I’ll… get you raw meat. Is beef okay? One raw steak each?’ I ask, and he nods, smiling widely. ‘Beef’s perfect. But make it two steaks each please.’ ‘Um, okay. 16 steaks,’ I say, unable to believe I’m about to prepare raw steaks for 8 werewolves, and he just nods, still smiling his handsome smile.

He pays for the steaks, and orders a stack of pancakes and a milkshake for each of them too. The total is one of the most expensive orders we’ve ever had, but he doesn’t bat an eyelid, putting it on his credit card wordlessly. I go into the back to get their steaks ready, trying not to retch at having to put raw bloody beef onto plates for them, and I’m still holding back a retch when I take their plates over, the eight of them staring at the food hungrily. But I can’t help but let out a gag when one of them lifts his plate to his mouth and takes a massive chunk out of the steak, blood rolling down his chin.

The rest of them all laugh at my reaction, the brown-haired boy wincing as he says, ‘half of that bite was gristle, Changbin.’ So they’re happy to eat raw bloody steak, but they’re above eating the gristle? Weird but whatever. The boy who ate the steak – Changbin – just nods, before opening his mouth and pulling out the gristle with his dirty fingers, grinning at my look of disbelief. ‘Never seen a werewolf eat before?’ he asks, eyes sparkling, and I shake my head, still blinking in shock.

‘Take a seat, sweetheart. Tell us about yourself,’ one of the boys says with a smile, hand running through his chocolate brown locks, and I feel my heartrate increase. ‘Don’t worry. We’re not gonna hurt you,’ another of the boys says softly before I can even reply, his hair grey and long at the back, his eyes sparkly and wide. ‘I’m not worried,’ I lie, and they all laugh. ‘We can hear your heartbeat, and it’s pretty fast,’ one of the boys says, this one kind looking with blue locks and a soft baby face, and I feel ridiculously stupid.

‘Well… I can’t sit. I’ve got a job to do.’ ‘There’s no one here other than us. If you don’t want to sit with us, just come out and say it. Don’t beat around the bush,’ Jisung says bluntly, steak in his mouth as he speaks, his cheeks puffing out adorably. ‘We’re a group of werewolves; why would she want to sit with us?’ the brown-haired boy says amusedly, and I hope he doesn’t hear my heart stopping momentarily when he turns his half-smile to me. ‘Usually human girls find us attractive,’ the blond-haired boy – Hyunjin – says matter-of-factly, too focused on his raw steak to look up at me. ‘I probably would find you attractive if you didn’t all look like you’ve lost a fight with an angry bush,’ I say dryly, all of them laughing with their mouths full, making me feel slightly… disgusted.

‘Are the pancakes ready?’ the boy with black hair asks, and I check my watch. ‘Four minutes. How come you guys are so… hungry? Haven’t you been hunting?’ I ask, and they all exchange an amused glance before looking to the boy with brown hair. He doesn’t say anything, just looking at me unreadably, and it’s clear that there’s some sort of secret here. He lets out a little sigh, obviously deciding to tell me, and then he speaks; ‘We only hunt on full moons.’ ‘Oh, of course. The full moon isn’t until next week,’ I say, feeling stupid again, and they all nod. ‘On Halloween. Let’s hope there aren’t any trick-or-treaters in the woods,’ the chocolate brown-haired boy says with a small smirk, and I feel a shiver go down my spine.

‘Do you guys really attack humans?’ I ask, and they let out gentle laughs, obviously amused at how little I know of them. ‘We don’t have much control over our wolf selves, so if a human crosses our path, yes. Well, Alphas can control their wolf selves, so our Alpha will usually stop us from attacking a human. But if our Alpha isn’t there… we’d kill them without a moment of hesitation,’ the grey-haired boy explains, and I listen intently, interested. ‘Who’s your Alpha?’ I ask out of curiosity, and they all look to the brown-haired boy, answering my question. My stomach turns with butterflies when he looks at me, a small smile playing at his lips as he says, ‘that’d be me.’ I don’t know why, but something about him being the Alpha wolf makes him ten times sexier than he already is.

‘Oh. Okay. So, wait, if you guys weren’t hunting, why are you all so… dirty?’ I ask, and Changbin raises an eyebrow. ‘I thought you were supposed to be telling us about you.’ ‘I’m nowhere near as interesting as you guys.’ ‘No, sweetheart, we’re very interested in you,’ Hyunjin smirks, my heart fluttering. And then, as though they can hear something I can’t, they all suddenly turn their heads to the brown-haired boy, almost… nervous expressions on their faces. ‘I didn’t realise, Chan, sor-’ ‘It’s alright, Jin, don’t apologise,’ the brown-haired boy – Chan (definitely suits him) – says gently, his eyes not leaving mine, and I can’t help but wonder what on earth just happened. It’s like they had some sort of conversation and I missed the entire thing.

‘We got into a fight with some of the boys from the other pack,’ Chan murmurs, the atmosphere returning back to normal, and I feel my eyes widen. ‘Really? Who won?’ I ask, a light laugh running around the group at that question. ‘Us.’ ‘Really?’ I ask, even sounding sceptical to my own ears, and they all laugh again. ‘Might not look like we won, but we’re all still alive. Can’t say the same for the other pack,’ Chan says softly, and I blink in surprise. ‘Oh. Why’d you fight them?’ I ask, and they all look to Jisung, the boy rolling his eyes. ‘Because they provoked me.’ ‘No. One of them looked at you, and you started on him,’ the black-haired boy says bluntly, Jisung pouting. ‘Whatever, Seungmin. You didn’t see how he looked at me,’ he says sulkily, the others rolling their eyes at him.

‘However he looked at you, it wasn’t enough to warrant me killing him, but I did anyway, because of you. So learn to keep a lid on your temper, Sung, because I’ll make you fight them yourself next time instead of us involving ourselves. Understood?’ Chan says, tone gentle with a slight edge, and Jisung just nods, obviously opting not to pipe up to the Alpha. Everyone’s silent after that, and the air becomes a little awkward. ‘I’ll just go get your pancakes,’ I say, not waiting for a response before I turn and head towards the back.

I plate their pancakes up, all pretty with syrup and whipped cream and strawberries, and I take them out to them only a few minutes later. They’ve stacked up their empty plates for me at the edge of one of the tables, the gristle all piled up on the top plate, and my heart warms a little; it’s quite sweet of them to make my job a bit easier for me. I put their pancakes down in front of them, each of them murmuring their thanks, and Chan grins at me when I put his down. ‘It looks pretty,’ he says, and I preen at the praise – I always plate up the waffles whenever I’m on shift, because my boss, Jinyoung, liked the way I do them. ‘Pretty like her, huh, Chan?’ Changbin says with a grin, my cheeks heating up, and Chan just death-stares him, the others all silent. ‘Sorry,’ Changbin says sheepishly, dropping his head to look at the plate in front of him.

‘Did you guys fight the other pack as humans then?’ I ask, trying to change the subject, Chan chuckling at the question. ‘You’re a curious girl, huh?’ he asks, and I feel a little embarrassed. ‘Sorry.’ ‘No, don’t… be sorry. It’s cute,’ he says hesitantly, and I can’t hold back the shy smile that spreads across my lips, the other boys all looking amused at their Alpha’s shy flirting. He clears his throat, embarrassed, before answering my question; ‘those of us that are older wolves – myself, Minho and Changbin – can turn into wolves at will, but the younger ones aren’t at that stage yet. Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix and Seungmin can do a half-turn, and Jeongin can’t complete any kind of turn yet. He’s getting there, though,’ Chan adds kindly, patting the blue-haired boy’s arm.

I can’t help but quiz them, so fascinated at how different they are to me, despite looking so normal. By the time Ryujin and Yeji arrive for their shift, I’m perched on a table, chatting comfortably to them about their pack hierarchy whilst we all sip on milkshakes. ‘You look busy, y/n,’ Ryujin calls out amusedly from behind the counter, her and Yeji both grinning at me, and I feel my cheeks heating up. ‘I made some new friends,’ I say mildly, the boys all grinning at the girls, and I realise with a little jolt that all of them have perfectly white teeth, their canines sharp and lethal.

‘We better get going. The pack elders won’t be impressed with you, Jisung, and they’ll be even less impressed at us disappearing all night,’ Chan says sombrely, Jisung looking ashamed of himself as he nods. They all start to rise from their seats, ready to leave, and I feel a little sad as I watch Chan trying to fix his shirt, his muscles rippling with each movement. ‘We’ll drop in again, for some more steak. Maybe cooked next time,’ Chan jokes as the others head towards the door, and I let out a little laugh, nodding shyly. ‘That’d be nice.’ ‘Here. A tip, for your great service,’ Chan says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of notes. He takes my hand into his gently, a thrill running up my arm at the contact, and puts the notes into my palm, closing my fingers over them. ‘Chan, that’s too gener-’ ‘It’s fine. Just take the tip… y/n,’ he murmurs softly, my name sounding heavenly on his lips, my eyes locking with his sparkly brown ones, his smile mesmerising me. ‘Thank you,’ I reply, and he grins, his dimple reappearing and making my heart flutter.

He heads towards the door where the other boys are waiting, waving goodbye once more before they leave into the dawn, the door shutting behind them with a thud. ‘Oh, my God! y/n has a cute werewolf boyfriend!’ Ryujin exclaims, and I hold a hand over my face embarrassedly. ‘He’s not my boyfriend!’ ‘He wants to be! Look at the tip he gave you. He’s into you.’ ‘And he’s hot, y/n! If he comes in again, you better get his number!’

I leave after promising them I’ll make a move next time I see him, and I’m still laughing to myself at their enthusiasm as I step out of the back door, wrapped up in my big winter coat. The sun has just begun to rise, streaking the sky with beautiful pastel colours, but it’s still freezing, my breath fogging in the air as the cold sets into my bones.

I head over to my car, opening the door, and then, out of the corner of my eye, I see something move in the trees on the other side of the car park, and I look over, alarmed. There’s a big dark… shape, and I squint into the darkness, trying to make it out. I realise it’s a wolf, with thick, glossy sandy brown fur and big shiny brown eyes. The wolf stands proud, exuding power, and I just know that it’s Chan. I smile, knowing I’m probably crazy for smiling into the eyes of a lethal and wild creature, even crazier for lifting up a hand in a coy wave, but I’m rewarded when he bows his head in a nod, and maybe I’m imagining it, but I’m almost certain I can see an amused glint in his eyes.

I climb into my car, smiling to myself, Chan still stood there watching, and I wait until he’s disappeared into the trees before I start the car. A loud howl echoes out into the air, ringing in my ears, followed by a chorus of howls, melding into one another like a symphony, and the sound makes me smile.

When I get home and collapse into my bed, I decide to count through the notes that Chan gave me as a tip, and my heart melts when a little slip of paper flutters out of the notes – his phone number with a smiley face written beside it. My parents always told me to stay away from the wolves, but maybe they aren’t all bad.

268 notes · View notes

ninnodesu · 4 years

Text

“Can I See You?” ch 3 || Modern!Thomas

AN: Put a shirt on, Thomas

It hurts my heart writing about medical stuff being done at home in a modern setting because I, myself, is studying into the medical field. ffskäpk I’ve had some complaints sent my way which I’ve not replied to in public about how Thomas is OOC because “he’s not as he is in the movies”. To that I just have to say that: Remember how the Internet has the possiblity for you to open up to new people in a totally different way than you do in real life. This story is set in the modern world, where he’s able to do just that. Open up in a different way, without prejudice and the words he would recieve outside of the internet.

Upstairs, Thomas is met with his uncle already arguing with his mama, and he lets out a huff of annoyance, he knows his uncle has already told her lies about him. His huff gets their attention as they turn towards him.

"Thomas Hewitt, is it true you ain't doing your job?", his mama’s eyes pierces him the way only she can, and he nods. "He's thinkin' with that dick of 'is, is all.", Thomas snaps his head towards his uncle and lets out a growl.

You don't know the meaning of shutting up?

"Charlie!", a small smack rings out in the room as his mama swats Charlie on the back of the head. "There will be no such language in my house!"

When Thomas sees her turn towards him again, he puts on the famous Little Tommy Eyes. The ones he always used when he would come home after playing in the woods all caked in mud. His eyes were always big as dinner plates, full of "sorry, mama "s as his small boyish voice repeated "I was just playing". That look always melted his mama, often in the middle of reprimanding him for bringing in mud into the house before she always, without fail, ended up carrying him into a bubble bath.

Everyone in the Hewitt household knows that the big mountain of a man is a Mama's boy. Always has been, always will be. And even now, in his thirties, his eyes win.

A sigh escapes his mother and she puts a hand on his back.

"Come, hun. We're goin' to have a talk. And you, boy, go be useful somewhere!", she points an angry finger at Charlie, and being a spiteful nephew, Thomas can't help giving Charlie a look that screams "I told you so" before he and his mother round the corner into the living room. They sat down at the small table located close to a window where his mother and her sister always sit to have tea together. He watched as she folded her hands on her lap, looking straight at him. “Now, Tommy. I want you to tell me what’s happenin’ here.”, she dropped her voice to the tone he remembered when he knew he was in trouble while growing up.

She was serious. “And I expect you to be honest with me, boy.”

Well… This is it. He thought.

He never bothered telling his family about you, just like he never bothered with any of his friends, he knew what that would lead to. A stern lecture about how their “lifestyle” would be compromised, how his late night endeavours on the internet would lead to the family getting caught, blablabla.

But now, he had no other choice, it was time to admit to his mother that he had met a girl on the internet that he actually liked. He drew a big breath to steady his nerves before shakily raising his hands, thankful for the fact that at least his mother had actually paid attention and taken the sign language classes seriously, unlike both his uncles. Uncle Monty not really giving a shit at all, while his uncle Charlie knew a sign here and there. He says himself that he “knows enough to get by”, a lie, since he barely knew shit.

He figured it’s best to just start.

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

Meanwhile in the basement, your head jerks towards the sound of the sliding door slowly sliding open. The sound of quiet footsteps coming down the stairs, it almost sounded like whoever it was was sneaking their way down.

“Hello?”, you rasp out. No response. So you don’t bother, and return to follow the furrows of the wood on the ceiling above you. Then, a voice suddenly whispers out close to you.

“Ya’ really a password for your phone, girl.”, you recognize the voice as the older male who was arguing with Thomas earlier, and you look towards him as he comes into view, holding your phone. “I had no idea my nephew was talkin’ to such a slut.”, you frown up at him as he leans down next to you so you both can read your conversation with Thomas. You see his eyes read every single dirty word you’d said to each other. Skipping over the parts where you were only talking about everyday things. “I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business.”, you spit at him, trying your best to sound as serious as you can despite your ruined vocal cords.

He just smirks while scrolling in the conversation, making a disgusting sound as he licks his lips. A familiar moaning voice coming from your speakers. He just found the video you sent Thomas. “Oh, but you see, darlin’. It is my business.”, he proceeds to lean over you, close to your face, before he continues, “because now, he refuses to do his job. All because of you.”

His eyes rake over your whole body, one of his hands is hovering just above you, and you feel sick to your stomach knowing exactly what this disgusting old man is thinking while doing so. “To think that he got a girlie like you.”, he whistles quietly, “makes an old man like me real jealous.”, you turn your head away as he leans in and you whimper as you feel him place a alcohol filled kiss to your cheek. You can’t do anything to defend yourself, you can’t scream anymore, your eyes hurt from crying, your leg throbs, your wrists hurt. All you know at this moment is a breath reeking of alcohol, pain and a broken heart.

You feel a tongue graze your ear before he whispers into it. “Before I make Thomas kill you, I’ll make you feel good, darlin’.”, he moans out his last word and chuckles darkly before leaving you alone again. Your body is so weak at this point, your eyes burn as a few straggling tears escape, and you close your eyes. Your eyes scream for some rest.

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

‘That’s why I can’t kill her mama’

Finishing his motivation to not kill her, he proceeds to fiddle with his fingers instead, he looks at. They've been talking for almost an hour, only stopping for his mama to think and give some pointers, his uncle sneaking away from the sliding door to the basement caught his eyes once and he glared at him. His mother’s firm “Thomas.” bringing him back to the conversation.

‘And her leg is broken’

She only opens her mouth to reprimand him for messing with his uncle. “You know we don’t disrespect family, Thomas.” Hiding a pout behind his mask, he hangs his head in shame and nods. Even if Charlie is an asshole towards him at times, he’s family. And if it’s something his mama has taught him throughout the years, it’s that family comes first. No matter what.

