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decayandfanfics · 3 years

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The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut, dirty talking.

A/N: This chapter is shameless smut, you are warned. Minors do not interact. go and read a book or something.

Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.As always, let me know what you think!

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Chapter 14 / Chapter 15

Lovers ever run before the clock.

Overhaul really is just an uptight pretentious asshole, but Tomura lets his insulting remarks slide, trying his utter best not to snap.

He was supposed to be in a good mood today, but by the time Chronostasis puts the gun against his white locks, he swears that he will do anything in his power to completely ruin Shie Hassakai for this mess, already struggling to keep his temper at bay.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”

He’s never one to get distracted but it is difficult to stay focus when he cannot erase the feeling of her thighs caging his hips, her words rumbling inside his brain like a prayer for him to come back and take what’s already his.

It enrages him far more than he would like to admit, but he can’t go back if he gets killed, can’t he?

Luckily for them, Tomura kinda lacks that self-preservation impulse at the face of danger, so he stays there completely stoic and delightfully petty between Chisaki and the gun. The thought of her crying because he got his pretty brains scattered all over the Shie Hassakai immaculate floor makes him realize that he has yet another reason to hate Overhaul.

Really, what’s the matter with these people? they just keep adding points to their list, but sure, he will work with what he has (as always) by sending Toga and Twice into their ranks to gain some reliability after Chisaki told him about this ridiculous plan of curing society of quirks like it’s an illness.

And he thought que was an extremist.

It’s a dumb concept, really. People decide to be assholes, to be heroes, villains and such. There is a choice in excluding those like him from society meanwhile hero violence is idolized. But quirks? People don’t get to choose. Shit just happens. You can develop a cute little nice quirk that allows you to make bubbles or something ridiculous like, dunno, destroying everything you touch; but people can help it, it’s just the way it is. Nobody asks for it. Not even Overhaul, not even him.

And, even when Tomura can understand what Overhaul is saying about society being unfair based on quirks, his plan still sounds pretty nonsensical to him, who wants to destroy everything with his own hands, after all is that why he was born with such deadly weapon at the reach of his fingers. It would be nothing short but hypocritical and, despite the irony, he likes to think of himself as an honest person. His goal clashes directly with Overhaul’s, so no, he will keep the league interests to himself and for now will trust Toga and Twice to do what they do best without rising any suspicion about what he’s up to. Chisaki is more stupid tan he looks if he thinks Tomura will make blind eye to the audacity of his challenge and his continuous lack of propriety.

Oh, poor Overhaul. He doesn’t know it yet, but he already lost.

In the meantime, he’ll keep himself busy on more important and exciting matters. Hating Overhaul is something he can use as a motivation for more than just inner monologue, because you see, Tomura has a revenge to plan and a truck to steal.

_____________

Things are different next time he sees you. Something primal and strange born from a sick sense of belonging that fills your interactions after the night you slept together, soothing his temper and bitterness into something warmer and far more intense that pulls and twist and burns to be close to each other.

It's been four days since they left the apartment to prepare the backhand against Overhaul and Tomura is sure that by that hour tomorrow Overhaul will have failed, leaving him as the great winner of his sensei’s title. (Not that he ever needed to prove it, but if Overhaul wanted to pick a fight, he would not be the one to deny his wishes.)

Tonight, however, has nothing to do with all that, not when he’s finally back.

You’ve been waiting for his return by the window, searching for his frame in every shadow, a mug of chocolate warming your hands as the soup simmered over the stove. A warm meal made for him every night in case he decided to return, guessing he would be hungry and cold, wondering if it isn’t too much (but you care for him, so you do it anyway).

A supposition that turned out to be true, but Tomura had another solution in mind.

He’s a starving dog all hunger and demand, a wild vicious thing that looks at you feral and maddened, dripping with want and something far scarier that you don’t dare to name (but you do know, don’t you?).

You are no better than him, not when your fingers had traced patterns with his name across your body, spelling dreams and fantasies from your lips, remembering the way his fingers filled you and you wonder if he touched himself thinking about you too. The answer comes rather messy the moment his jagged mouth whimpers how much he missed you between whispers and moans that to you sound like poetry.

And he takes and takes and takes with deaf hands and sharp teeth, leaving bruises with the shape of his fingertips burned all over you as he bites and scratch and pull-out whimpers and pants from your mouth that echoes the frantic tune of his heart slamming against his ribs because he missed you so much it was painful.

So, he had kissed you feverish, stomping you against the wall desperate and needing for your attention until you had pull him by the neck of his shirt to drag him into the bedroom, his brain completely forgetting about Overhaul’s existence the moment you push him to the edge of the mattress to sit in his lap, pulling the hem of his shirt for him to take it off, too focused in the heat prints your hands leave on his pale shoulders as something roars inside of his chest urging him to imprint his existence on your skin and possess the being that lives inside your bones.

Tomura paints a plethora of purple kisses over your neck and chest as a mark of his touch and your belonging. Something dark and twisted reverbing inside his ribs, inside his brain.

Mine; his mind repeats over and over again until he’s dizzied from the words, drunk in touch as your hands slither all over his sides, his chest and shoulders. His eyes marveling in the way skin holds together every angle of your flesh and the parts where your bones show from inside of your figure when he finally takes off your dress.

So soft, so beautiful and all his.

His kisses become raw and sharp and painful like the electric bond that ties you together by the ribs, all roughness and need, bruising lips and sinking teeth. Your moans and pants mixing now and then with some pained yelps and hisses of his name to call out on his harshness, but he chooses to make deaf ears to your pleas, too busy trying to gorge on your taste.

His teeth sink on your skin leaving marks like crescent moons that he kisses after you cry, pleasure and need pooling between your thighs, a tightness that burn inside your belly as you tangle your fingers in his hair, thinking briefly between the fog of your thoughts that it has grown, that it looks painfully beautiful on him like a crown of silver and moonlight.

Soon enough your legs lock around his bony hips, the choir of soft mewls and pants has become something far more animal; cries filling the room with each touch. White underwear remaining as the last barrier to your skin, leaving a wet stain over the fabric of his jeans.

The room turns unbearable warm as your kisses become more slopy and open, letting him take your mouth just how he likes it as he registers the way the skin of your torso presses against his bare chest, your warmth spreading over, suffocating him.

Hooking a finger on your bra cup, Tomura pulls down and reveals the flesh hidden under the layers of lace, deciding already that this is his favorite image of you. Covered in love marks, wet and underwear ruined, your bra tucked under the curb of your breast. Something obscene and desperate about it, more crude than mere nakedness and it’s exactly how he likes it.

It looks lewd, it looks nasty. It looks like everything he wants to make of you, so he tightens his hold on your waist, making your back curve a little up to latch his mouth to your breast, sucking hard enough to draw a loud moan from your lips as you dig your nails on the muscle of his arms, delight shooting through your spine.

“Ow…fuck…” you pant with each pull of his mouth, and he chuckles darkly against your chest, amused and smug because he has you and he knows it, a sinister part of him (the vengeful scary one that wants to kill and maim and destroy) screaming that you belong to him from now on, that you’ll never leave, that he’ll never let you.

Mine, and mine alone he thinks and the thought sounds jarring and loud inside his head as he leaves bruises all over the skin that surround the buds of your chest, making you gasp over his lap.

“What? Wanna say something?” Tomura teases watching your expression, your eyes going wide the moment he slides your panties to the side and press his fingers inside you without warning.

“T-oh…Tomura…fuck…ow” you try to articulate but the words come out as blurred whispers.

“No bickering now?”

“Oh god…Tomura…please” you cry trembling, mouth watering with every touch of his palm over your nerve.

“Please what.”

You hide your face on the crook of his neck to bite him hard enough to make him bark an excited laugh, rejoicing in the fact that you are marking him too, before hooking his fingers inside you to make you moan loudly; hips moving automatically as one of your hands reach the hem of his pants and unbuttons his jeans to touch him back.

“I want you inside.”

He lets out a pretty hiss the moment your fist close around his length, caressing him tentatively until finding a pace, giving you a little victory over his rough teasing.

“I wanna tear you apart” he growls reaching deep inside of you, a wolf like grin slicing across his face baring his sharp teeth “you are a mess. All wet and begging for me to fuck you.”

“Tomura…”

“Fuck…you are so wet, all for me…my good girl, my good girl.” The words pour out of his mouth in feverish tone as his other hand clear the hair off your face before catching your lips on his again.

“Tomura, please…”

He snaps, turning you onto the mattress to climb over your body, throwing his jeans to the floor before leaning between your thighs as his hardness brushes over your clothed center. His patience has run thin though, so he yanks the panties by one side, closing all five fingers over the piece of fabric that flews to the floor before transforming into dust.

He lines up with your center, feeling the intimate touch before thrusting deep into you, ripping out a high moan that makes your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving scratching marks all over his pale skin in an attempt to steady yourself as your walls burn with the stretching.

No, he isn’t gentle this time, he just can’t bring himself to be soft when he feels like the awful infatuation he’s been harboring inside is about to tear his ribs open, pouring out for everyone to see the bloody mess you’ve made of his heart. So, he thrust hard like punishing you for it, snaping his hips fast and deep into you, trying to leave a bruise mark inside as well as one of his hands tangles between your hair, pulling and making you scream to the rhythm of your creaking bed.

He bottoms out the moment his arm hooks under your knee, as you tangle your other leg over his waist, giving him deepest access into you, his tip planting kisses against your cervix, rough friction and raw closeness sending you over the edge because he’s fucking you hard, making sure your screaming can be heard from the hall of the building.

It's brutal, yet you give him everything he wants and more because you like it like this, you like it because is him. The warmth of his body covering yours and you wonder if he can feel it too.

The terrific need of holding onto his body, his wicked smile, his bruised heart. The horror of your attachment to a person like him and what this represents, at the brim of ruining your life for love…

Love.

You are so in love with him.

“Look at me” he demands pulling your hair, a feral snarl across his sharp face darkening his features before kissing you hard, his tongue filling your mouth in lewd motion. “Fuck, you are so tight…I wanna split you in half.” His voice is a coarse and maddened sound against your lips, so close and intimate it’s scary because he’s sinking so deep it feels like he’s trying to rearrange your insides and his words do nothing but intensify the heat.

“Fuck…Tomura…it hurst…you’re so rough…so rough” You manage to blurt out, eyes boring into his.

“And you love it, don’t you?” he snarls tightening the grip on your hair. “You like how it feels…like I’m gonna split your pretty cunt in two. Huh? Say it, say it…”

“Fuck…yes…yes”

“Yes what.” He barks in a particularly harsh thrust that makes you scream like a wildling.

“I love it…fuck…like that…I love it…I love it.”

“You are mine…you hear me?” he prays over your mouth half ordering, half begging for you to go down with it and say that yes, that you’ll never leave him, that you’ll stay with him “All mine to fuck, mine, mine, mine, MINE!” he growls with every thrust as the bed slams hard against the wall until you are a babbling incoherent mess.

His brutal pace and words get you quiet soon, too much to even make a sound and hardly even allowing you to breathe, too concentrated in the feeling of his length and him smashing into your ending wall as the overwhelming touch of his hips and his abdomen on yours burns your skin.

The brush of his hair and ragged breathing fanning over your cheek is the only compass of time while the tightness in your belly threatens to snap the moment your teary eyes meet his, mouth on mouth without even kiss, but you smile to him, your warm hand caressing softly the skin of his jaw as he tears into you, feeling incapable of telling him what the voice of your mind has been playing over and over again.

I’m in love with you.