“But…”, she continues as she stands to walk away, and he perks up, lifting his head to look at her with hopeful eyes. “You may keep her, but only until her leg is healed.”, he shoots up and envelops her in a sweaty bear hug.

“And you share food from your plate, you hear me?”, she swats him on his arm hard enough for a loud smack to ring out, and he reacts with a raspy “Ah!” before rubbing his hand where her hand landed. “No fooling around, either. And stop fighting with Charlie!”. His face heats up at the “no fooling around”-comment. “Now come’ere. We need to gather what supplies we have.”, he grunts lightly and looks down at the red mark his mother left on his arm before trudging after her to grab medical supplies.

Down in the basement, he does his best to ignore the small jump his heart does as he sees you’ve apparently fallen asleep, or passed out, on the table. You look serene. Peaceful. No trace of the earlier fear and panic left on your now relaxed face.

Working carefully, he unbolts your wrists and ankles to help his mother stabilize your leg. Internally thanking you for choosing to wear shorts so he didn’t have to unbutton your pants, something that would most likely have made him suffer a heart attack.

“She’s pretty, Tommy.”, his mother whispers to him as she moves up to the broken leg. He follows her with his eyes and nods shyly, her voice is silent. “Do you know her name?”, he thinks for a few seconds before signing out the letters to your name, she just hums in response and proceeds to set their work up.

Since they both know they can’t safely give you proper medical care, Thomas is thankful for the fact that his mama had made use of online classes for necessary skills.

“This’ll have to do.”, she backs up a bit and eyes the work they’ve put into your leg, and nods. Wiping her hands on her apron, she singlas for Thomas and starts moving to his basement bedroom. “Come on, hun. She’s staying down here.”, his head jolts towards her and he shakes his head in protest. “This is the safest place in the house.”, he shakes his head again and raises his hand to sign out protests.

‘Please, mama, not down here’

“Thomas Brown Hewitt!”, he relents and lets out an annoyed grunt, earning another smack on his arm as she can see him roll his eyes, “Don’t sass me, child!”, she jabs a finger close to his face before ordering him to pick you up from the table. “Listen to your mama and put her on your bed, and keep that leg of ‘ers high up.”, he lets out a humming sound close to “yes” as he carries you over to the bedroom, doing his best to not wake you up. A part of him relishing in keeping your sleeping form pressed to his chest. “And make sure you give ‘er a drink!”, his mama yells back at him before he closes the door just enough to shield you from view as he lays you down on his bed.

He thinks for a moment on what to prop your leg up on and looks around. Finally finding some pieces of clothing and a blanket that he scrunches up and puts under your leg.

A glass of water is sat down on the floor, Thomas deciding to sit down on an old lounge chair across from the bed, making him face you. He leans his head on his left hand just to watch you while waiting for his mama to return with something to eat.

He has a hard time fully comprehending that you’re really here, in front of him. He’s never been a popular person, neither on the internet nor outside of it, years of bullying erasing any kind of self positivity. Sure, he did have some friends scattered around some websites, but most of them were just… there. A few permanent contacts, maybe two, or three, but here you were. Someone who had replied to one of his posts; one comment being all it took.

You always talked sweetly to him, never did you pester him about things he found uncomfortable, there was never any need to explain when and why he needed space. And you never asked where he had been or what he had done when he went away for several days to… work. You were still as happy as ever when he returned to your conversation.

You’d brighten these months for him exponentially. When he told you he worked as a butcher, carefully avoiding what exactly he butchered, you didn’t shy away like other people did. You were curious by it, fascinated almost, asking some stray questions as to how he’d gotten into it, why he chose that job and that was it. You accepted him. Nothing that had to do with him scared you.

Fishing his phone up from his jean pocket, he opened your conversation, quickly swiping past all the naughty bits to get to the more sweeter moments. Reading through them, he smiled.

Glancing up at you, an idea came to mind. He closed the conversation and started looking through all the apps to find the camera and zoomed into your relaxed face to snap a photo of you. He wanted to remember this, no matter what happened in the future. He wanted to remember the very first time he saw you this relaxed.

His door knocked, and he swiftly closed his phone as he lightly tapped the toe of his boot on the floor, his own way of saying “come in”. “I bought something to eat, hun.”, his mama came in and the room was filled with the sweet aroma of cinnamon, on a plate were two big cinnamon buns resting, still warm. Thomas couldn’t help but to close his eyes and inhale the scent. He opened them again when he heard her laugh a little.

‘If I break my leg, can I have some too?’, he grins at his own bad attempt to get a warm treat such as a cinnamon bun.

“There’s two, Tommy.”, she winks at him and he lets out a deep chuckle.

‘Thank you, mama’

His mother sits the plate down next to the glass of water on the floor before she returns to the door and proceeds to lean up against the frame. A hurtful question is starting to grow in Thomas, and even if he doesn’t want the answer, he tugs lightly at his mama’s apron to get her attention. Without looking at her, keeping his eyes low and only slightly glancing over at your breathing form, he signs one question;

‘Do I have to do it?’

His mother just hums quietly towards the question before she replies. “You can keep her till she’s better, Tommy.”, he huffs at the same answer he had gotten earlier.

'That doesn’t even make sense, mama’ 'You’ve always told me I should find someone’ 'And now, when I finally found someone I like’ 'I have to kill her’

He glares up at her, annoyance, anger and hurt visible in his eyes. She meets his eyes, but her face is empty.

“Is she an honest woman?”, he only lets out an annoyed breath. "You know family comes first...", she looks at him to finish her statement, and he does so reluctantly with plain lazy hand movements.

'No matter what’

"The girl’s your responsibility.", he starts tapping the back of his phone in an irritable way. Suddenly, there’s a sharp pain in his earlobe as she pulls him close to her, and he lets out a pained grunt at being pulled. "And you heard what I said about foolin' around!", she lets him go and he rubs the sore spot on his ear, face red as earlier.

You groan slightly as you open your eyes. You clearly remember closing your eyes to give them rest after being sore and dry after your crying. What you didn’t intend to do, however, was to fall asleep.

Scratching your scalp you realize you’re not bolted down anymore, and you hurriedly go to sit up but stop abruptly as you’re reminded about the pain in your leg. You hiss and slow down, resorting to only resting on your elbows as you look down to your… leg, in a cast? “What?”, as your brain wakes up from your unknowing nap you notice you’re also laying down on a bed instead. Slowly, you scoot yourself up to rest against the wall at the head of the bed. A light reaches through the slightly open door, a shuffling, a clinking and water flowing is heard outside. Clearing your throat, you call out. “Hello?”, you jolt slightly as a clatter rings out, the sound obvious evidence you had scared whoever was out there as it sounded like they dropped something.

Careful footsteps came your way and then a shy head popped into view and peered in on you from behind dark curls. You took the pillow from behind your back and hugged it close to your chest, like it would work as a shield. Looking at him as he peeked in through the opening of the door, he didn’t seem as frightening as before. Now, he looked like a kid. Someone who had just broken a vase and was too scared to tell his mom what he had done. But despite his innocent look, you couldn’t help the awful feeling in your stomach, that sinking realization of what he actually is, and what he’s done.

He surprised you though. Surprised you by lifting a shy hand and slowly waving it back and forth in a greeting. The gesture made you smile into the pillow, every ounce of rationality pushed aside. “Hi.”, you mumbled into the pillow. Instead of coming in, he just awkwardly stood there wringing his hands and fiddling with his fingers. Occasionally a hand would come down to pull on one of the chains hanging from his belt, like he was nervous being in your presence. You felt bed for him. Something you couldn’t believe you did, but you did feel bad for him at this moment.

“Do you… uhm… do you wanna come in?”, you ask timidly. A part of you actually wanting to talk to him. To get to know the Thomas you’ve known through your phone. He nodded, and came closer to you. But instead of sitting down or anything, he bends down next to the head of the bed and picks a plate up before setting it down in your lap. You look at the plate and then up to him. He’s in the middle of moving the lounge chair closer to you than it was before, he motions to the plate. “Oh! Is one of these… for me?”, you ask, genuinely confused. He nods excitedly as he sits down. The chair squeaked under his weight, and not long after he’s seated you’re presented with a glass of water.

Your brain is having a hard time piecing together what exactly is happening. First you’re bolted down to a table awaiting death by his hand and now he’s… feeding you? You just look at him with big questioning eyes, something he seems to notice. He reaches the glass out for you, you take it and then he starts moving his hands and fingers. “Wait… wait! Wait! Thomas, I… I don’t…”, you figure it’s sign language. Something you’ve never, honestly, bothered learning. He stops, and sighs in defeat. “I’m sorry…”, setting the glass down at the floor again, you take one of the buns and give it to him. Looking at him with an apologetic smile.

You both munched on your respective bun in silence, only real sound being you cursing at the fact that you’re dropping crumbs all over the bed, for a minute before you speak up.

"Are you… going to kill me?", your question is blunt and straight to the point as you pick at your treat, only glancing up at him in quick swipes, sadness pinging in your heart everytime you catch a glimpse of him. He looks down at the last piece of his own bun and pops it into his mouth before looking at you and shakes his head. You just nod slightly while taking a small bite. "But… you do… kill people?", he looks taken aback by your question. The only answer you get is him letting his head hang in silence. "Oh…"

He breaks the awkward tension by reaching down to pick your glass of water back up and handing it to you. Looking up at him, you meet his eyes. Those blue eyes of your Thomas. The Thomas you’ve gotten to know. The one who doesn't kill people. You keep eye contact as you accept the glass. "Thank you.", you smile as you feel tears well in your eyes yet again, but you push those tears away. Your first sip is small, but as soon as you get your first taste of the wonderful clear liquid, you quickly gulp every drop down. Your body is apparently more dehydrated than you thought. A chuckle erupts from your side before you feel a big thumb swipe by the edge of your mouth, wiping a stray water droplet away. Your face heats up slightly as you feel his thumb swipe over you and you smile towards him. Pushing away a small urge to lick his thumb as it passes by. Right at this moment, you don’t have any panic in your body. For some reason you’re calm.

Right now, it feels like you're just two friends having a tender moment. Two people with feelings not yet ready to ascend to the surface.

Not a person held hostage by a broken leg, and a murderer with an arsenal of choices.

Clearing your throat to gain his attention, you suck the remaining sticky cinnamon filling off your fingers and look over at him. “Can I ask you something?”, you don’t want to get lost in your rational fear right now, having the need to fill the space with talking, you make a conscious decision to get to know Thomas in person instead.

You’ve wanted to meet him for so long, and here he is. In the flesh. Seated in a lounge chair next to your bed, in all his behemoth glory. And by god is he attractive.

With some nutrients in your body, your brain has started to reboot. Your eyes dance over him. All broad shoulders and big arms, arms only shown because of the black wife beater that clung tightly over his chest, small beads of sweat rolling down his clavicle due to the sheer Texas heat. The hair on his chest shown over the neckline glued to him. Your eyes travel over the buffé that is this man, they follow the way his biceps flex as he reaches behind to scratch his neck. A small knot grows in the pit of your stomach as you see that familiar tattoo covering most of his right arm, now knowing what exactly it meant.

That twisted hormonal part of you took over, however, continuing your field trip, you bite the inside of your cheek as you glance on his muscular thighs clad in grayish-blue jeans with wear-and-tear rips at the knees, a strong sign this is a man who works. Your mind flashes back to the photo he had sent you when he first told you his name, and suddenly, you felt the urge to sit on his lap.

You shake your head and discreetly take a deep breath to clear your mind. You almost have to forcefully tear your eyes from his thighs. Looking up at him again, his hair looked ruffled, uncleaned. You twitched with want to tangle your fingers in it, to grab and pull on until you exposed his wide neck to your teeth and tongue, a thought of what kind of sound he would make in your ear as you bite down and drag your ton-.

Your thoughts are interrupted as he taps the side of the bed, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, realization that you’ve probably been staring like a madwoman at this poor man while he’s been waiting for your question must be clear on your face the way he looks at you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Oh… right… sorry.”, you say sheepishly as you try to hide your most likely tomato red face by pretending to rub tiredness away with the palm of your hands. A deep “heh” comes from him and you glance at him through the space between your fingers. His hand motions you to “go ahead, ask”. “Uhm… you never told me you couldn’t talk.”, you look down and suddenly feel really stupid to ask him a personal thing like this. “I’m sorry I… I didn’t mean to sound so… disrespectful!”, he shakes his head and pulls a finger up to signal you to give him a minute as he fishes his phone up. You cock your head to the side and look at him with curious eyes as he types away, then a male voice rings out from his phone.

I can, I just don’t anymore

You raise your eyebrows. “Ooh! Can I ask why? I just… I just want to get to know you.”, your face heats up again as you decide to confess to him, “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long.”, the smile you give him is reciprocated by him, if his eyes are something to go after, before returning his gaze down to his phone to type.

It’s fine. Disease, took a knife to my face when I was a kid

The voice stops for a minute, he looks at you and you guess he’s looking for any kind of disgust, but you show none. All you do is scoot down the bed again, moving carefully as to not jostle your leg and get comfortable on the pillow. “Please, continue. I want to know.”, voice cheerily.

He visibly relaxes at your words, and it shows. He leans back, and sinks down further into the chair, almost laying halfway off it, the voice continues to spell his sentences out.

The pain was so bad. It hurt to talk, it hurt to eat, it hurt to exist. So I stopped talking, mama almost had to force food down my throat.

You only hum as a response. “So, you just decided to stop talking one day?”, you cuddled into the pillow, the masculine scent of Thomas envelops you and your heartbeat sinks down to a resting pace.

He nods, clicking from his phone’s keyboard.

Yeah. The pain was too intense, easier to stop talking, eating is also more fun than to talk, so. Besides, I’ve never really had friends to talk to anyway.

You looked at him with pity, you wanted to hug him so bad. Wanted to soothe the child inside of him that you just knew were hurting. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

It wasn’t necessary

“I guess you’re right.”, you agree with him. It never was necessary, since you never talked on the phone.

You both fall into a comfortable silence. Thomas remains seated in his chair, now lazily scrolling on his phone. You just lay there, looking at him and thinking back on when you first started talking to him. Vaguely remembering what forum it was, honestly not really caring what it was called since you basically stopped logging onto it when you had saved his contact information in your phone. You had quickly clicked on your shared interests, but there was something else with him. He was surprisingly easy to talk to. Sure, he would go silent for a few days sometimes, but it didn’t bother you. Because you knew he always came back to your conversation. He never did tell you where he lived, and now you knew why. He literally couldn’t.

You have a hard time piecing together the giant contrast. The Thomas you had gotten to know was sweet, and passionate about his hobbies. He loved his family and it was clear that he was a family man through and through. He was strong in all kinds of ways. He had also stayed up late during nights just to keep you company, talking about absolutely nothing and everything in between. You’d told him about your life, and he had briefly told you about his.

Although knowing what he did for a living. What gruesome secret he had kept from you, you still saw that same Thomas when you looked at him. Now, when the climax of your panic had died down, enveloped by the scent of him via his pillow, you saw him again.

Your Thomas.

Not the deranged, murderer, not the… butcherer, you saw nothing gruesome about him. You weren’t scared. You were bought back to those nights where you were in your bed, sharing stupid jokes, and silly videos you’d found on the internet with him. Those nights where you would laugh yourself to tears to some story he had told you from his childhood. It felt… normal. But you knew it wasn’t. Your leg was broken, badly put together in a homemade cast, and you were bedridden in a basement where awful things take place.

You’re both startled a bit as you hear the door knock slightly, you meet Thomas’ eyes and you raise an eyebrow as he taps the floor two times with his boot. “Huh…”, looking towards the door, an older woman enters. “Tommy, it’s late.”, you sit up and lean towards the wall and smile at the old lady, she looks nice, obviously his mother, and you’re happy to see her nice face instead of the old man. She looks at you, eyebrows furrowing. “You’re up, good.”, her voice is stern, held back, guarded. All you can do is nod. Her mere presence evokes the need for respect.

This is the matriarch. The one in charge. Not Thomas. Not the old man. She is. Being in your position, you know damn well it’s best to give her that respect.