Like sensing your thoughts, his hands abandon your hair. Four trembling fingers cuddling your cheek, carefully and almost scared before closing his eyes, letting his forehead rest on yours as he whispers sweet words of praise only for you to keep, still forcing himself in and out of you. His mouth watering to the sight of your bouncing breast still trapped by your bra.

“ow…I’m gonna..Tomura…I’m gonna…”

The snap of his hips become erratic when finally you come undone on him, eyes rolling back and a cry that tears your throat open when your walls clench around his hardness making him moan as he keeps thrusting in and out, reaching his own end soon after; his hand closing tightly into a fist over the mattress as he grunts with his face hidden on the crook of your neck, filling you warm and slick until he goes soft inside of you.

Tomura pulls out and rests his head on your chest, his heart hammering against your belly, still trying to catch his breath; his fingers tracing mindless patterns over the shape of your waist, as your hands slide between the tangled locks of silver, lips laying little pecks over his crown.

Time slows down, minutes passing and quiet settles, he notices.

Quiet inside of him.

This is all he wanted from the moment he crossed the umbral of your door months ago. The insufferable itch silenced by the calming thump of your heart, fluttering softly behind the gate of your ribs and he wonders if maybe you’d have a room by your core where he could lay his bones to finally rest for a minute from all the rage and hate that burdens him.

Maybe you do have one, hidden and unspoken, a mirror of the one you occupy in the graveyard of his chest where he holds you beautiful and bright and…everything he doesn’t get to hate.

Yeah, he thinks you do. After all, he’s lying in your arms, isn’t it? You had caressed his face and marked his neck and back, all teeth and nails, to then crown him with a wreath of kisses, your body soft and still under his weight, while your hands brush carefully through his scalp.

He knows the feeling, he’s not stupid…but he doesn’t get to speak its name yet.

Is not that bad, after all. Being attached to you and the lullaby of your heartbeat could make him better, smarter, stronger. You could be another reason to fight and destroy. After all, in a society as rotten as this one, you’ll never be allowed to walk by his side if not by putting a bounty on your head too.

What the media would say about you? Would they catalog you as an S class villain? since your quirk is as deadly as it gets, you would be feared and hated. You can practically kill by just looking at someone and he’s not even sure if you really need to look to your target, after all.

And yet you are the kindest person he knows. If someone of the hero commission knew about this, you’d be hunted down despite your service as a doctor, despite your resolution to help whoever needs it, despite caring for those rotten and downthrown. And since you are critical of the system, you’d be reduced to just another animal to put down. Just like him.

Tomura swears he’ll decay every single person on the world before let that happen.

“Tomura…”

He rises his head to look at you, a question drawn across his face.

“Can you…move a little? My bra is killing me.”

“Ow…sorry about that.” He apologizes, curious eyes over the mark that the elastic has left over your skin as he sits by your side.

“Can you help me? I can’t reach the clip…”

“Sure…”

You bend over to give him better access to your back, feeling his fingers brush over your skin carefully, before liberating you from the elastic straps incrusted on your flesh.

Tomura leans forward, placing soft kisses between your shoulder blades, letting his forehead rest over your spine and the touch is so sweet that it makes you wonder if maybe he does feel the same as you.

You get your answer when his hand moves forward to cup your breast, middle finger carefully up, as the other slides down between your thighs, making you sigh, feeling his hardness brushing your hip.

He nuzzles against your cheek, until you turn to kiss him deeply, warmth pooling between your legs again as his fingers play lazy between your slick entrance and the bundle of nerves. This time though, you take your chance and turn over, sitting on top before taking his wrist to lay kisses over the soft skin of his pulse.

Your quirk flares alive and before Tomura gets to catch on your intentions, his hands stand secured high against the headboard.

“What the…ow fuck!” He moans the moment your hand close over his length, pumping until he’s losing his breath, a ragged laugh scaping his jagged lips “fuck…you are an evil woman.”

“I should be proud if you say so.”

You accommodate over him, lowering until he fills you, pushing his previous release deeper into you.

Your pacing is torturingly slow and intense, soft moans and sweet whispers between languid kissed. Tomura watches hypnotized how your hips ride over the place you two connect, his crimson eyes half lidded as he lets you take him, before finally releasing your hold.

He touches you carefully this time, palming over the curve of your hipbone and your belly, index finger up as he wonders how deep is he, trying to feel himself from the outside, before pushing down to sink deeper into you, hitting the fragile spot where he makes you cry.

“I like you like this…” he speaks softly, looking you up from behind his eyelashes as you ride him slowly.

“How” your word is a whisper against his lips.

“Bare…” he rasps, his voice luring you into his embrace, spilling sweet nothing into his ear as he mumbles over and over again.

“My good girl…you are so good for me…”

This time you reach your peak softly. A sweet thing that fills you gently; walls fluttering around his oversensitive length while you keep rocking him until he stuffs you again, finally both falling back into the mattress side to side, already drifting into sleep, both tired and content.

A light touch catches your attention before falling unconscious. Tomura´s pinky hooks on yours as a silent plea, so you spill a peck over his shoulder before resting your temple on it, a sweet gesture that makes his heart tremble with fear and excitement for all the right reasons.

So, he does what he wants, sliding his arm under your neck and moving your head to rest on his chest. Over his heart he lays a fist for you to grip gently by the wrist before finally crowning you with soft kisses as the steady beat of his heart lulls you to dream.

Chapter 16 (soon)

#shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #bnh fanfic #self insert #shigaraki tomura #tenko shimura #shigaraki x you

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hesesols · 4 years

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of soap suds and broken dishes

Summary: There will never be a right time for some conversations. In which Rukia has some exciting news to deliver and the timing is ... less than ideal.

Rating: T

FF/ao3

Chapter 1: Timing Is Everything

Her hands started shaking even before her mind processes the gravity of the situation.

The plus sign on the pregnancy test stick is staring right back at her and no amount of heavy breathing; thigh-pinching; fervent prayer that this is all a bad dream she's ten seconds from waking up from; is going to change that.

She gulps.

Ichigo.

Ichigo needs to know.

She needs to tell him and part of her is scared shitless of what he's going to say.

She doesn't tell him.

It's not intentional on her part- at least for the first few days after she found out.

It just slips her mind sometimes about her new condition and then there's the fact that she could never seem to find the right time to tell him. This doesn't feel like the sort of thing that is light enough to be shared over the breakfast table or when they're cuddling in bed with their bedclothes on, mind switched off, body wrapped around each other.

Outside these hours, their lives are bound to the vigorous demands of the mundane world and its limitations. Time is finite in this world. Him with his busy university classes and lab sessions, her with her odd shifts at the local coffee shop and double-life as a seated officer of Gotei 13 meant that dinner is sometimes take outs and pizzas served on cheap plastic plates, wine in everyday mugs, excuses they make to ignore the presence of the growing pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

That there are mornings when Ichigo will jump out of their bed with a curse and start throwing on wrinkly clothes from the day before, screaming about how he's late as he shuts the front door with a bang that's loud enough to rattle the whole building but not before he rouses her, barely awake and squinting from the brightness with a goodbye kiss.

That there are nights when she will come back after a week-long stint in Soul Society and the ache of separation hits her more than she would care to admit but Ichigo leaves the light on. He greets her with his pretty eyes and hungry kisses and they'll spend that morning and the next in bed, making up for the lost time in the coil of their needy bodies.

This is a snapshot of real life for the two of them living together in relative anonymity in the Human World. She loves Ichigo and he loves her. Society has come a long way since feudalistic times and what Nii-sama doesn't know won't hurt him.

Take away the Shinigami aspect of their lives- the crazy out-of-this-realm misadventures they get swept into, wars between worlds waged and won in the span of a summer holiday, the battle scars adorning their bodies and they're literally as normal as their next door neighbours, human and barely out of their twenties, trying to find their place in this strange cruel world, somehow made warmer with Ichigo's hand in hers.

Being with Ichigo just makes her happy- happy enough to live in the now and not think ahead. She doesn't want to ruin what they have, doesn't want to upset the resemblance of a normal life she's constructed and cocooned herself in within the confines of their tiny apartment.

They haven't even talked about the future in so much as to where they would live after he graduates from college. Springing this on him just seems cruel- cruel when his life is only just beginning, about to take flight and she's gone ahead and done the unthinkable to clip his wings.

What if he's disappointed?

What if he doesn't want the baby?

The last thought renders her physically sick. Sud-covered hands reach instinctively for her baby bump that's barely showing.

For now, anyway.

Give it a few more weeks and he's bound to notice something. He's not that dumb (or at least she hopes he isn't). There are only so many times she can say no to the casually-offered beer and wine or mumble something along the lines of that time of the month to disguise the however many trips to the bathroom before he catches on.

"I'm home."

The sudden noise makes her jump and she loses her grip on the slippery half-washed dinner plate. It clatters to the floor, broken.

Shit!

Swearing comes entirely second nature when she cuts herself on the edges.

"Rukia?"

"In here," she calls out to him, holding the cut finger under the running water. Truth be told she's more upset about the broken plate- there were four in a set with matching bowls and now they're one short- than her injuries. The cut doesn't even look deep and the bleeding is bound to stop soon.

"Let me see."

Ichigo seems to think otherwise as he unceremoniously drops his bags and the heavy groceries by the door, eyebrows furrowing deep as he crouches down next to her, inspecting her wound.

Though calling it an inspection may have been a stretch.

He barely even glanced at it before he's hollering at her to stay put while he grabs the first aid kit.

"You're being ridiculous! It's just a cut!"

He should know better- what with his experience of violence and theoretical knowledge as a future physician. She's been through worse. They both have. Cuts that are deep enough to see gaps of bones in between, torn ligaments, broken bones, ruptured organs, a fist through the stomach- the memory makes her shudder now more than ever. He shouldn't be fussing over her for a flesh wound that barely registers on her scale of pain.

But he doesn't let go of her hand and merely grunts when she calls him a fool for making a big deal out of something as trivial as this.

"It'll heal quick. I don't s-"

She hisses, surprised by the sudden sting of antiseptic over broken skin. His gesture is uncharacteristically apologetic when he presses a kiss to her knuckle.

It doesn't make sense.

She's suffered much, much worse in her line of duty. He knows she has and she has survived, grew stronger and thrived. With every cut and blow that aims to knock her down, she rises up, bloodied and valiant to meet the next challenge. Yet she doesn't think she has ever seen him quite so serious, cleaning her cut and dwarfing her hand in his like she's soft, fragile like glass and twice as likely to break. Lord knows that she has never been neither of those things.

"I'm sorry. We don't have any bunny plasters but Yuzu left some Hello Kitty plasters in the first aid kit the last time she restocked it for us and I think you'd like them- why are you crying?"

Tears.

She can't remember the last time she felt them running down her cheeks. Have they always tasted so salty?

Through the burn of them, she sees his panicked face. His fists clench tight and grip at her as he holds her- shuddering breath and all, waiting for her to still and quiet so she can tell him who to hurt and who to maim.

This idiot!

Look at what he's reduced her to- this teary-eyed walking bundle of hormones who tears up because her boyfriend/baby daddy gave her some Hello Kitty plasters when she cut her finger.

"I'm pregnant, you dolt."

Ichigo wears his heart on his sleeves and the vulnerability on his face- the sheer multitude of emotions- shock, awe, joy, love, above all, love- when he absorbs the impact of the news and embraces his new reality is enough to make even a hardened warrior like her choke on the waterworks.

His eyes widen and the grip on her tightens as he presses her deeper into his embrace.

"H-How long?"

"It's early."

She thinks she's barely passed the sixth week mark.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to!"

Her hands fist at his clothes. She has lost count of the number of times when she wanted to reach for his hand under the covers as they spooned against each other and whisper it soft and slow into the night and put it to rest.