You follow her eyes as she looks over at Thomas, your heart begins to race as you think this is the end. That he was only saying “no” earlier to get you relaxed enough to not fight back. “Thomas, I need to talk to her in private.”, you meet eyes with him and you shake your head in panic. You don’t want him to leave. He looks at you with kind eyes as he gets up to leave. He knows something. He signs something to his mother, she gives him a warm motherly smile before petting him on the arm and nods. “Good night, hun. Try gettin’ some sleep tonight.”, he nods back at her and then looks over his shoulder at you. You don’t dare speak at this moment. Only waiting for the old woman to approach you, which she does shortly after Thomas has left you alone, she sits down in the lounge chair next to you. Her eyes are neutral as they scan your face. “We have rules in this family.”, she starts. And you listen intently as she lists all rules you need to follow, and the reason why you’re still alive. At least for now.

Ending her one-sided conversation with you, she introduces herself as Luda Mae, but you’re to call her “ma’am”. She makes it clear that you’re not part of the family, that she’s allowing you to stay until your leg is healed, and that the only reason for that is that Thomas likes you a lot. But she also highlights that if you are caught messing with Thomas’ job, no matter how much he likes you, you will receive a punishment.

Before she leaves you to sleep for the night, she gets up to carry your bag in, and sets it down next to the head of the bed. And that’s it. “Thank you.”, you pipe up, and she stops at the door, hand on the doorknob, and looks over at you. “For the cinnamon bun, it was delicious.”. For the first time, you see a genuine smile growing on her face, and she nods. “Tommy will be down early tomorrow.”, and with that, she closes the door.

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

Upstairs, Thomas closes his bedroom door quietly and proceeds to kick his boots off, he swiftly unbuckles his belt and just lets his heavy jeans fall onto the floor where he stands, a heavy clanking of chains and keys echoes in his room. He takes a deep breath of unfiltered air as his mask is removed, as he stretches his back pops in a symphony of crackles before he peels off his sweaty wife beater off and just chucks it the general direction of his laundry. His big and tired body timbers down on his bed, a dangerous crack reaches his ears and he hisses slightly and curses himself for - yet again - almost breaking his bed in half.

His thoughts are running haywire. He’s thinking back to the beginning of when you started talking, when he first saw your face in a picture. One time you’d sent him a video of when you had dropped something and you laughing heartily in the background at how “fun it is to bake” and “yes, you should totally bake more” and he chuckled. And now here you were. In his basement bedroom. Where he had touched you. Your skin is soft under his rough hands, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to touch more of you.

He rolled over to his back and stared up at the ceiling, a piece of his bottom lip captured between his teeth as he chews a bit of skin off. “Hm…”. He gets up and rummages through his pants to find his phone, unlocks it and types out a simple message.

“I can’t sleep.”

A pure lie since he hadn’t even tried sleeping yet. Hitting send, he hopes his mama had given you your belongings by now, which means you would have gotten your phone.

He goes back to bed and lays down, one foot dangling over the edge of the it, pulling up the Facebook he mainly uses for talking and following a handful of friends he’d gotten from all over the internet to scroll through, his thundering laugh the only sound in his room as he sees a few hilarious posts made by some of them. He needed this downtime, something to relax with. Lazily scrolling through his phone usually did the trick for him. It took around twenty minutes and he lost faith in you having your phone before his eyes caught a stream of notifications from you, just hailing in.

“Why the FUCK have you been lying to me?” “I thought we were at least open enough to talk about everything” “Are you even the same Thomas?” “Do I know you?” “Did you lie to me all these months to get me here?” “I fucking hate you” “I want to go home” “You really hurt me, you know” “I’ve always liked you”

All he did was watch as each message came through. He understood your flurry of emotions, god knows he of all people understood this. He’d had them all before, but years after years of bullying has made him a master at hiding his true emotions, vowing to never show anything anymore. All he showed was muscles and rage. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Not knowing what to say at a moment like this. His years of neglecting his feelings has left him… not good with moments like this. What are you supposed to say? What’s appropriate? Should he confess? Should he let you just talk?

Of course he knew what it meant to have feelings for someone, he’d had them before. But also knowing how he looked, being the town's freak show, he never acted on any crushes he had. So being this bombarded with emotions was… weird. It was new to him, and for the most part, he didn’t like new things. He locked the phone. Closed everything that had to do with dealing with this.

The messages didn’t stop, however, the insistent dinging making so he had to put it on vibrate. But even that got annoying after about five messages. He opened your conversation and read through it all.

“I’m sorry” “I just can’t” “believe that after all these months of talking” “me thinking you were a” “normal person” “you’ve been this killer” “a murderer”

He lost it at the end. And started typing out his response.

“you don’t understand”

“oh fuck off with that you don’t understand bullshit, thomas”

At this point, neither of you really cared about spelling or grammar, it was all just pure emotion filled text. Thomas was hurting, probably just as much as you. He didn’t want to be on this end of it all. He just wanted all of this to be over, hopefully, with you alive.

"you can’t excuse murder”

He locks his phone again and just lets it fall from his hand onto the floor, throwing one arm over his eyes.

I guess it’s time to sleep, then.

------------------------------------------------------------ You’re abruptly awoken the next day by the door being flung open, and you jolt hard enough for a sudden pain to shoot through your leg, making you hiss. In the door, stood Thomas and he was looking like a combination of angry and tired, this time with no shirt on, making him seem almost bigger than with one on. You only have two thoughts running through your mind at this point.

Have you grown bigger during the night? and Please let me run my fingers through that garden of hair you have on your chest

One arm crossed over his chest, the other typing away on his phone. You just stare at him at first. Not long after, that same male voice rings out;

Mama told me to shower you

You give him a defiant laugh, cross your arms and pouts like a petulant child. You hear a sigh, a sigh only amplified by his mask.

Please, stop. I’m not fighting over this

“I’m not fighting about the shower.”, you snap your head towards him, “I’m fighting about the fact that you’ve become my best friend and the fact that you didn’t tell me anything.”, you hiss. At the end of your sentence you hear a deep, deep, rumbling… laughter. Thomas is laughing. A genuine laugh that makes him have to lean up against the door frame. “What are you laughing at?”, you feel almost offended.

It takes him almost a full minute to type out a reply to you.

Tell you what? That I’m a murderer? How was I supposed to bring that shit up? “Oh hey, by the way, I kill people”?

You catch the way his eyebrows raised up in an obvious sarcastic way, coaxing you to laugh.

Come on, it’s not something I can just tell you about. I’m still the same Thomas. But I’m sorry you had to find out this way. Or at all, honestly

You narrow your eyes in his direction. You’re still mad at him, but he does have a point. How does one bring up something as horrible as all this? You battle your rational side, the rational side that strives on survival, the one that’s constantly telling you to get out, that it’s not safe here. But then you see him, and his eyes, and you’re teleported back home. Not one part of you is listening to your rational side at this moment. Because this really is the same Thomas you’ve been talking to. He looks like him, he… talks like him, and he acts like him. So you accept his offer to take a shower, and your rational side flips out and internally you throw hands with yourself for this.

Before you have time to reply to him, he’s moving towards you while typing;

Listen, sugar, I don’t have all day. So up we go

And before you know it, the bed leaves you and you’re flying. You yelp as you’re carefully thrown over his naked shoulder, your bag being picked up in his other hand. You really can’t help the giggle that escapes you at this point, desperately you try to grab on to… something as to not fall off him. “Can’t you at least carry me like a normal person and not a deer that’s been shot, you dummy?”, you feel his shoulder shake in what you suspect is a silent laugh.

For the first time, you see the rest of the house. There’s clinking coming from what you figure is the kitchen, voices talking in a hushed tone. Thomas seems to make a beeline to the stairs as a particularly harsh voice calls his name from the kitchen’s direction, he tenses up at the same time. But suddenly he stops, you can’t see anything other than the floor and heel of his boots, but you can hear a voice. “Where you takin’ ‘er, boy?”, it’s the old man that was with you yesterday. You remember his voice. You feel Thomas’ body move and see the stairs under him as he walks up, you can’t help but to raise your head and look down at the old man. He winks at you and makes a disgusting kissing face before turning away.

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

Thomas lets out a small grunt as he sets you down in the bathtub and sets your bag down in front of you in it before pulling his phone up;

You ain’t allowed to be alone

He looks down at you sitting in the tub and makes a face as if trying to say “sorry” before pulling the curtain to let you undress somewhat in peace, knees cracking slightly as he sits down on the lid of the toilet. He hears you whine a bit. “Does she think I’m going to run away with a broken leg?”, he chuckled.

Maybe you’ll beat us all with your cast

A giggle from behind the shower curtain, and a shuffle. His eyes follow your arm as it reaches out from behind it, your hand drops your clothes on the floor. “Maybe I will! I can be fierce if I want to.”, he just hums and reclines on the toilet before your voice rings out again, a little shaky this time. “Hey, uhm… Do you mind… helping me out?”, his heart starts to race. He clears his throat as quietly and discreetly as he can.

With?

“I can’t reach the shower head and uhm… If you can lift my leg up out of the tub.”, your voice is so low, so nervous. And he can tell. His hands feel moist and he wipes them on his sweatpants before putting his phone on the floor.

With racing thoughts, his heart is going at a record speed. You’re naked. And he knows you’re naked, a thought that’s almost enough for him to cum in his pants. Getting up, his hands shake as he reaches behind the curtain, making sure to keep his face on the outside so as to not see you in all your naked glory, taking the showerhead off its handle and giving it to you blindly. When he feels you’ve taken it, he’s quick to tug his arm back.

He hears you giggle.

“Thomas, you’ve seen me naked before.”, he’s so, so happy that you can’t see him. Because he’s probably much more red than a fresh tomato at this point. And he can feel it. His face is warm.

Of course he’s seen you naked, on video. And pictures. But that’s far from the same thing as seeing you naked… In person. To help you with your leg he kneels next to the tub, he knows he has to open the curtain just a tiny bit and he is not in the mood to show you what lovely tent he’s pitching in his sweat pants at this moment. His thoughts are not of honest nature right now.

But before opening it, he needs to ask first.

I need to open the curtain, okay?

He’s thankful for the somewhat robotic male voice from his phone, because it can’t show how nervous he is. Your answer is so simple to him. “Yes.” Taking a deep breath he shoves it aside.

You look so small, curled up with your arms covering your breasts. He looks away from your face when he sees you blush as you notice his eyes, he’s shaking so badly at this point. Yet, he manages to reach out and ever so carefully lifts your heavy leg up to prop it on the side of the tub. His hair falls in front of his eyes, a slight cover for his wandering eyes, eyes he seemingly can’t control at this moment since the majority of his blood has traveled south. His breath hitches slightly as his gaze land on your sex as it get exposed because of the way your leg has to be moved from your body to get propped up, your other not doing much to cover yourself up even if you try.

He gulps and almost way too hurriedly releases your leg and basically throws the curtain closed again as he sits back. As the shower starts, he glares down at the throbbing mass of flesh twitching slightly between his thighs in an annoyed way, before mentally cursing it.

You really have to ruin everything, don’t you?

#CICU #Can I See You #thomas hewitt #thomas #thomas leatherface hewitt #modern!thomas #modern au

81 notes · View notes

multiplefandomsblog · 4 years

Text

Demi Bourbon x fem!Reader (smut)

Warnings: nsfw, lesbian sex, drunk consent, drunk sex, sex in confined space, alcohol, collar/leash play, reader is thicc, unedited

You’ve been in the manor for quite a while, and you’re feeling kind of lonely. You’re not one to make friends or socialize, but everyone seems so nice and you maybe want to give it a shot. Especially this one girl, Demi Bourbon.

You always envied her for her friendliness, you’ve always wanted to be friends with her, maybe even more, but you never built up the confidence to actually talk to her. One day, you were wracking up the confidence to start a conversation with her again, but it seems she beat you to it.

She walks up to you and stops at a comfortable distance away from you, sensing your anxiety. “Hi! I’m Demi. Demi Bourbon.” She didn’t speak too loudly, not wanting to scare you away or make you uncomfortable. You assume she knew you were trying to talk to her, noticing your small stares and uncomfortable shifting towards her.

“Me and a few friends are going to head over to the bar to grab a few drinks and hang out, you’re welcome to join us but don’t feel too pressured to. If you do decide to though, we’re going to be near the front doors of the manor, okay?” She tried her best not to make you feel pressured, and you noticed it. Feeling your heart flutter from her consideration of your feelings, you nodded.

Replying with a small determined, “I-I’ll be there.” She smiled widely at you, clearly ecstatic that you accepted. “Awesome! G-great wow um, so I’ll see you in an hour!” She waved goodbye, happily skipped away.

An hour later I made my way to the agreed location. Demi sees me and gives me her hand to hold. Once I take it she leads me outside of the manor doors with a group of her friends waiting outside. You see a few familiar faces; Vera, Martha, Fiona, Eli and surprisingly, Emily is here too. I never thought of her as the drinking type. We call enough cabs to fit the 7 of us and head over to the town pub. Its dark out, even though it’s only 6pm. “Have you ever went out drinking before?” Demi asked me. I respond with a truthful “No.” she hums understandingly, and the rest of the ride is filled with a comfortable silence.

We arrive at the pub, and surprisingly, it’s not as crowded as I thought it would be. We walk in and grab a few seats. It’s all comfortable, normal conversation before all the ruckus starts when Demi starts chugging several whiskey bottles. I’ve never had strong alcohol before, only small sips of my moms wine or my dad’s beer.

I ordered a beer, considering it doesn’t have too much alcohol, but enough to make me at least enjoy this experience. I thought I’d only be drinking one bottle and call it a night, but everyone started to cheered me on to down some shots, and damn, the burn in my throat felt good. I’d finish shot after shot, and eventually, I was drunk as balls. Everyone else was too, but it was weird considering I’ve never been drunk before.

I felt really hot, and started taking off my sweater, revealing my graphic t-shirt to everyone else. It was of a show I really liked as a kid, and wearing it on my shirt made me feel nostalgic. “Heyyyyy I *hic* know that shooowwww!” Demi said, slurring her words together, pointing at the print on my chest.

“Hehhee,, it was my favourite when I was a *hic* kid...” I managed to spit out some words. I felt good, but it also feels so, so strange. “hehe, me too...” Demi got quieter, she looked at me with a dazed look on her face and grabbed my collar to pull me closer to her. Then all of a sudden, she started kissing me-no, not just kissing- Full. On. Making. Out.

I couldn’t tell if my face was red from blushing or from being the alcohol, but I was into it, and so was she. She let go of my collar and started to wrap her arms around my neck, and I placed my hands on her sides while pushing my face harder and harder into hers. She started to pull away and said “Let’s take this somewhere else, yeah?”

She breathed out, out of breath from earlier. I agreed and we started walking around the bar, looking for somewhere private to do the dirty. We found the janitors closet unlocked, and decided to do it there. We rejected the idea of doing it in a pub washroom cause there’s probably going to be people walking in to hurl or take a fat dump, and that would totally ruin the mood.

We open the door and turn the lights on, then close it and lock it once we’re inside. It’s pretty spacey, and it smells pretty okay from all the lemon and lime scented cleaning supplies. Demi takes my shirt collar again and we continue making out for a few minutes, then she starts unbuttoning her shirt and unbuckling her belt, and I’m feeling hotter, if that’s even possible.

She takes them off and lays it on the empty section of the shelf with the belt behind her. She’s wearing this black lace bra, and her boobs are huge. I’m getting insecure about mine, and when she walks over to me to help get my clothes off, her breasts bounce with every step. She’s probably a DDD cup.

I’m just a (c/s) cup. “Are you sure you want to do this?” She whispered this in my ear, and I almost closed my legs from how horny I’m getting from this. “Yes. I want to do it so hard with you.” I feel so dirty saying this, but I’m drunk, so who cares. Let’s have sex!

I take off my pants and shoes on my own while she takes off her apron thing and leggings. I’m feeling really embarrassed and insecure of my body. I have hip dips, and a little muffin top starting to spread. My arms are a little flabby, and my thighs are definitely on the thick side.

Demi has a gorgeous body, tall, but not too tall, slim, wide hips, big boobs, skinny waist, perfectly balanced. Perfect. At least in my eyes she is. She eyes me up and down while smirking. Not even being drunk can make me confident. My self esteem is non existent.

Her smile grows wider when our eyes meet. “Oh, Y/N, you look gorgeous. I never thought you’d have such a hot body, hiding under all those baggy clothes.” She starts walking towards me and grabs my arms to pull them away from me trying to hide my tummy. She starts taking her panties off, and I do the same.

She starts sucking on her fingers to get them nice and wet, the starts rubbing my already wet cunt with her middle and ring finger, I jump at the feeling, I’ve never been touched there by anyone else before. We start kissing again, more gently this time though.

She backs me up onto wall and continue, then she shoves her fingers up my hole, slowly, and I can’t help but yelp a little “nnhgg hhh” I start breathing a little heavier, even though we’ve barely started. “Relax, you’re doing great.”

She reassures me, and I believe her. She starts groping my boobs with her other hand, and picks up the pace with fingering. We keep making and she keeps fingering me until I cum. I’m so drenched down there, I want to do something that’ll please her.

“Can I uh- lick you down there?” I sound so sheepish, so embarrassed. She just said sure, and we started. Her back was against the door while I was on my knees bellow her, face right in front of her cunt.

I start etching closer, and start licking her parts. She lets out a quiet groan, and I go a little deeper. Her thighs are squished against my ears and my mouth and chin are drenched with her wet pussy, and I’m eating her out like there’s no tomorrow.

Her breathing gets heavier, and she lets out a few moans here and there. “Oh, Y/N, you’re amazing!” She gasps out. I’ve never done this before, so I’m glad she’s enjoying it. I start sucking on her clit a little harder than before, and it seems she’s about to cum.

She lets out a loud moan and grabs my hair with her hands, while squishing her thighs tighter around my head. After she calms down, I wipe my mouth and stand back up. As I rise, I kiss her legs, then her hips, then her stomach.

Once I get to her breasts, I start sucking on her hard nipples and her hand is on my neck, while she moans my name. I start gently rubbing her clit with my hand and start to finger her too. It’s hot and sweaty, I never thought I’d be able to touch Demi like this.

She stops me after a bit, and says “I want to try something different, would you be okay with that?” I replied with an “okay.” and she starts walking back to her pile of clothes. She grabs her belt and walks back over to me, wrapping the belt around my neck like a collar and a leash. “Is this okay?” She asks. “It’s fine.” I reply.

I never thought I’d be into kinky stuff like this, but why not try. We sat on top of a table in the middle on the side of the room, and knocked off all the old rags and cleaning supplies laying on it. She leads me with the belt collar over to the table and we sit on top if it.

She asks me to spread my legs, and I do as she says. She does the same, and gets closer, close enough to rub our cunts together. She keeps her hand tight on the belt, tugging on it sometimes. She uses her other hand to rub our clits a bit more, and I feel like I’m about to cum again.

We keep doing this, getting all wet on each other, her keeping a tight grip on the belt leash. After that, we put our clothes back on and head back to our group to not keep them waiting.

The ride back to the manor was silent, but when I was twisting my doorknob to go back to my room, she walked past me and whispered in my ear “we should do that again, sometime. Maybe in a bed.” and continued her way down the hall while chuckling to herself a little.

#mod toby #identity v one shots #identity v fanfic #identity v smut #identity v #identity v barmaid #notsfw #identity v demi bourbon

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bbykpoper · 4 years

Photo

𝓑𝓸𝔂𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂💫

Inspired by this post 🌼

Pairing: policeofficer!wooyoung x kindergartenteacher!reader

Warning: sexual content up ahead, read at your own discretion!

Index: Jongho // Hongjoong // Seonghwa // San // Yunho // Mingi // Yeosang

･*:༅

Your eyes were glued to the small piece of paper attached to your car. You’ve been standing there for a good amount of time just looking at it, it worried your co-worker imensly.

“Y/N?” He waved his hand in front of your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s a number.” You said and he looked at you confused. “He left his number on my car again. For Seulgi.”

“Who?” Your co-worker asked.

“The stupid cop that keeps lingering around the block.” You groaned finally moving and ripping the paper off your car.

“Are you sure he left it specifically for Seulgi?”

“Yes Honey, I’m a hundred percent sure he left it for her.” You groaned out, throwing away the piece of paper with the scribbled numbers. “You want a ride home?”

“If it’s not a problem.” He smiled shyly.

Both of you filled into your car and you were about to start it when a soft knock scared you half dead on your widow. You looked up and noticed a uniformed body which was casually leaning down, a smirk coming to your eye level. The eyeroll which followed you opening your window made your co-worker and long time friend, Jooheon, laugh quietly next to you.

“May I help you officer?” You asked, plastering on the fakest smile you could.

“I see you’ve picked up my message.” He still kept smirking at you.

“Yes, and I’ve delivered the previous seven you’ve left to the woman of your interest and would like to ask you to stop leaving them on my car from now on. They’re starting to become annoying.” You smiled and pulled the window up, leaving the parking lot of your work place.

“It’s reasuring that there is a police officer in this neighborhood, the kids feel safe. But I still don’t understand why he’s always here.” Jooheon sighed.

“He likes Seulgi, remember how she brought him sweets and food the other day.” You said, keenly observing the road as you drove him home.

“But that doesn’t have to mean anything. If you ask me, I think he likes you and is desperately trying to get you to notice him.”

“Sure, and the girl that works at the donought shop gives us free drinks because she secretly hooks up with Shownu.” You rolled her eyes, pulling up to his building.

“We may never know that.” He laughed with you as he got out the car. “Say hi to Soyou.”

“You too to the boys.” You smiled and waved at him. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow,”

He waved and ran up the steps of his building. You made the short drive home and sighed, noticing that your roommate was indeed nowhere to be found. Typical of her.

･*:༅

“Miss, Hyunwoo peed himself again.” A child walked up to you, a little girl with her thumb in her mouth, grabbing on to your apron.

“Oh dear, that’s not good.” You patted her head. “Thank you for telling me Yeun.”

Jooheon was bussy being pampered by the girls and looked at you for help. You pointed at the small boy who was crying in the corner, Yeun still clinging to your apron even as you walked. He sighed accepting his fate and trying his best to understand why they were painting his nails with watercolours.

“Hyunwoo, did your mom pack you and extra pair of pants?” You crouched down and smoothed his hair, gently wipping at his tears.

“Yes.” He sniffled.

You took him into your hands and carried him to the bathroom, his backpack shaped like a car hanging off your arm. You were quick to clean him up and calm him down, changing his dirty clothes for clean ones. It wasn’t unusual for Hyunwoo to pee himself, but it always had a reason. Usually he got scared of something and couldn’t control it.

“What happened Hyunwoo? Did you get scared?” You asked him, sneaking him a cookie so he could calm down.

“There was a weird man, by the window.” He said. “He was looking at you.”

“A weird man?” You didn’t notice anybody near the kindergarten, but this really was disturbing. “Are you sure you saw someone by the window.”

“I saw him too.” Yeun said. “He was watching you Miss, but ran away when Hyunwoo started crying.”

“I see.” Two kidds seeing a man? Could it be the stupid cop that kept pestering your poor car? “Did the man wear a police uniform?”

“No.” They both said. “He had a baseball cap on, just like my daddy does when we go to the playground.”

You decided not to show the children your worry and escorted them back to the group. They went off to play with some building blocks and you took this chance to grab Jooheon and drag him out the room.

“Hey Seulgi, can you watch the kids for a while. Me and Honey need to step out for a few minutes.” You asked the black haired woman who simply nodded with a smile, taking on the task at hand. “We have a problem, it could be nothing but it could be something.”

“What do you meant?” Jooheon asked as you stepped outside the building and began walking in the direction of your room’s window.

“Hyunwoo and Yeun said they saw a man staring inside at me.” You said, coming to a stop to look at the parking lot behind the kindergarten. “I’m suspicious of the cop that keeps leaving his number on my car.”

“Well, someone was here.” Jooheon said as he pointed at the footprints in the flower bed. “But I doubt it was the cop. The only crime he has tied to him is liking you. Pretty sure he ain’t your stalker or whatever this is.” Jooheon looked around as well. “Do you have any ex’s who want to scare you?”

“Let’s get one thing straight Honey. I’m not scared.” You said unamused. “And I also didn’t have a boyfriend since like high school. I’m pretty sure that snot nosed asshole has better things to do than stalk me.” You rolled your eyes. “None of my hook-ups know anything about me, Soyou taught me better.” Someting then clicked in your brain. “Soyou didn’t come home last night, and when morning came she begged me not to go to work today.”

“Do you think it has something to do with her?”

“Well... I don’t know. She’s been acting weird the past few days.” You sighed and looked at Seulgi who knocked on the window asking if you guys were okay. “Can this stay between us, I don’t want Seulgi to worry about this.”

“Yeah, but I’m sleeping over at your place tonight.” He said, walking with you. “No taksies-backsies.”

“The kids are rubbing off on you too much.” You laughed and he shrugged his shoulders at you.

･*:༅

Wooyoung sighed loudly as he sat with his friends on his break at Sugarberry’s. Mingi was busy making order as always, but Jongho and Hongjoong managed to allign their breaks with him, surprisingly not spending it with their girlfriends. They were now only waiting for Yeosang.

“What’s wrong? Your plan on leaving your number for that cute girl isn’t blossoming into love?” Jongho mocked him.

“She thinks I’m leaving it for her co-worker.” He whinned. “The other girl hasn’t stopped texting me. She even made me lunch last week.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Hongjoong said. “You at least have another girl interested in you.”

“No. I only want that one girl to be interested in me.” He said.

“Then why don’t you just openly ask her out on a date?” The famous waitress of Sugarberry’s spoke up, placing a steaming cup of tea on the table, most likely for Yeosang who just walked in. “I mean it most likely won’t work, but dude, no girl needs a number of a strange cop on their car, seven days a week.” She laughed as Yeosang rolled his eyes at the information he heard. “Just come clean and maybe she’ll accept your date invitation.”

“Or maybe not because she has a boyfriend.” He mumbled when he saw you walk in with your co-worker who he’s seen you drive to and from work. “Just my fucking luck.”

“Honey, you really don’t need to sleep over.” You whinned, not even noticing the enticing cop who was keenly observing you. “I’m sure Soyou is just acting weird because of the stress on her own job.”

“I don’t care, I’m not having two girls living alone be scared shitless because some guy decided to prey on you.” He said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll even invite the guys.”

You sighed as he started calling up his friends and ordered some drinks and sweets to go. While you waited you took a seat at a table and only then did you notice four guys looking at you, recognizing the police officer at the table. You narrowed your eyes at him and decided to ask him a question, which caught him and his friends, including Honey, off guard.

“Were you at the kindergarten today? The parking area to be percise.”

“No... I’m off duty because of my exams.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“See.” Honey said, finally off his phone. “His only crime is liking you.”

The table went into a soft hum of snickers while Wooyoung embodied the pikachu meme. You blinked and nodded, not believing a word out of your friend’s mouth and happily going up to pay for your order and leave.

A sudden kick got Wooyoung out of his thoughts and he looked up at the waitress who motioned with her eyes towards you, silently telling him to go for it.

“He’s not wrong you know.” Wooyoung spoke up as you walked back. “I do like you.”

“That’s nice, but you don’t even know my name.”

“Well you don’t even know mine.” He countered.

You rolled your eyes and went to leave, Honey giving Wooyoung a small thumbs up and nodding as if to signal that he shouldn’t give up. With determination in his eyes, Wooyoung stepped up and went after you, blocking your way to your car.

“My name is Jung Wooyoung, I work at the Korean Police Department and am currently taking my Detective exams.” He stated. “Please go out with me.”

You were shocked at the straight forwardness he had in himself and blinked a few times to come back to your senses. You were about to say no, but he beat you to it.

“Before you say no, please give me a chance. One date.” You looked at him, right in the eyes, noticing how he wasn’t joking about this.

“Alright.” You nodded. “One date.”

“Awesome.” He smiled and it was only then that you noticed how the blond may have looked attractive. “I’ll pick you up on Friday at 7 p.m. sharp.” And he skipped off inside.

Jooheon was smiling at you and you pushed him off to make him shut up and he laughed. You knew this was going to be a tough night for you seeing as you were going to be the main topic.

･*:༅

The days leading up to Friday were weird. You noticed more weird things happening around you and Soyou, but mostly her. Ever since the guys slept over you two began recieving letters on a daily all of them containing death threats towards you and promises for Soyou. Even at your work place, strange things kept pilling up, from dead birds to your car being scratched and keyed daily.

“Are you scared yet?” Jooheon asked as you two cleaned up your groups room. “That’s like what, the fourth dead bird this week!”

“Calm down Honey. If I show fear it will only get worse.” You sighed folding the blankets.

“But if you don’t you might get hurt!” He threw the toys on the floor into the basket with anger. “Tell it to Wooyoung.”

“What? No.” You said. “I’m not going to tell my date that I’m being stalked by some dude who wants to kill me because he wants to marry my roommate.”

“You have a stalker?” Seulgi joined you two just as you were finishing your sentence. “If you do, you should really go to the police y/n.”

“It’s fine Seulgi, it’s nothing serious.” You waved it off.

“Bitch you got a dead bird delivered to you with it’s little head cut off.” Honey growled out. “It is serious!” He yelled out catching you both off guard. “If you don’t tell Wooyoung, I will.”

“Fine. I’ll tell him, when our date ends.” You bit back. You looked over at Seulgi who smiled at you warmly at the knowledge that you two would be going on a date. “I’m sorry, I know you like him.”

“Oh no. Don’t be.” She waved her hand and smiled. “He told be that he is interested in you and not me. You don’t have to apologise. I’m happy that you finally said yes.”

The whole day proceeded calmly and you drove Jooheon to your house. You were surprised to see Shownu and Kihyun sat on your porch with some snacks in their hands. You looked over at Honey who just shrugged.

“I’ve had enough of you two living alone with this whole dead birds, marriage proposals and death threats hanging over your heads. The boys and I are moving in with you.”

“But where will you guys sleep?” You asked looking at your small, two bedroom home.

“The couch and floors are good eough for us.”

Soyou was inside making dinner and talking with Minhyuk while the rest of the boys loitered around the living room. You had a little bit over two hours before Wooyoung would be picking you up, so you decided to quickly shower and get ready. You two exchanged numbers and were actively texting and you had to admit to yourself, he was fun. He had this plethora of dumb dad jokes as well as topics which you found far too interesting.

“Dang woman!” Changkyun whistled lowly. “You look nice.”

“Changkyun, I’m wearing jeans and crop top.” You deadpanned.

“Nice.” He gave you a thumbs up and you all laughed at him and his antics.

“Have fun on your date.” Soyou smiled at you, the dark circles heavy under her eyes.

“I will. Make sure these guys don’t destroy our house.” You hugged her, sadness coating your expression.

Jooheon yelling for you that your boyfriend is here had you almost body slamming him into the nearest wall but he evaded your strike wiggling his hips and moving away. Wooyoung stood outside, chuckling at you two and smiling when you blushed at the fact he saw this.

“Sorry.” You said glaring at Honey. “He’s dumb.”

“Are you ready to go?” He asked.

“Yup.” You joined him by his side and he escorted you to his car. He even opened the door for you as a true gentleman. “You’re stepping up your game.”

“I have to impress you fully.” He smirked at you. “You finally agreed to this date.”

The drive was nice but whenever you asked him where you guys are going he said it’s a surprise. You joked he was the stalker you supposedly had and his instincts kicked in, telling him this was not a joke. He decided to keep quiet for now and parked his car at this abandoned skelleton of an unfinished building. You laughed when you recognised the place he had taken you.

“Are we going to be star gazing?” You asked.

“How’d you know?” He was surprised you figured it out.

“See this?” You pointed at the grafitti which had a verse from a song and the drawing of the night sky. “Honey and I did this in high school.” You smiled at the memory. “My friends and I hung out so much here.”

“I recently found this place.” He layed out a blanket and a basket. “I like the stars and I thought you’d enjoy it too.” He smiled at you. “I’m glad I was right.”

You guys joked around as you at the food he prepared and were currently laying on the blanket, doing your best to try and count the stars tonight. You were happy and at peace with this, especially when he showed you how constellations work. You almost even forgot about that looming problem you and your roommate had.

“Why did you joke that I was your stalker?” He asked suddenly.