But every time she wants to open her mouth and speak, doubt makes her swallow those words whole because-

What if this isn't what he wanted?

This isn't something that they've planned for and she is too in love with the tranquillity of the moment, the peaceful look on his face, smiling at her- like she makes this life worth living for, to even consider ruining it. Is it wrong for her to think that the news can wait for another day if only to make tiny beautiful moments like these last a little while longer?

"…There just doesn't seem to be a right time to tell you."

He deadpans, "and you think now is the perfect time for us to have this conversation?"

There are soap suds in her hair, dirty dishwater stains on the front of her shirt. He has dark circles under his eyes, stinks of alcohol sanitizers, looking tired like he hasn't slept well for days. In the background is a precarious mountain pile of dishes to be washed waiting in the sink, shattered pieces of a broken dinner plate on the kitchen floor that still needs to be swept away.

Them in the comforts of their own home- the very essence of their domestic mundanity stripped down to the bones- messy, loud, less-than perfect; but at its heart, once the initial embarrassment of her housekeeping skill or the lack-there-of passes, is love.

She sighs, resting her forehead against his chest. "This is all your fault. This would have never have happened if you listened to me when I told you it's your turn to do the dishes."

"You could have waited?" he challenges, "You know class ends early for me today."

Rukia rolls her eyes as she informs him rather drily, "We ran out of clean plates two days ago."

Laughter rumbles low and throaty from him, his heartbeat thrumming steadily from his chest- a symphony strung along with bits of heart and soul, hopes for tomorrow that sooth her.

When the laughter dies, he buries his face in her hair, soaking up the warmth of her tiny body with his. He holds her, drawing lazy circles on the skin of her bare arm, tentative as he asks.

"Rukia. Were you afraid that I'd be disappointed? Or angry?"

She squirms in his arms, ashamed almost when she tells him, "A little of both."

A snort followed by a fond exasperated "Idiot. I love you and I promise to love you and to love our child forever and always and-" his breath catches, his world whirling, and he's looking at her like she's made of starlight and moon dust and- "you're carrying our baby!"

The hard lines on his face soften, his hands clearly shaking and the disbelief from the happiness that threatens to leave him in tears as he presses kisses to her- "We're going to have a baby."

The heat of his open palm is reassuring on her still-flat stomach. She smiles, mirroring his joy, and keeps his hand there, holds it in place with her own.

"We're going to have a baby."

There is never going to be a right time she realizes.

But that's ok.

It's ok if he's there with her, holding her hand through it all. As long as he's there with her, she thinks, she is brave enough to do anything. They can take on the world and be none the wiser for it.

He is her rock and he grounds her. Now more than ever when her soul feels light enough that she just might float away.

"As far as your brother is concerned, this baby is conceived immaculately. Agreed?"

She snorts and kisses his forehead. As if Nii-sama is the person he should be worried about!

Clearly her absentminded idiot is forgetting about his overly enthusiastic father and the man's over-the-top antics and flair for drama during the bi-monthly Kurosaki family dinners, scheduled to happen sometime this week.

Rukia humours him anyway. He'll catch on soon enough.

"Agreed."

FF/ao3

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#ichiruki #ichiruki month 2020 #IR month 2020 #of soap suds and broken dishes #mine #fanfic #us against the world #warning: FLUFF #all is well #686 who?#day 9: us against the world

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alternatewarning · 4 years

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Chaotic Elegance - Whumptober 2020 Fic

Entry Number 7 and 10 for Whumptober 2020: Carrying and Blood Loss/Trail of Blood

Title: Chaotic Elegance Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairing: Hints of Gladio/Prompto Rating: M Trigger Warnings: Gore, Major Character Death Summary: In an effort to protect Noctis during a heated battle, Prompto is badly injured. "Out of medical supplies and potions, the group races against a ticking clock to get him back to town.

Cross posted to Ao3

Most of the time the four of them fought in some chaotic sense of a formation. Gladio would run in front, his sword easily taking down anything small or unprepared for the human behemoth. Noctis would warp over to whatever enemy looked like it was the most likely to become a hassle and daggers would come flying after him, Ignis close behind. With significantly less training than the other three, Prompto would follow behind, throwing off shots at any and every enemy that got close enough to aim at. It wasn’t that structured in any way shape or form, but worked. Rarely were they in each other’s way for more than a second, often turning a run-in to a two-pronged attack. But sometimes things didn’t go as planned, even with such a thin hint of a plan to begin with.

It started when their toe-to-toe battle with an entire platoon of Magitek infantry was interrupted by a pack of elder coeurls who were much more intent on Noctis and his retainers than any of the ax-wielding magitek. There were so many enemies to avoid that the entire battle was starting to become a hazy cluster, thunder streaking down from the sky as the cats seemed particularly interested in turning Noctis into their dinner.

“Noct, look out!” Gladio’s warning wasn’t fast enough. One of the larger black and white monsters was charing at the prince with it’s fanged mouth open wide. Noctis’s back was to the creature as he was sidestepping the heavy swing of a trooper, twisting in the direction of the cat. In a move so quick that he almost seemed to warp, Prompto was in front of the cat, gun aimed to fire. While he managed to move fast enough his bullet didn’t down the monster, only wound it, and it didn’t present the attack.

The elder coeurl snapped its jaw, the predator catching all of Prompto’s shoulder in one bite. It leaped back, mouth still clamped around the gunman, dragging him with her. He stumbled to the ground, his right arm trapped in her maws. Two more of her pack suddenly appeared, drawn in by their trapped prey. Before any of the others could get to him, the monsters were already on top of him, claws and fangs tearing into skin. The blond managed to get off a few shots, trying to at least maim the one holding him but everything was a blur of lightning, fur, and pain.

Prompto’s body quickly vanished under their assault, the giant creatures accidentally hiding the fact that he had been downed by their large size. Eventually his grunts and ‘get off!’s warped into screams as they continued their attack. It was enough to draw the attention of the others and the pack quickly scattered once one of them was killed by a combination of a lance thrown into its side and a greatsword rending it in two. As the other two dodged away to be chased down by Noctis and Gladio, Ignis rushed to Prompto’s side.

The boy’s shoulder had been gouged by the coeurl’s fangs, clear teeth marks pierced into his clothing. His chest looked like it had been nearly ripped open, claw marks tearing flesh and spattering the ground with blood that now tracked bloody paw prints away from the scene. There were other, smaller wounds, like a few cuts to his face and more bite marks in his leg, but Ignis was much more worried about his chest. He reached into the armiger only to find their healing items empty. No potions, nothing at all. He was out of healing magic himself, as well.

“You two need to wrap this up, and fast. We are out of curatives and Prompto needs healing immediately.” There was no time to focus on if they heard him or not. Since his shirt had already been torn to shreds Ignis ripped it off, deftly tearing the fabric into strips. He needed to focus on wrapping as many of the wounds as he could. There was already a pool of blood below the blond and he was strangely quiet. Still awake, at some point he had reached out and grabbed Ignis’s with a pale, white-knucked grip, but he seemed to be focusing so hard on breathing he didn’t have the spare thought to scream.

“Hold still, Prompto, this will hurt but it needs to be done.” Ignis started to wrap what he could, praying to the Six that it was enough. There were still sounds of battle all around him but he needed to focus on this and only this. The shoulder wound was deep but not lethal, his leg was much more shallow so for now it would have to go ignored. He started to wrap the chest, his gloves already slick with blood.

“Iggy…”

“Shh, you will be alright. Just hold on a little longer. We will head back to town once Noct and Gladio are done.” He wanted to look Prompto in the eyes and promise him he would make it but he wasn’t in the habit of lying to the dying.

By the time he was out of shredded shirt to use as wrapping it was obvious the Prompto was starting to fade. There was a loud crack of fire erupting not too far away from Ignis’s back which was hopefully the last of the fighting.

“Iggy…I don’t feel so good.” Just as the advisor was starting to lift him from the ground Gladio landed hard on his knees next to them. Wordlessly he lifted the shivering boy into his arms, cradling the blond to his chest like a precious treasure. He looked even paler than normal, his skin bleached against Gladio’s chest.

“Noctis, we are leaving now.” The prince warped next to them after slicing the head off the last of the troopers. His blue eyes went wide once he realized that the blood all over Prompto, and now Ignis as well, was his.

“Prom! S---. We have to hurry!” He turned and ran, nearly tripping over himself as he started towards the nearest down. Gladio followed behind him, one arm wrapped around Prompto’s back and the other under his knees. The gunman was mumbling and shivering, fading in and out as they ran. Ignis followed up the rear, trying to swallow the bile in his throat once he realized that even if he couldn’t see the other two, he could have easily followed the trail of blood. Something was still bleeding badly enough that it was dripping down Gladio’s leg and leaving half formed bloody shoe prints in the dirt.

At first it seemed odd that Nocits ran ahead instead of trying to stay neck in neck with his Shield to guard his friend. But it was obvious soon enough. Ahead of the pack, his utter panic was enough to help him carve through any monsters that even appeared in his line of sight. This left Gladio free reign to just run. It was a single-minded focus that pushed all of them harder than their lungs could take.

Gladio hated how cold Prompto felt against him. And how still. Normally he was always moving, looking around, talking, fidgeting, on his phone, something. He was never still for more than a millisecond, to the point that the Shield was a little shocked he could take a steady picture. But now he was still as death. At some point he’d wrapped a hand into Gladio’s shirt but even that felt weak, as if a gust of wind would pull him away.

“Hey blondie, hang in there. We’re almost to safety.”

“Gotta hang on…’s a rough ride, big guy.” There were lights in the distance, the familiar artificial shine of an outpost. It wouldn’t have the best medical facilities but there would be something. Just as they were getting close there was a familiar, pained groan as the ground suddenly opened up into a flickering pool of darkness. A gigantic iron hand slowly reached out, grabbing the ground like a ledge. An Iron Gaint. And not just one of them.

“Gadio, keep going. We will take care of things here.” Before the two daemons had even finished pulling themselves from the abyss, a series of daggers were launched towards them as Ignis yelled the orders over their cries.

“But Iggy-”

“Go! Noct and I can handle this.” The prince was already no more than a streak of blue was he threw his sword and warped into one of the daemon’s hands, causing it to try and swat him away like an annoying fly. With a deep grumble Gladio continued to run, shifting the limp body in his arms ever so slightly. At some point during that short exchange Prompto had closed his eyes and now he was worse than just still, he was completely limp. The lights came close and closer until finally he was within their aura of safety. The outpost had a small hotel with a half-sleep man at reception. But he suddenly jerked awake with the sound of a behemoth coming through, throwing open a door for Gladio to rush in. The man was gone in an instant, yelling over his shoulder that he was going to grab potions and whatever else he could.

With a gentleness to rival his rising panic, Gladio slowly lowered the younger man onto one of the beds. His head lolled to the side, limbs landing where he was placed. The wraps that had been his shirt had already soaked through, everything now a messy, dirty shade of red. Against the light grey of the bedspread Prompto looked like a porcelain doll, his skin too pale to have ever been alive, his freckles standing out like black specks across his face. He wasn’t breathing. The innkeeper returned with a handful of vials and the Shield quickly grabbed the first, shattering it over the shredded remains of his chest. He watched, listening for a gasp, a breath. But nothing. No change. He was still limp and pale, lifeless.

“Prompto...come on.” He reached out for another and again broke the bottle over the worst of the wounds. And again nothing changed. Gladio’s stomach leaped into his throat, closing off his air. They hadn’t gotten here fast enough. He hadn’t gotten here fast enough. Slowly he took one of the other’s small hands in his own. There was no pulse against his wrist, nothing. Just a bloody shell all devoid of its sunshine.