“It’s not my stalker personally.” You said, coming to terms that it was time to speak about it and fulfilling the promise you gave Jooheon. “My roommate Soyou, it’s her stalker, she has big problems at work because of him. And now it’s coming back home and reflecting on me and our friends.” You moved your head so you could look at him. “Soyou works as a hostess in a very fancy restourant and is quite pretty. She always gets some guy to run after her but not on purpose. It’s probably someone she was nice to and is now so infatuated with her that he keeps following me, her roommate, around and loitering around the kindergarten. He keeps sending letters and gifts to her. While I get the death threats and dead birds.” You sighed. “She’s exhausted and it’s really draining her, we keep living in fear and even asked Jooheon and his guy friends to stay over for the week because last night somebody tried to break into our home but were caught by our neighbor.”

“Did you report it to the police?” He asked, now sitting up.

“No.” You sighed. “I don’t exactly trust the police.” You shrugged your shoulders. “No offence.”

“None taken.” He smiled sadly. All the offence was taken.

“There is a reason why I told you this.” You admit, also sitting up. “I don’t trust the police, but you are a different case. I may not know you that well, but as we messaged this week I figured out that you are trustworthy just clumsy a little bit.” You were indicating his straight forward way of leaving his phone number on your car. “Jooheon basically yelled at me to tell you this... I just... Can you help me and my roommate?”

“I know a few people.” He smiled and placed his hand over yours. “I’ll do my best to help you out.”

･*:༅

“Soyou, y/n. This is Detective Nam.” Wooyoung introduced the older male who was standing in your living room. “He’s from the sexual crimes unit and is an expert on cases with stalkers. He’s here to help you.”

You and Wooyoung had slowly developed a relationship which was now going one month strong. He was doing great with his Detective exams, while you and your roommate were still battling this stalker who upped his game by a mile. Now instead of recieving dead birds, you were personally recieving items the kids from your group had lost and it was becoming urgent.

“Nice to meet you girls.” The man bowed. “I’ve been informed of your problem and will be working on your case starting this minute. I hope you don’t mind if we wire your home and set up cameras at any and every entrance point of your home.”

“Have fun.” Is what you told him.

“Perfect. My team will be surveilling your home 24h a day.” He spoke up. “We believe that the man who is after you two is tied to another one of our cases and we would like to catch him.”

The only thing you two could do was nod in silence. The technicians set up the cameras and wires around the home as you and Soyou sat and spoke with Detective Nam a bit more.

“So now he is taking items from the children at the kindergarten you are working at?” The Detective asked.

“Yes. I’m currently on sick leave so as the children are not in danger.” You said.

“That was a smart decision on your side. Have you gotten anything in the mean time?”

You pulled out a letter with a picture of you and Wooyoung outside of your home the night you went on your first date. Your face had a red circle around it and the words ‘stay out of it’ written above it.

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to die in the next few days.” You said nonchalantly.

“I apologise, her defense mechanism to danger is sarcasm.” Soyou grabbed your hand, her own shaking in fear.

“You won’t die. Wooyoung will be staying inside the house with you two.” Detective Nam sighed, understanding the weigh of this case. “Do you have someone who can stay with you Miss Soyou.”

“My boyfriend.” She answered and you furrowed your eyebrows. “I’ll call him over right now.”

“Good.” Detective Nam stood up and looked at Wooyoung. “You have persmission to carry your service weapon with you and to use it if the situation calls for it. Please be careful, we will take care of the rest.”

“Yes sir!” He nodded as the older man left.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you know some people.” You smirked at him. “Does this mean we’ll be sharing a room?”

“My job description says yes.” He smirked. “And I would very much like that.”

You laughed as you guided him to your room at the end of the hall. Wooyoung noticed that your bed had been moved to the far corner, away from the window. The fact that there was a small commode was placed underneath the window, with very sharp pins, some cactuses and if he saw correctly nails covering the top had him wide eyed.

“I’m not dumb you know.” You said, bouncing on the bed. “My baseball bat is located here.” You pulled it out from between your bed and wall. “I usually sleep curled up against the wall. And I ain’t no scared bitch to not swing at him.”

“That’s hot, and scary at the same time.” He laughed and sat next to you. “But seriously, you can rest easy now that I’m here.”

You raised your eyebrow in amusement at his whole manly persona coming out and punched him in the shoulder, pushing him down.

“So manly, falls with one simple punch from a girl.”

You laughed as he pulled you down next to you, you two beginning a wrestling match which ended with you stradling his waist, feeling something poke you in your thigh.

“Is that your service weapon I feel poking me?” You asked, bitting your lip when he pointed at his gun on your bedside table.

“It is a type of service weapon.” He said, sitting up and pulling you even closer by your thighs. “That is, if you are comfortable and want to of course.”

You felt your stomach flutter and your heart beat fast at his words and you moved your hand to his cheek, pulling it so that his face met yours, and you gave him a kiss.

“I don’t have any objections to that, sir.”

You let your thumbs run over the pink of his cheeks and the plush of his full lips, gazing at his dark eyes which seemed as if they held all the galaxies of the universe. You pressed a kiss to his lips. Light, fluttering. He groaned lowly into the kiss as your tongues danced. You slipped your fingers underneath the material of his simple coloured t-shirt, raking them along his soft abs and relishing in the warmth of his skin. He decided to match your pace, dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing it roughly.

He murmured as his lips found their way along your shoulder, fingers tugging the collar of your shirt out of his way.

His big hands slid up your torso and cupped your breasts through the material of your bra briefly before reaching around to unclasp it. He threw it to the ground before reaching for you again, long fingers tweaking your hardening nipples. You grew exponentially wetter when he enclosed his lips around one, his fingers tugging at the other, and then alternating. He did this back and forth until you were a whining mess.

One hand stayed squeezing and kneading your breast while the other slid down to your thigh, gliding around it before finding its way between your legs, bypassing your jeans. He targeted the wet spot on your panties and pressed into it in long slow circles, teasing your lips and your wet opening. You moaned against his neck and his member twitched at the sound. He quickly pushed his way past the messy fabric and thrust two fingers into you. He loved the sound and feel of your slickness. He slid his fingers in and out of you, stroking your walls until you were a grinding mess in his lap, whimpering his name in his ear.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He whispered into your ear, not stopping his assault on your lower region.

“Yes.” You whinned out.

“Yes what?” He tugged on your lower lips, enticing a mewl out of you.

“Yes sir.” You let out a breath when his mouth connected with yours just as his fingers went faster as you let go of yourself completely, spasaming around his fingers furiously. “Sir, please fuck me.” You breathed out. “I need to feel your big cock filling me up over and over again. Please sir.”

He withdrew himself from you, quickly making sure both of you were naked as he layed you on your back so you were completely exposed to him before slowly pushing himself in. His dark orbs were locked with yours, watching your reaction. You were whimpering, needing more. He was going so slow, and teasing you to the point where you couldn’t handle it. You needed him to be a little rough. You wanted to feel it later. You wanted to feel it when you walked. It was as if Wooyoung could understand your silent plea and decided to oblige fully.

“Hands.” He said. You obeyed, holding them both up for him. He took them both, slamming them onto the pillows beside your head. You glanced up at him as he held you down. “Good girl.”

Relentlessly, almost possessive Wooyoung moves his hips, slamming into you to make you feel his strength and dominance. “Be good and cum for me sweetheart. I want your pretty little cunt to squeeze me before I paint your body white.”

Your orgasm hit you hard. The flood gates opened and pleasure jolted through you, making your body quake underneath him. Your fingers curled into his shoulders as you fought the urge to nibble on his neck. Your eyes were shut tight and you were seeing nothing but searing white hot stars. You were panting profusely, trying to catch your breath as you continued to cum. The sheer intensity had you quivering.

It took Wooyoung a few more thurst to pull out and cum on your bare breasts, painting them with the sticky substance. He was quick to move and get a towel to clean you up. You were exhausted beyong measure and sleepily looking up at him.

“So you have a sir fetish?” You giggled when he blushed, bringing your comforter over you and snuggling next to you.

“We all have our likes.” He said. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

“It’s hot. Not gonna lie.”

“You’re hot.” He kissed the back of your neck and you moaned loudly. “Is my baby girl ready for round two?”

･*:༅

After four rounds and loud banging from Soyou and her boyfriend whose voice you recognized as Minhyuck, you finally fell asleep in Wooyoung’s arms. It was around 3 a.m. when he woke up to the sound of scratching at your window. He quickly grabbed his service weapon when he noticed a dark figure messing with the window and trying to forcefully open it. When the figure couldn’t open it as it percieved it easy, he grabbed a nearby rock and threw it through the glass, waking you up and allerting the officers stationed around your house.

A man jumped into your room, a knife in hand and eyes bloodshot with need to hurt you. Wooyoung placed his gun on the man’s head and he suddenly froze, not expecting to be faced with a man inside your room.

“Place the knife down and raise your hands in the air.” Wooyoung’s voice was darker than your room. “Slowly.”

Soyou let in the police officers and guided them to your room in the mean time. They arrested the man, pulling his baseball cap off his head and having her identify him as one of the customers that frequented her work place.

“Well done Wooyoung.” Detective Nam said from your broken window. “You’ll be an impresive detective in the future.”

“Thank you sir.” He said with a smile.

“Especially after this plan which you’ve orcastrated.” The older man smiled at him. “You start on Monday Detective.” He went to leave but stopped short to look at you. “Oh and Miss y/n, we’ll send someone to fix your window tomorrow. Thank you for you co-opperation.”

“Thank you for helping us out.” You bowed from your sitting position on the bed.

As everybody left your room you looked at your window sadly and sighed. Wooyoung came over and sat down next to you, brushing his fingers along your exposed neck. You looked over at him and smiled, resting your fore head against his. You both began laughing as you just sat there in silence and comfort, as the stars outside twinkled in the night sky.

･*:༅

“Kids, this is Detective Jung and he’s come this way to teach you about safety and why it’s important to not trust strangers.” You spoke as you clapped your hands to catch the children’s attention.

They all ran up to Wooyoung who was overwhelmed with the attention but smiled when he noticed how happy the kids were and the fondness you kept in your eyes as you observed them. He then felt a tug on his sleeve and looked over at a small girl with her thumb in her mouth, her other hand holding on to a small boy who looked scared.

“Hi.” He greeted them as the girl removed her thumb from her mouth to speak.

“You’re the boy that kept leaving notes on Miss y/n’s car.” Yeun stated and you had to hold back a laugh along with Jooheon and Seulgi. “You kept talking to your imaginary friend and then leaving notes, but coming back and taking them away.”

“Wha-” Wooyoung blushed furiously and looked up at you then back at the kids. “No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!” Hyunwoo said pointing a finger at him. “But you were dressed as a police man and were always sad because Miss y/n ignored you!”

“Okay kids, that’s enough of teasing Detective Jung.” Jooheon said as he guided them away from him. “Miss y/n teased him enough before he finally told her he likes her. I think he doesn’t need you two to add to it.”

“Does that mean they’re like mommy and daddy?” Yeun asked, holding on to Hyunwoo.

“No. They’re more like you and Hyunwoo.” He said snickering at a dumbfounded Wooyoung.

“Oh, so Miss y/n takes care of him like I do of Hyunwoo?”

“Yes, I do.” You said with a smile patting her on the head.

All of the kids then sat down in front of Wooyoung as he somehow managed to begin talking about safety measures and everything he had planned. While you on the other hand got another tug on your apron from Yeun.

“Does that mean you want to be like mommy and daddy with him? Because that’s how I want to be with Hyunwoo.” Wooyoung heard this and his mouth hung open at the boldness of this little girl.

You looked up at his flushed face and confused eyes. You were sure he was going to faint if you answered the little girl, but truth be told you wanted to see his reaction. I mean you guys have been dating for a number of years and it wouldn’t hurt to tell him just to see if you guys were on the same page. And boy were you right when you thought he would almost faint from your answer.

“I guess I do.”

Wooyoung bit his tongue to control the dumb smile on his face but failed. The kids started picking on him and he didn’t really care.

He was just happy that you wanted to be like mommy and daddy with him.

#ateez reactions #ateez imagines #jung wooyoung #ateez #boysenberry #ateez smut

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mysewingadventures · 4 years

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Historical Accuracy of Costumes in Period TV Shows - Anne With An E

I was very surprised at how well my historical accuracy post about The Aeronauts did, so I decided to write about another one! This time I’ll be talking about the fashion in Anne with an E, but I’ll be mainly focusing on the kids’ clothing because kids’ period fashion is something that’s very rarely talked about and we know very little about.

First of all, if you haven’t seen Anne with an E, please do, it’s an amazing adaptation of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables novels which I adored reading as a kid, but unfortunately I barely remember anything from the books so watching the show was kinda cool going into it without knowing what exactly was going to happen. But anyways, enough about the show, let’s get to the fashion. A little disclaimer: some of the fashion choices made by the department are very closely tied to the plot so I might be spoiling a little bit, but I won’t be talking about any big spoilers or plot points!

So, the story takes place from 1896 (season 1) to 1899 (season 2), so we’re in the late Victorian time period.

First up, we have this dress that Anne wears at the beginning of season 1. It’s obviously way too small, very simple and plain.

It was very typical for girls to wear aprons as an outer layer so they wouldn’t get their dresses dirty, we can see that all throughout the show with all characters. But here we have something that looks odd to someone who might not know the story and Anne’s upbringing. She’s an orphaned girl, this is the only dress she has and has had for years, hence why she grew out of it. It’s plain, simple, she’s a poor girl who goes from one family to another and has to work to earn her stay. In her surroundings, nobody would have given her a new dress, or even an older but fashionable one. I’m assuming she got it at some point just because she didn’t have anything to wear and "as long as it would do the job, it was good enough."

Now, let’s fast forward a little bit until Marilla decides to finally make Anne a new dress. She mentions having some fabric laying around, so she uses that to sew the new garment.

It’s still very plain and not fashionable for the time, but it’s a garment that fits her, which was Marilla’s top (and arguably only) priority at the time. Marilla is one of a kind, she’s the direct opposite of pretty much everyone else in Avonlea. I won’t get too deep into her characterization, but Anne’s fashion reflects Marilla’s mindset that I just have to mention how she’s a woman who lives in a classist society without really becoming a part of it. She’s old fashioned at first, sure, but her priorities are different from all the other families. While everyone else cares about how they present themselves to others and how they are viewed and their reputation, Marilla stays true to herself and doesn’t change for anyone. They’re not poor, meaning they could afford pretty clothing if they wanted to but to Marilla, this is clearly a waste of money and she values other things more in life. Okay, sorry about this little ramble about her but it’s important to know to understand why Anne doesn’t have the most fashionable dresses aside from the Cuthberts being “poorer” (despite still being middle class).

When Marilla announced she wanted to make a dress for Anne, Anne immediately requested puff sleeves, which is understandable considering they were very fashionable in 1896. Anne has never had puff sleeves before and all of her friends probably did, so it’s just natural for her to want her new dress to have them.

So, puff sleeves... Enter Matthew who has a soft spot for his daughter and doesn’t share the same strict world views as Marilla. He goes out to Charlottetown to get a dress custom made for Anne, which has... *drum roll* puff sleeves!

It’s this beautiful blue dress which Anne falls in love with and wears on every special occasion. With the lace and the frills it almost feels a little too much for a child, as girls’ dresses were usually similar to adults’ but less decorated and more simple. Anne does stand out a little when she wears it to school, but the dress was clearly not made for everyday wear, she was just too excited about it not to wear it.

Here’s a cast photo (I couldn’t find any other ones where you can properly see other girls’ dresses without the aprons) and you can see that they’re generally less embellished than adults’ clothing of that time and just a little frilly.

Unless I am missing something, this was the only puff sleeve dress that Anne owns up to the end of the show, and that is because puff sleeves suddenly aren’t as fashionable anymore in the following years. The dresses still have a wider sleeve at the top but nothing that comes close to a puff sleeve.

Let’s move on with my favorite Anne dress.

I love this dress so much because it’s quite simple but still has that elegance of the Victorian era. So maybe I’m biased but I’d say it’s absolutely accurate! I’ve definitely not been thinking about making a replica and wearing it just for the heck of it. It definitely seems child-appropriate and more like an everyday dress than the previous one.

I’d also love to talk about Diana’s dresses for a moment as she is the richest girl in town (I believe? It could be Josie I’m not sure) but her dresses are always on point and beautiful and just a prime example of rich girls’ dresses of that era. Here’s one of her and her sister Minnie May wearing the same white Sunday dress.

You had to be rich to give your kids white dresses with not even an apron. Sure, you wouldn’t wear an apron on a Sunday dress, but you had to be either rich enough so your kids were used to having the best manners and wouldn’t get dirty or you had to be able to afford to get a white dress dirty. The Barry’s are both of those things.