#whumptober2020 #fic #no.7 #no.10 #carrying #Blood Loss #Trail of Blood #Final Fantasy XV #FFXV #gore tw #Prompto Argentum #gladio amicitia #ignis scientia #noctis lucis caelum

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chinatea · 5 years

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Ian/Diminie (feat. minor Tattoo/Baby G)

ABO. Where Diminie asks for nothing and Ian keeps coming back for more.

- Ian and Baby G are twins. A dominant alpha and omega respectively.

- Omegas don’t have self-lubricating assholes, they have slits (or heat slits).

Names:

Baby G - Jiyeon.

Diminie - Jisoo.

Tattoo - Junghwan.

Ian is Ian. (:

Ian knows damn well why he did it - he was pissed off at Jiyeon for taking up with Junghwan. While the omega could have picked any knot he wanted, it just had to be that mongrel, huh.

So yes, Ian took it personally. Even if it had nothing to do with him - Ian could always tell when Jiyeon was in love, which was never, not for real anyhow, until that knothead moved into their town and his twin has been acting like a freaking omega ever since, with his air-light giggles and sickening amounts of skinship between the two.

Ian can’t even kick Junghwan’s ass for treating Jiyeon anything less than the precious prince he is, because Junghwan ferociously does just that. The problem is, Ian just doesn’t like him, on an almost visceral level, and would find any opportunity to express his distaste in abundant detail so much so Jiyeon had to drag him aside and tell him in no uncertain terms to...shut the fuck up.

(“I love him, you idiot.”)

That was a few days ago and Ian has been feeling petty ever since. Enough to snub every single one of Jiyeon's omega posse that his twin likes to toss at him like confetti because he finds their thirst funny. Ian entertained him out of convenience - he has to fuck someone, right, and they're not that bad aside from the part where they open their mouth to have a conversation with him about their future life as mates - which immediately wills Ian's boner into non-existence. He's a fuck boy, not a settler, okay. So tonight, out of spite, he decides to chase his own game or maybe none at all.

There is no shame in spending the night alone - unless it's the Midnight Fair night.

It occurs three times per month with a single purpose in mind - for unmated alphas and omegas to hook up, no strings attached. For omegas, the attendance is somewhat mandatory too, because no alpha is going to miss out on the chance to get their knot wet. If the omega is interested, that is.

They’re not, like, animals, after all. Only partly so.

Jiyeon, opposite of him, is whispering things into Junghwan’s ear who has his arm around the omega like they are fucking mated or something. Although it seems to be where things are going for them, at breakneck speed. Last week, Junghwan almost maimed a guy for catcalling Jiyeon on the street and now they’re being disgustingly cute and domestic every time Ian happens to glower in their direction.

(Jiyeon can’t really love him, can he?)

“Yannie.” Jiyeon throws him one of his wicked smiles that get everyone else wrapped around his pretty pinkie. Junghwan’s eyes glaze over and Ian finds it disgusting. “I think Seunghee wants your attention.”

“Who’s that again?” Ian grunts into his beer. To his credit, he really has no idea who Jiyeon is talking about, not that he's going to explain himself.

Jiyeon narrows his eyes, but before he can start something, Ian looks away, sweeping over the crowd - their advantageous position on the grassy hill allows him the best view of the town square littered with decorated stalls and festive couples. A few desperate eyes vying for his attention he ignores until his gaze lands at the fountain where a sizable group of omegas are playing with the flower garlands and whatnot - most of those omegas come from the Min clan and for some reason, they’re not exactly swimming in the alpha attention. Come to think of it, Ian has no idea why, but were he to contemplate a partner for the night, a Min omega wouldn’t even cross his mind. Until now, that is.

“Hey,” he calls over one of the alphas nearby, his hoobae. “See that omega? The one with a flower band on his head. Jisoo, I think?”

The guy looks where he’s pointing before doing a double take.

“Huh?”

“Ask him if he wants to come here.”

Ian gives him a pointed stare, daring him to say something stupid again, and the guy stalks off. Ian sighs, eyes flicking back to Jiyeon, but the omega has already moved on by now, giggling into Junghwan’s mouth - as if he could care less whom Ian ruts tonight.

Ian doesn’t even know why he chose Min Jisoo, but at least he knows his name while the rest are just nameless faces, and maybe that’s that. There was one time when Ian had to help move stuff into the campus greenhouse and Jisoo was in charge of making sure he doesn’t trample over the saplings too much.

Ian remembers him being eerily quiet and keeping out of his way, for the most part. Ian also remembers Jisoo watching him when he thought Ian was too busy to notice, his attraction palpable in the air, but that’s normal to Ian, so he didn’t give it much thought, but now he’s almost certain that Jisoo won’t be able to reject him.

And he’s correct. The next time Ian happens to look up, Min Jisoo is right there, sans the flower band, so Ian is almost tempted to ask what happened. At least, the flower band gave some point of interest for the eye to rest on - there is something unassuming about the omega, in general. A lot unassuming, but maybe Ian is being too judgmental: not every omega can make an alpha’s breath catch in their throat the way Jiyeon does. And not every omega has to.

Jisoo is still pretty enough in his own quiet way.

Ian holds out his hand - feeling many eyes on him - and Jisoo takes it, cautious but with certain dignity, as he nestles in Ian’s lap. He has a nice scent, fresh and clean, no gaudy enhancers, obviously - he has nothing to prove, he already knows who he is. That could be attractive, too. At least, to Ian it is.

“Can I scent you, pup?” Ian purrs against his neck, smirking when he hears Jiyeon kiss his teeth so everyone in close vicinity knows what he thinks about Ian's little stunt.

Jisoo’s cheeks go pink and his scent blooms as Ian nuzzles in. For a moment, that’s all he knows - the delicate honeysuckle fragrance.

Later that night, Ian ruts into him in the park, tucked away in safe distance from the rowdy square. He’s holding his weight with both arms because Jisoo looks too delicate to be shoved against a tree or a wall, yet he barely weighs anything in Ian’s arms.

The sounds he makes are quiet and breathy. His thighs are milky, just the right amount of thick, and Ian enjoys seeing the angry marks his hands leave on skin when he grabs them with just a touch more fever, thinking that maybe, if he pushed just a bit more, he could break him forever. The possibility is certainly there.

Ian kisses him as Jisoo cums, trembling in his arms but barely uttering a word. Ian could feel his pleasure as his own - the shuttered look of utter bliss in his eyes. No one has fucked him the way Ian did. No one will.

Ian almost regrets picking him tonight. He’s an asshole, he knows that. It’s better if Jisoo knows that too.

“You okay?” he says in the shrill quiet of the late hours and Jisoo’s eyes are wide and full of awe, gazing up at him in shy wonder. For some reason, Ian wants to kiss him again. And he does, Jisoo’s lips pliant under his own.

“I’ll walk you home.”

It’s late afternoon on campus and Ian’s been watching Jisoo repot hostas outside the greenhouse. Not intentionally. He just happens to be here, hanging out by the gazebo, out for a smoke, in just the right distance so as not to seem too obvious.

It’s been a week since that night and before they parted, Ian made it adamantly clear that he won’t ask Jisoo come over to sit on his lap ever again. Of course, he didn’t have to be that much of an insensitive asshole about that, but his history with the omegas who couldn't take a soft no for an answer had taught him better.

Jisoo just smiled and nodded then, his hands laced together in a cutesy gesture.

“I understand.”

The meaning behind that smile escaped Ian. And if there is one thing Ian hates, it’s to be left in the dark. Was he disappointed or not? Not that it mattered.

But, was he?

Ian was not going to approach him just for that reason alone, but he isn’t the only one eyeing Jisoo, he finds, and the other guy pretends to help Jisoo, juggling some pots around like a dumbass, eyes never straying too far from his ass.

Conversely, Jisoo doesn’t pay him much mind, tiny palms tamping down the soil around the plant. He’s not the type to make much fuss, Ian thinks.

He also thinks that while Jisoo does have a fine-looking ass, he has a real thing for his thighs. He should have marked them more. Maybe even put his mouth on them, sucking bruises into the skin, so Jisoo would think of him every time he grazed a tender spot. Ian wouldn’t stop there though - kissing up to his slit and drinking the omega up. He wagers he’d be the first alpha to eat him out. Somehow that just makes sense.

His phone flashes with a message from Jiyeon and Ian might have been waiting for his text all day, but now he finds he doesn’t care that much.

He’s up before he knows, cutting straight through the lawn, grass wet from sprinklers. He sends the guy scampering with one intense glare and when Jisoo turns to look at him, sensing his presence, he’s not sure what to say.

His cigarette burns his fingers and he almost drops it.

“Please, don’t litter here,” Jisoo says, but it’s devoid of petty malice. His hands are dirty with soil. A little smudge of dirt is marking his chin. The sweetness of his scent hangs in the air, mixing with the greens.

“Would you like to come to my place tonight?” Ian asks, already knowing the answer.

The eyes of a wolf who loves never lie.

A week later finds Ian sprawled on his back, Jisoo balancing on top of him, straddling his face like he’d done it a million times before, which he hadn’t - as expected, the omega didn't have much experience prior to him, but Ian has to marvel now at how shameless Jisoo can be, open to anything, and he rarely marvels at anything, period.

Tongue plunged deep into his heat, Ian has Jisoo by his hips, controlling the pace and the movement of his pelvis. From his position, Ian can’t see his face, but judging from the sounds alone, the picture that unfolds above him is pretty wild as Jisoo pants softly, riding Ian’s mouth in short rapid bursts, exactly the way Ian allows it because today he feels like being kind.

It’s the first time Ian spends the night at Jisoo’s place which effortlessly accommodates the entire botany book in cute DIY pots. And with Jisoo, it couldn't be any other way. Ian can honestly say that he likes spending time with him - not just fuck but hang out. Jisoo cooks, very well too, and by now, he's probably more familiar with Ian's little kitchen than the alpha himself.

Ian never asked to cook for him, but Jisoo never asked for his permission either - one morning, after their first proper sleepover, he'd just rolled up his sleeves and cracked on with whisking eggs to make pancakes for breakfast.

Ian would have been a fool to tell him to stop, so he didn't.

Caught in the moment of passion, none of them hear the creak of the door being open.

“Goodness,” a yelp.

The door shuts back, some hurried steps thumping down the stairs before it's quiet once again.

In a somewhat belated response, Jisoo scrambles off Ian, pulling the sheets over himself frantically, covering Ian too, even if whomever intruded on them has left already, having gotten an eyeful of their debauchery.

“Who’s that?” the alpha slurs, flexing his jaw to get rid of tension. Half of his face is covered in slick. It’s obscene and he loves it.

“My dad,” Jisoo murmurs sheepishly, tugging the sheets up further to bury half of his face in them. So adorably bashful.

“You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“Not really,” Jisoo sighs. “Though, I wish I would have warned him that I’d have someone over.”

“Well, in that case...” Ian croons, a hand slipping under the sheets to tickle up Jisoo’s naked thigh - he attempts to wiggle away with a squeak, but Ian is faster.

“Get back here, minx.”

Naturally, the word travels around fast.

The Jeon and that Min omega, Jisoo, or something. The Jeon’s omega, Jisoo. Ian’s omega, just that, yes, Ian’s omega.

How they’ve come to that conclusion Ian has no idea. Wolves fuck around all the time without anyone making a big fuss about that, unless you’re one of the Jeons, because the Jeons are all the rage and everyone wants a piece of that.

Well, fuck them.

Not that he can say the same to Jiyeon though, when he finds him one day, sprawled across Ian’s bed on his tummy, ankles swaying in the air as he leafs through a magazine.

“Yannie, Yannie, Yannie,” he tuts with a wicked curve of his mouth. He pats a spot on the duvet next to him. “Come, let’s cuddle, baby brother.”

That’s still debatable who is the baby among the two of them. Ian likes to think he came first. But so does Jiyeon, and being an omega, he wins by definition.

“I missed you, you stubborn loaf,” Jiyeon whines, tugging Ian onto the bed and immediately draping himself over Ian’s form. He can be quite the octopus when he wants to be and as much as Ian’s like to think he grew out of this silliness, there is little he can deny his omega twin.

“You have your alpha now. Go cuddle him,” Ian points out still, a massive pout still tucked somewhere in the lazy drawl.

The omega retaliates with a nip to his ear. It stings and Ian lets out a hiss, wincing at the prickle of pain. Jiyeon has sharp teeth and the gentlest touch as he soothes his earlobe with his fingertips.

Ian rumbles deep in his throat but settles back, relaxing under his touch.

“You know what I like most about him, though?” Jiyeon asks.

“No idea.”

“He listens.”

“You like your pups trained, who knew,” Ian huffs, eyes closed.

“Not like that, stupid,” Jiyeon teases. “He just...listens, to me, to my needs, to what I have to say, because he cares. And that’s rare in an alpha, because all you knotheads do is talk or act but rarely listen. Junghwanie is way ahead of you, you know.”

Ian opens his mouth to retort and then lets it fall shut.

He can listen.

“Mmh, good boy,” Jiyeon smiles, pleased, resting his chin on his palm as he gazes at Ian, eyes circling up in mischief. “We should get together some time, all four of us, you know?”

Ian kisses his teeth and that’s the habit they share, along with a million of others.

“It’s not like that between us,” he mutters.

“Don’t give me that spiel now, Yannie,” Jiyeon says. “It’s okay if you want him, you know. You think I care that he’s a Min? All I care about is whether he makes you happy, you stupid mutt.”

“We just fuck, Ji,” Ian protests weakly. “There is nothing to tell.”

“Well, you’ve been fucking him for a month now. Which is longer than any of your past ‘relationships’ added together. Either I meet him on your terms or I’m just gonna drop by the greenhouse whenever I damn well please.”

With the rug pulled from under his feet, Ian has no choice but to begrudgingly agree to think about it.

Jisoo is dancing in his bedroom. Although dancing is a bit of a stretch, more like - swaying his hips sensually, throwing an occasional simper over his shoulder to where Ian is seated cross-legged on the windowsill, smoking.

His gaze ravenously follows every little movement of the omega’s sinuous body. They fucked all night long and then, had a few extra rounds in the morning, and yet Ian finds he’s not nearly as satisfied as he should be after going at it for hours. Too bad Jisoo has to leave soon for school.

“I thought you had places to be,” Ian says, eyes never leaving Jisoo as he squashes the cigarette he lit, like, a second ago.

Lately, he’s been trying to cut down on smoking. It’s unhealthy, yes, but also - Jisoo doesn’t like it. Not that he’s admitted to anything, but Ian could tell. He wasn’t the first omega to find his habit revolting, but Ian wouldn’t even consider quitting just for anybody, but he can do it for Jisoo, if he asked.

Only Jisoo never asks for anything, not even to put a title on the thing they have between them. In many ways, Jisoo is easy, and for a while, that was exactly the reason why Ian kept coming back - uncomplicated fuckery and homey noms, the two undeniable magnets for alphas, but lately Ian has found that he wants more than that. The thing they have certainly means something to him now and he wants that to mean something to Jisoo, too.

“Can’t wait to get rid of me, alpha?” Jisoo lilts, all tease and no bite. Ian adores it when he’s playful like that - that he’s at ease with him, his impish persona coming through. Ian leans in to grab him by the waist, slowly drawing him in and sucking a kiss on his neck.

“You like to play dirty, kitten?”

“I’m just asking a question, that’s all,” Jisoo demurs, casting a mischievous look from under his lashes. His lips purse into a soft pout that Ian desperately wants to kiss away, but a better idea sneaks into his mind.

Maybe it’s time to speak up.

“Is that what you’re doing, huh?” Ian smiles, cupping Jisoo’s face in his palms. “I can’t wait to press you back into the sheets and make you delirious with want all over again. Is that what you want me to say?”

Jisoo gasps, fingers curling around Ian’s forearms.

“I hate it every time you have to leave. I hate it when you’re away. Out of my sight.”

Ian buries his face into Jisoo’s neck, tasting the unmarked skin over his scent gland.

“I think of you, pup. All the damn time.”

“Alpha,” Jisoo softly sighs.

“I wanna take you out on a date. With my brother and his mate. He wants to meet you,” Ian says. “And I want to show you off. Would you let me do that, darling?”

Jisoo slowly wraps his arms around his waist, face hidden against his chest. He doesn’t say a thing. Ian tucks his chin over the omega’s fluffy head, fingers soothing up and down the curve of his spine. In this quiet moment that follows, Ian finally realizes the sheer magnitude of power he holds over Jisoo. He could break him so easily with one careless word and it’s so unfair he wants to punch himself - he never had the right to take over his heart like that.

He wishes he was the one on the deeper end of love. He wishes he knew what it felt like.

“My mate,” he tests on his lips, struck by the way a shudder seizes up Jisoo’s body.

It takes a while for the omega to answer, his voice quiet and choked-up, on the verge of tears. Ian hopes they’re happy tears. He’ll make sure they’re happy tears. He owes Jisoo that much.

(“Who likes to play dirty now?”)

---

AN: It’s not that Ian doesn’t love him, but Jisoo certainly loves Ian deeper than the other way around. I’m thinking about maybe writing the double date from the pov of Baby G, and maybe I’ll do that. Maybe not. Don’t worry, though, they stayed together and mated eventually.

#personas au #ian/diminie #abo

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nialledfromfics · 7 years

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Every Part of You

Chapter 2

*warnings: detailed descriptions of abuse and mention of drug usage*

She hadn’t moved. Not for at least ten minutes and the taxi driver had begun to grow impatient, obnoxiously urging her to get out of the car. Lola inhaled sharply and held it in her lungs, her eyes falling to her lap as she quietly pulled out the stolen wad of Niall’s money and carefully counted out exactly what she owed to the taxi driver. Handing it over to him, she stuffed the rest back down into her bag and her stare slid over to peer out of the car window. Lola's stomach was already in twisting knots as her gaze focused on the old, rundown row house that she called home. If that was what anyone could call it.

The front steps were nearly gone, the concrete crumbling like sand and the house itself practically condemned by lack of upkeep. Blowing out a deep sigh, she sensed movement from the corner of her eye and glanced to the window that was next to the front door, catching a pair of eyes that were staring at her through the broken blinds. They locked with hers for a split second before being ripped away, the blinds snapping shut. Lola winced, her eyelids pinching closed for a moment under her sunglasses in attempt to hold back the frightened feelings that were begging to surface as she reluctantly opened her car door.

A shuddering breath ripped past her lips and she politely thanked the driver and stepped out. With her bare feet hitting the cold dirty sidewalk, Lola swung the car door shut and before she could even take another step, the car sped away, her head whipping over her shoulder to watch the tail lights quickly disappear. Swallowing down the heaviness that was swelling in her throat, she eased her way up the dilapidated steps, her reservations about going through that front door not unusual for her but as she reached out to grab at the handle, the door hastily swung open. A bearish hand thrust out towards her, Lola gasping as it grabbed around her upper arm and roughly yanked her inside the house.

Thrown against the front door as it was slammed closed, her back hit it with a low thud, small yelps etching from her throat as a sweaty half dressed man pushed his face flush into hers. His hand squeezed unbearably tight around her upper arm and Lola whimpered from the pain as the dark in his eyes grew fiercer by the second. “Where in the bloody hell have you been?” he barked out at her, his breath reeking of cheap alcohol and stale cigarettes.

Lola went to speak up, her lips parting to answer when she felt the piercing sting of his hand across her cheek, the same cheek that bared the start of a scab on her healing cut, and her face flung to the side from the harsh impact. “Where the fuck ya been all damn night? Answer me, ya fuckin’ slut!”

He continued to scream at her, Lola afraid to move, to speak, to do anything but hold back her tears because she knew that was the one thing he hated the most. Reaching up to caress her abused cheek, the soft skin was burning under the pads of her shaking fingers and the man’s brow furrowed deeper as he watched her. Pining her harder into the plane of the door, he knocked her sunglasses off with the back of his hand and his head cocked back as he peered over her face, battered and bruised and, miraculously, not given by him.

Lola could feel the sting of his fingers as they dug deeper into the maimed skin of her arm. “Better have me fuckin’ money, bitch...” he growled, his jaw clenching as he spoke.

She fought to keep her chin from trembling and slowly nodded at him as she reached into her bag to pull out the rest of the crumpled money. Pushing it to his chest, his eyes snapped down to her hand. “Here, Kings, take it…it’s all I got.”

Licking across his lips, he let go of her arm and snatched the money from her hand, peering down as he began to count it. “£164?” he rumbled out to her, flicking his dark furious eyes to hers once more. “That’s it? You been out all fuckin’ night, what the fuck ya doin’, eh? Givin’ ‘em a fuckin’ discount for beatin’ up me merchandise?”

Rolling her eyes closed at his complete lack of concern, Lola faintly shook her head and went to step past him, Kings swiftly grabbing around her chin and pushing her up against the door once again. Her head slammed back into the wood, her big brown eyes locked heavily on his as he inched himself right infront of her face. “Don’t be out all fuckin’ night again unless you comin’ home with a full fuckin’ stack, ya hear me?”

Feeling him harshly slam his mouth to hers, Lola squeezed her eyes closed and wiggled under the press of his body, her hands flying up to his shoulders in attempt to push him off. Kings let out a sick-inducing laugh as he backed away, the sound causing Lola to exhale sharply and grab at the front of her stomach. “Worthless cunt,” he mumbled as he turned and stumbled past the narrow staircase into the kitchen, his fist clutching the money.

Lola stood against the door for a moment, swallowing back the wretch that was bubbling in her tummy before she carefully slid her eyes to her left, seeing the solomon faces of two other girls standing in the open doorway of the living room. Their eyes, free from anything resembling happiness, both locked on Lola’s and not one of them said a word before Lola hugged her bag to her chest and began to make her way up the small creaky staircase.

Rounding the top of the wobbly banister, she bolted down the short hallway into her tiny bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She threw herself down onto the bed, pressing her face into the uncovered mattress and finally let the frustrated, and downright frightened, tears flow from her swollen eyes. Lola let her cries faintly peter out; her cheeks wet and the dingy mattress under her drenched as she slowly turned her face and brought her hand up to slip across her damp and reddened cheek. As her touch delicately brushed over her skin, she was quickly reminded of how soft and gentle Niall had touched her the night before, and that one simple thought made her sob even harder, the tears once again coming at full force.

She had thought that she had almost made it out, but deep in the back of her mind, she knew she could never really be free. Never really free of the life she was living or where she was, not like she truly wanted to be.

Lola laid there for awhile, quiet and letting her cries subside and her body give in to her over tiredness, until she fell into a dreamless sleep, the buzz of her small table side fan helping to coax her along. She had been resting for some time before she heard the boom of Kings’ voice call to her from the bottom of the stairs, the dismaying sound wakening her from her slumber. “Lola!” he yelled, her head lifting straight up off the mattress, “Get that arse down ‘ere! Don’t even fuckin’ think you gettin’ a night off or some shit.”