There are many more dresses that were shown in the show but if I mentioned all of them, I’d still be writing tomorrow! Maybe I’ll make a part 2 someday. However, I couldn’t finish this post without mentioning the iconic... Just see for yourself.

And... I have contemplated for a long time whether I should say this or not as all I’ve ever seen about this dress was pure adoration but from a personal point of view, I... don’t like it. I’m sorry. And that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s not historically accurate, it’s just not my favorite personally. But I’ll get into the historical accuracy.

I had to rewatch almost the entire episode to see the dress in its full length, and after searching through a lot of fashion plates I have only found one that resembles it kind of.

But I’m still not 100% satisfied. The bodice almost feels a little outdated? If I had to guess I’d say this dress was more 1889 than 99. The skirt is historically accurate, though, as well as the sleeves. The blouse is laying a little too flat for 1899 and so is the bodice, it would have been more pigeon-breasted, just like the dresses you can see in this previous scene.

Granted, not all dresses in this scene have that silhouette and not all dresses in 1899 had that silhouette, but it just looks a little wrong with that particular style. A reason for that could be the fact that Marilla made it and maybe she just wasn’t completely up to date with the latest fashion trends and/or recycled an older dress, which is both something I could totally see her do. But then again, it could totally be something worn in 1899 and no one would bat an eyelash. Just because something isn’t common doesn’t mean it’s wrong! Actually, the more I look at it the more it looks right.

This brings me to another point I wanted to mention, which is the length of the kids’ skirts.

This is a photo I found in which they are approximately 14/15 years old.

According to a guideline I found from 1900 that I can’t include because of the 10 photos per post limitation but will link here, the hemline for that age should fall right above the uppper edge of the boot. The length we see them wear is appropriate for 4-8 year olds!

But that’s really the only thing I have to criticize. There’s not a lot of info we have on kids’ clothing so it’s hard to make a general statement but these are the things I noticed while watching the show and afterwards while doing research.

PS. The hats are all very cool and accurate! So many hats! After the lack of bonnets in some other movies seeing hats in a period film just make me happy 😊

#anne with an e #anne #awae #fashion #historical fashion #fashion history #victorian fashion #victorian #im gonna be ripped apart for saying her blue dress isnt accurate arent i #i am genuinely scared to post it lol but here it goes #let’s say the blue dress is POTENTIALLY accurate okay I’m just very confused because I haven’t seen anything like it #yeah that’s better

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

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Pseudo Princess Pt.01

Among the Muck

09/27/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 4,835

Warnings: Language, future smut, future dub-con (because of the time period this is set in), future angst, future violence

A/N: I’ve been watching a lot of the Tudors and inspiration struck. I’ve been wanting to make a Medieval AU but this will be different to those I’ve read. These characters will still be them. Tony is still Iron Man (you’ll see how I do that), Bruce will still be Hulk, Steve and Bucky will still be super soldiers. So this falls under more Medieval Fantasy than just pure Medieval. As such, this will not be historically accurate but hopefully within the historically accurate bubble in all other aspects. This will not be a fluffy story. There will be some fluff (I love soft moments and I do them often) but there will also be some major angst. Anyway, I hope you like this first chapter. xoxo

If you would like to be tagged. Please, send me an ASK. I will not add you if you send me a private message or if you do so in the comments.

Coarse dirt is caked underneath your fingernails. Your feet squish against the wet gloop of mud. With a gasp you falter, losing your balance, and throw out your hands to catch yourself.

They sink in all the way to the elbow, stretching the muscles on the back of your thighs until they burn.

Labor is something you are familiar with, but this. This searching is exhausting.

“Are you alright, dear?” An old woman croaks, voice quaking with age.

Glancing back at her with her withered white skin, caked in grime and dried sweat, you smile.

It’s meant to be reassuring but you feel as if it’s really a grimace.

“Yes.” You answer simply, as she worries, watching you struggle.

She’d been walking along the side of the uneven dirt road when a group of teens—from the village because you’ve seen them before—rushed by on stolen horses. They avoided the lady easily but the guard chasing behind them did not.

They barreled towards the old woman and she’d had to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled.

She’d landed in this mud puddle, losing her purse in the process.

Watching it all happen, you’d dropped your pails and raced over to help her.

Grateful, she’d accepted your offer of assistance and you’d sat her on an overturned tree stump to wait while you looked for her bag.

Well, since your hands are already in, you might as well take advantage of it. You reach around freely, searching. Making small groaning noises in the back of your throat from the effort it takes to wade through the viscous muck.

“Thank you for helping me, young lady.” The old woman sighs. Probably tired.

“My name is Y/N, grandmother. Feel free to call me as such.” You tell her, peeking once again with a reassuring smile.

“Not many young people would help a fallen old woman.” She continues, as if you hadn’t interrupted.

“Then I guess there ain’t many decent young people then, is there?” You ask rhetorically.

“No.” She answers sadly. “There ain’t even much in my purse. Maybe you shouldn’t bother?”

“Nonsense, grandmother. I will find your purse and return it to you, and I beg you to keep off the roads in future. We don’t need you breaking your neck on account of the guard.” Just then your fingers make purchase, a small string of rope passes between your fingers and you grab it. “Gott’it!”

It takes a mighty tug to free the small ratty bag from the muck. You nearly lose your balance again and fall back onto your behind, but you manage to catch yourself and once you’re steady you turn and traipse back towards the old woman. By the time you reach her, you’re sweating.

“The string is still tight.” You tell her. “Your money is safe.”

You hand her the bag and she takes it, opens it—quickly wiping off as much of the mud as she can then smears it onto the grass beside her to clean her hand—then reaches in for a large silver coin.

“Here. You deserve it.” She says.

With a furrowed brow, you pull yourself out of the mud fully. You wipe your hands on your long tattered brown apron, but you know you’ll need a bath to get all he mud off. “No. I’m alright, grandmother. I don’t need payment. I’m happy to help.”

“Take it, young woman.” She shakes her fist at you, silver coin dangling between her thumb and forefinger.

You shake your head, dropping your apron before you move to her and squat down beside her. With the skirt of your woolen dress still pulled up and tucked to create a pair of makeshift pants, you take the silver coin and her dirty purse and shove the coin back into the bag.

“I said, I don’t need it. You keeping well is all the payment I require.” You draw the string closed and then reach out to shove it into the pocket of her own dark gray skirt. “Your skirt is torn here, and your bodice needs mending too. As does that shamble of a hat you’re wearing. Why don’t you get yourself a decent set of dresses with this money before winter comes instead of handing it out?”

“At my age, what does it matter what I wear when I freeze? I’m going to die sooner rather than later. New clothes would only be a waste of money.” She sasses you.

“Even so.” You put your elbows on your knees and smile at her. “It would make me much happier to know that you’ve spent the money taking care of yourself. I can’t always be here to help you when the world takes a bitter turn.”

The woman cackles. “Oh, sweet girl, you’re much too late.”

A sudden rumble pulls your gaze up towards the road. Through the tall rows of trees that make up the outlying forest, you see a distant coach and six horses riding hard and fast.

“What’s that?” The old woman asks, “Help me up.”

You get up, untying your dress so that it falls around you again to shield your legs, then help the old woman up. Keeping your hands on her elbows until she’s steady, you observe the smaller details of the approaching carriage.

“It’s a royal carriage. There’s gold and silver fixtures upon the horses' harness.” You observe.

“You can see that from here?” The old woman gasps. “I really must be old. I can’t see shite.”

She squints in the same direction that you’re staring and as the carriage gets closer, the sounds of hooves, a whip, and the call of the coachman becomes louder.

He’s dressed in a fine black tunic, a singular bright baby blue circle at the center of his chest that slowly grows out in smaller circles darkening in color until it reaches the edge of the circle. The pattern makes it look like it’s glowing. From the circle crop out several silver lines of thread that line the seams and edges of the rest of his uniform, tunic and all.

On his head he wears a hat. Simple. Nothing too exciting. No feathers at least.

“It’s the King’s carriage.” You whisper at the old woman and as the carriage grows closer, you and she drop your heads and curtsy as it passes.

“We can’t give up.” A male voice says from inside the carriage. It floats out and reaches your ears and while you try not to listen, you can’t help it. “We’ll find a girl that’s suitable if we have to search every village in my Kingdom until-wait…did you see that?”

“See what?” Another male voice says.

This one you recognize. Colonel James Rhodes. He comes into the village every few months to look over the new recruits for the king’s army.

Polite. Nice. No time for funny business though. Stern.

“That girl. Stop the carriage.” The other male voice—the king you suddenly realize—calls.

“WHOA!” The coachman says. “Whoa…”

The carriage rustles to a stop, gravel and dirt grinding against the thick reinforced wheels. The footman jumps off the back of the carriage and hurries forward pulling open the door. He saunters out with sharp movements that you observe for all of one second before you avert your gaze again, legs beginning to ache from your held curtsy.

You’ve never seen the king up close before and you did not expect him to be so young. Well, not young, but he wasn’t old. He might have been an older uncle or your father.

“This one.” He says, and you can almost feel him pointing.

You peek up at him, take in his leathered tunic, dark and supple. His sword resting at his hip, a deep blue cape with a black bear’s pelt around the collar to keep him warm as the last vestiges of summer slip into autumn. His hair is dark brown, only the slightest hint of gray along his temples.

His body is lean. His gloved finger pointed at you, just as you’d thought. His deep brown eyes watch you with curiosity, eagerness, and surprise. Happiness too. He’s excited.

His travelling crown is a golden three-inch band with very little jewels. Only about four or five red rubies are set within it and they dazzle you in the midday sun before you avert your gaze again.

“That one? Really?” The Colonel has joined the king.

“Yes. She’s the right age.” The king asserts. “Come here girly, stand before me. Here.”

He makes an X in the gravel of the road, but you can’t seem to find the strength to move. You’ve never been so nervous in your life.

Here you are, face to face with the fucking King of Malibia, and you’re covered in mud. Your hair is falling out of its braid. You’re sweating and haven’t bathed in almost a week. You look worse than you’ve ever looked in your life.

“Hey, girl, are you deaf? Did you not hear your king?” The Colonel asks, military voice hard and commanding. “His Majesty has given you and order.”

It takes you another half second to urge yourself out of your curtsy and move to the spot marked on the ground.

“Stand up straight.” The king orders.

You do.

“Head up.”

You lift your chin.

“Shoulders back. Don’t slouch.”

You push out your breasts.

“She’s perfect.” The king says.

“Your Majesty…” Colonel Rhodes begins. “…Tony, she’s a peasant. Look at her. She hasn’t bathed in almost a month.”

You glower at the Colonel, unable to help yourself. You’re not that dirty. Not a month’s worth. Jerk.

“We can easily fix that. She’s the one, Rhodey. Our search is over. Problem solved. What’s your name, girl?” The king suddenly asks, moving to stand closer to you, his hands behind his back.

You bow your head, not meeting his eyes. “M-My name is Y/N, your Majesty. At your service.”

“Do you have any family?” He asks, worried suddenly.

“No, your Majesty. I don’t have anyone.” You don’t mean to sound sad about it but not many people as you that question.

Everyone in the village knows your story so you have no reason to retell it.

This is the first time you’ve realized that you’re alone in the world. No one will miss you if you die.

“Perfect. Excellent. Magnificent. Get in the carriage.” He turns and leads the way back, disappearing into the mouth of the open door.

“P-Pardon me, your Majesty?” The shock in your voice is apparent and you find your limbs frozen and locked again.

“You heard his Majesty.” The colonel says with exasperation. “Get in the carriage.”

“B-But where are we going?”

“Will you just get in? We don’t have time for all your questions. His Majesty will explain everything on the way.” The colonel moves to you, grabs you by the elbow and drags you away from where you stand to the carriage door.

One foot up on the step in, you look to the old woman with large, terrified eyes and she’s staring at you with an utterly worried expression. She shifts from foot to foot, hand at her throat as she watches you get taken away.

Strange that she’s worried about you when she’s never shown such emotion before. Guess there are some good people in the world.

“Goodbye…” You mouth to her and she gives you a tiny wave before the colonel is pushing you into the carriage.

You find your seat on the far corner, opposite the king.

As the colonel sits down beside him then hits the roof of the carriage twice, the king can only smile.

No. It’s a smirk. A grin. A pleased one. He’s so damn happy that he’s kidnapped you.

You suddenly remember rumors about the king. Whispered secrets in taverns from drunken lips, spoken with shifting eyes and pounding hearts.

The king devoured young girls. He’d steal them away from their families and towns, trap them in his castle and have his way with them. He’d been with many. Hundreds, they say.

Is that what this is? Are you being taken to be the king’s fodder?

Too afraid to ask, you mash your lips shut and stare at your mud caked hands.