Groaning out loud as she carefully hoisted her body up, she sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes peering down at the newly formed purple bruise that was wrapped around her arm when she heard his voice call out to her one last time. “Get your arse back to work!”

Lola stood up, slowly shedding herself of her previous night's attire as she took a small glance in her half cracked mirror that was barely hanging on the wall next to her clothes rack. She could see the years of damage that covered her skin and she gingerly swept her fingertips across her naked body, rippling over the distinct marks of pain and scars of a forced job that she detested, and she was unsure as to how anyone would ever be able to look at her in the one single way she had always dreamed of. Letting out a deep sigh, she bit at her dry bottom lip as she quickly began to rummage through a pile of clothes, pulling out another skin tight dress. It slipped easily over Lola’s tiny frame, and she quickly threw on a pair of heels and fluffed up her naturally wavy dark hair before settling in closer to the mirror to put on her nightly routine of makeup.

Making sure to cover her black eye and cut as well as she could, she finished up and forced a smile at herself in the mirror before grabbing her bag from off her bed and slinging it over her shoulder. She could hear her stomach rumbling as she quietly walked down the stairs, it being nearly 4pm and her not having eaten at all since the day before and Lola quietly made her way into the kitchen, determined to grab a little something to eat before she left for the night. Her eyes caught sight of the two other girls, already dressed for the evening and shuffling around in the kitchen and she stepped in, ignoring Kings as he sat at the small table and used, what Lola could only assume was, a stolen credit card to divide up a few equal lines of a very distinct white powder. She quickly maneuvered past his chair over to the the fridge and opened it, Kings snorting two lines of the powder before throwing his head back and peering over at Lola, who was bent over staring at the practically empty shelves.

“You're gettin’ too fat,” he commented to her, sniffing as he swiped under his nose, “stop fuckin’ eatin’ so damn much...”

Slowly peeking over at him as he lit up a cigarette, Lola stood back up and eased the door closed, the hunger pains coming in waves now but she knew not to push her limit. She turned around and grabbed a glass from the countertop, deciding to resort to a bit of water instead as she stepped over to the sink. One of the other girls slid over next to her, their backs facing Kings and without saying a word, the girl carefully stuffed a single chocolate bar into Lola’s bag. Lola felt the gentle tug on the strap as the girl did this and Lola glanced over at her, giving her a thankful smile.

“For later,” the girl mouthed to Lola, the very corner of her painted lip tugging up. Lola gave her a faint nod before taking a huge swig of water and setting the empty glass in the sink. She spun around and expanded her chest in a deep breath. “Okay, I’m leaving,” she remarked out loud, not making any eye contact with Kings as she went to walk out of the kitchen.

Reaching out to grab her wrist as she shuffled past, Kings’ fingers dug into her already bruised flesh and Lola stumbled back, her eyes shooting down to stare at the blood-shot rims of his. “Don’t try to fuckin’ sneak off this time, ya hear me?” he roughly snapped at her, yanking her down towards him so that his mouth was skimming at her ear and making her heart jump in her chest, “And don’t fuckin’ forget who ya belong to.”

Ripping her arm from his grasp, Lola choked back a breath as she rushed out of the house, slamming the front door closed behind her. The air was cool; hitting her exposed skin and causing a barrage of goosebumps to ripple over her body but Lola shook them away, carefully stepping down the uneven steps and onto the sidewalk. She walked for a few blocks, her bag clung tight to her side and her eyes mostly kept down to the ground. This part of London wasn’t really known for its posh shops and expensive homes, this part of London was known for its variety of illicit drugs and violent gangs and while there was a bit of redeveloping going on, it still didn’t change the people that already lived there or who they were.

Lola’s heels clicked along the concrete as she kept a steady pace, rounding a few more city blocks before heading her way to her normal spot. The sun had started to set behind the rise of the rundown buildings and as Lola’s eyes settled on the crumbling brick walls and litter-lined streets, her mind instantly started to drift back to Niall. How handsome and smart he had looked that previous night, how sweet and caring he was to her. How beautiful his flat was and how easy his world seemed to be and slowly Lola began to daydream; what it would be like to live like that, to be with someone who could treat her in the only way she had ever wanted. Someone who respected her and loved her, someone who could see past the person she was forced to be–

A muffled ringing from her bag startled Lola, yanking her straight from her thoughts and back into the loud screaming reality that she was standing in. Letting out a huff, she shoved her hand down in her bag to grab her phone, pulling it out to reveal an unknown number across the small screen. Her brows knitted and she hesitated for a moment, never sure who could be on the other end of her phone when it rang, before answering it and slowly putting it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Are ya alright?” the voice asked, the accent and timbre clear to Lola exactly who it was and she breathed out a sigh of relief as her eyes rolled to the side.

“Niall…”

He let out a short chuckle and Lola could feel her body start to untense just from that single sound. “How ya doin’, Lola? You left me house quite early this morn…”

Scraping her teeth across her plump bottom lip, she crossed her arm over her chest as she dropped her stare to the ground. “Yeah...yeah, I’m sorry about that I–”

“No worries…” Niall assured her, “just...needed to make sure you were okay.”

The words put a smile on Lola’s face and she peeked up at the few people that were buzzing past her, almost as if she was waiting for someone to catch her showing a bit of happiness. “I’m okay,” she finally replied to him, “Actually, I didn’t think I was gonna hear from you again…”

He playfully scoffed. “Why’s that? You left me your number...”

“I know,” Lola said with a giggle, stepping over to the edge of the curb to sit down, “I just didn’t actually think you’d call.” Her bare knees tucked up into her chest, and setting her bag down next to her, she reached in to search for the chocolate bar.

She heard Niall let out a small laugh. “Well, I wanted to see if you were busy today,” he started, Lola’s eyes fluttering as she took a huge bite of the sugary goodness, the snack quickly calming the tight hunger cramps of her starving stomach. “Thought maybe we could hang out, chill….maybe go get some dinner–”

She nearly choked on her chocolate bar when he said this, Lola’s hand clasping to her chest. Niall chuckled on the other end of the phone. “You, um, you okay?”

“Um, yeah…” she sputtered out, “you, um, mean like a...date?”

She could hear the smile as it formed on Niall’s face. “Yeah, sure.”

“You wanna go on a date with me?!” Lola squeaked, half shocked and half embarrassed and she pressed her fingers to her lips as she realized how her words came out. Niall let out another laugh at the innocence in her voice.

“Yeah, I wanna take ya out on a date, Lola,” he said in a charming little tone, “is that so hard to believe?”

Dropping her forehead into her hand, she gave him a tiny scoff under her breath. “A little, yeah.”

Niall softly chuckled again. “So, you down then? I can come ‘round and pick ya up, if ya want…” Lola hesitated for a moment, lifting her face to let her big brown eyes scan down the other side of the sidewalk where she was sat. Her stare flicked from one boarded up and closed shop beside her to the gathering of a few drunkards stumbling out of a pub on the other side and she quickly thought that if Kings ever found out about this, and she didn't come home with a decent amount of cash, she wouldn’t make it to see the next day.

The sound of cars whizzing past her and a few local kids fighting on the opposite side of the street started to fill her ears, her heart thumping faster when she heard the sweet sing song of his voice, “Lola?” and the sound made her practically melt into the cold concrete beneath her. Her gut was flashing a warning to her but her heart, and every other part of her, was urging her to say yes.

Swallowing hard, Lola took the last tiny bite of her chocolate bar and tossed the trash to the ground next to her feet. “Yes, okay,” she told Niall as she quietly chewed, “I’m at the corner of Wicklow Street.”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes, don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.”

Niall hung up the phone, Lola sliding it from her ear and stuffing it back down into her bag. Clasping her hands by her bent knees, her teeth lightly sunk down into her bottom lip and her stare began to wander all along the city streets around her. Her fingers were curling tight into her fists and her palms were clamming up as she shakily caught the eyes of several people as they walked by, Lola completely unsure as to what this night was going to bring her. She had never really gone on a date with a guy before, not a real date by her standards, and she was really starting to second guess her decision.

Not that she didn’t like Niall, he was probably the nicest person she had ever met, but the prospect of him wanting to know things about her, finding out her past and who she really was, that made a nervous sick start to sit heavy in Lola’s stomach. But then the flash of his face shot through her mind, the softness of how he touched her cheek and the way he smiled at her, and all the questioning Lola had just begun to do, seemed way less important.

She sat in that same spot for a little longer, not moving an inch and trying to keep her head down and her attention on anything but the strangers around her until Niall finally showed up, his nearly brand new Jaguar standing out like a sore thumb on that particular street. Lola swiftly jumped up to her feet as he pulled in, Niall leaning over the passenger seat to push open the door for her.

Her eyes hadn’t yet met his as she hurriedly climbed into his car, Lola pulling her bag into her lap as she settled in and closed the door. The familiarity of sinking down into that cool leather seat once more made a smile pull at her lips and she slowly turned to glance at him. Niall was already staring at her, his blue eyes fixated on her face and Lola couldn’t help but take in how he was dressed compared to her. He looked rather conservative; a pair of slim black jeans and a short sleeved white linen shirt with a grey paddy cap covering his dark hair. Lola pulled in a breath and shot her eyes down to her own attire; her tight barely there dress that amply showed off her breasts and a pair of strappy six inch heels and she knocked her knees closed as she struggled to tug down at the thin material that hugged her upper thighs.

Niall breathed out a chuckle as he watched her and shifted the gear out of park, “You look beautiful,” he told her as he drove off, not even bothering to start the conversation with a hello. The blood rushed to Lola’s cheeks, not ever hearing compliments as such and she genuinely smiled at him, tucking her glossed bottom lip into her mouth.

After driving for a good fifteen minutes, Niall decided to take Lola to this nice little restaurant he often liked to go to in downtown London after Lola had mentioned that she was starving and had only eaten a chocolate bar in the past two days. Niall couldn’t believe that she had gone so long without some decent food in her and she shrugged off his light concern as they pulled up to the valet out front of the restaurant. The usher opened Lola’s door, Niall hopping out of his side and handing them his keys before leading Lola inside. Keeping her face down, she crossed her arms over her chest in attempt to cover herself up and wordlessly followed Niall, not a eye being caught by her as he chatted with the owner, who then quickly seated them.

Lola tried to fight the grin on her face as Niall pulled out her chair for her to sit, his blue eyes not leaving hers as he sat down across from her and yanked off his hat. Lola’s eyes shot up to see the fluffiness of his soft brown hair, her mind wondering for a moment what it would feel like sliding between her fingers and if she tugged on it hard enough, what kind of sounds he would make. Niall noticed her staring and lightly chuckled as he ran a hand through the front ends of his fringe, breaking Lola of her indecent thoughts. After Niall had ordered a bottle of wine, Lola scanned her eyes over the impressive menu, unsure what would be appropriate for her to get and not wanting to seem greedy and she glanced up at Niall over the top of the menu, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You can order whatever you want,” he told her as if he was reading her mind, his brows raising a bit.

Pinching her mouth to the side, she dropped her stare back to the words in front of her, the nerves once again starting to plague her and make her feel a bit weird. Lola knew she didn’t want to overstep Niall’s sincerity with her and she feared something as little as ordering the wrong thing would send him away. Still sensing her reservation, Niall peered at Lola as she read over the menu, her teeth scraping along her bottom lip as her dark hair cascaded down her one shoulder and he leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “This is a date, Lola,” he assured her, catching her stare for a moment, “I wanna make sure ya have a good time, so please, order whatever ya want.”

Pulling in a breath, Lola slapped the menu closed just as the waiter walked over to take their order. “Steak, medium rare with roasted veggies, a salad with dressing and….bread. I’d like some bread. With butter. Thank you.” Lola handed the waiter the menu and stuffed her hands down in her lap as she peeked over at Niall, a huge smile on his face.

Looking up at the waiter, Niall handed him his closed menu and pointed over at Lola. “I’ll have the same.”

Lola giggled, her face tucking down as her shoulders rounded in the soft noise. Niall ran his tongue across his lips as he watched her, his forearms laying across the edge of the table and Lola slowly lifted her face back up and grabbed her wine glass to take a small sip. “So,” she started, wanting to keep the conversation going as much as she could to savor every ounce of that amazing voice of his, “what do you do for, like, work? You seem to have a lot of money...”

Taking a sip of his wine, Niall smiled around the rim of the glass at Lola’s candidness before setting it down and licking the aromatic remnants off his lips. “I’m an investor,” he began, his hand coming up to lightly scratch through his trimmed beard, “and...well, my family is pretty well off, so that helps.”

“What does that mean, an investor?”

Sucking in a breath, Niall rolled his lips into his mouth as he gathered his thoughts. “Well, basically I invest money in companies that are just startin’ out. Hopefully, they are good investments and then when they begin to make money, I get a percentage of it.”

Lola crinkled her brow a bit, tilting her head to the side. “So, you just give these people your money....to, like, start a business, like a bank or something?”

Niall’s head ticked back and forth. “Eh...kinda. It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Biting at her lip, Lola took a second to comprehend what he was saying. “Fuck, how much money do you have?”

Niall burst out a laugh, his head hanging down and shaking back and forth. “It’s not really my personal money, Lola, it’s my companies money. Actually it’s my family’s company. I’ve just moved out here to London a couple years ago to expand our clientele.”

“You’re from Ireland, right?”

“Yup,” Niall concurred, taking another drink of his wine, her eyes watching as he gently circled the glass on the white tablecloth after he set it down, “a small town called Mullingar. But our company is based in Dublin. We are one of the biggest investing firms based out of Ireland, in fact.”

Lola’s eyes slowly drifted back over to Niall as he continued telling her about his family and his hobbies, every single word entrancing her even deeper and causing a warmth to fill every fiber of her body. He was talking to her, looking at her and laughing with her. He seemed happy to be there with her, excited and intrigued and Lola couldn’t do anything but feel herself soaking up every single bit of attention he was showing her. She wasn’t sure when she would experience that again.

“So how about you? Where are you from?” Niall asked, Lola stumbling over her thoughts and glancing up just as their food arrived. She danced in her seat, Niall breathing out a snicker at her cuteness and Lola immediately began to dig in.

“You said you like to play guitar?” Lola asked him after a couple quiet moments of them eating, her way of trying to change the subject off herself, “So that guitar in your room....you know how to play that?”

Niall’s eyes narrowed a bit at her astute observation, his knife slicing through his steak as he put another piece into his mouth. “I do,” he confirmed, nodding his head.

“You should play for me sometime…” Lola said, pausing as she stared down at her half eaten plate, screaming at herself for even entertaining the idea that there would be any other time than this with Niall. Shooting her eyes up to his, Lola forced a smile and raised a shoulder. “You know...if you want or….whatever.”

A smirk slid over his lips. “I’d love to.”

Breathing out a smile, Lola reached up and tucked some strands of her wavy hair behind her ear, trying her best to ignore the tremendous racket that her heart was giving off in her chest. They continued to chat for the remainder of the meal, Niall trying his best to get some details, any details, out of Lola about herself that he could, but Lola so very coyishly dodging them all. It was a carefree and easy conversation, both of them laughing and sipping their wine and Niall being even more impressed by the fact that Lola had completely wiped her plate of food clean, even going as far as eating three more pieces of bread.

Lola knew it was because he just didn’t understand how long it had really been since she had had an actual meal, especially one that good.

After sharing a decadent dessert that Niall noticed Lola eyeing, she watched as he payed the bill, her stare glued to the black credit card sitting on the little tray as Niall cleared his throat. “Where do you wanna go now?” he asked, Lola’s brown eyes settling on his blue ones. The question took her a bit by surprise, her brows knitting as she chewed on the corner of her mouth in thought. She had been sure that by that point he would’ve already had her back at his place and had himself buried deep inside her, not that she would have protested, but she knew, if anything, she didn’t want to go back home and definitely not without any money in her pocket.

“How about your place?” Lola suggested as the waiter brought Niall’s card back. He glanced at her through the tops of his eyes, noticing the slight plea in her stare as he placed the card back in his wallet and stuffed it into his pants pocket.

Rolling his tongue in his mouth, he nodded his head. “My place it is then.”

The ride back to his was abnormally quiet given their immense conversation at dinner, but Lola knew that was her fault. She kept her stare fixated out of her window, her hands nervously wringing in her lap as she tried to figure out what the hell she was going to do. She already felt terrible for stealing money from Niall once, and she definitely did not want to do that again, but she also knew she could not step foot back in that house empty handed. Kings would kill her.

Niall shot her a smile as they pulled into the parking garage, Lola deciding that she would just hang out at Niall’s for a little while and then leave; her plan to walk around his more classy part of town and see if she could get some business, she was bound to make good money around there.

Lola found herself, once again, following Niall up to his place, watching quietly as he unlocked his front door after they had stepped off the elevator. She was a little more at ease this time when they shuffled into his expansive flat, and she immediately dropped her bag to the coffee table as she beelined towards the huge windows, always caught speechless by the indescribable view they offered. Niall stepped into his kitchen as she did that, his eyes glued to Lola as he poured them both another glass of wine and he couldn’t stop thinking about how absolutely stunning she was, how intriguing and mysterious and the want to know everything he could about her was quickly eating at him. He knew she had been through some rough times, the fresh bruises on her arms were evident of that, and he knew she was from a gritty part of town, but none of that mattered to him, he just wanted to get to know her.

Stepping up behind her, Lola could feel the heat of Niall’s presence and it caused her heart to skip a solid beat in her chest as she turned her head to lock eyes with him. He was smirking at her, encouraging her to take the glass of wine that he had poured and she returned the shy smile as she gently slipped it from his grasp. “This view is incredible, Niall,” Lola told him as she continued to stare out of the window, absorbing the twinkling of the city lights below them as they both took a small taste of the wine.

Niall agreed with a small hum, but unbeknownst to Lola his eyes weren’t set on the view outside, no, his eyes were firmly set on the beautiful and fascinating woman standing next to him. “It’s definitely the most incredible view I’ve seen in a very long time,” he finally whispered out, the strange comment eliciting a breathy snicker from Lola as she flicked her eyes over to him and noticed he was already staring at her. His brow quirked a little and he took another sip of his wine, the tip of his tongue dipping out to lick across his lips as he tucked his free hand down in his front pocket.

Shooting him a bashful smile, Lola shook her head and eased away from the window, walking back into his living area and over to his couch. Placing her wine glass on the coffee table, she plopped herself down onto the soft cushions as Niall followed closely behind, sitting down next to her. “Why did you stop for me?” Lola blurted out, her eyes going wide at herself as she had no real reason as to why she had just sprung that question on him like that.

Niall coughed down his wine before leaning forwards and setting his glass on the table next to Lola’s, his blue eyes flicking to her face and his brow deeply furrowed. “Huh?”

“Last night, in that part of town,” she started, rolling her eyes into her lap, her stare sliding over the smooth skin of her exposed thighs, “I could’ve been bait or something, I could’ve gotten you killed.”

Niall was taken aback by her comment, maybe not even understanding what she really meant by it, but he laughed it off. “What? That’s ridiculous.”

Lola snapped her stare back to his, tilting her head at his dismissiveness as she went to speak up again. “It’s not, Niall. I’m being serious. A rich white guy like you, in that part of town…at 2 o’clock in the morning...easy target,” she warned him, “You shouldn't've stopped for me…”

Niall scoffed as he ran his hand up through his hair, the lines on his forehead spreading as he raised his brows. “If I hadn’t stopped for you, Lola, you could’ve been the one killed.”

“Maybe that’s the way it should’ve been.”

“Don’t say that.”

Puffing out a sigh, she slipped her eyes off of his, tucking her bottom lip in between her teeth. “I’m sorry. I get...lost in my own thoughts sometimes,” she confessed to him, realizing that speaking everything on her mind without thinking was not always the proper way to handle a conversation.

Hearing Niall shift his body a little more towards her, Lola’s stare flicked back to his, seeing that the expression in his face had softened a bit. “Look, I helped ya last night ‘cause I wanted to. ‘Cause sometimes...people just need help, Lola. There was no other intention behind it,” he had begun to explain, Lola’s lips parting slightly as she listened, watching the flow of words as they left his beautifully shaped mouth, “You were beaten, scared….comin’ from...God knows where, walkin’ in the rain in complete darkness...I couldn’t leave ya there. My conscience wouldn’t let me.”

“Your conscience is stupid,” Lola joked with a scoff.

Niall tipped his head to the side with a quirk of his brow. “Maybe, but I still wasn’t gonna leave ya there like that.”

Lola gave him a shy smile. “I appreciate it, I really do. I haven’t, ya know, been shown that much kindness from anyone in a long time.”

Niall pressed his eyes closed, his head dropping for a moment before he peeked back over at her with a narrowed stare. A tiny hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and caused a little dimple to push into his cheek, something Lola hadn’t noticed before. “I really don’t know what I’m gonna do with ya, Lola,” Niall stated, lightly shaking his head in a chuckle, “you are, without a doubt, the most alluring person I have ever met…and I don’t even know a single thing about ya.”

“I like to stay mysterious,” Lola told him, “works better for everyone.”

Niall’s elbows were resting on his knees, his gaze focused heavily on Lola and, for what seemed like ages, he just stared at her. His blue eyes soaking in the sweetness of her caramel colored skin, the softness of her delicate features and the way her dark hair was falling in wavy tendrils around her face. Lola watched as the dark slowly began to fill his pupils, his cheeks rudding up in a nice shade of pink. And normally that would make her feel uneasy because she knew exactly what that meant, but the way he was looking at her, it was different, way different than anything she was used to. It was making a irrefutable warmth twist in the pit of her tummy, a feeling that she hadn’t felt in so long, she could almost mistake it for sick.

Easing his eyes from hers, Niall subtly cleared his throat, his hand coming up to rub across the back of his neck. “Can I...can I ask ya somethin’?”

Lola inched her stare back to his, hesitance in her voice. “Depends…”

“Can I kiss you?”

She was the one staring at him now, staring intently at this dream of a man sitting next to her who was asking to kiss her, something that never had happened before. His half lidded eyes trailed over hers, watching as a tender smile beckoned across her plump lips and Lola briefly nodded her head. “Yes,” she whispered to him, the light in his eyes changing as the heat slowly started to consume him.

Niall wasted no time, a smirk on his mouth as he leaned into her but he was pushed to a stop by one of Lola’s hands to his chest, his pink lips parting in slight confusion. “But not here,” she explained, her fingers delicately sliding down his covered chest as she stood up. Niall’s brows furrowed slightly in perplexity for a split second until he quickly realized what she meant as she grabbed his hand in hers and lead him into his bedroom. Niall didn’t hesitate, trailing behind her like a lost puppy dog as she turned around and yanked him through the doorway.

His body careened into the front of hers, their stares locking heavy and when she curled her arms up around his neck, Niall took this as an invitation and promptly wrapped his big hands around the small of her waist. Lola set her brown eyes on his, not wanting to even look at anything else as she continued to walk them backwards towards the bed, a smile creeping over Niall’s perfect little lips. Tugging him down towards her with the grip of her hand, Niall carefully tilted his head just so and Lola could feel the wild rhythmic beat of her heart racing in her chest, her throat practically closing up as she anxiously anticipated the feel of his mouth on hers.