It’s dried and when you twiddle your thumbs, your skin pulls against the stiff coating of dried muck. It cracks and dusts, but you don’t dare look up, afraid you’ll get your answer in the king’s piercing gaze.

~~~~~~~~~~

You ride in silence for what feels like hours. Head down, thumbs twiddling away.

There’s a slow inhale of breath, the click of a tongue draws your eyes up.

“Do you always come silently when you’re abducted?” His Majesty asks, leaning his elbow against the small window’s ledge, fist resting against his chin.

“No, your Majesty.” You reply, somewhat meekly. “I mean…I ain’t-”

“Haven’t.” King Anthony says.

“Your Majesty?” You peer at him with confusion.

“Haven’t. It’s I haven’t. Not I ain’t. Better start speaking properly from the get-go or you’ll fall into bad habits.” He orders.

“Oh.” You lick your lips, feeling a slight bit of shame.

It’s not your fault that you’re not exactly eloquent. You’ve never been to school. Not once.

“I haven’t ever been kidnapped before, your Majesty.”

“I haven’t been kidnapped before.” He says, editing your reply. “Keep it simple. Have you been taught? Did you go to the school in the village?”

You shake your head. “Before they passed, my mother and father said that my place was at home where I could help mother take care of the house. My father was away a lot.”

“Mm.” The king nods. “And where are your parents now?”

“They’re dead, your Majesty. Sixteen years ago now.” You’d been a child when they died.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Did they die in the famine?” He checks, giving your body a quick up and down almost like he was checking to see if you had been marked by death too.

“No, your Majesty.” You shake your head.

“War?” He wonders. “Accident?”

“No. The plague took my mother first, my father followed shortly after. I’ve been alone ever since.” It’s funny, you rarely ever think about it like this. Like you’re alone and orphaned.

“The plague?” His Majesty asks, confused by their deaths and you know why. “But the plague didn’t take many lives. We were well prepared for it.”

“Yes.” You nod. “My mother was the first to die. Her death raised the alarm and my father’s death came shortly after. Too quick before his Majesty’s medicines made it into the village. It happened very quickly. They didn’t suffer long.”

A peachy gloveless hand reaches out and settles over your nervous twiddling thumbs, preventing them from fidgeting.

You look up, startled by the gesture, and meet his stunningly bright brown eyes.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The king says. “And your parents are heroes. Without them, we wouldn’t have been able to prepare as quickly as we did and the losses to my kingdom would have been much greater. Thank you.”

You don’t know why you should be thanked for losing your parents, but you understand what he’s saying.

There’s kindness in his eyes and he means nothing by it. You didn’t know that the king could be so nice, and he speaks in an offhandish tone, but there’s feeling in his expression.

“Your Majesty.” You say, thanking him for his kindness. With a look back down at his hand over yours, and because it’s what people do, you pull his hand up to your dirty lips and kiss it in gratitude.

This is your king and he’s surprisingly nice.

The colonel suddenly clears his throat and you lower his Majesty’s hand back to your lap.

He gives you one more squeeze then takes his hand back, regloving it.

“We’ve still got a few hours before we reach the castle. If you want to sleep, you should sleep. Once we arrive it will be some time before you can rest.” His Majesty says.

It takes you a while but eventually you do doze off against the side of the carriage.

When you wake up, you find that the king is also not a liar. You’re awoken by a young man, the footman from before, shaken gently who then wraps your shoulders in a long black cloak. He pulls the hood over your head and then double-checks to make sure that you are properly hidden beneath it before he leads you through a side door of a tall dark gray stone wall.

You’ve never seen the castle before, and you attempt to take in as much of it as you can while you’re led in but all you see is the cobblestone walls of the lower floors. Servant’s quarters usually, and a large parapet wall, that stands at what must be twelve feet in height. Maybe taller.

It’s too dark to make out much more than the distant illuminated windows of the upper floors then you’re weaving your way through a confusing array of twists and turns.

“Where are we going?” You ask the footman and he sighs.

“His Majesty told me to show you to your quarters and say nothing else. I’m sorry, miss. His Majesty will explain everything later.” He gives you an apologetic look.

“Where is his Majesty?” You wonder, since he can’t tell you what’s going on, clearly, maybe he’s willing to tell you about the castle?

“He and the colonel have gone to take care of some business. Queen Virginia has been waiting all day for his return. I’m sure he’s greeting her too.” The young man says.

The way he smiles makes you think that he’s right. You’ve heard that King Anthony Stark loves his queen more than any King has ever loved his Queen in the history of the kingdom. Any kingdom.

She’d been his right hand, and best friend, long before she was queen. After courting many women, his Majesty had seen the light and pursued Miss Potts until she’d given in and agreed to marry him.

Shortly after, they’d had their daughter and the Kingdom had rejoiced. With an heir to the throne, prosperity in the kingdom doubled.

“Wait,” You reach out and grab the young man’s wrist and pull him to a stop. “Are we going the right way?”

He’s leading you upstairs. It’s a small narrow staircase that winds up and up and up. The servant’s staircase but one that no doubt leads up to the nicer bedrooms upstairs.

“I am only following orders, miss. Come along. I have other things to tend to after I drop you off.” He pulls his arm from your hold and leads once more.

You follow in silence, growing more and more nervous.

Were the rumors really true? Is the king going to have his way with you? Are you going to be taken in as his mistress?

No.

Your mind flashes back to the kind look in his eyes in the carriage and his gentility with the news of your parents. You can’t link the sweet and noble king in the carriage to the rumored philandering king that those rumors paint.

He loves the Queen. Why would he stray?

The hallway you are brought out on is a surprisingly light. Gleaming limestone above a floor made of alternating black and white marble. Gilded chandeliers with flickering candlelight illuminate the darkened hallway.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” You ask in a whisper, afraid to wake up some nobility sleeping over.

“Yes, Miss. This way.”

He leads you down a second hallways, this one nicer and lined with stunning paintings of the various landscapes in the kingdom.

King Anthony must really love his homeland.

Finally, the footman stops before two large, steel reinforced oak doors. He pushes them open inside the small entryway is a chair and a decorative table, beside another set of doors that already stand open.

You move in, gawking at the light blue and white damask wallpaper. The golden vanity with a tall ornate golden mirror to match, both beside a tall four post bed with baby blue sheets, fluffy gray pillows, and a beautiful canopy made of heavy white draping. At the end of the bed is a pink chaise lounge, a soft fur blanket waiting to be draped over a shivering body.

Several candles have been lit to illuminate the large space which is big enough to fit your small home in it thrice. A floor to ceiling window has been drawn closed. There’s a desk with a letterbox for writing. Comfy chairs and a small table for card playing. Another two cushioned chairs by a big fireplace for reading.

Beside the chair is a smaller table with a plate of fruits and bread.

Your stomach growls and the pain of hunger hits you suddenly.

“This is where I leave you.” The footman says.

“Wait!” You gasp, turning to follow him into the entryway of your room. “Wait, are you sure this is where the King asked you to bring me?”

“I’m positive. Have some food. That’s why it was brought. Then wait for his Majesty to come find you.”

He gives you a quick head to toe.

“Maybe stay out of the bed until you have cleaned up? Mrs. Parson would not be happy with you if you ruined the sheets.” He gives you a smile then leaves you there, shutting the doors behind him.

At first you hover around the entrance, hesitating each time you’re tempted to go back into the large bedroom.

When you finally give in, instead of racing for the food immediately, you wander around the room looking at all of the fine furnishings and the items having been left for you.

Your favorite by far is the large wardrobe. Full of dresses and outerwear made of fine silks in every color.

When your stomach growls again, you give in and move to sit at the very edge of the chair by the small table in front of the blissfully warm fire. It crackles and dances as you munch on grapes and apples, then bite and tear into the bread. A small pitcher of wine has been set aside for you and you gulp down a small glass before pouring yourself another.

The food hits your stomach painfully. Too hungry for too long. Now that you’re filling it, your stomach stretches uncomfortably.

You put your hand on your stomach and groan, still chewing on an apple slice.

The sound of your doors opening startles you up. You set your food aside as his Majesty suddenly sneaks in and quickly shuts the second set of doors behind him.

Heart pounding, nervous, and suddenly worried that you are about to be ravished by force—well, sort of…if your king wants you, then you’ll surrender yourself to him. He’s your king!—you back up until your back hits the post of your bed.

“Were you eating?” He asks, smiling happily as he looks from your terrified form to the plate you’d just abandoned. It’s almost empty. Only a few grapes and an apple slice left.

He looks back at you and seems to realize that you’re scared. He holds his hands out to you and beckons you forward.

Because you must listen to your king, you move towards him, avoiding his gaze.

He reaches down and takes your hands, dirty as they are, then leads you to the chair you’d been sitting in again.

“Please, sit.” He urges you and once you’re seated, takes the other. “You must have lots of questions.”

You nod.

“Tell me.”

“Why am I here?” You look up at him, swallowing past the nerves loudly.

“Straight to the big one, huh?” He smiles. “Very well, we’re taking you in.”

“What?!” You ask in shock.

“Pepper—that is, Queen Virginia—and I are taking you in. We…where to start?” He wrings his hands, sits back and looks up at the ceiling. “Three months ago, the King of Broklin sent me a letter. He asked if it were reasonable, that I introduce him to my daughter. He wants to marry her as his own Queen died a year ago and he is called upon by the duty to his people to give them not only a new queen but an heir to the throne.

“Because Princess Morgana is heir to my throne, I wrote back to him and told him that I would need to discuss it with my own queen and after much deliberation, since the two kingdoms are neighboring, we decided that with their marriage and upon my death or his, we might combine our kingdoms for good.”

He smiles a little tightly, a frown you realize.

“What happened?” You wonder.

“Well, Morgana is very young but either way she has always been a woman of her own. She’s strong minded and strong willed and she wasn’t raised to expect to share her kingdom. Not only that but she has since declared that she will only marry a man whom she loves. She will not marry for political purposes and when I told the King this, he took offense.

“War hasn’t threatened our Kingdom in almost sixty years. Even if I have the means to defeat his kingdom, I would rather not have it come to that. So…against my wife’s wishes…I may have told Morgana that she will marry the King of Broklin whether she likes it or not.”

That seems…well, not reasonable but understandable considering the consequences if she shouldn’t.

“And what did the Princess say?” You ask him, leaning forward and completely invested in his retelling.

“She ran away.” He smiles at you, eyes sparkling. “She’s like her mother. A strong woman. And she gets her iron will from me.”

“She ran away?” You gasp, shocked by the Princess’s behavior.

“She did.” King Anthony nods. “And we can’t find her.”

Okay, so all of that makes sense but what exactly do you have to do with it all?

“Since I am not going to be able to marry my own daughter to the King of Broklin…I concocted a plan not to deceive him but so that we might both be happy. You will be my eldest daughter.”

“What?”

“I know it’s a crazy plan, but we’ve already begun to spread the news and I wrote to the King this morning that I have an elder daughter. One who I sent of when she was very young because she suffered from emotional problems.” He explains. “And was obviously a daughter born from an unfortunate tryst in my youth.”

“What?!” You rise to your feet, shocked beyond reason.

“A special school up north has reformed you and you are recently returned to us. And now that you are cured, we’ve welcomed you back into the castle with open arms. Since Morgana has been trained to rule our kingdom, you would make a lovely queen for his. Or…something like that. I can’t remember how I worded it exactly.”

“Emotional problems?” You demand again. “A tryst?”

King Anthony winces, but he smiles at you.

“It happens. Lots of royals have them. Both the emotional problems and the affairs. Anyway, that’s why you’re here. We need an older princess to send to the King of Broklin and you are the lucky winner.” He says, almost laughing, congratulatory as if you’ve really just won a prize. “You will be the queen of an entire kingdom. Lucky you!”

“Your Majesty-” You begin, shaking your head because you can’t be a queen! You don’t know how queens act or speak or move or think. You’re an orphan from a small village where you’ve taken to sewing to earn a few coins just to get by.

“Please?” King Anthony reaches over and takes hold of your dirty hand. “I…can’t bring myself to condemn my only daughter to a life in a loveless marriage. I married for love and I want her to be able to do the same. I’m sorry to ask this of you. It’s not fair to you either but without you, our kingdom might have to go to war.

“Lost lives can be prevented simply by your marrying the King of Broklin. Please, please do this for us. For the Kingdom. Please?” And his begging is genuine.

You. A nobody from nowhere has brought a king, your king, to his knees to beg.

“I-If I marry him, it will prevent a war?” You double check.

“Yes. You’ll be keeping the lives of the young men in our kingdom safe.” He urges.

You stare at him, wondering if you’ll really be able to pull this off. You’re going to have to work harder than you’ve ever worked before and that’s because you work with your hands when you can’t earn enough money with the sewing.

Calloused hands. Not the hands of a royal.

King Anthony massages those hands, staring at them as he waits with bated breath.

“Okay.” You relent. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry him.”

This time, King Anthony kisses your hands. Dried mud and all.

#steve x reader #steve x reader fic #steve x reader fanfic #steve x reader fanfiction #king!steve x reader #king!steve x reader fanfiction #king!steve x reader fanfic #king!steve x reader fic #king!steve x princess!reader #king!steve x you #king!steve x y/n #king!steve/reader #steve/reader #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #avengers x reader #medieval au #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt01

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caranfindel · 4 years

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Initial reaction 15.14: Last Holiday

Well, friends, here we go. Are you ready?

(I'm not. But here we go anyway.)

THEN: Cuthbert Sinclair. (Really? That's a deep cut.) Abbadon. Larry Ganem. (And S8 Sam, who is fucking gorgeous.) Oh, and God and Jack and all that stuff, in case you forgot.

NOW: Sam's in the library, doing research, and is distracted by some ominous noises. Ominous in a machinery-breaking-down kind of way, not in a monstery kind of way. Enter Dean, wearing an apron. "What's with the apron," asks Sam, "because it's only protecting your jeans, not the Red Shirt of Bad Decisions." At least that's how it sounded in my head. I mean, who only gets dirty from the waist down when they're cooking? (Well, that lends itself to all kinds of double entendres, doesn't it?) Or maybe Sam doesn't say that because he hopes the RSoBD will be destroyed in a tragic burger accident.

Seriously, Dean, that shirt is precious and you need to protect it, no matter what Sam thinks.

Dean complains that the pilot light keeps going out, and the hot water is unsatisfactory (and we know how he feels about his showers), and Sam reminds him that if the bunker was ever state-of-the-art, it was in the 50s. They exposition for us that Jack is hiding in his room. "Can you blame him?" Sam says. "His soul is back. Everything is hitting him. Everything he's done..." And Sam continues, but I'm sorry, I'm stuck here, thinking about re-souled Sam with everything hitting him. {sob} However, neither of the Winchesters seem to be thinking about this, so. Carry on.

The guys remind us that if Jack kills God, he'll have to kill Amara as well. Which I assume means Amara isn't going to get killed? Just saying. As much as I talk about foreshadowing (too much, please stop!) this show teases us with anti-foreshadowing with equal fervor. And Cas is apparently looking for Amara? What does he hope to accomplish? "Excuse me, but we're killing your brother, so you have to die too. Condolences. But if we follow canon - not that there's any reason to assume we will - you have to die at about the same time. So I need you to come with me while we figure out where he is and how to kill him."

There's another ominous noise, and Dean says "Oh, come on. Now the air?" I hope he means the air conditioning, and not the air purifying/exchange/whatever that Ketch shut off when he locked them in the bunker back in... whatever the BMoL season was. Hey, remember when the guys were locked in the bunker and they were running out of air and they wore single layers and goggles and got all sweaty and depressed? Because I've kind of never gotten over it. But I digress.

Sam is surprised that Dean expects them to fix it. "We've fought the devil," Dean says. "I've killed Hitler. I think we can handle a few old pipes." Surely this isn't the first time they've had to do some repairs around the place.

Deep within the bowels of the bunker, Sam reads some ancient instructions and complains that they can't just call a plumber. Dean refers to the bunker as the most "secretive, secure supernatural hideout in the world," which makes me laugh, because remember when Larry Ganem told Sam it was secure against all manner of evil? What a joke. Is there anything or anyone evil who hasn't been able to get into the bunker? My house is more secure against evil than the bunker, and all I have for protection is a circle of termite bait and a couple of ancient dogs.

They locate the "bunker grid control center thing thingy" (oh Sam, I adore you), complete with reset and standby buttons. Standby is glowing. Dean hypothesizes that it will work just like his computer, which needs to be shut down when it gets too many popups (I suspect you need some virus protection, dear boy), and slams down the reset button before Sam can stop him. Everything goes dark, but then starts up again, so Dean considers it a success. He calls himself "Meat Man" again and heads upstairs to finish cooking his burgers.

Time jump. Dean goes into his room, carrying a burger and a beer, and is astonished to find a middle-aged woman there. She's wearing a plaid wool skirt I owned in the 80s and is folding his underwear. "Oh, hello dear!" she says cheerfully. Dean yells for Sam.

Gosh, Dean, it's like this place isn't secretive or secure at all.

The horrified Shaggy and Scooby boxers are ~chef's kiss.~ Well done, someone.

Title card!

Library. The woman tuts at dust and wonders how they've lived in "this filth," which reminds me of an awesome Tumblr post which theorizes that faeries actually keep the bunker clean, and only first-born son Dean can see them. "Lady, who the hell are you," Dean demands, and is chastized for his language. He calls for Sam again, and gives him the story of how he walked into his room and found her "folding my underthings."

She explains that her actual name is indecipherable in "your tongue," but "Mr. Ganem called me _Mrs. Butters."_She's a wood nymph. And she's not in the woods, nymphing (thank you Dean) because she has more important things to do - she lives in the bunker and takes care of the Men of Letters. I.e., "my boys. My family."

Dean invites her to leave, but this is her home, and she's been here since "before the war." And she thinks it's 1958. "Well, I hate to tell you," Dean says, "but it's 2020." YES, DEAN, WE ALL FEEL THAT WAY ABOUT 2020. Mrs. Butters is horrified to learn all her boys are dead. And for some reason Dean tells her they were murdered by a demon instead of saying old age, or they went to a farm upstate, or whatever. She spots a photo of the last group of MoL, which we've never noticed before, and realizes that this is why they never came back from that last ceremony. When they didn't return, she decided to put the bunker - and herself - in standby mode.

But she also realizes that if these boys are like those boys, it's been a while since they had a home-cooked meal or celebrated a holiday. Or washed their clothes, as she makes a face. That's uncalled for, lady. We all know that Sam Winchester smells like rosemary and mint no matter how long it's been since he did laundry. Sam explains that they're not really "holiday people," which rings true coming from the guy who didn't want to celebrate Christmas and hates Halloween. (And only had one real Thanksgiving in his life and his brother still holds that against him but NO I'M NOT BITTER.)

Dean is more interested in what "standby mode" is. Mrs. Butters says the MoL used her magic to give the bunker "extra oomph," and snaps her fingers. Voila, extra oomph! There's some humming noises, the telescope alcove lights up (!), and an alarm sounds. Because the map table is actually a monster radar, and it indicates a nest of vampires 50 miles away. And gives the address. WELL.

{Sidebar: Why didn't the BMoL know the AMoL had this capability? Why was their focus on "you're not as good as us" instead of "you used to be as good as us; what happened?" Discuss.}

Do I care? No. Because look at these precious perplexed faces.

Dean's ready to go (and it earns him another stern warning about his language), but Sam wonders if they can trust her. "Look at her," Dean says. And I agree. She's a dumpy middle aged woman in a brown plaid wool skirt. She's basically me. And who could be more trustworthy, more concerned with the Winchesters' health and safety, than me?

Um. Anyway.

Not to change the subject or anything, but the pretty is strong tonight, y'all.

Dean suggests they give her the benefit of the doubt, and if it turns out she's not what she says she is, "then we deal with it." The music turns ominous. "What about Jack?" Sam asks.

Oh, Jack is actually in this episode? I thought maybe they were explaining his absence earlier, like they always do with Cas. (Because I always cover the guest star credits on first watch. Spoilers.) But it turns out Jack is actually with us tonight. Sitting on his bed, looking depressed. Dean knocks on his door and tells him they're going out, and there's a "probably harmless" guest making snickerdoodles. This sparks Jack's interest. It would work on me, too. I love snickerdoodles.

Impala. Sam's not sure it's a good idea to keep Mrs. Butters around, even if she is legit. He's concerned about Jack, but Dean brushes him off.

He'll be fine. I mean, I've been through worse and look at me. I'm the picture of health.

Ignoring your trauma doesn't make you healthy.

Sure it does.

Oh, Sam. Just listen to yourself. No, I mean, please. Listen to yourself.

Sam feels like Jack is hiding something, and I wish there were someone around who had also done awful things while un-souled, and remembered what it felt like to deal with that afterward. Someone sympathetic and empathetic. With soft puppy dog eyes and beautiful hair. Oh well. I guess Jack will just have to go unburden himself onto whoever he comes across.

Bunker. Mrs. Butters brings Jack a sandwich. He doesn't open the door, but she leaves it for him.

Vampire nest. A couple of vampires are watching Dark Shadows (so meta!) and drinking blood stolen from a blood bank. So, are these, like, maybe not bad vampires? Maybe they don't kill people? We'll never know, because Sam and Dean walk in and cut off their heads. And come home to... Christmas. Lights are strung all over, jazzy Christmas music is playing, there's a huge decorated tree and gifts, and Mrs. Butters has a tray of homemade cookies. "We are so keeping her," Dean says. Sam looks unsure.

Kitchen. Mrs. Butters tells Sam that since he and Dean have been so busy killing monsters, they haven't had a chance to celebrate anything. But I can barely pay attention to a single word that comes out of the woman's mouth because LOOK AT SAM IN THIS T-SHIRT. LOOK AT IT.

Single-layer Sam is something to celebrate.

She insists that Sam "enjoy the world you're fighting for" (which is never gonna happen, lady) and excitedly talks about all the holidays she wants to make up for. Then Jack enters, and her mood changes instantly. Even Jack's adorable little dorky wave doesn't melt her. "What are you?" she asks coldly.

Enter Dean, wearing a real-life version of the purple "sleeping robe" and nightcap he wore in "Scoobynatural." OH MY GAWD. I really hope this was a surprise for the rest of the cast.

And I also hope he's not really going commando underneath... or do I?

Mrs. Butters is distracted enough to decide that if the boys vouch for Jack, he must be okay. She hands Jack a smoothie but tells Dean he must have tomato juice due to his cholesterol. And she pronounces it the Patrick Stewart way, not the Mark Hammil way.

Before Dean can drink his to-mah-toh juice, the monster radar alarm goes off, and the guys rush off to prepare for a hunt. For future reference, when you leave the kitchen, Sam's room is to the right and Dean's is to the left. We next see the guys fully dressed, receiving sack lunches from Mrs. Butters. Dean's sandwich has the crusts cut off. {Sidebar: Sam never had someone to cut the crusts off his sandwich. Hold me. And also, how many reminders am I going to have of "Dark Side of the Moon" tonight?} She tells Sam the monster is a lamia, the blessed knives are in the trunk, and she just waxed the car so Dean needs to take it easy.

As the guys rush off, she turns to Jack and his smoothie mustache. "Well. What shall we do with you?"

NOTHING GOOD, I'M SURE.

As Jack helps wash dishes, he fills her in. Lucifer was his father, Mary was his family and his friend but he killed her. Mrs. Butters is very supportive, telling him "life gives us second chances and it's our obligation to hold onto them." And she presents him with another smoothie.

Montage! Thanksgiving dinner. More hunts. More sack lunches. Halloween (and even Sam seems to enjoy it). Fourth of July. (Yet another "Dark Side of the Moon" shoutout). A hunt requiring the grenade launcher and Thor's hammer from that episode whose title I can't remember! Sam's birthday! By the way, none of these holiday celebrations include Cas.

Mmmm. So worthy.

Time jump. Jack catches Mrs. Butters looking at something in a file cabinet and being very sneaky about it. He requests another smoothie to get her out of the room, and then finds what she was looking at. It's her MoL file, including a reel of film. The film shows Cuthbert Sinclar talking about File 5150 (aw, RIP Eddie Van Halen). The subject was actually recovered from the Thule (aw, "Everybody Hates Hitler") and we learn that wood nymphs "react violently when home or family are threatened." Sinclair says he "conducted a series of experiments designed to show this strange and magical being of our mission" and convinced her to join the MoL family. Huh. Wonder how he did that. Then Mrs. Butters demonstrates her devotion by literally ripping the head off a Thule. "Son of a bitch," says Jack, because he's been spending a lot of time with Dean.

Jack runs into the war room looking for Sam (and yes, I'm petty enough to love that he looks to Sam first), who is off getting ready for a "big date." Huh. Okay. Mrs. Butters offers him soup, but then Sam walks in, giving off some pretty strong Hot Professor Sam vibes (hello again, "Everybody Hates Hitler") with a sweater vest and tie, and I am thrilled with this development.

Thrilled, I tell you.

Mrs. Butters tells him he looks wonderful but offers to trim his hair (back off, lady, I will cut you) and Dean enters in time to make a weak Abercrombie and Bitch joke. Sam tells him Eileen's in town, and he's taking her out to dinner and "some privacy, something."

"Heavy on the something," Dean says, and we're going to talk about that later, I promise. But for now, Mrs. Butters tells Sam to take one of the old cars from the garage. Finally. Can we just make this permanent? Can Sam have his own fucking car, please? She produces a bouquet of roses from nowhere and sends him on his adorably anxious way. Then she tells Dean she found a broken TV in one of the rooms and fixed it. "The Dean Cave?" Dean is off like a shot. I wonder if that's the TV he smashed with a hammer, and if so, how did she fix it? (Also, hello again, "Scoobynatural.")

Jack is still unsettled. He follows her into the dungeon and tells her he saw the film. {Sidebar: The film showed her killing one of their enemies because she's protective of the MoL. Is it really that awful? Discuss.} "And how did that make you feel?" she asks. "You relished his pain, didn't you, Jack?" Oh, turns out that was a setup - she wanted Jack to see the video, so she could confirm that he was a bloodthirsty little monster. And do the Winchesters know how powerful he has become?

They should be scared of you!

I would never hurt them.

You have before, haven't you? Have you ever thought that Sam and Dean keep you in here, closed in, secure, because they're scared you'll do to someone else what you did to their mother?

Well, I mean. Now he has. She flings Jack into the wall. He tries to use the glowy eyes on her, but he finds himself powerless. She snaps the magic handcuffs on him. "You didn't think those smoothies were for your health, did you? Oh, I've learned a few things while I was doing the dusting around here. A little yarrow root, some ground jawbone for texture, and voila! You are as weak as a puppy."

Wait. That's all it took? To power down a nephilim, who is canonically more powerful than his archangel parent? So when the Winchesters were trying to take down Lucifer and AU Michael, all they needed was some yarrow root and ground jawbone? And the answers were all right here in the bunker?

(Sigh. Don't think about it. That way lies madness.)

(Also, canon! Ha ha ha ha.)

She tells Jack she's making the bunker safe again and getting rid of all the monsters. Like you, sweetness. Aw. Sad Jack.

Kitchen. Dean comes in looking for a snack and is immediately presented with some kind of grilled sandwich. She tells him to eat it, because he'll need his strength when they go kill Jack. Aw, that's the sound of a heart breaking.

Dean is disappointed that their good thing has gone "full Nurse Ratchet," and glances longingly at the sandwich he has to leave behind. He takes Mrs. B's knife and suggests they let Jack go and pretend this never happened. The only logical conclusion is that Dean is under Jack's spell, so he gets tossed into the dungeon too. Oh, cool. Does that mean Sam gets to be the hero and save them?

Spoiler alert: Ha ha ha ha no.

Hello, Demon Dean. That's the only other time we've seen this expression, isn't it? {Or is it simply the only one branded onto my brain? Discuss.)

Map table room. Sam comes in and is met by Mrs. B. "Bit past your curfew, Samuel," she says curtly. He's no longer wearing his tie. Hmm. So, let's talk about the Eileen situation. Isn't it weird that (1) Dean didn't know she was in town, and (b) she's not spending the night at the bunker? Wouldn't you think she'd be a house guest? I mean, she's not "in town" for the heck of it. The only thing that would bring her to Lebanon would be Sam. So why isn't she here seeing Sam? Is she just driving through on her way somewhere else? She can't even spend one night in the bunker? And the tie? If Sam removed his tie, doesn't that strongly suggest Dean was right about the "something" going on? Did they do it in the back of the old car? At a hotel? I have questions, friends.

Anyway. Sam asks where Jack and Dean are, since it's late and they should be sitting around the map table waiting for him to come home and not, like, in bed or anything. "Well, I have some good news, and some bad news."

HERE IS SOME GOOD NEWS INDEED.

Honestly, I like this look better without the tie.

Time jump.

So, Jack has taken over Dean's mind. And they're both downstairs, right now, ready to be killed by us.

You were always the smart one, yes.

Sam, who is the smart one, says he's going to go to his room and get his gun, and he'll meet her in the dungeon. "And we can... get to the killing." I LOVE HIM. {Sidebar: I have watched his fake relieved sigh several times and it makes me smile every time.} Once he’s safe in his room, Sam calls Dean and starts to tell him about Mrs. Butters.

Went psycho, we know.

Why didn't you call me?

Well, I mean I, you know, I figured you were "practicing your sign language."

And that's more important than coming to save you?

...

Dean?

It's been a while for you, man, you know?

Aw. Always the supportive big brother. {Sidebar: As long as Sam is doing something Dean thinks Sam should be doing. But I digress.}

{Sidebar: I love Dean, y'all know I do. Warts and all. He'd be boring if he were perfect.}

Dean suggests Sam shoot her, although they don't know if a gun will kill her because neither of them got around to researching it because they were distracted by Christmas and Thanksgiving and breakfast on Boxing Day. That's how you get killed, guys. {Sidebar: How much do I love that Sam calls it Boxing Day? For my Brit friends, that's not really a thing in the U.S., although it's gradually starting to become one. And I love it.}

Dean then suggests that putting the bunker in standby mode might put Mrs. B in suspended animation again. Meanwhile, Jack and Dean are stuck in the dungeon. Jack suggests using his power to remove the cuffs, but Dean points out that the power surge would catch Chuck's attention. But what power surge? Jack already tried to use his power against Mrs. B and it turned out he didn't have any.

Jack suspects there are other reasons Dean doesn't want him to use his power, and suddenly decides it's time for a deep conversation.

Do you still think I'm a monster? Okay, I'm just gonna say this, okay? Just get it out there. Jack, I'm trying, okay? I really am. But what you did, that's not easy to forget. Now, I was angry with you. For a while. And maybe I still am a little bit, okay? But I'm not gonna let some evil Mary Poppins take you out. You understand?

Okay. Good talk.

Sam shows up in the library looking for Mrs. B, and trying to hide his gun, as if he hadn't told her he was going to his room specifically to retrieve said gun. But Mrs. B realizes he's trying to kill her, and freezes him. She's not mad, she's just disappointed. She tosses him into a chair and keeps him there with the power of her mind, not with rope or anything, in case you were wondering. {Oh, hello, "Funeralia" and "The Trap."} She tells him that when the MoL first found her, she didn't realize how important they were. But Mr. Cuthbert explained it to her. And since Sam is her favorite, she's not going to give up on him. Yet. She's going help Sam the same way Mr. Cuthbert helped her understand. Well, that doesn't sound ominous at all.

He's my favorite too! And I also think he needs to be hurt! See, she's basically me!

Dungeon. Dean is going to try to chop Jack's handcuffs off.

You're sure this is gonna work?

Let's say yes.

Aw. That was a perfect opportunity to bring back "maybe 90% sure." And it doesn't work - Jack is sent flying into a glassed-in cabinet that I've never seen in the dungeon before. Dean says "dang it" before remembering that he can use his big boy words, which is adorable. And then he gets an idea.

Upstairs. Mrs. B tries to convince Sam that Jack is a monster because he's Lucifer's son. Sam, of course, takes the opposite side of this debate. "Now, Mr. Cuthbert taught me that pain can be a wonderful teacher. Let's see if it can't correct your ways."

I SWEAR, Y'ALL, SHE IS ME.

Sam could sneer at her and say "I've been tortured by the devil himself; what can you do to me?" but we don't have that version of Sam any more. Mrs. B, without tools, yanks off one of his fingernails. {Oh, hello "A Very Supernatural Christmas!"}

Meanwhile, downstairs, Dean has a different theory on pain. It's just "weakness leaving the body," he tells Jack. We get a little "on three" bit, where he actually does the thing on one. And the thing is that he tries to cut Jack's handcuffs again, but this time Jack is strategically placed in front of the dungeon door. So when he's thrown back by the blast, he ends up breaking the door down.

Upstairs. Sam's been relieved of even more fingernails.

Downstairs. Dean takes a hammer (!) and smashes the reset button. Why doesn't he just push it with his hand? I mean, sure, we get the hammer, and the red lights and warning klaxon, and all of that turns me into Pavlov's dog {Hello, "Soul Survivor"}. But still. Seems unnecessary.

Upstairs. Mrs. B seems to be gone, and Dean bends over like he's untying Sam's wrist. But Sam's wrists aren't tied to anything, so. I got nothin'.

Downstairs. The runes that seem to hold Mrs. B in stasis light up, but do not stay lit. Well, that can't be good. And then the bunker grid control center thing thingy starts shaking and springs a leak. Ooops. Here she comes, complete with glowy green eyes.

Upstairs. Dean finishes untying Sam from the chair he wasn't tied to, and remarks on how gross his tortured hand is. Mrs. B shows up, yells that they've all been very bad, and flings them across the room. She's sure Sam will thank her someday for killing Jack, because it's so important to kill monsters and keep the MoL safe. It's why she couldn't go back to her forest. Sam explains to her that Mr. Cuthbert tortured her and used her, and Dean tells her Jack is going to save the world. Oh, okay then. The regular lights turn back on and Mrs. B tearfully says she misses the MoL so much.

Aftermath. Mrs. B heals Sam's hand and apologizes and all is immediately forgotten and once again, Sam gets to forgive his torturer and turn the other cheek. Yay! Sam, what was it you said earlier?

Gif stolen from @michaeldean

The guys send Mrs. B back to the woods, but first they have this conversation:

Sadly, without my magic, the bunker will revert to standby mode, so. Ah well, things were getting too easy anyway, you know? Who needs a monster radar? Or whatever that telescope thing is? It's an interdimensional geoscope. It's a what? I looked in it earlier; I didn't see anything. Oh. Well that's not good.

Holy crap, you guys. Interdimensional. It let the MoL look at the alternate worlds. And now you can't see anything because all of the alternate worlds have been destroyed. Gotta admit, this is an excellent little twist.

Jack presents Mrs. B with the photo of the MoL. "Oh look," she says. "The man who tortured me and kept me from my home, right here, front and center." Well, no, she doesn't. But I do.

Mrs. Butters gives them some last instruction. "Dean, eat your vegetables. And Sam, cut your hair. And Jack, go save the world." Well, I'm in favor of one or two of those things.

Try to tell me I'm wrong. Just try.

After-aftermath. Jack tells Sam that he doesn't know if he can kill God, since he was sidelined by a wood nymph "because I was stupid." He asks if Sam thinks he can do it.

"Jack, you're the only who can." No pressure.

Dean shows up with a truly awful-looking birthday cake for Jack. "I made it myself. Obviously." But Jack is thrilled because it's from Dean, and it means Dean loves him and has forgiven him, until the plot requires otherwise. He makes a wish and blows out his single candle. Fade to black.

So! There were parts of this that were simply marvelous. There were parts that were kind of dumb. There were parts that would have made me very angry if I weren't so tired and jaded. But the good parts were darn good, and the pretty was dialed up to 11, and we all know I'm a sucker for a pretty episode. And there was NO B PLOT. AT ALL. Thank you baby Jesus.

And let’s just refuse to consider the possibility that these were, in fact, their last holidays. Thanks.

Now I get to see what you thought about it. And, as always, please help me stay unspoiled for future episodes, including episode titles and casting info. {smooches}

#spn #15.14 #initial reaction #recap #tv recaps #spoilers

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