Niall’s big hands slowly worked over her lower back, rubbing and pressing her further into his heated body. Lola’s eyelids gently fluttered closed as she felt the brush of Niall’s nose to her cheek and the warmth of his breath seeping past his slightly open lips. Sinking her fingers into the sticky skin of his neck, she held onto him for dear life and her feet stumbled to a stop just as his mouth finally pushed to hers. His lips moved fluidly over hers; their tongues hesitant before hungrily sweeping across as they relished each others taste, mouths nipping and pulling, like a vivacious tidal wave of eager and reckless passion.

Niall felt Lola’s fingertips start to card up through the back of his hair, her grip growing tighter the harder he seemed to kiss her and he curled his hands up the slope of her back just as her legs hit the end of his bed. The impact caused Lola to fall back onto the mattress, Niall toppling down on top of her with a low chuckle that she readily swallowed up, an appeased little grin on her lips. She kissed him more intensely, whimpers barely etching out of her throat and Lola could feel the curious drag of his one hand up the side of her body, Niall’s lips easing off the warm press of hers to explore the taste of her jaw and neck. “You,” Niall huffed out between harsh nips and tender licks to her skin, Lola’s eyes fluttering closed from the prickles of his beard along her throat, “you are so fuckin’ beautiful…”

His one hand slid up the side of her heaving chest, the other cupping her cheek and Lola could feel the heat already growing for Niall between her legs and she silently begged for him to touch her, her satisfaction met when he fully palmed her breast over her dress. Niall continued to slip his tongue along her neck, Lola tipping her head back in reaction as shallow moans slipped past her parted lips. Her fingers latched into his dark hair, almost guiding him along as his body began to gently rock against her.

She couldn’t breathe, the heat sweltering around her as he softly played with her, taking his time to explore her and ease her into whatever it was about to be and Lola quickly shot her eyes open, staring up into the mirrored ceiling. Her gaze settled on the reflection of his thick body slotted between her spread legs and she hooked her arms tighter around his neck, using every power she had to calm her rapid breaths and racing heartbeat. She wanted this, she wanted him.

“You can hurt me,” she burst out, her words broken and hushed, her brown eyes staring up at her own reflection. Lola felt Niall’s movements stall on top of her and he quickly retracted his mouth from her sticky skin. “C’mon,” she gently encouraged him a bit louder before attempting to entice him with a lashing roll of her hips, “just-...just hurt me!”

“What?” he finally gasped out, lifting his body up on his one forearm to stare down at her. His brows were furrowed deep as she locked eyes with him, and Lola slid her fingers from the back of his soft hair.

“Hit me!”

Niall just stared down at her, bewilderment and shock soaring over his face as Lola reached down to her chest and grabbed Niall’s hand, trying to force a slap across her face. Niall instantly yanked his hand back, a heavy breath pushing past his slackened mouth. “Hit me,” Lola continued to coax him, “c’mon...do whatever you want to me, I’ll...I’ll do whatever you want…”

Niall’s wide blue eyes darted fastly over hers, almost unsure if he was even hearing her right. “Why...why would you think I would ever want to do that to you?” Pushing himself up off of her, Lola choked back a shaken breath as he climbed off the bed. She hadn’t expected him to react that way, no one had ever reacted that way.

Popping up on her elbows, she snapped her knees closed and kept her eyes glued to him as he stood at the foot of the bed, his big hands resting on his hips with a stern and, rightfully so, confused look playing over his face. “I’m...I’m just saying that,” Lola sputtered out, swallowing hard as she tried to explain herself, “that I-...whatever you want….whatever you’re into...”

“I don’t even...Jesus Christ, Lola,” Niall said lowly, running his hand up through his hair before his eyes slowly closed and he faintly shook his head. “Why would ya think I’m the kinda guy that would wanna hurt a woman like that?”

Lola’s brows knitted together, her mouth falling open. “I...don’t, I don’t think that about you,” she stammered out, “I was just–”

“I honestly don’t fuckin’ understand you,” he spit out, cutting her off. Lola could feel the tears start to build in her eyes and she flicked her stare away from him, swallowing hard in attempt to ease her embarrassment.

Sniffing back her feelings, she slowly slid her body to the edge of his bed. “I should just go,” she squeaked out, her stare sticking to the white carpet that rested below her feet as she went to lift herself up.

Letting out a sigh, Niall swiftly reached out for her with a gentle hand at her shoulder. “Wait...wait, no,” he told her, his voice low and raspy, but laced with a calmness that caused Lola to pause and carefully glance up at him, “I didn’t-...I’m not tryin’ to make ya feel bad, I’m sorry. I don’t want ya to leave...it just took me by surprise is all. Look, I don’t know if that’s what you’re used to or whatever, but...I’m not like that, Lola.”

Biting at her bottom lip, her fingers curled down into the soft material of his duvet and she gave him a feeble nod, keeping herself quiet. “C’mon, please don’t go, just stay, yeah?” he asked her, the question taking her by surprise as she had been quite sure he was going to kick her out and never speak to her again. “We can just lay here and...sleep. It’s late and all, anyway.”

Lola swallowed hard. “You...you want me to just...sleep...in the bed...with you?”

Knitting his brow, Niall let out a snort. “Yeah...why? You don’t wanna–”

“No, I…” Lola began, rolling her eyes as she paused, “I-...yeah, yeah okay. I’m…just gonna go get my bag.” Backing away a bit, Niall nodded at her and caught her stare as she stood up. He gave her a gentle smile, one that Lola quickly returned and he watched as she carefully stepped out of his bedroom.

Throwing his head back, Niall rubbed his large palms across his face and a meager groan slipped out of his mouth. He felt like a total twat, never having wanted her to feel embarrassed or out of place, but also shocked that she would even suggest such a thing. Dropping his hands to his sides in haste, he turned to stare at his cracked bedroom door, hoping that he didn’t completely scare off this girl that he was so genuinely, and sincerely, interested in. Lola stumbled back out to the lounge, a million things shooting through her head as she grabbed her bag off the table. Reaching in, she pulled her phone out and checked through her texts, her breath holding solid in her chest as she prayed Kings hadn’t been wondering where she was. She didn’t want to leave, she wanted, with everything in her, to stay the night with Niall and Lola quickly let out a sigh of relief upon realizing that Kings had not tried to contact her.

Walking back into Niall’s bedroom, she quietly closed the door behind her, her brown eyes flicking up to see that Niall had shed himself of his clothes and was dressed in just a white t-shirt and a pair of white boxer briefs. She smiled at him, a blush quickly filling her cheeks as he slowly stepped up to her and handed her an extra one of his t-shirts. “Didn’t really know what was appropriate for this kind of sleepover,” he mentioned, fighting off his lopsided smile as Lola broke out into a fit of breathy giggles, “so, I thought ya might be a bit more comfortable changin’ into this.”

Lola thanked him as she took the shirt from his hands and shuffled over to the empty side of the bed. “You can, uh, change in the bathroom if you feel more...comfortable doin’ that. Or I can go...”

She smiled. “It’s okay. I mean, you’ve already seen my tits...”

Niall let out a snort at Lola’s brash comment and she set her phone down on the nightstand and dropped her bag to the floor, hearing the bed jostle a bit as Niall slipped in under the covers on his side. Peering over at him, his stunning blue eyes fixated at her as he tucked his arms up under his head, concentrating on every single movement Lola made. She couldn’t help but think about how surreal all of this seemed, Lola never having just slept with a man before...in a bed...doing nothing but sleeping and she bit down on her lip, never once breaking eye contact with Niall as she began to undress.

She was breathing heavily, unusually so and her pulse was racing as she bent other slightly to slide off her heels. Her dark hair tousled across the side of her face, and Niall sunk his teeth into his bottom lip as he watched her stand back up and slowly slip the straps of her dress down her arms and over her breasts. Letting the tight fabric bunch at her waist, Lola fisted the material at her sides and wiggled her hips, easing it down her soft curves before letting it fall to the floor at her bare feet. Swallowing hard as Niall continued to stare at her, she was vastly aware that she was now standing stark naked in front of him, undergarments of any kind never being a thing she was allowed, but Niall chose to keep his darkened eyes focused tightly on hers. He wasn't staring at her exposed body; he wasn't staring at her fresh purple bruises or the various unmistakable marks or ugly scars she had endured over the years, he was staring at her. Only her. It had to be one of the most sensual moments of Lola's life and she struggled to properly breathe before reaching out and snatching the folded t-shirt off of the bed, slinking the soft clean material down over her bared frame.

The fabric smelled like Niall, his intoxicating scent wafting up as the shirt brushed over her face and she closed her eyes for a moment to deeply inhale as she climbed into the bed next to him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Lola tucked her small body down under the covers, curling up on her side facing away from him as she was truly unsure of what she should do next and could feel the slight tinge of nerves that wanted to crash through her entire body. Hearing the click of the lamp from Niall’s side of the bed as he switched it off, Lola hugged the pillow to the side of her face before feeling Niall curl up behind her, his strong arm wrapping around her middle to gently pull her up against him. “C’mere,” he whispered, a breath of relief sliding past Lola’s lips as her body settled into his warmth, “definitely ain’t gonna bite ya…”

She faintly giggled at his little joke and let her frame mold into his. Lola could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his heart beating fast and then slow and they remained quiet, Lola’s eyes getting used to the darkness of his bedroom. She soon started to drift off to sleep and it didn't take her long; the coziness of his expensive bed and how safe Lola felt in Niall’s arms, something she hadn't experienced in so long, if ever.

Niall nestled his face down into Lola’s dark hair, his eyes fluttering with each solid breath of her that he took in and he could feel her body relaxing against his own as she slipped into a deep sleep. His thumb gently rubbed over her middle, never wanting to go too far up or too far down, but his intent was to make her feel safe, to make her feel like she could trust him. He wanted her to believe him when he said she was beautiful, and Niall wanted Lola to know that she was worthy of more than the hurt she had been experiencing in her life.

Niall shortly followed after Lola, falling into a deep comfortable sleep, and after a few hours, he felt himself awaken by a slight vibrating sound. He let out a muffled grunt and picked his head up off the pillow, his groggy eyes peeling open as he twisted his head over his shoulder. His phone sat silent on his nightstand, but he could still hear the noise of the constant vibration and straining his neck, he peered over Lola’s resting head to see her phone lighting up and shaking against her nightstand as text after text kept coming through.

Niall let out a heavy breath, his mind going rampant as he dropped his head back onto the pillow and carded his big hand through the front of his hair. Silently demanding himself to forget about it, that it wasn’t his business, he tried to ignore it and rolled back over, snuggling up against Lola as he closed his eyes. It lasted about five minutes when he heard her phone vibrate one more time, Niall finally giving in to the really bad feeling that was building up in his gut and he carefully sat himself up just enough to lean over Lola and grab her phone.

The screen illuminated bright in the darkened space of Niall’s room and his eyes quickly read over the last five texts that were showing across the lock screen.

Kings: Lola!

Kings: where r u fucking slut.. I got people ringing for ya be

Kings: i got eye everywhere if you dont come home right now, i’ll fuckin find u

Kings: better be bringin home my fuckin money bitch

Kings: Every fucking cent!

Niall felt his heart plummet as he read over the texts again and again, the severity of what was going on in Lola’s life, quickly becoming more apparent.

#niall #niall horan #niall au #niall fic #niall fanfic #niall horan fanfic #epoy #chapter 2 #really really hope you guys like it #gonna put warnings when need be #hopefully that doesnt scare ppl away #but take a read and let me know what you think!#enjoy!

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